Something inside my breast shifted, like a door opening, and inside me was the Serengeti, and oceans of grass swaying without hurry, while massive gentle beasts swayed unhurriedly with it, walking... and eating... walking and eating, nudging and brushing up against each other.
I loved elephants.
Remember the Hunter's Star quilt I started for my sister last October?
NO MORE HUNTER'S STAR
A new pattern is required. And quite accidentally, I find it through a merry link trail on Reddit!
This presents a matter of interpretation: in English, "grass" connotes something unremarkable and ephemeral, while "weed" connotes something hardy and unwelcome. The poem changes pretty dramatically depending on whether the poet pauses to reconsider humble grass or a noxious weed! I lean toward the "grass" reading, though. I like to think that the existence of a name makes the passer-by stop to observe something he'd never considered noteworthy before.
Since the first time I saw a Storm at Sea quilt (at a quilt show, with intertwined hearts emerging from the pattern through clever use of color), I wanted to make one. I love how it's all straight lines, but because of angle changes gives the illusion of curving lines. It does look like waves, but made from squares and rectangles. The kaleidoscope block has a similar appeal.
Some quilts -- like my Memories of Africa Quilt or my Dandelion quilt -- start with a plan. I sit down and draw an idea, pick my fabrics, and work my way toward a fore-visioned end. I love working like that, because I can bring an idea into reality! But those quilts tend to be thinky quilts, and sometimes I don't have the reserves to think my way through my hobby. Lately, I've been getting home from work at 6:30pm, and it's dark, and I have just enough space in my brain for a little Foundation Paper Piecing... before I feel my focus slip, like a car falling out of gear. I get maybe a half-hour of concentration, and then I find myself picking the wrong fabric for the pattern and having to rip seams, or just staring at the same piece for a while doing nothing. I desire to be creative, but sewing to a plan leads to frustration.
That's why I like to have a second project at the same time, a non-thinky project. The Acid Trip, Scrappy Double Wedding Ring, and today's featured project are all examples of what I think of as "blank verse" projects.
My mom and I did two tours and one friend-visit while we were in Africa. The first tour, The Great Rift Valley, was a safari, and we camped outside many nights. Here's my mom and I at home in Pennsylvania, ready to set out:
Quilting, dressmaking, and history plied with the needle...
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