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Tomorrow is the big day, can't believe that it is here. I have been changing around the stuff in the bags that we are taking to try to eliminate one $30.00 checked bag, but I haven't been successful. Too many last minute items that I can't possibly go without. We are going to miss the little boys here terribly, but we will be with other little boys and our only granddaughter. Will they miss us? Well Gramps they will miss for sure. Sam will be lonely for his side partner. They do something together most days, even if it's only going outside and sitting on the porch.
This will be my last day of sewing for a month! I'm told I will survive, but I'm not so sure. I will have a knitting project with me and some sharks to stuff when we get back there. We are promised a camping trip in the mountains. As much as I love living in South Dakota I still miss the beautiful mountains I grew up in and around.
I am sure I will be able to borrow a computer to make some posts and share some pictures of what we are doing.
Here is a picture of Malachi and I doing some jewelry making together in our little bed-sitter in the basement. Sam was trying to make jewelry too, but he fell asleep.

The quilt on the bed is the first one I ever machine quilted. For a long time I was a hand quilt only snob, but then the carpel tunnel kicked in, and I had to reassess my values. After all most of my  piecing is done by machine. I have several tops I have hand appliqued that I will hand quilt. I hope to set up my grandmother's quilting that she had made for her the same year as my dad was born, 1922. When she died I was the only one who wanted it. I have done a lot of quilts on it, and I am sure she did too, I had a couple that finally disintegrated. (Couldn't figure out how to spell that word had to look it up, I've been pronouncing and spelling it wrong all my life, who knew?) The stories that quilting frame could tell if it could speak. I think about the conversations that it heard when all the farm wives got together to make bedding for their families. Perhaps it's just as well it can't speak now that I think about it. When women get together the conversation about husbands sometimes would make their ears burn. Those women faced all the things we do today, and thrown into the mix they were settlers in places that were new to them. Sometimes away from their families. They survived the "dirty thirties" and lived to tell about it. 

 

I had a box of quilt scraps my grandmother sent me just before I married my husband over forty years ago. She said I was the only one of her daughters and granddaughters that quilted and that I should have them. They were feed sacks and parts of aprons that survived and were saved to be reused. I have always cherished them and used them for special quilts. They are almost gone now; I am finishing them up in an 1.25 inch postage stamp quilt. I remember now why I cut the squares that size: I would be able to use even the tiniest pieces. It will be a memorial to my grandmother.