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My father told me that his grandmother, Minnie, used to make quilts. They were not art, he assured me, just made up of snippets of old clothes , so as not to waste fabric and used to keep warm. He remembers one, he says, all in grays and blacks and plaids. Not art, he says, not meant to be beautiful. Sounds like beauty to me. Maybe even art...
1 comment:
martha, i've been away from your blog and it feels so good to be back! winter scenes and warm soup. oh, i wish i could come over! ;)
lots of love to you. and thank you again for that watercolor sketchbook. i can't even tell you how much i've been enjoying it. i haven't started reading out of africa yet, but i think i'm going to save it for warm weather when i can lay out in the hammock and really sink into it.
i've been thinking of you often!
j.
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