Lyddie's Quilt

Every now and then something you expected to be good turns out to be unexpectedly good. Being me, I like to describe what at first I find indescribable, so that it will emerge from the mists of my mind into something more tangible.

This is also an update about the group of home-schooled students I have been teaching to quilt. We have all learned something from this experience, and for me it is the realization that teaching children ranging in ages from five to ten to quilt, even in a group of four, is difficult. The younger the student, the more need there is to rely on the parents to see the project to completion. If the older children can work more independently, the younger children may berate themselves for their natural limitations. Fortunately, philosophical considerations are a part of this home school setting, and questions of self-worth can be properly positioned.

What’s more, each child in this specific home school setting has her or his individual talents recognized, and they don’t expect to be carbon copies of one another. Each student was clearly distinguishable from the first session I had with them, and I observed each one’s flair surface every time we met.

Lydia is one of the big kids. She has a natural interest in fiber things, as she already knew how to knit and sew before she came to try quilting. We took a long break over the holidays, and in that time Lydia had been pestering her mother to finish her quilt top. Since the class is using reclaimed and recycled fabrics, she had incorporated a nice array of fabrics gathered from a grandmother who sews garments. She instinctively recognized the properties of light and dark fabrics, along with the flexibility available with medium shades. A few patches were from clothing that was ready for recycling, and there were two notable swatches of fabric that had been used as a makeshift tourniquet-type dressing when Lydia had been hiking with her grown-up friend Kristen.

With input from her grandma, Lydia was able to arrange a pattern of light and dark, with the mediums serving as either a light or a dark, just to add interest. She had joined together four-patch units as a start, but had become unsure how to proceed beyond that. Her mother had spoken with me a few times since the first of the year, and I learned that Lydia had been pressing her to continue with classes so that she could produce the completed top.

After one of these conversations, I decided maybe it would be a good thing for Lydia and me to work together, quilting for a day and exploring her options, so that she would be confident in her choices. Though we had worked as a group before, Lydia’s intensity led me to understand that she would appreciate having the time to work with me alone. We met to review where she was on her project, and set a date for a good old-fashioned quilting bee for two.

I was looking forward to our day together. I flat out like Lydia to begin with, but her drive to work with fiber was quite familiar to me - I was doing similar things at her age, and I knew how important it was to chart my progress with a competent adult. Lucky for me, The Peg was under the same roof. I wanted to spend a day with Lydia to meet that same need in her.

We laid out the pieces, fussed and moved some about, and made a couple of corrective decisions to even out the look she was trying to achieve. It was then just a matter of getting the pieces joined. I pinned and Lydia sewed, making the progress methodical and measurable. By the time Hubba came home for lunch, we were down to attaching the last outer border. It was fun, but I knew it would be. I expected that.

The unexpected part came from Lydia and me growing our friendship. We communicated mutual respect from the start, focusing on her goal and considering each other’s suggestions. Lydia was in the driver’s seat, and took responsibility for making the quilt meet the vision of her mind’s eye. I was able to talk about technique, and help her discover ways to rotate choices. Everybody who has ever quilted knows how confusing the layout stage can be. The obvious can be hidden in a spectrum of fabric squares, and it helps to have someone say, “If you turn it this way, it will work.”

As the quilt grew, she became more and more energized. She would squeal every now and then, giggling and wiggling, and saying, “I can’t wait! This is getting so exciting!” Lint lovers understand each other.

We shared our histories and ideas we have about life, a process that people can’t plan out ahead of time. For some odd reason, I asked her if she had a nickname. She told me that some people call her “Lyd”, and that sometimes she is called “Lyddie”. Yes! I had heard her mother say that, but at the time it hadn’t registered as a nickname. It sounds so familiar to call her “Lyddie”, and that’s what I say in my head when I think about her now.

I told Lyddie that I name my quilts. I reminded her about “She Reposes Among Roses…” (she had seen a picture of that one) and “Neil’s Garden, Zinnias for Judith”. Lyddie told me she grows zinnias, the brightly-colored ones I first saw in my brother’s garden. She had the look, like the one I get when engaged in a naming puzzle, and I knew she would eventually solve that puzzle for her own. A little more time with her quilt will do the trick.

Hubba knew the drill. When he came home for lunch, he proceeded directly to where we had Lyddie's quilt laid out. He was complimentary, and genuinely impressed that a ten-year-old had the stick-to-itiveness to put together a project of this scale. Over our sandwiches, I mentioned naming the quilt again.

“Bill. I think you should name it Bill. Bill the Quilt,” Hubba proposed. Lyddie and I rolled our eyes, but we couldn’t help but snicker at the silly suggestion.

“We name our quilts like paintings, not like people.”

“Okay, but I still think 'Bill the Quilt' is a good name.”

After we cleaned up the kitchen, Lyddie and I attached the last of the border pieces. Then we smoothed the quilt out on the floor in front of the couch, and we sat there and looked at it for quite some time. We talked about the movement of the pattern, the interest brought by the double use of the mediums, sometimes acting as a light and sometimes as a dark. We remarked on the size of the finished top, and how it would be suitable to nap under when she was as grown as I.

Lyddie will discover the name of her quilt. Once it is sandwiched, and she starts quilting with perle cotton, it will come to her. As it turns out, though, it already has a nickname. For now we refer to Lyddie’s quilt as “Bill”.

I knew this day would be good – my friend Lydia were going to quilt. I just didn’t expect that it would end with my buddy Lyddie and me calling a conglomeration of fabrics she had gathered from family and friends “Bill”. It turned out to be better than good. I love when that happens.

Copyright © March 2006 Kari E.O. Burns