This is another charity quilt. I’m calling it the critter quilt, and I needed to find a pattern to use that fabric with all the animals without chopping it up too small to tell what they were. This is the result. It’s a single block of the Burgoyne Surrounded pattern.
It’s the last of that batch of charity quilt tops. I have two gift quilt tops layered and ready to be quilted, and I’ve started piecing more charity quilt tops.
I’ve been meaning to post a photo of this for a month or so now.
Back in 1998, I wanted to make my mother a quilt. I “made the mistake” of asking her what kind she wanted, and she asked me for a whole cloth quilt (one made out of a single piece of fabric). Well, back then I’d only been quilting for about ten years, and I had no real idea how to design or make one. All I really knew was that I didn’t want it to be beige or white, as the only whole cloth quilts I’d ever seen by then were.
But I couldn’t find a pre-printed top in anything but beige or white, and I didn’t know where to buy a) fabric wide enough to make a bed-sized quilt out of a single piece of fabric, or b) a bed-sized stencil (I’m still not sure there is such a thing as a bed-sized quilt stencil [wry g]). So I did the best I could with what I could find.
Technically, this is not a whole cloth quilt, because it’s pieced out of 42″ width fabric. I bought a center feather wreath stencil and two border stencils, a lot of blue (her favorite color) fabric, and got to work. I remember that I saw blue fabric in my sleep for weeks after I finished it.
I washed and dried it, and picked off what I thought was all the cat hair, then I took it with me when I made my annual visit that year (we lived 2000 miles apart). The first thing she did after we spread it out on her bed was pick a cat hair off of it. Well, no, that was the second thing. The first thing she did was hug me and tell me how beautiful she thought it was.
My mother died in January of this year, at the age of 92. That quilt decorated her bed for eighteen years, first in her home, and then in the assisted living facility where she spent her last two years. It’s been washed many times, but it’s held up pretty well (the binding’s a bit worn, is all).
And now it’s mine again. I miss her, but I’m so glad she loved this quilt.
I was going to call it the globe fence quilt (the pattern is called rail fence, and the focus fabric has globes all over it), but given the current political climate, that didn’t seem quite right.
It’s the second to last of this batch of charity quilt tops. Gotta make more tops!
And the color combination, which was riffed off of the colors in the globe fabric, seems kind of weird to me now. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I pieced this last year, but oh, well. 40″x48″ (the blocks are 8″ square), hand quilted in the ditch.
I didn’t realize until I looked at the dates of my last few posts, how fast I’m quilting these little charity quilts. The process does go a lot faster when I’ve got the tops already made. Only two more to go till I run out of charity tops, though!
This one is named the pinwheel quilt, for obvious reasons. It’s another misfit fabric quilt, with the robbing Peter to pay Paul effect (dark/light blocks alternating with light/dark blocks) I like so much.
Because writing just isn’t happening, much as I wish I could force it to. For personal as well as political reasons. So, meanwhile, enjoy the pretty.
This is the first monochrome scrappy quilt I’ve made. Years and years ago I saw one at a quilt show, and it’s been at the back of my mind to make one ever since. So last year I put the top together, and I pulled it out and quilted it over the last couple of weeks.
I’ve got three more charity tops waiting to be quilted, and I’m currently piecing a bigger quilt for a gift. I have one more gift quilt to make, and then I’ll be back making charity quilts again.
“First they came for the scientists…
And the National Parks Services said, ‘lol, no’ and went rogue and we were all like ‘I was not expecting the park rangers to lead the resistance, none of the dystopian novels I read prepared me for this but cool.’”
Sorry about the subject header. I was a teenager in the 1970s, what can I say?
Anyway, this is the blue and silver quilt (no duh). The patterned fabric had a heavy silver metallic overlay (it came out of my stash — I have no idea why I would have bought something like that) and was a bear to quilt. The navy blue and white fabrics are fairy frosts (a line of metallic quilt fabrics), and the easiest metallics to quilt I’ve ever worked with.
It’s 36″x48″, and hand quilted in a cross-hatch pattern.
I have long since lost count of how many baby quilts I’ve made. Anyway, my best friend’s granddaughter had her second child in November. Fortunately, the top for this quilt was in my stash, so all I had to do was layer it and quilt it, and cross-hatching goes pretty quickly, so here it is!
Well, this is the end of an epoch for me. I've been a member of the Bujold mailing list for seventeen years, but I finally unsubscribed yesterday. Not, as most people apparently do, because of the volume, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but because that volume simply got too ugly for me to deal with anymore. I'm not in a place where I can deal with that sort of ugliness right now, and may I say now how glad I am that there are other ways I'm staying connected with the many friends I did make there, including here?
It’s a charity quilt that was about 95% quilted before I packed it up and left town back in May, so there wasn’t much left to do but finish the quilting and put the binding on. I’m calling this one the feather quilt, because of the focus fabric. I’m not thrilled with the lack of contrast in my fabric choices, but oh, well. The pattern is sometimes called Xs and Os.
The next one up is a baby quilt, another top I made before I left on my trip. Fortuitously, as it turns out, since my best friend’s granddaughter just had her second child.
