Stages, Part I

I've often said I can identify the stages of my life by the kind of needlework or other craft I happened to be addicted to at the time. I've always had a need to make things, and making things gives me a tremendous sense of accomplishment, even  though my work is strictly amateur, and I'm obviously the first to admit it.

I remember my brothers pointing out areas of clay on the river bank across from our farm, so I decided I'd make pottery. Nothing ever came of that dream, of course, because I didn't know diddly-squat about making things of clay. Nothing came of my dream of making woven baskets from the cat o' nine tails growing in the marsh above our fa

rm, although the reeds soaked in our kitchen sink until my mother told me to dump out the mess. Nothing came of my dream, at least not for many years, to make papier maché artwork, either, despite the torn-up newspaper bits soaking in a pail of water in our shed. That mess I dumped when it started growing moldy.

I don't know when I started sewing; it was just something I learned to do because my mother did it. She made my dresses and my coats when I was a little girl, so I made clothes f

or my dolls. I wish I had some of those doll clothes now, just to check out the quality of my sewing. I suspect it was pretty rough. When my older sister was pregnant with her first child, I was about ten years old. I decided that baby, which I was so excited about, must have a quilt handmade by me, her soon-to-be-aunt. I knew nothing about quiltmaking, but I remember the quilt. I remember, in fact, going to my sister's home after the baby was born and seeing my niece sleeping in her bassinet, the handmade quilt on top of her. I thought the baby AND the quilt were both beautiful. My sister confessed not too many years ago that the quilt was actually...lacking...in the "beauty" department: I'd used various pieces of ugly fabric, even

 black, to create my masterpiece.

I continued sewing, making my own clothes once I was in high school and college. I made my wedding dress, too. Sure, it was an extremely simple design, but I would have felt like an idiot if I'd worn a dress wi

th flounces and bows. That's just not me.

My life since marriage has been filled with all kinds of crafts, most of them involving fabric and needles. The crewel embroidery phase lasted quite awhile: I made large floral pictures in crewel, and Ken made the frames. Once our walls were sufficiently hidden in crewel work, and once I finally realized crewel was going out of style, I moved on to cross-stitch. I purchased yards of aida cloth and just about 

every DMC floss color available, and I cranked out cross-stitch items: framed designs, Christmas tree ornaments, whatever.  To be continued: I'm not even half-way through my "stages"!