Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold; New succeed, as former things grow old. Robert Herrick, from Ceremonies for Candlemas Eve
I don’t know how many more turns this life does hold, but I’m getting better at recognizing them. That’s what living for a while will do for you: give you practice at the painful, help you recognize delight, and deliver the ability to watch calmly as another year turns.
We get our fall this time of year, here in Southern California. We pretend to have colorful autumn arrive with the Northern and Eastern States, putting out our russet and pumpkin and burgundy decorations all through October and November, but really our trees don’t have their turn until December. I gather up a few to rest on my dashboard as I drive around (for we also do that in Southern California), and celebrate the colors.
I made the top to this quilt in December 2020, so it’s appropriate that I finish it when we have turned away from the pandemic, its memory triggered only when we find our cloth masks in the sock drawer, or the junk drawer, or realize that a box of N95s has taken up permanent residence in our hallway closet, a talisman to ward off the unthinkable.
It’s nice to be able to crunch around my “walking” park, the leaves crisp underfoot, finding places that echo the muted tones of this quilt, Pomegranates.
Many of our leaves go from green to brown, a dimming of our usual colorful landscape. It’s as if they say, we gave it all for the year and now are tired, just needing rest. I can understand this. I have times of dimming, as well as times of bright.
Herrick reminded us that “each thing his turn does hold” and I don’t have to have only one season of quiet and rest. I have had many years to watch the days grow shorter, the nights grow longer and then again, and decades to watch the reversal of it all.
I’m lucky that way. Hopefully, so are you–
Quilt # 298 • 42″ square, with a simple single-binding No label, as I’m sending this off and think they may like the backing of this quilt (a treasured piece from Alexander Henry) as well as the front.
Yes, it is up in my pattern shop and for December, you can choose your own discount if you want to stash it away for New Year’s sewing (another turning for all of us).
The phrase, crossing the divide, has haunted me for a while now, ever since my husband Dave and I crossed the Continental Divide twice on our April road trip.
While I was driving, and saw this sign, and knew it was coming, we did not take a photo of the actual moment we crossed. And this is like some recent experiences: somehow I crossed a dividing line and found myself in new country, and was not entirely sure how to behave or act.
Crossing the Divide • Quilt # 294
I long had wanted to make this quilt, using some positively ethereal, painterly fabrics from Shell Rummel, William Reue, and snippets from Deborah Edwards & Melanie Samar. I had to modify the pattern, because it called for an older panel which was now out of print. I sewed it all up. I picked apart every seam and re-sewed it (like Crossing the Divide…again). I got stuck on how to quilt it, and Dave talked it over with me: follow what’s in the fabric. I think that’s kind of like going with the flow, an attitude I am always working on/struggling with.
This quilt has a divide in it, with the soft pastel interrupting the more rock-like, stream-like bars of fabric in the top and bottom.
(see detail at end about fabrics)
Back.
Crossing the Divide waiting to cross.
Crossings are everywhere. Some I’ve recently noticed:
We honored my mother’s death this week, a two-year anniversary.
My father’s one-year anniversary of his death is coming up.
There are no baby grandchildren.
I wake up every day with something aching.
A milestone birthday was celebrated earlier this year, and the further I get from it, the more I realize I have no idea how to behave in this new place. I get many more condescending comments from people who don’t wake up with something aching. Which is annoying.
I no longer worry about flossing my teeth or cholesterol — it’s a different mindset, but it’s hard to explain. That doesn’t mean I’m not aware of those things, but I just don’t freak out about them.
I do freak out about other, more trivial things (you can ask my husband).
I also freak out about the time left to me in this world to do what I want before I cross over permanently, but this post isn’t about that.
There are divides in this life. While I cross over most of them without being aware, other demarkations come blaring at me like a train rumbling through the night, and I scramble across the tracks as best as I can.
It’s also about seeing the line that keeps divided from each other. Sometimes that line is physical distance. Sometimes it is an age difference, or a political distance, or an emotional distance. It’s also about time-as-a-line: there is much more behind me than in front of me, by any calculation. And all this started with a color and texture division in my quilt.
