When I give to you what I make with my hands, I share with you my heart.
Anonymous
Hand-made quilts have always been a wonder to me: Tiny stitches close together forming a pattern of their own. Stitched by a hard-working person who had no more time than what I have now. And a utilitarian piece prized as much for its workmanship as it was for pattern, size, and detail.
On the one hand, prized antique quilts (as well as new ones are today) were made for warmth and stability, sometimes out of scraps, whatever was handy.
But on the other hand, they were also works of art: delicate stitches that formed lines and curves, boxes and angles, pleasing to the eye as well as something to keep a person warm.
As many of us are “sheltered in place” during the time of Coronavirus, we’re taking out our unfinished pieces of handwork and doing as women (and men, too) did years ago: we’re stitching quilts to leave for the next generation.
Although I never met the woman who made this Sawtooth Star quilt in the 1830s, she is a person dear to my heart: talented in working with her hands, but also patient, exacting, and persistent to the end . . . sharing with unknown heirs-to-be her heart as well as her hands.
Rusha Sams
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