For reasons which will become obvious this post has taken me a very long time to write. It isn't all about the quilt, and it isn't all pretty, but for the sake of honesty with you, my readers, I feel bound to share it.
After a year of sorting, tossing, culling and downsizing I finally moved into my new home in early August. Grandbaby #3 was due in just eight weeks and I still hadn't made the quilt (gulp!).
It was time to employ the KISS principle - Keep It Simple, Silly.
Simple doesn't have to mean boring, and with this in mind I decided on a cheery checkerboard pattern where the feature fabrics would have centre stage.
Six inch squares of clear, bright, saturated colours in fun patterns would alternate with squares of pure white homespun.
The first step was to lay out all the squares, to make sure I had the right balance of colours and tones. Looks OK, doesn't it?
Hmmm, maybe not. Can you spot the problem?
Here's a tip. Take a photo of your fabrics at this stage, then edit your digital photo into black and white.
Once I did this it was screamingly obvious that the Kaffe pencils and the Winnie the Pooh square in the middle were the darkest in the whole quilt, and much too close together.
A quick switcheroo resulted in a more balanced arrangement.
This was confirmed for me when I created a black and white version of the second digital photo I took.
1. Purchase a Ruby Beholder, a red filter for viewing your fabrics.
2. Save money and use red cellophane for an improvised viewer.
3. Use a door peep hole lens.
4. Simply view your quilt through the LCD screen at the back of your digital camera.
5. {The simplest method of all} Screw up your eyes and squint as you look at your layout.
I wanted the machine quilting to be as uncomplicated as the rest of the quilt, so straight lines using a walking foot seemed the line of least resistance. Personally I've never been a great fan of stitching in the ditch, mostly because I can never seem to control my machine needle's wandering, and the slightest deviation from that seam is glaringly obvious.
So I set the guide arm on my walking foot so I could stitch about an inch each side of the seams (sorry, no action photos taken).
For some time I've been wanting to try Linda's method of applying quilt bindings, so I decided now was the time.
I confess I didn't find it at all easy, even though her photos and instructions are excellent. The imperfect results are entirely due to user error!
This is my neatest corner, the only one I dare share. My report card would read 'room for improvement' ;-)
To hold the folded bindings in place I used my Clover Wonder Clips with their little teeth that hang on tight, without sliding off (like the hair slides I used to use) or wriggling lose and pricking me (like the pins I know some folk use).
At the time I had no idea if the quilt's recipient would be a little girl or boy, so I chose that aqua starry backing to appeal to either.
And so it was finished!
Remember this post (scroll down to the end) I wrote back in September about the delicious sense of anticipation I was feeling?
Just a couple of weeks later Sarah arrived from the USA and we were all so excited at being together to welcome a new little person into our family a year (to the month) after the heartbreak of losing Boak.
This bub felt to me like a beautiful gift from God, a confirmation that life would go on in new and exciting ways.
But just hours after Lachy took this photo the unthinkable happened.
As he began his journey into the world our precious Harry's little heart stopped beating and we were once again plunged into the all too familiar pain of paralysing, confusing, devastating, unbelievable grief.
Last year, while there was the agony of losing a husband (or father), we had celebrated a life lived to the fullest, a life of achievements, if cut far too short, and I'd found a measure of comfort in my special memories.
This time it was starkly, cruelly different for me, and indeed for all of us, for while we held our tiny Harry tight for a short time, and tried to create enough memories to last our lifetime, we grieved for a little boy we would never know. So much potential never realised.
As his heartbroken parents expressed it so succinctly, he would never grow old.
And this was far, far harder.
I only know that he continues to gently walk with me every day and constantly reminds me of the bigger picture. He's with me in the pain, holding me close as I held Harry, and reminding me in so many little ways that while there will always be pain in this world there's also so much joy and beauty and love.
Sometimes I embrace this thought warmly and easily, but there are days when I scramble to cling on by my very fingertips.
