Tumbleweed of memories
I have been known to make baby blankets. I am not the best at sewing. I can't call myself a quilter. But I enjoy it.
Since my brother and sister-in-law added an adorable Guatemalan boy to their international family, I have yet to make him a blanket. I have been shying away from my sewing machine. Not only that, but I wanted to give him a blanket that matches his heritage the way I made a blanket that matches his older sister's Chinese heritage. I couldn't find any Central American-looking fabric. I fell in love with a Noah's ark-themed bolt recently, though, and knew it would be perfect for him.
Looking at the fabric, I knew I needed a soft blue thread to put into the machine so the color of the stitches would match. I took out the bobbin in my machine to roll new thread onto it. But the bobbin was full. I started unrolling the old thread. Magenta came off -- a quick bag JP wanted me to make to hold a tool of his. I had to pull out the white -- was that Fly's baptism outfit? Pale green -- part of the quilt I made for him? Slate blue -- I can't remember; I don't wear that color. Navy -- gosh, was that the tiered camisole I made for our trip to Naples before Fly? Each thread rolled off the bobbin and I took a little trip back in time, thinking about how my projects have linked themselves sentimentally to my past. Even though my projects have ranged from laughable to passable, I have spent considerable time at the sewing machine, thinking and dreaming as the needle went up and down.
Left with this tumbleweed of memories, I was glad for the time spent sewing -- on the surface nothing more than putting together pieces of fabric with string -- but actually a time capsule of our needs, wants, celebrations and our lives.
Since my brother and sister-in-law added an adorable Guatemalan boy to their international family, I have yet to make him a blanket. I have been shying away from my sewing machine. Not only that, but I wanted to give him a blanket that matches his heritage the way I made a blanket that matches his older sister's Chinese heritage. I couldn't find any Central American-looking fabric. I fell in love with a Noah's ark-themed bolt recently, though, and knew it would be perfect for him.
Looking at the fabric, I knew I needed a soft blue thread to put into the machine so the color of the stitches would match. I took out the bobbin in my machine to roll new thread onto it. But the bobbin was full. I started unrolling the old thread. Magenta came off -- a quick bag JP wanted me to make to hold a tool of his. I had to pull out the white -- was that Fly's baptism outfit? Pale green -- part of the quilt I made for him? Slate blue -- I can't remember; I don't wear that color. Navy -- gosh, was that the tiered camisole I made for our trip to Naples before Fly? Each thread rolled off the bobbin and I took a little trip back in time, thinking about how my projects have linked themselves sentimentally to my past. Even though my projects have ranged from laughable to passable, I have spent considerable time at the sewing machine, thinking and dreaming as the needle went up and down.
Left with this tumbleweed of memories, I was glad for the time spent sewing -- on the surface nothing more than putting together pieces of fabric with string -- but actually a time capsule of our needs, wants, celebrations and our lives.
Labels: crafty stuff, Damselfly chronicles
posted by Damselfly at 8:35 AM
7 Comments:
a beautiful tumbleweed indeed :)
awww makes me want to drop everything and go sew something ... beautiful post!
I can't even get inspired to take my sewing machine out of the bag, so you're good. :)
Lovely post, dearie. And one I could not relate to in the least, craft-challenged that I am. :-)
Such a pretty post!
I'm gonna shock you here...I am an excellent seamstress (no lie)! I have taken tailoring class and everything:)
I think it's a gift to be able to sew; both for the person who can do it, and for those who get to enjoy the fruits of their labour.
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