My mother came to visit this afternoon. Just Caedmon and me. It was such a rare treat, squeezed into her hectic work schedule, while my Professor and girls are away. She held the baby, and we talked about the vintage quilts my great-grandmother made, the apron my grandmother Nana cross-stitched for her mother the year she married, the animal quilts and toy mice my mother sewed as a young mother of three, and my current Japanese-inspired craze of stitching zakka and room shoes and cute pleated skirts. Four generations of women-at-home cutting, stitching... to fill a practical need, sate a child, show our love, save our sanity. It is a beautiful connection. I told my mother that I often feel like I commune with her younger self, sewing away when the children are content to play at sewing with the scraps that fall by my feet.
Only for my mother and grandmothers sewing was a natural part of their daily social lives. They discussed their ideas and projects with their friends on adjacent farms, at church, and at FHA meetings. Perhaps my great-grandmother even took her quilting stitches with friends, coffee, and gossip as part of a bee. This past year I've sat at my computer, drawing inspiration from so many beautiful blogs, from women around the world, just soaking it all up, too shy to enter the conversation of the web-threaded crafting community, unsure of what I could offer such a gifted group. So I humbly give a peek at the work of my hands, and the blessings that I find in life.
As soon as I find the USB cord for my camera. Ah.... so it begins.
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