Fiction or non-fiction, we write into the truth. We feel the story and layer the details onto the page. We rework the scraps until they bloom — the quilter, the painter, the metal worker, the writer — we all work in scraps until we have captured the story that speaks our truth. – Charli Mills
Mountain Cove. Art Quilt by Barbara Williamson
When I was a kid most homes had a sewing machine with a pile of old clothes nearby. Any buttons were removed and saved as a precaution against future losses, the cloth cut and used as patches on our torn jeans. The rags might also be turned into braided rugs or become pieces of a quilt. My quilt was a memory keeper, with prints and material still recognizable and recalled from their former incarnations. Surely the quilter was an artist.
Where I come from most people have in…
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Thank you so much for coming over as my guest 🙂
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It was an honor and a pleasure. Thank you for hosting.
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I’m just glad you came and shared your story 🙂
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Beautiful writing, D. You have a way with words – an eloquent way.
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Thank you Norah.
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