Pandemic Pandemonium is not for Me

In the 1990's a dream of mine came true when I bought a floor-standing quilting frame. I still remember the excitement of opening the box and putting the frame together. Most people probably think that hand-quilting is about as exciting as watching grass grow, but sitting at a frame with a quilt stretched across it was where I wanted to be.

We lived in Richmond at the time and I set up the frame downstairs in the living room for easy access. Being an early riser, I had extra time in the mornings. After my beloved left for work and the house became quiet, I would sit down at the frame and take some stitches in my log cabin quilt.

Sitting there at the quilting frame I experienced heaven on earth as I became lost in my thoughts and the rhythmic rocking motion of my needle. The only interruption was an occasional glance at the clock lest I be late for work. I'd literally have to force myself to put down my needle and head out the door to the concrete jungle.

At the office I found that climbing up the rungs of the corporate ladder wasn't nearly as much fun as quilting. There at work I shuffled papers and clicked computer screens while the quilt in my head called me to come back home. At the end of the work day, I'd dash away from ringing phones and swiveling chairs and go back to the serene world of soft one hundred percent cotton fabric that I adored then and still do. Now in my retirement years, I only have to juggle sewing with the obligations of daily life - which like the corporate jungle can also be considerable and demanding.

Earlier this year when talk of a pandemic hit full force, I walked calmly to my sewing room where I found solace instead of personal panic and meaningful music instead of media mayhem. Soon the trying time would fade into shades of blue and green and dusty rose.

For the last few months we've all had to make concessions, change our routines, make do and do without. Creativity has probably been the furthest thing from a lot of minds, not to mention the lack of resources and hindrances to getting supplies, but I contend that losing one's self in a good book, or cooking dinner, can have the same effect as the creative journey. Simple pleasures can take our minds off the crazy world that lies beyond our front door.

Years ago I taught a friend to make a quilt and she told me after the first lesson that she immersed herself in quilting and did little else. She said it was wonderful to be in that joyful place of fabrics and patterns and dreams. 

Every morning when we roll out of bed we can jump on the media's current bandwagon and take a bumpy ride or we can go in another direction. Today, at least for a little while, I'm choosing that other direction. And hopefully I'll get lost somewhere in the hues of blue and green and dusty rose.