CRAZY QUILT

It's been quite awhile since I focused on this little blog endeavor. My life has been a crazy quilt of events barely patched together by meals and sleep.

I lost a dear friend quite suddenly to cancer a few weeks ago. My brain has been foggy from medications after two surgeries on my face for melanoma. My grandsons need guidance, my dogs are always in trouble. There's another book to write, and one in the marketing stage (now available, by the way), and financial juggling. My life just hasn't fit together in a tidy way recently, like a 9-5 job used to. It's a little of this and a little of that.

I remember hearing about crazy quilts from my beloved Gertrude who had one in her living room, somewhat frayed and loosening at the edges. There were swatches of velvets and satins, and elaborate embroidery along the irregularly-shaped pieces. Sometimes I liked to trace the colors, and other times the very asymmetry made me nervous. We were bundled up in it one night when I asked her, "why aren't these pieces in a pattern? What's wrong with this quilt?"

She laughed that laugh I will never forget. "Well, honey, this is a crazy quilt. It's not supposed to be regular and even. It's all the pieces that don't match, from all the leftover projects."

"But why not just throw them away?" I asked.

"Women need handwork to do. It helps pass the time when someone's sick, or there's a baby to watch. But most women are poor. When the fancy quilts are all made and there's no more money for new projects, then you make a crazy quilt from what's left. It kind of keeps you from going crazy!"

I didn't understand about "going crazy" till much later, when I was housebound with babies, ironing, beans and rice on a wood stove and snow flying at the windows. That's when I started my own crazy quilt, piecing together all my scraps from Christmas pajamas, Halloween costumes and blanket repairs. Sitting down to add another piece or two kept me from screaming sometimes, or worse yet, leaving. I had no plan in mind, except to keep on stitching, keep on loving and see what emerged. As the winter rolled by I used all my colorful embroidery thread. I marvelled each time I saw my middle finger slip into my grandmother's sterling silver thimble. How had I managed to save that all those years?

I considered hauling out my crochet needles recently because I've had some time on my hands, and my brain hasn't been too bright thanks to medications. I remembered the peace of a quiet afternoon working on a hat or a granny square. I always chose patterns with very little counting so I didn't have to concentrate much. But instead of opening my sewing can, I bundled up on a lawn chair behind one of our blue spruce trees and just rested. Time out to stretch my ears, close my eyes, and breath a little spring air, full of promise.

My mind was a crazy quilt, trying to darn together mis-matched topics, trying to remember impressions that had seemed profound a day or two ago. I'd grasp a phrase I liked, sew it into a metaphor, and then it would unravel. I'd be into a new paragraph before I took a second breath. Eventually I dozed, faintly aware of the birdsong, children's voices and yes, dog sounds. Without children I had the leisure to watch my inner workings, and let them drift on by without trying to pattern them.

I'll be happy to take up my rhythm again in a few more days. I'll be picking up the leftover pieces on my desk, in the kitchen, in the car...the notes, reminders, and "to do's." I won't be sewing. I'll be planning, problem solving, producing, creating...making a beautiful quilt of the rich fabric of my life.