in october the air is aglow. there is a pink sparkle in the light, angled so it dances lower and appears to leave little fires wherever it touches. it seems that even without the raging colour in the trees, the glow would still bounce around october and make me gasp.
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.
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