Once upon a time, there was a mother and daughter who liked doing things together. One year, shortly after the daughter’s parents moved into another house, the daughter thought it’d be cool to make a housewarming quilt for them. After all, she’d made at least 10 bed-sized quilts over the years, including a scrap quilt for her folks’ mountain cabin early on, way back in 1982.
When the daughter talked to her mother about preferences regarding design and color scheme, the two of them realized this would be a fun project to take on together…
And so, we did.
Ma offered up design ideas for the King size quilt-to-be, and I found a pattern idea for the medallion section.
Ma’s design ideas with measurement notes*
My medallion pattern idea**
We decided to position the medallion en pointe and square it up with to-be-determined related corner designs. The resulting center square would then be surrounded with alternating pieced & solid fabric borders until it reached the required length and width for a King size quilt.
The Color Works pattern used the traditional method for creating HSTs (half-square triangles). That is where each triangle is cut individually then sewn with another to make one HST block unit. Not only is that a time-consuming method, but manipulation of the bias in the process of further construction causes inaccuracies in the completed HST block unit.
A few years earlier, I was introduced to a groundbreaking new method of HST block construction based upon rotary cutting from the quilt book, Ocean Waves by Nancy J. Martin & Marsha McCloskey. Shortly after its 1989 publication date, I plowed full steam ahead and made a Queen size scrap version of that quilt***, relying heavily on my knowledge of using value as a means to make sense of multi-colored scrappy scraps.
Using this new-at-the-time bias strip piecing method solved the bias distortion problem. The bias strips are cut, sewn together on the bias edge, then cut into individual HST block units. That leaves the outer edges on the stable grain of the fabric with the bias contained and safe from excessive manipulation. A demo of this method can be viewed here.
Design and method determined, now came the fun part. Gathering fabrics. And…teaching Ma how to use the rotary cutter! A quick learner, we spent snippets of time together and separately dutifully cutting out hordes of bias strips.
Here then, is where part 1 ends. I’m wondering: did any of you, my dear readers, discover when this project began? If so, then did anyone further notice the length of time it took to complete? Hint: clues can be found in the featured image.
Let me know in the comments below and stay tuned for part 2!
*Sales advert from some department store – 1990s pricing on poorly stitched imported handmade quilt sets made with cheap quality fabrics, all sizes.
**The VIP Color Works Collection Triangle Quilt/Wallhanging by Janet Page for VIP. Pattern instructions such as these were displayed alongside bolts of new fabric collections and free for the taking. None of the fabrics from this specific collection were used in M³.
*** Photos of it are buried deep in a box somewhere. 🙁
Khaya Ronkainen was born and grew up in the Eastern Cape, South Africa, and spent much of her adult life in Johannesburg. She now lives in Finland. Her work is largely inspired by nature and place, often examining the duality of an immigrant life. Ronkainen is the author of three poetry collections. Distorted is the View is her first novel. Find her work at Amazon. To learn more or connect with her, visit her blog.
“Poets use words very differently from let’s say, critics, or from novelists who use words in a logical sense. Poets are much more involved with intuition and wild flights of fancy, and much, much closer to painters.” Elaine de Kooning, abstract expressionist artist
Distorted is The View introduces Khaya as Novelist.
Brief synopsis – Sheena and George Klaasen live their lives apart during the week, each moving in directions the other cannot fully see. Their daughter, Sam, is the hinge between them…What she perceives is unsettling: shadows of secrets, words unspoken, and a quiet fracture running through the family.
Distorted is the View, back cover
Setting – South Africa in the beginning of the ‘New’ South Africa after apartheid.
While the family dynamics, conflicts and evolving relationships within this novel are relatable across countries, cultures and societies, the issues encountered by the Klaasen family are infused with the unique properties of ‘place’.
Setting & character are the primary drivers of this novel. Plot and thematic material unfold through the everyday interactions of characters within and without the local community all flavored with deep rooted, yet nuanced, South African culture.
