there are so many stories settled deep in all of us. little tales of triumph and joy and sorrow. wistful reminiscences. stories we glean from the entire tome of our life and consider memorable. stories we sift through, sometimes finding the right person to share with. sometimes sharing with anyone. they are layered and foggy, changing imperceptibly with every telling so that the reality of what actually took place, no longer is. stories of childhood, of love, of place, of people. they are born when memory is put to words, they come alive in the telling. i planned to tell a story here tonight. but i began to think of storytelling and ended up with this instead. a version of a story, but not the narrative i'd planned. but slowly i believe the little rambling sketches will begin to slip into this conversation.
i feel like quilts are alive. they reflect all the little joys that make life special. they emanate love and warmth. 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. you can find me online at www.chasinglightningbugs.com