I have this vision of handmade quilts, on our beds, in our linen closets, in our family room draped over a old ladder I have yet to find. We've had this amazing quilt Jon's grandma made for us early on in our marriage. We've hauled it everywhere - to downtown pavements for Big Band concerts in the park, to lush grasses for picnics or gazing at a sky, to the great indoors for making forts in a family room. And I've been toying with the idea of making them myself for some time now - wanting to get elbows-deep in fabric. I'm tactile that way.
Do I own a sewing machine? No.
Do I know how to sew? Um, well, no.
Have I ever had any interest in learning to sew before? Well, no to that one, too, actually.
But I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna make a quilt. It's one of my winter projects and I'm totally enthused about it.
My sister and I were at a fabric store the other day perusing the aisles and I'm pulling out this and that, ooooing and ahhhhing and "Oh-wouldn't-this-be-perfect-for"ing all over the place. Candy. I'm tellin' ya, it was candy.
Yummy. And she laughed and made some comment about how confident I was in both my (future) ability and my belief that I'd really love sewing.
(Insert sheepish, shy smile here.) What can I say...I dream big and go all in. I'd be a terrible poker player.
So more to come on this. (More to come on another project, too. Can't share until after Christmas.) But who knows. I just may become a quilter. Or at the very least know how to hem a pair of pants or sew on a button.
And I love how lives mesh in the same sort of quilting way. A dear friend and her Mod city-girl-prints and my cottage-chic florals and paisleys combine for a time of cozy comforts tonight. Stitched in beside a band that is both quiet and loud, playing Christmas music at it's finest.
Florals, polka dots, stripes, herringbone. Hodge-podged and different. Scraps of this and leftovers of that. All coming together to shape an object of warmth and love. It's rather glorious. And maybe even a faint glimpse of Heaven.