A Star is Born

 

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In 2019 I came up with the hairbrained idea of making another quilt. This time, I would size it to fit our bed, which I had not done before. All of my other quilts are hanging over bannisters, resting in folds at the foot of beds, or lounging on the backs of chairs and racks. This one would be different; we would sleep under it. It would fit our queen size mattress and come down to the dust ruffle. That was the criteria, and my needle and thread would be coaxed toward that goal.

    As usual, when I sprint down the quilt trail, I jump in on all fours and start cutting and stitching, not stopping to eat a sandwich, not thinking about the future, and certainly not planning how I will accomplish certain maneuvers along my quilt making way. A plan such as this one could hold the potential for a disaster, but as the instructor of my first quilt course once said, "There is no mistake that cannot be fixed."

    Inspired by a photo in a magazine, I picked out a star pattern. I did the math for the required specifications, configuring enough squares and rectangles to arrive at the right dimensions for the finished size. I cut and sewed and cut and sewed, again and again. Between spells of seeing nothing but stars, there were stretches of time when my blocks, both finished and unfinished, lay in a heap on my cutting table, forgotten for days and months, like distant relatives.

    Eventually, I finished piecing the top, and I vowed to seize the next step, even while stymied by what I had gotten myself into. The quilt turned out so big, I had to buy a king size batting to fit my queen size measurements, and when it came time to baste the three layers together, I could not find an area in my house big enough to accommodate it. So, I loaded the mass into the back seat of the car and drove to the fellowship hall at church, where I slid three tables together to make a surface large enough to spread it out. Three tables! Even then, there was overhang, and I had to shift the yardage as I worked. To reach the center of the quilt, I climbed on top of the tables and basted on my hands and knees.

    Then came time to start quilting. Uh-oh. All along, I had planned to make quick work of quilting by using the machine, but alas, my plan disintegrated when the bulk of fabric would not go through the opening. I needed a bulldozer to push it through. Faced with the prospect of quilting by hand instead of machine, I turned to my standing quilt frame, and I sighed when I discovered that the poles were not long enough. I did not want to add more poles, as this would likely be my last big quilt endeavor. Out of options, I resolved to hand quilt this monstrosity, and although hand quilting is my first love, handwork takes gobs of time, patience, and decent eyesight. At this stage of my life, I am running low on all three. But a quilter has to do what a quilter has to do.

    I retrieved my biggest wooden hoop from the closet and threaded a size nine needle. I had not hand quilted in years, but once again, I found the rocking motion of the needle as comforting as I remembered, like coming home to a place I had dearly missed. On the downside, the quilt created too much bulk for my lap, so I had to move to the dining room and let the table support the fabric while I quilted. It is resting there now, wadded up, waiting for me and my hands. Unfortunately, it is being neglected for days and weeks at a time, while I have other fish to fry and summer's garden bounty to peel, chop, slice, and dice.

 

    A few days ago, I crossed a milestone by quilting the last of the twenty pieced blocks in the border. Next, I will tackle the twenty border rectangles, using a crude homemade stencil as a guide for a design. When those are done, I will go back and add more stitches to the squares and rectangles between the stars, which I hurried through on the way to the border.

    The most recent deadline for finishing this quilt was Christmas of last year, which came and went, and I am hesitant to announce another date of completion. This quilt will be finished when it's finished. Meanwhile, I am reminding myself to take in the scenery along the journey and not be so consumed with reaching the destination. Quilting by hand encourages slowing down, and it allows time for thinking about such things as life, and the other projects hovering over my shoulder. In these busy summer months, I will sew a few stitches here and there, between assembling tomato pie and eggplant Parmesan and heeding other callings. Someday, I will take the final stitch and clip the thread for the last time. Until then, I wait impatiently to sit down with the comfort that only a quilt can bestow, even an unfinished one, and even before sleeping under it. In the words of a favorite author, this is the best of times and the worst of times, but from a quilter's point of view, the worst time of the best time is not bad at all. 

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