windsor quilters guild

A fun poem from Donna Jones’ sister-in-law

‘Twas the night before Christmas’,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 And the quilts were not made.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     The threads were all tangled, the cookies delayed.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  The stockings weren’t hung, the pantry was bare.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     The poor weary Quilter, was tearing her hair.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Stacks of fat quarters, tipped over in streams.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Visions of Log Cabins, had turned into dreams.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      When what to her wondering eyes should appear,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     But a bus full of quilters with all of their gear.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          They went straight to work with just a few mutters,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Sorting and stitching and brandishing cutters,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        The patterns emerged from all of the clutter,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Like magic the fabrics arranged in a flutter.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Log cabins, Lone Stars, Flying Geese & Bear Tracks                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Each quilt was a beauty – even the backs.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Her house how it twinkled, her quilts how they glowed.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         The cookies were baking, the stockings were sewed.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Their work was all done, so they folded their frames,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             And packed up their needles, without giving their names.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     They boarded the bus, and checked the next address.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         More quilts to be made, another quilter in distress.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  She heard one voice echo, as they drove out of sight,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Happy quilting to all and to all a good night!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Author unknown.

Wishing all of you – peace, hope, joy and love at this special time!

This photo and article was submitted by Larraine Taylor. It is a lovely story of how one quilter helped keep quilting alive and well.

“I purchased a bag full of elongated hexagons from my Guild’s Sewing Room Sale in the Spring of 2016. When I pulled them out to look at them, I found your work. You had sewn pieces together and I could see where your eyes were failing you. Your stitches went from straight and even to not stating on the guide line and mixed length stitches. I did not take out your work, but sewed over them so the pieces have a strong seam. I made a template to your cut pieces so I could add in my fabrics to extend what you had done. This resulted in 2 quilt tops, one was a baby quilt given to a friend. I hand sewed the other pieces inot a queen sized quilt for me, and I hand quilted ovals in each hexagon. Although I will never know your name, the age of your fabric, the rusted pins and needles in the work told me that you had passed a while ago. I am thankful I received this gift from you and I will treasure this quilt as long as I live.

Hand sewn by: An unknown woman and Kiti Williams

Hand quilted by: Kiti Williams

Quilt completed on: 20 April, 2020

Passport quilt by Trish Staudt. Quilted by Allison Giroux. For Trisha’s daughter Laura in Kingston

Written by Debbie Anderson Searles (from Good Housekeeping Magazine – June 1984)

Surely, when the final stitch is entered and the needle laid to rest, only a quilter can know the feeling of pride soaring within her/his soul. She/He has the contentment of knowing that a long hard journey has come to an end. She/He has conquered a challenge and through her/his own patience and endurance has created a loving work of art. It may well live on long after she/he as finished her/his walk on this earth.

Perhaps what makes a quilt so special is the pride a quilter feels. For deep in her heart she knows that some distant generation might well gaze upon her quilt, or touch its fragile threads and still feel the love and  care that was sewn into it.

A quilt is a thing of beauty, broadly speaking. It is an artistic production in many ways. How many a callous “lord of creation” has scoffed and laughed at his toiling wife, sister, daughter, son, or friend for cutting a perfectly good cloth into little pieces for the sake of sewing them back together again! But the patient quilter has toiled on, without rejoinder; so that her ‘blazing star of Mexico’ could blaze even more brightly on the wall or adorning a bed and her crazy ‘patchwork’ could be crazier than someone else’s?

Carol Russell did this portrait of her friend’s dog – Dasha.

Now that wearing a mask is mandatory a lot of questions have arisen.

Is it safe to pull down my mask and keep it under my chin? No, that is probably the worst thing to do with a mask.  It risks getting droplets or germs on the outside of the mask onto your chin and lower lip. It also involves touching the front of the mask which is not recommended as it could contaminate your hands.You should only hold the mask by the ear loops and wash your hands before and after.

What’s the best way to stow a mask while on the go? Dr. Anad Kumar (professor of medicine at the university of Manitoba)recommends storing your face mask in a paper bag, envelope or something that won’t retain moisture if you will be wearing it again.

Can you reuse a disposable mask? Obviously cloth masks can be washed and re-used. Most paper masks are one use only.

How effective are alternatives to masks, such as bandanas, balaclavas and neck gaiters? While they are allowed as face coverings, none of them work very well to block respiratory droplets and may actually be worse than no face covering at all. Neck gaiters tend to break large droplets into smaller ones creating more particles that stay airborne longer and potentially increasing transmission.

What if I have to sneeze or cough when I’m wearing my mask? In short: Do it into your mask and into the crook of your arm. The mask’s whole purpose is to try to stop some of the droplets spewing from your mouth and nose. After you’ve sneezed or coughed you should “swap it for another one.”

A Quilter is someone who…

saves ten boxes of scrap, has one corner of the house an eternal mess, when on vacation goes to the fabric shops in every town, loves flea markets, finds many bargains, is always looking for new ideas, spends sleepless nights thinking about colour combinations, has a teetering pile of quilting books and magazines in her room, is always picking up pins and bits of thread from the floor, has a callous on her index finger, is always looking for more quilt patterns, begs her friends for remnants, works for a year on a quilt and then gives it away, watches t.v. with a needle in her hand, is forever ironing (not clothes but quilts), is never bored, knows one hundred patterns by heart, can get it all together, and always finds time to help a friend.

Thanks to Rosalyn F. Manesse for this light hearted look at quilters.