Khaya deftly weaves the feel, the pace, the coexistence of the ‘gentle and profound’* of the complex society in which her characters live and breathe.
…Krause gave a short laugh. “He thought I was drunk as usual. He couldn’t imagine why I’d choose to settle ‘with the natives’ while the government was busy building its idea of South Africa.”
Sheena leaned back, letting the ugliness of it hang in the air without comment.
And then there is Khaya’s voice, her poetic pacing. The underlying rhythm – unrushed but always beating, moving. I found myself reading the novel slowly – ‘not because the story was difficult’* – but because it was filled with luscious poetic prose and finely crafted phrases.
the storm found its twin indoors
her skin color entered the room
her body remembered
the building swallowed the sound
All seriousness aside, one of my favorite scenes begins with an invitation received by Sheena – delivered by Sam and sent by her teacher, Precious Dlamini.
Invitation Masakhane**. Saturday at three. Skumpa** and Laughter!
(Sheena) was drawn not to the promise of sparkling wine, but to the possibility of an alternate support system; women building each other up, as the name of the club suggested…The invitation offered her breathing room, spending an afternoon with other women who were trying to stay sane in the middle of nowhere.
The teachers were in a celebratory mood, ready for the end of the school term…At Masakhane no one asked about Sheena’s husband or her children. They didn’t pry, yet their stories folded into hers without effort…The talk was frank but light, full of knowing humour…Their candor felt intoxicating…even without touching skumpa…
Sometime during the Masakhane, a young teacher ‘placed an LP on a record player’ to practice her dance moves. Soon everyone joined her in dancing to Mama Tembu’s Wedding. Take a listen and see if it doesn’t make you want to practice your own dance moves!
The way in which this story is told, in tandem with the story itself, is what carries the reader from the very first page through to the end of the book. The delivery system, the style, the nuances, the poetic pacing are pure Khaya.
Purely African. Purely human. Purely felt.
Note: fabrics in book cover photo are traditional South African isishweshwe clothin contemporary colorways –a featured conversational topic amongst the women at Masakhane.
*from a review by Michelle at Intimately Worded **definitions – Masakhane roughly translates to ‘We build together’ in isiZulu; the term Skumpa, derived from Nordic/European slang, refers to local South African sparkling wine made using the traditional Champagne method.
Well, thank you Laura for inadvertently amping up my resolve to open up the old WP dashboard and post something. You nudged me to give it a shot. After all, you did it and managed a classy comeback! 😉
I realized in the interim that I missed the discipline required in putting together my thoughts, ideas, discoveries, & (he)art in a blog post format and sharing it with ‘my’ readers and followers – you guys, my blogger buddies.
Alas, upon forging ahead with my decision to post something – the WP editor stubbornly refused to accept a single word of it. Vehemently shaking each block I chose to write text/add content in refusal. Long overdue updates could no longer be ignored.
Only the title remained saved in my WP dashboard drafts file: Monday’s Gone.
Monday’s Gone – but I’m not anymore – I came back on a Tuesday.
And that got me to thinking about Lady Madonna, of Beatles fame.
… Friday night arrives without a suitcase Sunday morning creeping like a nun Monday’s child has learned to tie his bootlace … Tuesday afternoon is never ending Wednesday morning papers didn’t come Thursday night your stockings needed mending …
But wait, where’s Saturday?
Ah, yes, one of my favorite feel-good songs from times past, times enjoyed and places lived – Chicago’s Saturday in the Park provided that answer for me.
Well you know they say ‘all good things come in threes’. Please enjoy this third musical piece as my Monday’s Gone finale. An all-inclusive 7-day week bluesy rumination by T Bone Walker, Stormy Monday.
But then it all comes down to the Blues, doesn’t it?
