Quilts

Saturday, I went to a quilt fair on the grounds of Shiloh Museum. It was a beautiful day and the quilts were blooming on the grassy lawn like so many summer flowers. I’ve found that crafters love talking about their work and these were no exception. They told me about the history of the quilts, how to care for them, and the love that went into each one.

More than one quilt was over a hundred years old. Many were hand-stitched with tiny stitches and intricate patterns. Each quilt was a story told with fabric and I was fascinated.

I too have quilts and most of mine came from my mother and grandmother who stitched and quilted them by hand; no machine stitching on those. One quilt was given to me by a dear friend “to remember her by.” I didn’t need the quilt to remember her, but I treasure  the gift.

I, who never win a contest, won a pretty red log cabin quilt at a raffle many years ago. And another treasured quilt is child-sized, made by my dear friend Linda for my older grandchild before she was born. This quilt came along with a booklet in which Linda had placed samples of the material she’d used, and the story behind each of those pieces.

Quilts were once essentials for every household. When a girl married, usually her mother made sure she had sufficient quilts for her new family. Now, many quilts are made simply for their beauty and as treasured keepsakes. 

Quilts hold an armful of memories for me. They do more than warm cold winter nights; they warm my heart.