I am creating a journal quilt again this year, Fifty-two Wednesdays. Each week, I select one image from my life and stitch it into a rectangular block.
The week ending on Wednesday, April 27, was filled with possibilities. We were in Padcuah, KY at the annual AQS show there, ending each day with time on the river. Of course, the thousands of inspirational ideas from quilts and vendors there would make many quilts, and we played on a caboose, saw bison in a prairie at Land Between the Lakes, and made a special trip to photograph fields of canola.
But the image that has been front and center in my brain since Sunday morning is that of the hauntingly beautiful walls of the house at Barnsley Gardens. Cotton broker Godfrey Barnsley bought 10,000 acres of land outside Adairsville, GA, and began building a manor house in 1842.
More than a century of misfortune had brought the mansion and its once magnificent gardens to ruin. You can read details at wikipedia or other online sources, but the Civil War and a tornado in 1906 explain a lot. In 1988, the remains of the property including the manor house were purchased and restoration begun.
I was entranced. Spellbound. On this quiet Sunday morning, Jim and I were in another world, another time. The skies were spectacularly blue, the sun bright, but at that early morning angle that photographers love. Shadows changed with every tilt of the head and with every step on the wooden floors.
Bare brick walls nearing two centuries in age reached to the sky. Window openings, sometimes with wooden frames clinging to the old mortar, were more spiritual than any stained glass window. Empty tealight holders nestled in openings in the brick walls, hinting at how magical this place would be in the darkness, too.
Before we left the trails surrounding the house, Clent Coker, author and historian, caught up with us and filled in some details of the restoration. His knowledge gave us a more complete understanding of the family and the land here. I am so thankful that someone decided to preserve this beautiful place as part of the lovely resort that is now on site. I am more thankful that they stopped before recreating a fine Italian villa. I love the crumbling bricks covered with algae, the skeletal structure of the building revealed.
This place will appear in Fifty-two Wednesdays and perhaps other quilt projects as well. I photographed bare walls with plans to stitch vines growing on them. I photographed the foyer floor whose brick inlay pattern looks like a unique quilt layout to me. And the three-tiered fountain and flowers blooming may show up in yet other projects.
“Seemingly insignificant moments…”, Jim remarked as we drove away. Had it not been for traffic delays and detours on Saturday, this magical Sunday morning might not have been part of our story.
Early this morning I got a text message from someone who loves me. My son-in-law is literally halfway around the world on a work assignment and sent the photo you see here. He said, “I saw all this fabric and thought you might want some. There is wool. There are wool/silk blends. There are more. Tell me what you might like.”
There is a phrase buzzing around on Facebook these days when people describe their husbands, “not perfect, but perfect for me.” Well, that is certainly true of my husband, but I recently thought of the phrase with respect to houses. I was cleaning out some old file folders filled with inspirational ideas for decorating, sewing, and gardening. Along with those, I have kept a folder filled with house plans. For many years, I thought my dream house was in there somewhere.
Today at a community event where I was invited to share my quilting story, members of the group were invited to bring some of their family quilts as well. Several did just that. What fun to hear others’ quilt stories.
Now I’m itching to grab some hexagons and assemble them in the pattern these women used.
Many quilts are made in small units, or blocks, which are then assembled into a larger quilt top. Most quiltmakers I know have an abundance of “orphan blocks”. These can result when a project is abandoned, when extra blocks were made to test color combinations or size, or when the stitcher simply changed her mind about where the design was going.
Some of these baskets and bunnies still reside in a basket awaiting their opportunity to shine. The photo you see here is a quilt top that came about when my minigroup needed a quick project for a donation effort a few years ago. The timing was Spring, my stitching sisters remembered my collection, and we got busy. The completed top was quilted by a local longarm expert and we had a sweet little quilt in record time!
In my quilts, anything goes. I love quilting cottons, silk, linen, denim, and wool. All together or separately, depending on the project.
My Daddy was a hard-working man who loved sports, good conversation, good people, and a simple life. He did not have a lot of hobbies; didn’t play golf, didn’t go fishing. I heard stories of his past exploits (before I came along) going hunting, but whether that was for food or the social drinking that came with it, I don’t know.
Melanie knows that Publix uses only the best ingredients because the company was one of her customers when she worked as a salesperson for some of the world’s finest chocolate.
Ollie Jane Wheeler Hasty was my paternal grandmother. She grew up in the foothills of north Georgia, married my grandfather in at the age of 17, bore him seven children there. Then they bundled up the six living children and household goods, drove a wagon to the flatlands of south Georgia where she gave birth to three additional children.
But I own an exception. I have the quilt that she made prior to her marriage. It was on her bed on her wedding night in 1890 and on every anniversary night for sixty-eight years. Some of the binding is worn and replaced, which indicates that it was used more than sixty-nine times, but I suspect as time went on and it was beginning to wear, this quilt was put away to preserve its story.