Stitches in time

I once attended a writing workshop where we were asked to complete a familiar phrase with a new twist. Mine was "A stitch in time," which usually wraps up with "saves nine." My version was "as stitch in time mends the rip in the universe." I was heavily into science fiction and fantasy at the time, so that was no surprise.

Although I still love a good sci-fi or fantasy book, bouncing through the stars in imaginary spaceships is a far cry from quilting, where stitches in time conjure up scenarios of women gathered around a colorful expanse of cloth stretched out on a wooden frame, their heads bent over their work. Needles flash in and out of the cloth, catching the lamplight like dolphins leaping out of the ocean and diving back in. All very "Little House on the Prairie," not very "Star Trek" at all, although in terms of creativity, both take you where no one has gone before -- or at least in my case, a leap into a universe where stars are born of cloth and imagination.

My mother-in-law Betty once showed me how to quilt together the triple layers of top, batting and backing, but applique was something new to me. Now I was faced with finishing a garden of irises using that art form. So I did two things.

First I examined the tiny stitches Betty used, then, because the weather had taken a nasty, icy turn and I didn't want to drive to Betty's house for a in-person lesson, I decided to check out a few books on the subject before picking up my own needle.

I chose Martha Stewart's "Encyclopedia of Sewing and Fabric Crafts." I figured if anyone could explain the process on paper, it was Martha. She thinks the whole technique may have started when some clever woman had to patch holes in her family's clothing, but then she went on to say it's a great way to enhance material. A good way to utilize "small patches of material in new ways."

The term applique is French, but I knew that from dredging up memories of high school French class, where my sharpest recall of the language was a recitation of how to make crepes. Thank you Mrs. Kellogg and Mr. Baker.

So, with Martha's book propped open with illustrations at the ready, and the real McCoy example of Betty's handiwork to study draped across my lap, I began.

The Request

I really should have started this blog on New Year's Eve 2010. That was the day Betty, my mother-in-law, gave me the quilt. We were at the farm, and she was pulling out boxes and bags of items she wanted to discard, save or give to her daughters Carole and Susie or her son, my husband Jim. We found photos, some linen napkins, a few pieces of china, a lovely large handwoven basket and a small mountain of carefully folded material squirreled away in boxes stored in the back bedroom.

She pulled out a large plastic container and opened the lid. This box held an unfinished quilt top. Betty unfolded it, smoothing out the creases with her hands and invited me to take a look.

A garden of multicolored irises bloomed on a white background. It was one of those kits you could buy, like a paint-by-number, only this was a stitch-by-the-number. Betty had finished all the border flowers and buds, and a lot of the irises that adorned the center of the quilt. She also had cut out all the pieces that still needed to be appliqued to the top. The pieces were sorted by color, pinned together and safely parceled in a plastic bag, along with another bag holding scraps, a third bag filled with skeins of embroidery thread, still another packed with spools of thread matching the quilt pieces, and an old checkbook check box used for storing extra needles.

Dotted blue lines shaped long leaves and the flowers that still needed to bloom. They stood out like white shadows against the pink, magenta and peach petals already in place.

"I'd like you to finish it, if you want to," she said.

Betty started the quilt years ago, working on it bit by bit over the years. But at 85, arthritis and the onset of macular degeneration began to limit what she could do.

We've always shared a love of crafts and needlework, and despite the fact I'd never really done any applique work, I said yes. How could I not? And why not? I work part-time at two different jobs, one with regular hours, the other as a freelance writer for one of our local newspapers and a friend's Web site. I would start after the holiday decorations were packed away and I could take a closer look at the pieces, the pattern, what would need to be embroidered once the applique work was done. Piece of cake, right? So I packed up the quilt and took it home.