It's Throwback Thursday here at Quiltin' Jenny, and I hope you'll link up and share your own creative adventures from your pre-blogging days.
Today's quilt is one I dreamed about for a long time before I made it, and then had the top done for years before I had the nerve to machine quilt it. I believe it was finished around 1999-2000 while I was pregnant with Grace. During this time, I was quilting a lot and feeling very contemplative about this one last subsequent pregnancy.
I have always loved blue and white fabrics and log cabin blocks. When I first started quilting, I had trouble picking more than about three fabrics for a quilt. I couldn't envision how lots of different prints could play nicely together. This quilt was my very first attempt at a "scrappy" look. I had so many blues in my stash already, and took a chance since I loved how they looked on the shelf together.
The quilt was inspired by the lighthouse print that I also used for the back, and the yellow is from my first lesson on hand dyed fabrics.
I knew I wanted to quilt this with an all over pattern, but had very little experience and no confidence in FMQing. Finally, after quilting the Mother-In-Law Quilt, I used the same roll of Quilting Made Easy to do a clamshell design.
I called the quilt A Week at the Beach, and wrote the poem below about how being pregnant after a loss reminded me of our visits to the ocean. It was a true example of how quilting is therapy for me.
Subsequent pregnancy is like a week at the beach...
My love and desire for you are blinding,
like the flash of the sun off sea and sand
that to bask in the warmth of its glow
is to risk being burned.
Off I go, full of hope and fantasies,
imagining a perfect experience - just like in books!
Every moment of joy has a mirror image
when I feel I am accomplishing nothing,
that this will change nothing.
Time is warped and strange.
One moment I look up to find the trip is halfway over;
later I realize that what feels like hours
has been mere minutes.
I catch myself both dreading
and anticipating the ending,
"what if"-ing myself to death,
wondering and dreaming.
And when the end finally comes
I am exhausted but fulfilled,
flooded with memories,
even thinking about how the next time will be even better
At the same time I vow not to go again.
I stagger home, finally,
grateful to be in my own bed once more.
And then, of course, sometimes it rains.
- Jennifer Greer
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