I was piecing together this quilt for about five years. I started it when I lived on Crawford, worked on it when I lived at Heathdale House, stashed it when I lived on Howland. Now in a new house, I was determined to finish it over the Christmas break but was always intimidated by FINISHING IT. I mean, it’s a quilt…I’ve never made a quilt…I’ll have to find plastic-free but affordable batting…and what the heck will I do for the back…and it’s so finicky with all those little pieces, sewn by hand and a bit by machine. What do I know about quilting? Where do I get off starting a huge denim quilt? Might as well have a bath and call it a night.
Between Christmas and New Year’s I was meditating on death (as one does) and it dawned on me that it was not a quilt, but a wall hanging. And rather than slamming myself for not finishing a quilt, I came around to the idea that it was a wall hanging all along. So I finished it and hung it up. Here’s to allowing the creative process to play out. Besides, there will be more quilts—actual quilts—in my future.