COVERS

Ocean Waves Quilt

Blankets, sheets, quilts, afghans, lap quilts, cover-ups . . . whatever the size, whatever the intended use by the manufacturer, my house bears witness to my obsession with covers.

Some of these I can explain away as clearly utilitarian--where I live we have mostly very cold winters, with an occasional lapse by Mother Nature (or the global warming goddess). Temperature drops into the forties and farther down, starting in October, call for an extra layer of something on the bed to keep body heat in and outside chill out.

The number and style of coverings became obvious recently when I had family visiting for eight nights in August. We covered up in variety:

     - quilts (3 that I made)
     - duvet (purchased long ago and still serviceable)
     - flannel sheets (bottom and top) 
     - regular sheets (a couple of those for whoever didn't want flannel)
     - ancient woven throw (falling apart but still cozy)
     - lap quilts (for an extra layer, if needed)

But utilitarian doesn't explain the four baby quilts, four fleece blankets, and two (super-heavy) all-cotton blankets (used as bedspreads in years past), all stored in a convenient closet.

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The real explanation possibly--even probably--lies in my upbringing. Grandma Jenkins made a quilt every year. She started piecing the blocks in the spring, working through the summer and into the fall; by Thanksgiving she had a quilt top ready to join with batting and backing on the heavy wooden quilting frame. Grandpa hauled it down or in from wherever it had been stored for the past six or eight months, set it up in the living room, and the quilt was loaded onto the frame for hand quilting by my grandmother. That was her main occupation through the winter months. After all, gardening was over--everything that could be canned was already in jars on the shelves in the spare bedroom, the canner was scrubbed and put away, and next year's garden was only a dream occupying Grandpa's winter months.

Double Irish Chain

Memory grows hazy here. I don't know who received Grandma's quilts. Perhaps one or more of the 10 Jenkins kids--all grown and flown by the time I came on the scene. Or perhaps grandchildren as they married and started a new home. The only covers I remember at Grandma and Grandpa's house were two she made, one on their big brass bed that stood so high I couldn't climb on by myself, and one on the smaller bed in the spare room where I slept when I stayed the night. In memory, one quilt is blue and white--in a pattern I now know was an Irish Chain. The other was made of small triangles in every color God created--that one was probably an Ocean Waves quilt, but that's guesswork from the distance of more than half a century.


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My personal experience with making quilts started roughly 30 years ago when I took a class with my oldest daughter. It was called Quilt in a Day--a technique made possible by Eleanor Burns who revolutionized quilt making by introducing us to strip piecing. No longer did we cut each square, rectangle, or triangle for our pattern . . . we could cut strips, sew them in explicit ways, and then cut into pieced units. The class we attended made it possible to turn out a baby quilt (about 40 inches square) in one day of cutting, sewing, more cutting, more sewing--and then we put the quilt top, batting, and backing together. Voila! A finished baby quilt. 

After that class, both my daughter and I were hooked. She went on to make many baby quilts for people she knew starting their families, and eventually joined a large quilt guild where she was inspired by many innovative practitioners. I tried various patterns--some with more success than others--and learned what parts I liked best about quilting, what parts would need a lot of dedicated time, and what patterns I'd pass by as too demanding for the time I wanted to give to a project.

Over the years, I've felt a connection between my grandma and my aunts who made quilts. Once it was what we had to do if we wanted our family to be warm in the winter. Now we often make quilts just to be trying something different--new color combinations, new patterns, new sizes. Wall hangings, table toppers, table linens (placemats and napkins), bed toppers . . . there's always something new coming down the pike.

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Besides utilitarian usage and gift giving, covers have long been an ingredient in the creative play of children.

Take one big old cover, add a card table, and you have an instant cave/castle/den/secret room. No card table? Use the cover on a chair--upholstered or wooden--or the end of a sofa.

Nap quilts/covers became a requirement of nursery schools. Each child had a space to lie on, rest, possibly nap (though I doubt it). At home a nap quilt's individual space became a child's very own island--room for a book, a snack, possibly a cat.

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Another quilt that lives in memory came to my hospital room when I had surgery in 1995. My youngest daughter had found what looked to me like an antique quilt--not full bed size, but larger than a baby quilt--at an estate sale. She was intrigued by it and bought it just to have a quilt in her apartment. When she came to stay with me during surgery, she brought the quilt and laid it on my hospital bed while I slept. I think of that quilt as the first of many healing quilts I have known--they bring with them the prayers and good wishes of the giver, and that positive energy is somehow transferred to the person who needs healing. I like to think it's the alchemy of love.

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We're closing in on the season of quilts and covers. Sometimes I wrap up in a light cover while I watch a movie. And a little extra something is de rigueur for afternoon naps--grandmas take naps, too.

I'm grateful for the time I grew up in, and the family I had. They were folks who knew about love and laughter, and good food, and warm blankets. Thanks be.

Modern Strip Quilt--I've made this
pattern at least three times in different
color combos.