The Old Patchwork Quilt is a poem my Aunt Gail sent to me. She said she thought of me when she read it, aww.
“The Old Patchwork Quilt” by Alice Lewis
As I lie here in bed, All snug, safe and warm, I hear in the distance, The sound of a thunderstorm. The wind is moaning Around the old log cabin That my grandfather built, But I enjoy listening to it, Lying underneath the old patchwork quilt. My grndmother quilted it by hand, So many years ago, The tiny stiches sewn By the oil lamp’s soft glow. The stitches have started to unravel; The colors have faded with time; But to me, it’s more precious Than any treasure I could find.
When I read it, I thought of my Mom’s quilt that an old neighbor quilted her, by hand, for her wedding over 30 years ago. The lady was not education, didn’t have any work skills or training. Yet, she was able to construct one of the MOST DIFFICULT quilt patterns – the Wedding Ring. I can’t even cut a proper circle, much less make millions of tiny scraps of fabric come together evenly to make enterlocking rings. It blows my mind. The woman was amazing.