Quilt Pattern

Scrappy Cats and Pattern ?

Patchwork patterns with colorful names. Patterns created from the experiences of quilters patchworking long before me, or recently. There are many patterns...fanny's fan, log cabin, sunbonnet girl, schoolhouse, wedding ring...

But a novice, I choose scrappity of my own doing. No patterns to read--learning best by doing, trial and error, reinventing the wheel.

Tiny violets in the lawn to inspire.

Cat drawings created over morning coffee on a see-through clip board that I can trace...coffee cats, repurrposed, purrsistance.

A mix of fabrics and embellishments, repurposed. The gathering of bits and pieces that help determine a design for this time.

Patchwork

It’s Raining Violets at Hollyhock Junction.

JUNCTION: “the process of joining or the state of being joined. The place where two things meet.” (Webster’s Dictionary.)

Embroidery Paints

Ready To Roll, I Think

I'm old enough to remember the liquid embroidery paints in metal tubes that roller and paint, and mostly dry up instead. Sometimes their fumey oil base color squeezed out the other end.

My grandmother, now almost a century old...97, painted on feedsack dish towels in front of the oil burner in the dining room on cold wintery nights.
I watched her as I stood close to the stove turning from front to back, and back again to warm both my sides.

These days I use the plastic tubey fabric paints for crafts that blurb and splat and dry up just the same.

Embroidered Dish Towels

I'm an easily distracted homemaker. I go by what the dishtowels say...Monday, laundry. Tuesday, ironing, Wednesday, sewing. Thursday...I don't remember. Guess I'll go check the towel.

Old Buttons

Buttons. I like old buttons. I don’t collect them. I collect stories. The buttons find me.It doesn’t matter their value--artsy and interesting. This jar of buttons, my grandmother gave me. One of her many jars of buttons. I’m under sixty, she’s over ninety. In the summer, she works the soil and grows flowers in abundance. In the winter, she rips up old clothes into strips, and rolls the strips into balls to make rag rugs.(Quilt squares too.) Only, she’s never had a loom, and the rags have piled up. And so have the buttons.

New But Old Underthings

At the new Ben Franklin, I overheard Anna, an elderly lady I know, ask if this new store sold the old garders. The answer was a polite no.
In the first grade, I wore long white cotton stockings on cold winter days, held up by garders and a garder belt--uncomfortable elastic at my waist and stretchy-down things, but it was a freezing mile long walk to the bus and I wore dresses in those days, so I didn't complain.

When I ran across a package of garders at a local thrift shop, I made sure Anna got them! She seemed a bit embarrassed because in her day, underthings weren't talked about!

Hollyhock Junction

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