I searched back through for this post about a beautiful quilt I have – patched and pieced
It lies nowadays draped over my making table with the creamy white backing face upwards, and I often glance down and rest my eyes on the hand stitching and think
The white thread patterns texture the surface – stitches as strong as ever – the even rhythm of their work is quietly astonishing to me and connects me to so many stitching hands – I linger as I Iook, wondering about it’s making
It had an outing this last summer when family children were all camping in a yurt nearby and I thought why not?! I wonder if they will remember it in years to come…It came back smelling faintly of woodsmoke from the wood burner..