I made this wee patchwork blanket for Elizabeth yesterday. The child loves to suck on fabric–a girl after my own heart. She’s not picky– she’ll yank a piece of her onesie into those gums or gnaw the dishtowel over my shoulder or the tag hanging off the playmat where she spends some serious time. If she spits up, she gets the purest pleasure if I mop out the insides of her mouth instead of just dabbing up the stuff making a mad dash out of the corner of her mouth, down her cheek and behind her ear lobe.
It’s all made with things I had on hand–including some of Kristen’s fabric and a perfectly worn piece of flannel from my grandmother’s old sheets for the back. It is something I’m really trying to stay committed to lately–the ideas of economy and getting as much life out of an item as possible. Of course, you had to know I’d have a Wendell Berry quote for this one, too:
“Granny was sitting by one of the windows with her sewing basket and button box and a heap of Graddaddy’s and Uncle Ernest’s work shirts beside her on the table. She was patching torn places and replacing buttons, making the shirts last. She too was not making a sound. She was under the spell of her own quietness in the quiet house, and was enjoying being alone”.
I love that. And if Elizabeth decides that this just might be a favorite thing –(Elizabeth, I so won’t mind if you decide that), then I hope it gets full of patches and extra stitches. I’m sure I can find lots of life in it.