Tuesday, November 10, 2009

The Quilt That Followed Me Home

I recently wandered into a couple of antique shops near me, not necessarily looking for quilts, but just for fun. Buying antique quilts is not really in my budget these days, with a son in college and a daughter college bound soon enough. Plus, there's little room to display large quilts in my tiny house, so I like to look but don't usually get too attached when I see one. Where would I display it? Doll quilts are much easier to display but I rarely see any old doll quilts I want to buy at antique shops or flea markets--they all seem to have been made in the fifties (too close to home to be called "antique" I'd say!).

I haven't been drawn to the small ones I see at quilt show vendors' booths either and those I do see at antique shops or even on ebay are usually much too costly. I'm also not lucky enough to have had grandma's quilts handed down to me--I am the first quilter in my family. Notice I didn't say ONLY--I'm hopeful that I can recruit a few in the future and pass on the tradition. So, mostly I try to reproduce the patterns I like from old quilts and use reproduction fabrics to make my own NEW quilts that have a little bit of an antique touch. Works well for me. But I still like to look around at antique malls and this particular place has a pretty good array of shops.








I was half hoping to find something else for another collection I started, but not looking for a quilt. Isn't it funny how something often turns up when you're not really looking for it? You just never know. What kind of vintage treasure would it be this time?







This quilt is cool, but several hundred dollars cool? Better keep looking . . .



One shop is in an old schoolhouse building that claims to be the oldest school house in Illinois, dating from 1835, but probably restored somewhere along the line.





I spotted this one at a different shop, beneath some old textiles piled up on a chair in a corner, and it IMMEDIATELY called out to me.



I've always been drawn to schoolhouse quilts (I made a little red and blue one for my book Prairie Children and Their Quilts a few years ago). The fact that it was so faded and worn and in need of repair made me think of an antique doll or child's quilt that had been played with extensively. It looked forlorn, almost like it had been hidden because someone decided it held no value to anyone anymore. The price turned out to be affordable and the fact that I rarely EVER see schoolhouse quilts made it even more appealing. I couldn't resist. Don't know why. I had to rescue that quilt, regardless of the shape it was in.





The blocks are hand pieced and the quilt is tied, not quilted. It is definitely well worn and loved, has significant fading, a few stains and tears and is really in need of some good care. But it has such a primitive look and is truly a great piece of folk art. I couldn't just leave it there.




So I'm working on trying to date it. I know that schoolhouse quilts were popular in the late 19th century and that trend continued into the 1920s and '30s. According to the International Quilt Study Center in Nebraska,  "For rural women of the late nineteenth century, teaching was both the most prestigious and the highest paying opportunity available to them. The Schoolhouse pattern, which became popular at the same time, may reflect the lives of the many women who helped support their families through teaching positions, prior to their marriage."
                        
My quilt contains fabrics that are reminiscent of the late 1800s--double pinks, indigo and brown. And here's one you'll love--one of the fabrics used in the border is the SAME print as one in my reproduction collection! I recognized it right off as one I bought within the past year or two, but I only have a small piece without the selvedge left so I don't know who reproduced it. Maybe some of you also have this repro pink fabric (on the bottom). If anyone recognizes it, hopefully I can find out whose fabric line it belongs to:


My instincts tell me that the quilt was not made as late as 1920, particularly since it contains fabric that appears older and the binding is made from turning the edge of the backing to the front of the quilt, a technique used in the 19th century. Is it worth restoring? I'll be able to devote more time to that question after I'm finished with the book I'm working on. But it sure seems like I have enough similar fabrics in my collection to use to restore some of the blocks. Next year, while I'm taking my time repairing the damaged patches, I'll think about the woman from long ago who made it--Where was she from? Did she live on the prairie? Was she a teacher?--and try to bring that little schoolhouse quilt back to life.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Contemplating Adelia

Lately, even though I'm working on a new book--or maybe because of it--my thoughts have been turning to Adelia (from my last book, Remembering Adelia, which came out earlier this year). I finished telling her story awhile ago and it became such a part of MY life during that time that I think I'm a little sentimental about letting it go and moving on to something else.
 
