The Quiet of Winter

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.