You either like them, or you don’t.

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The old quilts, I mean. The vintage blocks or tops or quilts, made from scraps left over from sewing, or from garments whose usefulness has passed. Made with skill or with the promise of skill in the future. Or even with the reluctant hand of one who does not wish to learn. I like them. I see thrift comingled with creativity; necessity softened by beauty. I often think of Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote: do the best you can with what you have where you are. That’s like the definition of a vintage quilt.

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Women through the ages…

I had a chance to talk to a wonderful group of women yesterday — the Bluebonnet Patches in Ennis, Texas.  I was there to talk about my novel, Betsey Anne, but since it’s a quilting group, we naturally focused on quilts.  Such an interesting form of women’s art down through history.  Which came first — the necessity or the beauty?  Isn’t it fascinating how women can create beauty from the smallest scraps of what’s left over from the making of a garment, or what remains when a garment has completed its useful life.  Beauty and warmth, both.  Necessity fulfilled in artful grace.