There’s something iconic about a man in overalls. To me, it means he is unpretentious, hardworking, honest. Someone with whom I would want to spend time in conversation and in hugging.
There aren’t many photos of my Daddy in overalls. Though he wore them every day to work, when he came home, his first order of business was to take a shower and change into his “knock-about clothes”, khakis and a sport shirt. That would be his uniform until bedtime. And on Sundays, a suit, or at least a sports jacket and tie.
He wore overalls when he farmed. I heard stories of his walking behind the mules and plow in his overalls and barefoot. When he left the farm to begin building houses, he added work boots to his wardrobe, but kept the overalls.
The many pockets had designated uses. The partitions in the bib held his wallet and a fat flat pencil, you know the kind wood workers used. Another held a pocket knife, used for sharpening that pencil, among other things. One of those spaces sometimes held his wristwatch if it needed protection from the task at hand.
A long pocket on the leg of the overalls held his folding carpenter’s rule and a hammer hung in the loop. He could flip that wooden rule open to just the right length for a measurement and refold it in the blink of an eye. If you don’t remember those devices, or that they are called rules, not rulers, you are a young whippersnapper. See, just thinking of overalls has me using his words.
I can smell the denim. And the sawdust embedded in the fibers. Maybe a little tobacco scent, too. And I remember how heavy they were when wet. I was a tiny little thing, but one of my jobs was hanging clothes on the line.
Maybe all that is why I was so intrigued by the man in this quilted piece. I snapped this street photo the minute I saw him. Since then, I have come to know who he is and have secured permission to use his image in my art. He, like my Daddy, is worthy of long conversations and hugs.
The quilt measures 10” x 18”. The photo is printed on vintage linen fabric, hand painted, then quilted. I used cotton thread, using hand-guided free motion quilting on my domestic machine. It is layered with raw silk, a remnant of denim, and a worn reclaimed quilt fragment. The label is a vintage cocktail napkin. (I found this one with the rooster in an antique store ramble just as I had finished this piece. Perfect!)
The photo of my Daddy holding me is one of the few I have of him wearing his overalls. I guess it’s obvious why men wearing overalls pleases me so. And, I still have that chair.
In recent years, I used the seed stitch in this block of Floozies, a quilt I made using a 
But recently, I’ve used the seed stitch on another piece, this white baby dress on blue, still untitled. Here I’m using a fine thread (30-weight cotton) which matches the background. The stitch is rather small, so all that is visible is the dimple created when the stitch secures the top, batting and backing. The photo here is one I took while riding in the car. (The seed stitch is in the area of the white in the lop left quadrant of the photo.) On a road trip yesterday to see and photograph a rare bird, I got a lot of stitching done. I was not the driver.
And remember the pile of vintage linens I brought home 
As I approached my fourth birthday, I was looking forward to kindergarten at Miss Emily’s little red schoolhouse. My only sister was 19 years old and away at college, so I didn’t have playmates of my age around all the time. My mother recounted hearing me ‘talking to myself’ while playing alone on the front porch of our house. It seems I was describing the fun I would have with other children at this fantasy land. According to my mother, I included an outhouse as part of my description. She was amused and horrified that I added that detail.
When antiquing, I keep my eye peeled for vintage linens like the ones I found today at Blue Moon Antiques and Vintage Junktion (both stores in Warner Robins, GA). I’m always hoping to rescue a treasure from the trash bin. I look for linen or cotton, and pass up any that have a polyester feel to them. I want hand embroidery or appliqué, but don’t turn up my nose at some older pieces that were machine made.
As I’m looking and touching and plundering, I’m dreaming. I’m planning and scheming projects galore! I love it when a vendor asks, “what are you going to do with these?” Today I pulled out my phone, shared a few photos of recent pieces, and gave them some ideas to ponder. I could see their wheels turning as well as mine. After all, they love the vintage cloth, too. That’s why they have so much on hand.