for the past several summers i've been saving all the chipped and jagged little eggs we find cushioned in the grass. it's always such a dreamy little thrill to find one, that i began taking them home, cradled in my hand and collecting them in a lovely little robin's egg blue tea cup and saucer. they are so delicate and always seem warm to touch and steeped with the scents of summer. in january it makes summer seem real again to look into a cup of baby bird eggs.
the quilts i make blend a grandmother's ideals with a fresh youthful flair. there is a nostalgia for seasons past combined with hopefulness for a bright full future. I write little stories in my mind as I make the quilts. sometimes they become actual stories. and sometimes I share them here.
oh that is wonderful..., i wonder where my collection of same ended up.
ReplyDeletegood for u!