The Quiet of Winter
Winter
is often referred to as 'the slow season'.
This perception is quite fitting because the vibrancy of growth and
change slows down, giving nature and earth inhabitants a break from the race of
daily tasks. Mother Nature seems to lean back into her plush easy chair,
breathe deeply and celebrate the simple process of living rather than racing
ahead. Our East Tennessee garden was often frozen ground with a few remaining
corn stalks standing crooked and bent from the fall harvest frenzy.
In our house there was some stillness,
a slower pace and more reflection about who we were as a family in this space
and time. Mama and Aunt Ruby began this season with negotiations about who they
were making quilts for this year. All children, grandchildren, and cousins were
mentioned along with the number and type of quilts each one possessed. Based on
this information they decided how many quilts would be made this year and who
would receive them. Some years it was a
quick process; other years there were debates resulting in a decision two or
three weeks later. Once the decision was
made they began the process of cutting and sewing the pieces for quilt pattern.
The 'tension piece' for this
whole process was the actual quilting because their quilting styles and
procedures were radically different.
Mama was precise in her cutting, stitches, and patterns; Aunt Ruby was
not. In fact, Aunt Ruby never seemed to
understand what the word "precise" meant. To her quilting was some sort of impulsive
'creative process' which could result in the addition of random stitches,
creative patterns, or new time saving inventions. Aunt Ruby's
"creativeness" drove Mama crazy! Mama was a scientist; Aunt Ruby was an
artist of the rarest type. And this
difference was where the arguments started.
From this point in the
quilting process it became a three month daily argument over style and method.
While it never broke out into hard words or fist fights, it was clear that each
held her ground without compromising. There were days of total stand-off and
each one doing her own 'thing' on her side of the quilt. Both of them knew it
was hopeless to try to change the opinion of the other, but this never stopped
them from trying to bring about change in the other. The final result was
always a quilt reflecting each one's philosophy.
Often in the quiet of winter
when I come across one of their quilts I pause to examine it carefully. Each personality is right there as obvious as
the nose on your face. I can see Mama's
precision and perfection intermingled with Aunt Ruby's creative interjections
and I even hear their arguments in my head. I can go back to the room, the
quilting chairs, and the people as though it were happening right before my
eyes. I suppose that's why my quilts are one of my most prized
possessions. Maybe these quilts had more
to do with remembering them than it did with a slow winter season or any
particular quilt pattern or style.