                              

                             
While I was writing the book, I immersed myself in Adelia's diary and read and reread it many times. I also researched women's lives in general during that time period--the 1860s--in order to become inspired to make some of the quilts reflecting the era. (You should know that I am NOT a quilt historian, just a quilter interested in history who enjoys learning about what the historians uncover.) For some reason, the minute I opened the pages of Adelia's little leather-bound journal several years ago and learned that she was a quilter, I was completely drawn into the 19th century and wanted to learn everything I could about her life. I felt compelled to share her words and make sure that her simple but heartfelt story would be revealed to other quilters and enjoyed for the connection it gives us to our country's past.

                     

In the course of my research, I read portions of other women's diaries that were much more informative about the Civil War and contained facts that probably thrill historians much more than Adelia's simple story of her simple life. But that's what moved me the most about Adelia's diary--the fact that she wrote so honestly about her own life, as ordinary as it was. In so many ways her life was remarkably similar to ours today (she would have loved blogs, I'm certain of it!). I also appreciated the fact that she was not afraid to let her personality (or opinion!) shine through, unlike many accounts written during the same time period. I read somewhere that women of the nineteenth century were not usually very introspective in their journals and often revealed more in personal letters than they did in their diaries, which were sometimes nothing more than daily housekeeping accounts. For a young woman of 19, living in such uncertain times, life could not have been easy and she often spelled out her frustrations and worries in the pages of her diary.



Adelia did not intend that her words would be read by so many strangers so many years later and I hope she wouldn't have minded.  She wrote every day and yet you only get a smattering of her writing in the published version. Remembering Adelia was intended as a QUILT pattern book designed around a diary to give it flavor, and NOT simply a publication of her entire diary. So there wasn't room to include all of her writing and everything else I would have liked to include. I also had to stick to my publisher's 80-page limit.




Quite a few of you have asked me about the diary pages that weren't included in the book, so here are just a few "missing" entries I thought you might enjoy reading that I hope will take you a little further into Adelia's ordinary, nineteenth-century world.

* * *
January 19, 1861

Emma has a very sore throat and a cold. Did a very large washing today with James' help. Got through about three o'clock. Mrs. Bennett called. She was sewing at Alcott's. Got tired of so much noise among the young ones that she came here to get away from it.

Mr. Howard came back from Woodstock. Staid all night and Mother and Father went to hear him preach in the evening. Some little children came in the evening and we made molasses candy.

January 20

Emma sick yet I did not get up early enough to get the work done in time to go to church so Mother, Father, Myron and Elias went without me. After meeting was out Elias and I stole the horse and cutter and went up to Melvira's. Had a grand good visit and made a call at Mr. Armstrong's with Melvira and Dave.

January 21

This morning got up with a very sore throat myself. Emma seems better. Had a high fever and headache all day. Laid about most of the time. Miss Howard came here and stayed all night. Mother, Myon and Miss Howard went to Lyceum in the evening. Father went to the station and brought home Auntie's new bed stead and teapot. Brought a letter from Laura Jefferson.

January 22

We are very busy putting up Auntie's new bedstead in her room. Put the old one in the children's room.

January 23

Mr. Bennett here. Played us some excellent songs. His violin was broken so he borrowed Mr. Lewis Bennett's. It was a poor thing but we managed to play some pretty good pieces together. Mrs. Bennett and Mrs. Town spent the day here. Morris West called. Mr B. sang for him then we played some pieces together. He sang "A Snake in the Grass." Went to singing school in the evening.

January 24

A very cold blustery day. Mr. Bennett went home in the snow. Myron took Maria and Marg up to Huffman's schoolhouse to spelling school. It was so cold they did not have any [school] so they spent the evening at Mr. Towns. Tipped over into the snow coming home. Froze both ears and his fingers.

January 25

Emma and Clara went to Melvira's to spend the day. John Shaver went after her to come to Towns to the dance. Frank came after Jim and I.

January 26

Went to Spelling School then went to take a sleigh ride after. Maria and I did not want to go. The rest acted like fools.

January 29

Emma went to Woodstock with Frank Patterson and Mrs. Town. So very cold that they could not come home. But Emma, Carrie Griffith, Frank and Sellers could go to McHenry and be gone till two o'clock at night.

The wind blew very cold all day. In the evening went to singing school. Came home freezing my ears.

January 30

Carried Charley's stove home and put the dairy stove in the salting room. Frank brought James home, left Emma there. Very cold today. Expected to go to Mrs. Vosburgh's this afternoon to sing with Mr. Bennett. Got ready to go and Mother said if anybody went she should go. When I gave it up then she would not. She said I might go when I got the supper dishes washed. When I got them most done she came in the kitchen with her bonnet and shawl on. Said she was going to Mrs. V—I was provoked then staid at home until Singing School, then went with James.




