The following poem was written by a lady from the Southern Highlands - a church group from Bundanoon and Exeter got together and during there quilt making for "Caring with Quilts" this poem was written, I really enjoyed reading and did several times........the last paragraph sums up "Caring with Quilts" perfectly.........
I have permission to post this on my blog.
Quilts for Coonabarabran. 2013
How do you start, to
begin again? We really don’t know how.
Piece by piece -
like a patchwork quilt, is all we can offer for now.
The fabric came from
quilters homes, from friends and linen presses.
Matching colour tones,
came easily for some, but for others it was totally guess-work.
We had a few
meetings to discuss, the best way to attack it.
But in the end we
all pitched in, cutting strips and squares and patches.
Ladies came from
here and there, we wore tags to know our own names.
Some were from
church, some from nearby, and some simply because they had heard.
Under watchful supervision,
some stitching still didn’t make the
grade.
If the joins in your
quilt are not perfect, remember the skills of the sewer ... are the same.
Some of us who
hadn’t a clue, decided to work in the kitchen.
Or nervously waited
on an expert, to allow us to take the next action.
The old church hall
had limited points, for irons and sewing devices.
Power boards and
extension leads, were creatively used to suffice us.
Is ‘that’ a sewing machine? The question
from some young children.
When a fifty year
old green SINGER was heaved up to the table.
The kids whose family,
rhymes with ‘quilt’, ironed squares and served us pikelets.
They kept the water
up to the iron, and in between they ... squirted!
One special girl with
her ‘L’s on, sewed a hem for the
very first time.
She wanted it slow,
but still made it go, then lit up the room with excitement.
Spectacles had to be
borrowed one day, as sunnies are bad choosing colours.
The blind one
stepped in for Suzy, till the one with wrong glasses felt woozy.
When loaning us his
ironing board, like a surfer on his way to the sea.
Our minister drove down
his road, wondering ‘why are they laughing at me?’
He tried to get us
to iron his shirts, and somebody dared to say ... yes!
But only if she
could cut them up, and re-join them with floral in sections.
Some teenaged girls tried
seriously to pretend, they were reading and trying to study.
We knew all along they
were undercover, judging who was the fuddiest old duddy.
We quilting novices
heard some terms, that still need some explaining.
Like ‘stitch in a ditch’, ‘press to the dark’ and a style that mentions
‘sausages’.
A few with obvious
aptitude were invited to ‘sandwich’
one day.
The rest of us were
quite content with quiche and cake ... anyway.
We had some fun at
your expense, dear folk from Coonabarabran.
We thought on how difficult
and sad for you, to not have the things that you count on.
This quilt may not
be to your decorating taste, it may not be your colour of choice.
But may it bring
comfort in some tiny way, to know that strangers, have been caring.
| .........take care til next time.....Chookyblue......... |
