I used to quilt. In fact, before the bears were the quilts. Although, I started with both the same way: just decided one day I’d like to give it a try. With the quilts, I had chosen to make one for our bed. (No, Ginger, let’s not start with something small like a pillow. That would make too much sense. Let’s just go all out and make a huge Log Cabin design.)
Not a single lesson, not a single mentor, not a single lick of sense. (There’s just no denying the facts.)
But I completed it, promptly forgot all I had been through, and then decided our 2nd bedroom needed one as well. I chose a Double Wedding Ring pattern this time. (I am a glutton for punishment.) Eventually these adventures led me to a local quilt shop where I discovered like-minded people, classes, and beautiful fabrics.
And that was that – until the bears came along.
But I never gave up my appreciation for quilts, the work that goes into them, and the fabrics. Some things you just can’t shake.
Day 1
(#1) So, when I heard the local quilters’ guild was hosting a quilt symposium, I drove right down to see the quilts and visit the vendors market. (No problem parking! That’s weird.) Well, it turns out I was too early. (Note to self: Check the opening times before leaving next time.)
Day 2 – Morning
Checked times. Market open. Show open.
(#2) Parking definitely a challenge – a good sign. Many lovely things to look at, quilts, fabrics, patterns. (Oops! Got to go – another appointment. I’ll have to come back.)
Day 2- Afternoon
(#3) “I think I missed a couple of vendors earlier – like the one with the silk ribbon and shiny threads. I’ll only be a minute.” (Yes, he knows a minute in ribbon-looking time is longer than 60 seconds.)
Day 3 – Morning
(#4) “I thought about it overnight and after searching the Internet, no one seems to have that brand new fabric yet. I can just run in really quick and get a small sample to try.”
Upon leaving the show, I find him sitting in a rocking chair in the shade of a deep porch on the front of one of the old buildings on the campus, exchanging the occasional hello with the ladies walking by. Yep, that’s my guy, the patience of a saint.
How many times does it take to get is right? It looks like 4 this time.
A few photos: