But she has other intriguing sides as well. She loves her quiet little outdoor sanctuary, where she can watch birds, admire flowers and hear water gurgling.
Then there's her practical talented side too. As usual she fulfills this in her own inimitable way! And today, she shares it with us! Here's Crazyhorselady -in her domestic goddess role!
A Stitch in Time
Yepperz, that silly Home Ec. Teacher told us we all had to sew a skirt…from a pattern. A complete ‘n total disaster! Mine’d been taken apart ‘n resewn so many times that it looked akin to swiss cheese. Nah, I t’weren’t gonna wear that to school! What was she thinkin’ anyhow? Needless to say, I had an “A” which swiftly turned into a big ol’ ugly “F”. Not somethin’ I’m proud of.
I grew up with women who didn’t do patterns. They saw somethin’ in the store they liked ‘n went home ‘n whittled it outta a big brown paper bag, sometimes tapin’ ‘em together to get it large ‘nough. They bought their fabric ‘n got to sewin’!
How I Learned to Sew
Sewin’ was a necessity, not somethin’ one did jest fer fun. We sewed so we’d have clothes on our backs. Young’uns’d not be threadbare ‘n guffawed at in school. Fine works of art those ol’ women’d make. My mamaw was such a master seamstress that she e’en made western clothes ‘n square dancin’ dresses. I wish I had a quarter of her talent.
Makin’ schtuff fer the young’uns was a norm ‘til they got so grown up that homemade clothin’ was so horribly ridiculed by their classmates. I kinda got outta the know-how when it came to such.
Quiltin' and my health
I’d make lap quilts fer the folks in nursin’ homes. Dunno why those folks who run the place ‘n work there take no mind that they’re freezin’ most half the time. No two were e’er alike, all scrapped ‘n pieced together.
It’d take me half the winter to get a few of ‘em together. The elderly folks who got ‘em were most pleased. Made me feel all warm ‘n fuzzy, watchin’ their worn hands as they’d rub the fabric ‘n stitches. Calmed some of ‘em down as well as keepin’ the chill off ‘em, so the nurses said.
Times got super busy here with the cattle ‘n horses once the young’uns’d all grown ‘n moved on. Quiltin’ or e’en thinkin’ of such was like a distant dream. I didn’t fret o’er it though. Jest kept addin’ to that pile of worn out shirts ‘n jeans ‘n whate’er else needed to find new life. No doubt there’d be a time fer ‘em.
When the first grand young’un graced us, I’d made her a quilt ‘n continued to do so each year. Markin’ milestones in her life. A second’un came ‘n I continued on with the tradition – both gettin’ a new quilt each Christmas. Then illness struck ‘n I became unable to sew, with or without a machine. The pain in the hands too severe to attempt such a feat.
Several years went by ‘n my pile continued to grow. My health hiccups lessened somewhat ‘n word came that the youngest of mine was gonna have a baby. Heart soarin’, I turned to my piles ‘n the gears started churnin’. This up ‘n comin’ member’d have to have a quilt! The query bein’, would I be able to accomplish such?
I resigned myself to the fact the I’d have to use a sewin’ machine, my days of hand sewin’ behind me. No harm in tyin’ a quilt instead of handstitchin’ it, eh? I faced many challenges ‘long the way. Needles that joined in with hands that didn’t wish to cooperate.
Quiltin' for more folks
Folks went on ‘bout how cute ‘n original. The hubs kept remindin’ me that his granny’d made him a denim quilt in his youth. Nobody seems to know where it is, it’s not been seen in nearly 40 years. I suspect it was prolly tattered ‘n warn ‘n tossed aside. He’d tell me tales of how once ya got under it, ya couldn’t move coz it was so heavy, how toasty warm it was.
‘bout a week after finishin’ the upcomin’ grandson’s quilt, I set to work on the next quilt. Undaunted that it’d be much larger ‘n might become more’ve a challenge. I cut out squares from ol’ worn jeans ‘n his workshirts ‘n set ‘bout layin’ it all out. A remnant from many years back ‘n I’d made shades called to me – a corduroy back it’d be.
T’weren’t long ‘n it was near to bein’ finished. I mulled o’er how to finish off the bindin’, it’s denim so heavy that the machine balked at the askin’. It’d have to be hand-stitched, jest’s the grand young’uns. Took me 4 days to get’er done, but I smiled at my accomplishment.
The hubs loves his quilt, built jest fer him ‘n his recliner. Not quite twin size, which’s a good thingy. It’s of a nice weight ‘n like the grands prior to it, I like the worn parts of the denim on it as well. The neighbor from ‘cross the road was the first to see it completed. She carried on quite a bit, somewhat shocked it was of ol’ jeans ‘n work shirts that most’d thrown in the trash. What intrigued her the most though was the blanket stitch I’d done the bindin’ in. So, we had a lesson in how to do that
Momma saw it (the hubs quilt) ‘n fell in love. The colors suited her palate jest right. I couldn’t make her one jest like it, so set out to fashion her one with denim ‘n some vintage fabric I had layin’ ‘round. It was finally completed the Saturday prior to Mother’s Day. Done with jest a day to spare. Givin’ it to her, I wish I’d had a camera handy coz she jest beamed like a wee young’un who’d been given a new dress.
So, don’t toss those ol’ worn out clothes. If’n ya have no desire to quilt yerself, check ‘round ‘n see if there’s a quiltin’ club or somethin’ in yer neighborhood. It’s great to recycle these into treasures. With the scraps left o’er from these aforementioned projects, I’m thinkin’ of makin’ some oven mitts ‘n such. Not much goes to waste ‘round here if’n I can help it.