Here’s to making your way across the divide, in all ways–
However, I was making this bag the whole last week of the election, and because I was inadvertently using the Keep Calm and Carry On (only it was Press On, Quilt On, etc.) and they had a skit on Saturday Night Light Live with Maya Rudolf and Kamala Harris that had a lot of joy and lot of play on words (including the title of this blog post), you really can’t blame me for merging it into the effort, can you?
I say it’s okay to name things after current events, as I’m just fitting in with my quilting ancestors (thinking of all the quilts I saw in the DAR exhibits while I lived in DC that were named after election things like the Henry Clay Campaign Quilt or the Fort Sumter Flag Quilt and such). Really I just call it the Black and White and a Pop of Color challenge project for my guild, and I’m done a full 6 weeks early, for which I am celebrating! And no, no one from my Guild ever reads this blog, so I’m safe to write about it.
This took me ton of time, because of all that cord-loop business inside.
The pattern came from a book I picked up in France, which was all in French, but it was a Japanese designer, and yes, I made some shortcuts and mistakes and no, we aren’t going to talk about those. But thank heaven for Google Translate. Isn’t that colorful one on the cover a lot of fun?
I used some handles I’d purchased ages ago in Japan at Yuzawaya (and attached with little cloth loops), but it took me numerous shopping expeditions both at brick-and-mortar stores and ETSY, to even get something resembling the cord I needed, and I raided another bag for the clasp. Like I said, if I were in Japan, all these parts would be at the local Yuzawaya store. I still think I need to order thicker cord for the right look, but oh well.
Side, side, and bottom. Since it took me as much time as some of my quilts, it has a number (293) and is indexed in my Indices, above. I do think it’s clever how the cord draws up the bag to give it shape, but just don’t know if it will work long-term. At any rate, the Guild Challenge is due in December, and I’m DONE!
While I was out shopping for cording — in early November — Christmas music was playing. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. November is a time for gratitude, fall colors and fall quilts.
Autumn: The Chestnut Gatherers, 1894 by Georges Lacomb. Seen at the Norton Simon Museum.Autumn Leaves, original design More autumn quilts seen here.
Why do I bring up autumn quilts? Because we’ve all seen these blocks from the #sweaterweathersampler2024 in our Instagram feed, an offering from some very talented women. I like the 2024 quilt offering better than their 2023, but they are fun to see pop up (check out this exhibit from some quilters in Germany). The one above is from Iva Steiner, an incredibly talented longarmer and quilter.
But, given the general season of thankfulness and thanksgiving, I’m happy that I like the autumn quilts that are in my house.
Given the general anxiety we all felt the past two weeks, I’m glad that the election is over and I don’t want to hear anymore about it for a long, long while. I was also feeling anxiety over quilting a very organic quilt that I’d made, and all my usual doodling wasn’t cutting it. My husband suggested just going with the flow, meaning following the lines of the organic fabric.
I guess I knew that in my heart, but it took my sweetheart to state the obvious: all those fancy geometric designs I was familiar with in my usual fmquilting just weren’t going to cut it with this one.
The back, a conglomerate of leftover fabrics. I have great light in my bathroom, so I take progress shots in there a lot.
Even in the border, I went organic, like blocks of waving grain, or striated boulders, or I don’t know what. Full reveal after I get the borders on.
I only have three hours left in this novel. I almost can’t stand to stop, but this morning I’ve got a lesson to teach to the church ladies, so things will slow down on the listening for a while.
But a good book can really get me to sit down and get the quilting done. I’ve got my eye on getting this one and this one quilted up and finished, too.
We’ve spent so much time in the last few months looking ahead, so I thought I would leave you with this quote, from Adam Miller from his book Original Grace: An Experiment in Restoration Thinking:
“Creation unfolds exclusively in the present tense. Nothing is created in the past—though the past was once present. And nothing is created in the future—though the future will eventually arrive.”
