Search Results for: The Old Quilt

The old quilt got to me, blown up onto the roof and frozen into a pile on the lawn. This time, I was more emotional about something that Maria, who has the sensitivity of an artist. She was quite cool about the old quilt, she said she would cut it up this week and use it in some of her other works.

For reasons I cannot even imagine, the quilt got to me. I thought it deserved more dignity and  recognition that to end up frozen on a rooftop and then chopped up. It bothered me to see it frozen and torn up out there. I could  hardly look at it, I urged Maria to bring it into the house quickly and not leave it out there in the wind.

I suggested putting it up on a wall, Maria shrugged. I asked if I could have a chunk of it, and she said maybe, she’d have to see. All of Maria’s fiber work comes from discarded fabric, so it is no big deal to her to chop up an old and tattered quilt and use it anew.

I like the idea very much, but I felt for the quilt. Maria was surprised, she said it was quite unlike me.

I brought it into the house frozen and put it in the bathtub. And then Maria hung it back out on the line where the quilt was blown away, and the next morning, we found that a fresh windstorm had blown it off the line again, but not all the way up onto the roof.

Maria took pity on the quilt and brought it inside to dry out by the wood stove. That made me feel better. Tonight, we talked about the quilt, and I asked when  was the quilt going to be chopped up or executed. Maria smiled and said she had a new idea for the quilt that would not involve chopping it up. She wouldn’t tell me what it was.

A reprieve, I said. No, she said, a  rebirth.

A friend gave Maria an old quilt a couple of years ago, and Maria washed it this week and put it out on the line to dry. The next morning, a huge storm swept through her and it brought intense winds on and off for two days. The quilt, already wet, stayed out on the line to dry.

This morning, when we went out to feed the animals, Maria noticed this odd and colorful lump up on the roof. It took her a minute to realize i was her beautiful old quilt, which she had just hung out on the line.

The wind had blown the quilt off the back yard clothesline, over the top of the roof and down the other side, where it caught on some slate and froze.

Lord, I thought who can we call to get the old quilt down.

I was astonished, and wasn’t sure what to do, Maria, my Willa Cather girl, just went into the barn and pulled out a big ladder and climbed up and got it.

Maria was delighted, as only an artist would be. She was up on the roof in second, and put the old quilt in the yard so the morning sun might that it out. This is a video, she said, and went to work.

“A sculpture,” she said, immediately pondering how she could make some of her quilts stand up in shaped forms. I felt bad about the old quilt sitting frozen out there in the yard, Maria danced around, taking photos and videos, thinking about she might do fiber sculptures if she could shape them.

As the sun rose, the old quilt began to thaw, and it bothered me, seeing it out there.

I lobbied to bring the poor thing inside, I had emotionalized the quilt, perhaps, I said, we’ve been together for too long. It was kind of striking to see, Fate growled at it stayed away.

The old quilt is no thawing out in the bathtub. I am grateful to be living here, you really get to consider life and what it means.

I asked Maria what will become of the quilt now. She didn’t blink. “I’ll probably cut it up,” she said, meaning it would be born again as a potholder, quilt or hanging piece.  I did feel a twinge hearing that, the old quilt is very beautiful and has had a long life. How odd that I should feel this way about a quilt.

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This morning, my writing class at the farmhouse, then we are planning a run night excursion to somewhere close by. We just need to get out of the house for a few hours, or a night. More later.