The women in my life all worked with their hands.
The clearest memories I have of my great grandmother are of her and her
sister-in-law sitting on her couch quilting. I remember receiving gifts
when I was a child – and as recent as last year – from my maternal
grandmother that encompassed everything from homemade nightgowns to
stained glass wall hangings. My dad’s mom always had a quilt in the
frame and paintings in progress. My mom made our Halloween costumes and
did cross-stitch and needle point when I was young.
I could easily have
written off sewing as an “old world” craft – not necessary in an age of
big box stores and internet. I did just that for my teen years. In
college, I had a change of heart. I recognized that the throws I
snuggled into on cold winter days were made by hand – specifically my
great grandmother’s hands. I remember her giving some of them to my parents as
gifts, and others we've had as long as I could remember. We'd curl up under them in the warmth of our family room with a fire in
the fireplace. Now, I have them and use them to wrap my family against
the cold nip of winter. If I can help it, these blankets will be used and worn with
love for generations to come.
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| My bridesmaids cuddled in their thank-you gifts - each as unique as the next |
In an era of disposable, impersonal products I, too, wanted to produce blankets that others felt worthy of building a story around. The blanket that draped over the foot of Mom and Dad’s bed. The blanket over the arm of the recliner in a family snapshot. The blanket gently pried out of a toddler’s grip the first morning of kindergarten. The blanket that still smells like home when unfolded miles and years down the road.
