Quilt envy

OK, I'll admit it. I've got a serious case of quilt envy. A few Sundays ago, we had a church service entitled "The Patchwork of our Lives" that used quilts as a larger theme to express what they mean to us in the way of continuity and other family related things. People brought in quilts made by relatives and friends for special occasions and they were all absolutely lovely. There was one in particular with a lot of cross stitch and hand needlework that particularly caught my eye. I found myself envying the owner for having such a hand made treasure passed down from family. Oh, we have an old family quilt, all right, hand made by my paternal great-grandmother, but it's in tatters, worn, torn, stained and downright loved to death. I'm not sure it's even restorable, but first I'd have to very carefully soak it in Borax and then lay it out to dry, but I'd be afraid that if we did that in my mom's backyard, that someone would rip it off, so it'd have to be line dried indoors, in the basement, probably. It would have to be very gently squeezed of all the excess water, and I suppose if you had enough large towels, it could be done properly. This, of course, before hanging it up to dry, because you certainly could not spin dry it in the washing machine. It's too fragile to handle that. And then if that succeeded in cleaning it, I could take it down to a local quilt shop to see if it could be restored. I really want this family heirloom, as I don't really have anything from my father's side of the family.

My mom has a friend she jokingly calls the "quilting addict" that has made some beautiful quilts that she could well make a living doing if she wanted to quit her day job. This quilting addict made my mom a gorgeous quilt and also one for my brother's bed that is just breathtakingly beautiful. I am envious. I don't have a quilt and it's highly questionable whether my great-grandmother's quilt could be restored at this stage of its deterioration. We used to use it to death when we were growing up. It was used to sit on the lawn at concerts, to wrap sick kids in (and it even sports a blood stain from some unknown origin) and more. It was made to be used, I suppose, and used it was, to the point that it's terribly fragile. I don't know when it was made, but I understand that my great-grandmother made quite a few quilts, some of which are probably still in existence and probably at my Aunt Polly's house, and I suppose she'd be loath to part with any one of them. So I dare not ask her about that. Instead, I will have to content myself with the possibility of maybe one day seeing to it that this old heirloom quilt gets restored. Maybe later this summer when the weather is much warmer and drier, I will soak it in Borax at my mom's and then hang it out on her laundry line in her backyard to dry and then take it downtown to see what, if anything, can be done about it. I hope it can be restored, but something tells me it's too far gone for that. But I shouldn't give up hope until I put it in the hands of an expert who can tell me what's what, and go from there. Until then, I suppose I will have to content myself with dreaming about that old quilt and hoping that maybe it could be restored. For now, though, if I could find a nice Ohio Star pattern quilt in colors I like, I'd love to own one, since I am a native Ohioan, born and bred. Maybe if I hunt around some flea markets or antique stores, I can find one I like. I kind of think that this may be the pattern on that old heirloom quilt. Next time I'm at my mom's, I'll have a look and see.