This quote has made me think, and ponder a lot. When our Instagram feeds are blitzed full of other people’s achievements and when we are battling one demon after another, it can make us long for days when we used to be super-charged in making, or looking forward to days when we can get to the machines and roll like crazy. But, as Miller notes, creation unfolds in the present. All that we take in now will be fuel for the creativity when we sit down and enjoy the stitching in a present-not-here-yet. We need days when we can stop and notice the autumn colors. Or take a few days to practice forgiveness. Or linger on some days to fill our heart with thanksgiving.
Yesterday we went to our town’s Maker Space which was filled with all kinds of machines from sublimation to a movie studio to laser cutters to several 3D printers, and it was on this last enterprise that they decided to train us. We filed into the computer room, filled with all kinds of computers (nice ones!) and opened up the program and started to design. I mean, I tried to design. The plane on which I was creating was wobbling all around, and then it would leave my screen, floating around.
Many of the design tools were like my Affinity Designer at home, but not really. I just couldn’t figure this thing out, even though I was madly clicking and trying. It was then I realized: I have a 2D brain. My final project in my Digital Art class many years ago was titled, Leaving Flatland. I won’t bore you with the details, but that exhibit came back into my mind as I sat at the fancy computer, desperately trying to leave flatland. At the end, I deleted my file of 3D doodles, and we went on a tour of the building. The very next room was a room filled with sewing machines.
Now we’re talking.
(dreaming in color) • Quilt number 289 • 24″ square
I’d been thinking about flat quilts this week, as I kept calling this “the flat houses quilt” while I was working on it. I wanted it to be a smooth 2D plane, where color would be the focus through repeated shapes. Simple. Flat. Repeated. Colorful.
In the 3D world, they did have this concept of printing something to help you print, a circular idea which still is rolling around in my mind. But that’s sort of how my patterns evolve: I am making the quilt as I’m writing the pattern, each process a support and discovery for the other. I originally imagined this as a large wall quilt. And then maybe I wanted it a bit smaller. And smaller yet, to fit a particular corner of my sewing room. And I wanted to try some reverse appliqué. I wanted it to be made in grunge fabrics. And I wanted to be able to make it with the windows >inset< rather than >applied.< By the time I was finished with the quilt, I was finished writing the pattern.
I spent time on three patterns this week:
This one, because it was old and needed a make-over. How old? It didn’t even have the one-inch key on the templates, as I didn’t know how to make that item when I first started out.
This one, because although it was mostly finished when I posted about the quilt last week, I needed to finish it up for someone who asked about it. This has three different sizes and looks.
This one, because it was finished, and I was ready to post about the quilt.
Like many of you, I watched the Paris Olympics opening ceremonies, and like some pundits, declare Mongolia’s outfits far and away more beautiful and interesting than some larger nations’ costumes (like why does the USA always seem to have the same ones, over and over?) I got a kick out of the boats on the Seine, and the various parts that sort of held together with luck and a prayer, but that last song by Celine Dion was incredible, as was the lighting of the cauldron. I loved it all.
The athletes have been featured in many different ads (Sara Blazer for Dior).
I knew it would happen: Christmas prints are finally back to Christmas green and Christmas red, after veering through pink and turquoise and whatever. While it was fun for a while, I’m happy to see these colors come back.
And this kept us on edge this week, too. This roaring fire was too close to my neighborhood and too big, and too fast and frightening. Our city’s firefighters tamed the beast, started by three teens with fireworks. As one boy was running away (as caught by a security camera), he turned and asked “Do you have a fire extinguisher?” The man of the house answered, “You are way beyond that now,” as the kid jumped into a silver pickup with his friends and roared off.
I signed up for a class at our local-yet-national quilt show, Road to California, one where I wouldn’t have to think too much, nor buy too much, nor cart insane amounts of gear: blackwork embroidery.
A friend advertised on Instagram that she was So Done With This Quilt and did anyone want it? I was second in line, and this week it showed up. Absolutely gorgeous work, with every point pristine and every flower in place. I hope I don’t ruin it, but did order pattern and fabric to try and finish it. That will be my winter project.
Quilting, while listening to PBS Newshour, which discussed Biden’s stepping away from the race, and Kamala Harris’ ascension to presidential candidate.
OccasionalPiece--Quilt! 