Retrospective/Introspective Sunday

I was upstairs in the unused guest master suite, going thru boxed up quilting things.  Twelve rather large and heavy containers.  While I did that, riley threw up his lunch.  So I also had the thrill of cleaning the carpet.  I had intended to select a few Baltimore style needle turn blocks to photograph for the blog.  Something Fiber Or Art.  Instead you get the Dancing Crows.  Never quite finished needle turn though I have the border fabric and some gold braid that I had planned to use.  I'm thinking all this is pre-2002.  If I had it to do over I would have a more shaded background, not so flat and one tone.  And the crows don't have their eyes.  And why aren't the legs level?

The Baltimore blocks look awful.  I DID love them in 1999.  If and when I go back up and get a good picture I will share them with you.  Not today.  The combination of old fabric and carpet cleaner has shortened my breath.  I am having some problems taking a deep breath.  It could be an allergy or perhaps a cold or flu.  I didn't take my usual Benadryl before bed last night.  So, I am thinking allergy. This house is very dusty.  Especially, upstairs.  (I am better now)

When I considered the title for this post--last night, I had several really good ideas about what I was going to write.  Pithy.  Or so I thought.  Now, I can't remember anything.  Perhaps there isn't enough oxygen getting to my brain.

I do want to mention that looking through the 12 boxes of fabric and projects was sad.  I remember taking so much time and effort in selecting and buying those fabrics.  Those patterns.  And hardly finished (or started) most of them.  The fabric and the patterns are bundled together.  It's like I became someone else while they waited for me to start (or finish).  Today?  I might use the patterns but with much different fabric and with a better eye to how to use the fabric to it's best.  My interest in the Civil War/American Primitive was fueled by the other 5 members of my Mini Quilt Group.

Another container is all about Depression/Feed Sack with genuine 30's quilt tops I intended to quilt.  Another is Kaffe Fassett or however you spell that.  And there is a container of felt and an unfinished wool runner with appliqué felt flowers buttonholed in place.  I also have "candy" fabric I intended to use to make a Gingerbread House quilt.

One of the flowers on the best block I could find of my Country Baltimore (to show you) had a bud with the perfect placement of pattern.  The other flowers did not.  The block failed.  Did I see it at the time?  Why didn't I fix the other three????  And so many blocks had birds on them.  I try not to buy anything with a bird on it these days.  Perhaps that is why the Dancing Crows never got finished.  I can consider cutting the block in a few spots and inserting something.  I like cutting up useless blocks.

I know that our color choices change every 7 years.  Our fashion styles run on a ten year cycle and we are recycling 1980 right now.  Bigger shoulders and hair.  Skinny legs.  Long coats.  Dresses.  But I hadn't thought our fabric for quilts changed all that much.  I know quilters who chose the 1930's and are still there after 30 years of making quilts.  Others are still working the Civil War.

Where am I?  Well, there are only 12 containers.  I already donated an equal amount to Project Linus. Stuff I knew I would never use.  The 12 containers are what I couldn't part with--yet.

I did bring down an armload of black and white fabric.  Why did I put it into a container?  I love black and white.  And had been thinking I had given it away.  I can finish up the last of the four new placemats I am making for daily use.  Which means making binding.  UGH.  And stitching the binding to edge.  Double UGH.  The hand sewing.  Now that I do actually enjoy.  I also found the bundle of browns my son selected for a quilt.  All stars.  Center square with half square triangle star points.  So long ago.  He has waited long enough I think.  I could make the half squares by hand.  Evenings.

That trip upstairs for something to "show you" has led to many memories.  Many false starts and dead ends.  And a few things that I can actually work on.

I wonder if traditional quilting was ever "what I really wanted to do?"  Or was it the price of admittance  to a wonderful group experience.  Fellowship and friendship.  Two things I miss having in my life.