They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday’s just as bad They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday’s just as bad Wednesday’s worse, and Thursday’s also sad Yes, the eagle flies on Friday, and Saturday I go out to play Eagle flies on Friday, and Saturday I go out to play Sunday I go to church, then I kneel down and pray Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy on me Lord have mercy, my heart’s in misery Crazy about my baby, yes, send her back to me
I’ve been in a pondering mood lately. Going far beyond my regular early morning meditations. Contemplating concerns near and dear to my heart. Confronting those concerns that inflict fear, anxiety, and regret. Embracing those that stir joy, hope and purpose.
This then is but one tiny slice of all of that…
I am a quote person. Wherever their source – from books, famous people, poems, speeches, friends & family – I collect found quotes which more clearly express what I often struggle to articulate.
Then there are those quotes I don’t always understand…
Once upon a time many years ago, shortly before Ma passed away, I received a card from her in the snail mail. This was nothing unusual. Even though we lived a short distance away from each other and visited often, talked on the phone, and ate Family Feasts together regularly, she was known to snail mail surprise notes via USPS…just because.
Inside this particular note card was a handwritten quote by Omar Khayyam.
“The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on: nor all thy piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.”
Just recently, I had a spontaneous AHA moment. Seemingly out of nowhere and for no discernable reason or circumstance: I got it! As always, she fed me what I needed when I needed it. I even understood its relevance at the time Ma wrote it out and sent it to me.
Serendipitously, sometime in late March of this year, Paul McCartney dropped the lead single, Days We Left Behind from his latest album The Boys of Dungeon Lane scheduled for release the end of this month.
On this last day of February*, after scrapping several attempts to craft a blog post based upon my own feelings of overwhelm during the relentless escalation of ICE these past months, I received the March newsletter from The Poetry Society of South Carolina** in my email.
“…any bias is predatory. For us to understand that social justice and environmental justice are inextricably linked is critical. I want my work to inspire – I want it to inspire head, to inspire heart and I want it to inspire some action for a better future.”
J. Drew Lanham
When I began my own research of this new-to-me poet, my eyes quickly landed upon the title of his newest book of poems and prose, Joy is the Justice We Give Ourselves.
I did a double take on this title. Did you, too?
It hit me right where I am at in this moment. The joining of the times, emotional exhaustion, living out my values and convictions with empathy, doing what I can, using my (he)art to reach out/speak out, yet vacillating between is it enough? does it really count?
And here was an encouragement offered to me this very day: Joy is the Justice We Give Ourselves.
Hoping the book’s title was also in fact the title of a poem contained within its pages, I googled it and was hugely rewarded. Numerous on-line magazines, organizations, poetry reading meetings, and reviewers offer complete versions of the poem – in both written and audio format read by the poet J. Drew Lanham himself.
Excerpts from: Joy is the Justice We Give Ourselves by J. Drew Lanham
~ Joy is the truth, crooked lies hammered straight, whitewashed myths wiped away. Stone Mountain - just stone. Rushmore - no more. Give the eagles their mountains back. ~ Joy is the good news, without new dead names, no chokeholds or murdering knees. A night of sleep in your very own bed without shots in the dark - no more not waking up, full of lead. ~
Little did this poet know how well a stanza of this poem would segue into the ornithological depiction of resistance to the current state of our nation as discussed below. Thank you, sir.
Joy is the murmuration, then the stillness.
South Carolina Rebel Bird
The Rebel Bird logos**** are based upon the Star Wars Rebel Alliance emblem. They incorporate local state identity & flag symbolism to signal collective strength, opposition, and resistance against the current administration’s sanctioned ICE enforcement violence. In addition, Rebel Birds are a symbol of hope, freedom, and resistance against tyranny.
The Carolina Wren is set against the Palmetto Moon ( SC state bird & flag), standing on a combined Carolina single territory image. I take this as a nod to our Carolina Cousins to the North, although it may have been a designer error! 🙂
The Carolinas top-bottom: North Carolina, South Carolina
Over the weekend here in the Carolinas a Cold Snap peaked on Saturday, with a Snow Dump of about 4 inches Sunday morning.
