Quilting (part II)

in the unknown world

the woman

threading together her need

and her needle

nods toward the smiling girl

remember

this will keep us warm.

-lucille clifton, from quilting

The quilt for Jamie is finished.  Now, we simply await his arrival.

I am pleased with the final product—a colorful, happy blanket, intended to be used, wrapped, crumpled, soiled, and washed, over and over again.  I hope this pieced quilt will become a well loved prop in the unfolding life of this our newest grandson as he explores the world around him.

It delights me that this trusty, little Singer Featherweight machine rumbled alongside me as I stitched this together.  This little machine, made in 1955 (which I discovered by matching a serial number to a Featherweight website) and highly prized by quilters, was the same sewing machine on which my mother taught me to sew.  Early in my married years, Mom bequeathed it to me, and this machine stitched together curtains for three homes, Halloween costumes and Christmas outfits for three children, and even made that little yellow baby quilt in the previous post.


While it is a champ at piecing (the stitching together of all the blocks for the top), it is not ideal for machine quilting (the sewing together of all the layers of the quilt—top, batting, border, and back), because even though it is a heck of a workhorse, its size does not easily accommodate yards of fabric and batting.  The weight and bulk of it all is often too much for a little Featherweight.  But I muddled through alright, this tepid adverb aptly describing my thoughts on the experience.  My quilting is okay, acceptable for my first crack at it, but my craftwomanship is far from good.  I have lines that zip and wander from the straight diagonals they are supposed to be.  In an email to my teacher last week, I opined:

While I realize that I have miles to go before I can really attach the word quilter to my name, I am not displeased (despite my grumbling yesterday) with this sweet little quilt I am making for James.  I toyed with the idea of ripping out some of my meandering lines, but decided to keep them in, as a benchmark to future progress and a story to share with my grandchildren about the sometimes frustrating process of learning something new.

It is good for this freshly retired teacher to be reminded that the process of learning is two-sided, a duel presentation of the vexation of a venture into unfamiliar territory concomitant with the pleasure of new discovery.

Today I sew an embroidered label on the back.  And within the next few weeks, in my grandson’s own right time, I will present this quilt to my daughter to swaddle a new life, her youngest son, within its folds.