This afternoon, since it wasn’t raining for a change, I decided to go down to my new neighborhood and explore around. Before I left, I checked the city of Lacey’s website to see if I could find any interesting trails close to my new place. I found what I thought were two, marked them on my map, and headed out.
The first one was something of a bust. I found the park all right, and I found what I thought was the beginning of a purported mile and a half trail that was supposed to lead from this park to views of the Sound, but the trail itself petered out pretty fast, and I couldn’t find anything else that looked like a trailhead.
So I headed on to the other possibility, which was actually only two miles from my new place. Woodland Creek Park has a nice little lake, a senior center, a community center, a disc golf course, and playgrounds and picnic shelters, and is located at one end of a six-mile rails to trails path that leads from Lacey to Olympia. Not only that, but the trailhead was easy to find.
First, I walked over by the lake (the trail doesn’t go all the way around it, alas), where I saw a flock of Canada geese bedded down on the grass. Then I took the paved path leading to the long trail, which T’d into it. I could go either left or right, and I’m not sure why I went left when I knew the main trail went right, but I’m glad I did.
It was peaceful and quiet out there. You always know you’re home when you’re on a first name basis with most of the plants you see. Or at least I am. The pavement gave out soon, and there was a sign saying that this part of the trail was not developed yet. The path was still smooth and lined with the gravel and pebbles leftover from where they’d pulled the railroad tracks out. Eventually I reached a small bridge over a stream, with some rather unfortunate graffiti (edited out of my photo because I found it offensive), and, on the other side of the bridge I could still see the old rusted railroad tracks.
That’s where I turned around. It was probably a bit under a mile one way. I managed to get back just in time not to get rained on, which was a good thing. Next time I come here I’ll have to walk the other way and see what I can discover. All in all a very good day.
I’m glad to have a good trail like that near my new home. And a pretty little park, too.
I got the place I really wanted. My new landlord just called me, and said, “are you still looking for a place to live?” I said yes, he said, “would you like to come sign the lease tomorrow?” and I said yes!
I won’t be getting into it until the first week of November, but that gives me time to organize the movers (who need a certain amount of lead time), and I have a temporary place to stay in the meantime, so that’s just fine.
Although part of me isn’t quite sure I feel that way [g]. OTOH, I just heard back from a place that took my application for a four-plex in the little town of Yelm, about half an hour from here, and they have approved my application and credit and all that.
I’ll be signing the lease and getting my keys on Monday. I’ve called the movers who’ve got my stuff in their storage warehouse, and hopefully they’ll be able to move me in on Tuesday.
Anyway, it’s a rental so if I want to move again (or take off again) in a year, I can. No long term commitments like the condo was, which is just fine by me.
One seven-hour drive later, and I’m home. Well, staying with my friend Loralee until I find a place to move into, but you know what I mean.
Across southern Washington, through more brown hills to the Tri-Cities, where I picked up I-82 to Yakima, where I turned west on U.S. 12, over White Pass to the little town of Morton, where I turned north on U.S. 7, which eventually turns into the Mountain Highway, which leads to Tacoma.
15,500 miles in almost four months (it would have been four months exactly next Tuesday). Which I’d have thought have been farther, given that in 1999, I was only gone two and a half months, and racked up 14,000 miles before I rolled my car in California. But that’s what Merlin’s odometer says, and I believe it [g].
Part of me is glad to be here, I think. Part of me wishes I just could have kept going, but well…
Thanks to everyone who stuck with me through all this! It’s been fun writing the posts, and I’m looking forward to the next time I get to hit the road.
I love Lolo Pass. I’ve only driven over it once before, but I just love the lazy, sweeping curves along the river on the Idaho side. Hence the swooping [g].
I headed west then south into what passes for Missoula, Montana’s morning rush hour, then west again up the thirty or so miles to the top of Lolo Pass. This is where Lewis and Clark finally made it over the Rockies back in 1804. It’s also where the Nez Perce fled across the mountains in the other direction on their way to Yellowstone to encounter the tourists before they (the Nez Perce) almost made it to Canada. So, a lot of history here, and a nice visitor center staffed by a fellow who apparently didn’t have enough tourists to talk to, because he all but followed me into the exhibit room and kept talking when all I really wanted to do was look at the exhibits. Oh, well. I know I’ve done more than my share of talking the ears off of people when I’ve been on my own for too long, too.
The road down the west side of the pass into Idaho (the border between Idaho and Montana runs along the ridge line, and so does the line between Mountain and Pacific time) swoops down next to the Clearwater River through a deep canyon, curving gently back and forth and back and forth, for almost a hundred miles. It’s just so much fun to drive, almost like some sort of carnival ride or something. I’m not doing it justice at all, but that’s life.
About seventy miles on from the pass, I stopped in the tiny hamlet of Lowell, Idaho, for lunch in a cute little café. Those were the first buildings I saw after the border, so this is seriously wild country.
When the canyon finally opens out, it’s into a lot of warm brown hills (at least they’re brown this time of year) and then out into what I thought would be the southeastern edge of the Palouse, but the road cuts show basalt, not deep soil, so no, not Palouse.
I crossed a big chunk of the Nez Perce Indian Reservation to get to the Washington state line, then stopped for the night in the town of Clarkston, which is directly across the Snake River from the Idaho town of Lewiston. Gee, I wonder where those names came from [g].