The Gestation of a Quilt

Just as we were leaving England in August, I met Mimi Walker, the woman who said she would teach me to do Dorset Feather Stitchery on my Winter Wonderland quilt. Today I went back up to Easton on the Isle of Portland to see her once again.

I took the quilt with me (the center part anyway, which is all I have completed), and Mimi really liked it. Several of the other women at the country market stopped by to admire it, which made me feel good. Mimi agrees that the feather stitch would be an ideal enhancement to the already embroidered central panels, and we hope to get together one day next week for my lesson.

As I've mentioned before, the walk from Portland back down to Weymouth takes about an hour and a half. I was past the last bus stop and on the Rodwell Trail when it started to rain...just a light sprinkle at first, but increasing steadily. My quilt was in a fabric tote bag slung over my shoulder. Not wanting it to get wet, I turned my back to the rain, unzipped my Goretex jacket, and slipped that tote bag over my head, letting it hang down my chest, and then zipped the jacket around it.

There weren't too many walkers on the trail this morning, but eventually one young man appeared in the distance. We exchanged smiles from afar, acknowledging a fellow traveler caught in a sudden shower. As he approached me, however, his friendly smile changed to a look I did not understand...not exactly horrified, but definitely more than puzzled. After a moment's thought, it came to me: "He thinks I'm pregnant!" That bulge under my jacket must indeed have made me look like I'm in my third trimester, and my sixty-year-old face definitely did not fit the image! I laughed out loud.

Walking along, I imagined this scenario: What if he had permitted himself to comment on my "condition". He might have pointed to my belly and said something like, "Aren't you a little old to still be doing this?"

Patting my bulge lovingly on one side, I would have responded, "Why, no, I couldn't possibly stop now! Why, I'm just getting good at it!"

"How many others do you have?" he might have asked.

"Oh, mercy," I'd have to say, "I don't really know. I guess I've lost count!"

"Lost count!" he would gasp in horror. "How could you possibly lose count?"

"Well it's easy," I'd say, "since I give so many of them away."

"You give them away?" he would shriek in disbelief.

"Yes, many of them I do...to friends and family, mostly," I would say. "They always seem so pleased to have one. They're very pretty, you know."

Sensing his disappointment, I would then add, "I've been working on this one for nine months now, and I think it's going to turn out nice. I believe I'll be keeping this one."