Selma and me, 1977
I remember sitting on the guest bed, my fingers tracing stitching, patches of fabric, and yarn ties, my eyes searching the quilt my great-grandmother made for my brother when he was born. There it is. I found the fabric, my favorite pattern, the "I can't believe Great-Grandma even knows what this is" fabric. I would look at each log cabin square, trying to imagine what a large piece of these slivers of fabric would look like. The one I always searched for? Smurfs. Yes, smurfs. A quilt for a boy in the eighties would have of course contained such fabric.
This memory came to me as I sewed this scarf a few weeks ago. I have sewn a few more lately...
the stepping outside into the first snowfall scarf
And, as I sew these patchwork scarves, I think about you...I think about you sitting on the train after work, waiting in the car for your children after school, sitting under a maple tree writing in your journal, reading blogs while everyone else is asleep, standing in line at the grocery store, sipping tea in your studio, resting by a creek, knitting in your favorite leather chair...I think about you tracing your finger over each stitch and each patch of fabric...I think of you searching. There it is.
the autumn is my spring scarf
(I have put a few of these Selma scarves in the shop.)
