Sunlight, shining through the lace curtains, bathed the room in dappled shadow. It has an old world feel; walls painted a soft green, the woodwork a gleaming white, and the pine plank floor covered in a multicoloured rag rug.
I see the antique bed against the far wall, old and brass, dull and tarnished. It’s covered in a quilt, pieced together by my great grandmother’s hand.
Fabric scraps, cut and sewn together, create a riot of colour and pattern. Ginghams, checks and tiny florals repeat in a geometric patchwork design. Everyday fabrics reworked into something practical, yet something to be cherished.
I can’t imagine the number of painstaking hours required to create this beautiful quilt. The long winter evenings spent cutting, piecing and sewing.
Did she know that she was creating a family heirloom? Or did she simply do what was practical; making something functional to keep her family comfortable and warm.
The colours have faded over time, but the sentiment has stayed strong. This patchwork quilt is a gift from the past, to be valued and treasured.
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