Real old-time, traditional quilts like these ones, I mean, made from honest-to-god scraps. I once met an elderly quilter, who wanted to bang her head against the wall at the very idea of buying brand new fabric and then cutting it up into little tiny pieces and sewing it all back together again…Of course, I do it myself, but it does seem absurd when you think about it.
These quilts caught my eye like a stop sign, on a drab day when nothing was in bloom. I’m attracted to quilts like bees are to blossoms, possibly for some of same reasons. Bees and other pollinators fly along, looking for something out of the ordinary. They investigate the unusual–the sudden gleam of vivid color against the brown grass. The symmetrical patterns of petals against the random placement of leaves. Bright color and symmetry are two of the clues Nature uses to say “Over here! Something worth checking out!” I was once buzzed by a hungry hummingbird who was firmly convinced my flowered shirt was edible.
These antique quilts will have to satisfy my thirst for color until the flowers come.