I remember sitting in my local Craft Emporium, Stag and Bow, during one of their legendary Friday Evening Socials having forgotten my sewing project (but remembered the wine...go figure). I was watching Big Daddy Cyrus juggle feeding their baby daughter Bertie whilst simultaneously hand sewing teensy hexagon shaped pieces of fabric around card. It looked fascinating (the sewing not the feeding...) I wanted to have a go. So Cyrus instructed me in the basics, whilst Bertie covered herself in hummus. Then he left me to it.
I purchased a pack of small Quilting templates the next day and began in earnest.
This was April 2014.
I cleaned out an empty icecream tub - an excuse to buy some more - and filled it with fabric, templates, scissors, thread and a needle. Sewing Warrior ready, I took my Crafty Quilting container almost everywhere.
I quilted on the Tube and on the Overground.
I quilted in cafes, in parks and on the beach.
I quilted whilst watching House of Cards, Breaking Bad, Masterchef (two series) and The Great British Sewing Bee to name a few.
I quilted in Banbury, Nottingham, Helsinki and Barbados.
My growing quilt never failed to spark a conversation. Others became fascinated by the colours, patterns and skill. They marveled at the tiny hand stitches and my patience. Complete strangers wanted to know what I was making. Many shared treasured memories of family or loved ones who had quilted or other types of sewing. Some said they wanted to go home and finish (or start) a crafting project.
I loved those journeys.
I quilted from heavily stressful times into hopeful ones. My quilt allowed me to move slowly but steadily through uncertainty and ill health to strength and encouragement. It grew and it spread and gathered momentum just as I was forced to make some major decisions about my own life.
Every scrap of cotton reminds me of something I made, or a memory of the person I created an item for, or where I was when I bought it. The abundant variety and stunning colours never fail to lift my spirits. Each piece has significance, however small.
I often wonder why I chose, for my first EVER quilting project, to attempt something so vast and potentially so daunting. Why didn't I just make a very simple cushion cover...or a placemat? It didn't actually occur to me. I just thought 'patchwork' and then 'quilt'. That was that really. I focused on the process, not the end product. I really loved watching my quilt grow, create its own space, until it almost developed a personality of its own.
It's now May 2015 and my Quilt of Wonder is complete. It took fifty-six weeks. Had I know this when I started I would probably never have done it. Over a year to sew something together? Bonkers!
But I'm SO glad that I started. Not only has it been my therapy, its an absolute, all-encompassing beauty. And I made it. ME. *grins*
It's amazing what a difference a year can make. I do miss my quilting project. I have plans to start another one...eventually. Maybe this one won't take as long. Maybe it will take longer. In the grand scheme of things does it matter?
Have you got a project that took an age to complete? Maybe you have one you want to finish? What's stopping you?
Start something. Go on.
You might surprise yourself.
Credit: Cushion and lamp (just seen) by Arhinarmah