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...
What a pretty outdoor setting. The wind in Oklahoma would blow it away I'm afraid.
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