I'm a happy camper with how this came out. It involved delving into dressmaking memory to figure out a few skills I'd forgotten.
And while I was pressing it, up in the studio, I started casually shoving stuff around for future organizing.
And came upon this tiny quilt. Made 50 years ago as a bed toy for Handsome Son, from bits of the coveralls I'd made for him. The turn-back shows the stripy crib sheet I first put him on as a newborn.
He played with this for ages. Since he recognized all the patches, he got a lot of pleasure with it.
I wrote a freelance article about it, which was published in one of the many mags I used to sell to. I used to write features regularly as a second income, back when there were many print magazines to submit to. I usually had about 20 pieces in circulation at any one time.
I taught feature writing for years too, at the yw, for women going mad at home with kids,and needing to develop new skills for themselves.
Some of them got published, too, very proud teacher. It was a lot of fun, and as usual with the arts, a great revelation to students just how hard it is. But how wonderfully satisfying too. Very similar to later when I taught art to adults.
I could always tell who wanted to "be" a writer or artist from the people who needed to write or make art.
Then back to the quilt, after that spring-loaded jaunt into the past: over the decades, it was chewed on by various dogs. Then it became the blanket under the litter box. All in all, it's earned its keep. It used to be stuffed with a piece of blanket, long since abstracted by pets.
And now it's washed and just sitting in the fabric scrap crate. That fabric really held up under years of onslaught. So did its owner!
And I guess its maker, too.