Adelia (seated), her youngest daughter Grace and their dog "Bob the pug,"  years after the diary was written, probably at the end of the 19th century and just a few years before she died. Wonder if HER daughter was ever "provoked" by her at times?
                                                                                  
           * * *
So I think I'll try to periodically "blog" more about her in the future, just to make sure she's not forgotten. I like to think that if Adelia were alive today we might even be friends (although one of us would be VERY old, LOL).





Friday, October 30, 2009

Have yourself a scary little Halloween

Maybe it's just ME, but this drives me nuts--instead of decorating with a pleasing fall or harvest theme, the local shopping center in the town I live in thinks THIS is a great display for the season. For a few weeks we've had this HUGE, gory exhibition at one of the main intersections in town--visible from both sides in case you miss one. Lovely, huh?








Yep, those are fake bloody legs coming out of a grave. I'm all for "Fright Fest" and haunted houses if that's your thing but what if I personally don't want to look at it every day, several times a day, while I'm driving past? Actually, I try to avoid this popular intersection because it grosses me out so much. But I stopped and took pictures just for you. If you come to visit, be sure to bring the little ones, they're sure to love it. The local preschool my daughter went to is just a 1/2 block away.

When she was 5 or 6, we took her and a friend trick-or-treating in the neighborhood. It got a little dark and they ran ahead a few houses. When they got to this house below, they had no idea that the bodies in the coffins were really teenagers that lived there, dressed up as vampires and mummies, lying very still. When the girls got close, they "came alive" and actually chased them down the block, screaming. I was LIVID! I should have complained to the parents, but I let it go--my daughter didn't want everyone to think she was a "baby." Everyone else apparently thought it was funny and a great joke, but my husband and I were the ones who sat up with her every night after that because she was afraid to fall asleep. Oh, they're probably still doing it, but we avoided that block the next year, and they recently won a prize in the community for best "Creepy" house.





My own taste in Halloween decorations is pretty tame, no bloody body parts, and usually runs closer to this:



My kids just roll their eyes. "Mom, CASPER??" My reply: "Isn't there WAY too much gore and violence in real life already? Do we really need to scare little kids when they come to the door expecting candy?" I just don't get it. Maybe it's because I'm so OLD. When I was a kid, Halloween was FUN. You dressed up like a princess or a pirate and didn't scare each other to death.

I asked my husband if he thought I was being an old fuddy duddy stick-in-the-mud. "A bit," he said. Oh well, I just needed to vent. I think I'll go watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown all alone and eat some mini-Snickers now.

                               HAPPY HALLOWEEN!






Trick or Treat!





Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Take the Long Way Home

I love the change of seasons and of them all, I love Fall the most. I consider myself lucky to live in an area where the weather gets crisp and the trees burst into vibrant orange, gold and red every October. I love the sound of the leaves crunching under my feet when I walk the dogs.
“Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree”
~Emily Bronte



Who says we don't have Fall in Chicago? There's a local joke that goes: Chicago has only 2 seasons--Winter and construction, and sometimes it seems like that's true. I've been to New England in the fall and have seen other parts of the country at that time of year as well, and while our fall can't necessarily hold a candle to Fall in some other places, there's still a little bit of beautiful foliage and color changing going on around here too. Right in the neighborhood.



The ride to and from my opthalmologist's office is pretty quick if I take the toll road.


Last week, I opted for a different route home that added maybe 10 or 15 minutes to the trip. But it was definitely more scenic:





So much better than staring at the back of a truck on the tollway!


                                                   
         “Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing."
~Dorothy Parker

                                                          
There's a house at the end of this lane and I want to live there, LOL. I grew up in the city and worked in the city, but I've always wanted to live in the country. On this particular ride home I almost felt that I do. Who knows, I still may someday. Also, I'll bet you didn't know that we had so much "country" in the Chicago area.


Watch out for Equestrians?? It's difficult enough to cross this road in a car, much less on a horse. Can't say I see too many of these around here.





             
"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking successive autumns."
~George Eliot

 
                       
                 
I became so inspired by looking at colorful leaves that I stitched up these scrappy little maple leaf blocks over the weekend, using some of the same colors. I'm telling you, go outside and look around, there's inspiration everywhere you look. Sometimes you'll find it in the smallest things. Take the long way home.