The last part of this process was making the trim, the final step of which is to handsew the binding all along the entire perimeter of the quilt, which sounds impossible but is great. I think I enjoyed this the most of the whole quiltmaking event, although beforehand while reading the instructions the binding part sounded dreadful, even though during the instructions whoever was writing them would always say how great sewing the binding on is. That is a microcosm for the whole quilting thing, which I notice is something that I would never have considered doing, or started and not finished doing, or actually finished a year or two ago. It always seemed terribly boring and pointless but I found it to be wonderful. In general I avoid crafting things that are linear or are shaped in a geometric fashion, or anything that requires craftswomanship or attention to detail. I am confused as to how the current quilt happened. Am I that bored? Yes. However, I think it’s more the fact that acute focus on detail provides anaesthetic from the grinding by the children-pestle I receive daily while sitting in my mortar. Also it is very satisfying to make something that doesn’t look like it has been dragged behind a car, and is in fact nearly perfect, thanks only to my own great diligence and focus. Ahem. And the purpose of the thing is really an exercise in diligence but has the satisfying element of many choices that have to be made to create something original. And BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. But I loved it.
a lot of trim
The walking foot makes it easier to sew a straight line, which was very useful in attaching the binding. To make the trim, you cut 3 inch strips of your chosen fabric and piece them together, and then iron them in half, and blah blah blah. I have run out of gas in the tutorial and really do you care? You’re not following my instructions, are you, reader? Anyway if you really must know you can find out on the internet or just ask me and I will tell you. It’s all quite ingenious and makes me have profound admiration for the mathematical and analytical abilities of our women forebears who figured out all this kind of thing. I mean, knitting. Wow.
Anyway I was wondering if you, certain reader, used the walking foot when you sewed your curtains, because that would have facilitated it greatly. I was also thinking that the walking foot would have been useful for my mother when she was in the habit of sewing my father’s ties. The binding strips have something of ties in them so I was thinking about those old ties a lot as I sewed them. My mother used to make ties out of one particular set of our retired curtains. They were a seventies paisley print of reddish brown, white, and green. The paisleys were fat and bouncing like babies. Probably my father was the only man in the world who would have worn those ties to work. My mother made the same tie in miniature for my brother, who was about seven at the time. I seem to remember Dad hoarding the ties as they began to fray and unravel after repeated washings in the machine. That reminds me of the story of how Dad went to meet Alan Greenspan for the first time when he was on the Council of Economic Advisors as a newly-minted professional and ended up discovering in his hotel that his suit (Dad’s, not Alan Greenspan’s) had a big hole in the crotch, but there was nothing he could do about it so he wore it anyway. That in turn reminds me of Dad taking me shopping with great relish to Rugged Wearhouse to get slightly damaged or size XXXL clothes. And that brings to mind the outfit he used to wear on the riding mower in the front yard, which consisted of knee high red cowboy boots he had found at a garage sale, a puffy blue and white striped hat like the ones the engineers wear on Thomas the Tank Engine, and goggles. Matt Kratter saw a picture of my parents once and said “Now I know where you get it from” and at the time I had no idea what he was talking about or which parent he meant, but now I think I do–on the other hand I have to give Dad credit and say he always donned a red sweater and green plaid shirt at Christmas and was very old school about having his shirt tucked into his pants and an interesting belt on all the time, and nice loafer-type shoes, even to the very last day he wore pants and shoes. But Grandpa always had a sense of the wacky. Now I am thinking about thousands of other things he used to wear like the green frog socks that he would ball up and hide from my mother inside his shoes when he took them off, but how much longer can I go on? I guess all evening but there are other things to do here.
I love my quilt. I finished it last night and put it in the washer and dryer so it puckered slightly. It is antiquey looking but also has some bright fabrics, like the comic squares and yellow bits, and the green parts, and I love the binding. I love my quilt.
Here it is, the finished quilt. Sigh.
Below see trim on front and back. Who is the person who accomplished this? Me.
Here’s the trim around a corner.
Below, the quilt after wrestling with boys. You can see the unbleached muslin back, which is quite nice to sleep with. Rustic, you might say. I eschewed any kinds of chemicals in the quilt and it is very light in weight (I used the thinnest all-natural cotton batting available) and does not drape all over you like say a jersey would, so there is plenty of air when you are sleeping, but it is surprisingly warm. It does have two layers of fabric and one of cotton stuffing.
And here is one more of the quilt. Ah.