We were ready for the ‘bad weather’ predicted locally. Except for the prospect of power outages (there were none, yay!) due to ice on the many exposed power lines in the area, the ‘bad weather’ arrived as an exciting & welcome whiff of winter for this displaced Coloradoan/New Mexicancouple.
It felt like home.
Saturday morning, I woke up ill. Much of the ‘bad weather’ stuff I’d planned to do inside the house during all the town closures was scrapped. However, the perk there was that I sat up in bed, comfy cozy as best as possible, chugged hot herbal ginger tea and read most of the morning. Just finding a good novel these days has been challenging for me, so when one of the 4 books* I checked out at the library in prep for our ‘bad weather’ turned out to be a winner – I dove deep into the story while burrowing deeper still under the blankets.
I woke up Sunday feeling much better and like I said was greeted with a winter wonderland scene not often seen in the Carolinas.
We raised our floor to ceiling blinds in the Living Room to let in our vista view of that winter wonderland (and resultant cold drafts**). Even if the stars of the show were our 2003 Toyota Camry & Jeep Liberty parked on the slab in front of our house**, they nestled neatly against a backdrop of snowy serenity.
After baking a batch of oatmeal raisin-nut-choco-chip cookies (one of the ‘bad weather’ stuff I got to finally do!) and after hubby ventured outside to swipe off the snow on said vehicles, I began implementing my Big Plan.
“What’s that,” you say?
“Let me tell you,” I reply.
While hubby was out front doing his sweeping broom thing over the tops of those vehicles, I went out the back door and filled a big bowl with…snowballs.
Oh, I love me a good snowball fight! Problem is, I can’t make the darn things fast enough while the action is taking place. And hubby is just better at that sort of thing than I, so I decided to even up the score by padding my luck so to speak.
Aha! Caught him totally by surprise with my first throw – bullseye!
“I knew you were gonna do that!” he shouts as he turns around to take aim and fire off his quickly formed (and large) snowball in return.
His face looked curiously confused as he sees me advancing instead of cringing at the approaching snowball.
Then he spots my secret weapon as I bring the bowl forward and draw another snowball from my handy arsenal.
Let it be known that this was the first and only snowball fight I ever won. Just sayin’…
😊
To celebrate, I let him continue with his vehicle chores while I took to making snow angels on our front yard…
*it’s an odd one, but I’m enjoying it – Life, & Death, & Giants by Ron Rindo
** South Carolina houses of the sort built in the 1970s aren’t well insulated and often don’t sport carports much less garages, in case you didn’t know. I think it’s a Southern thing.
Over the weekend, I learned of an amazing appearance of a pair of Snowy Owls in Chicago from my friend L.Marie. Their presence commands attention. The timing of their visit more serendipitous than coincidental. I cannot escape their gaze, their message.
Also over the weekend, I potted a spider plant ‘baby’ in a cracked but beloved teapot perfect for just such a purpose. Our son Joe delivered Spidey plus a variety of other plant starts & cuttings from his home in Denver during his visit over Thanksgiving. He is a nurturing soul, and carefully packed them in his suitcase. Spidey is thriving in his new abode, placed atop a “Cookie Plate Crumb Catcher” on our kitchen table.
The teapot makes me smile – a reminder of my first Christmas as a newlywed. Hubby spent hours with a carpenter friend in his shop designing and creating a 5-foot-tall wooden plant holder complete with several shelves to display said plants. On the big day, hubby presented it to me with the teapot perched upon the top shelf crammed full of cut red roses. You may be wondering, what was my gift to him that first Christmas as a newlywed? A paisley necktie I made by hand for the first time ever to go with a new store bought dress shirt.
I noticed Deborah has reduced the paperback edition of her novel, When Things Go Missing from $9.99 to $3.99, specially priced for the holiday season. Yes, that’s a pitch for a gift idea.
Need a nudge? In addition to my rave review, the winner of my book give away Tierney recently finished reading it and mentioned she loved the book so much she will be posting a review on Amazon.
From deep within my childhood memories, through Concert Choir Christmas Performances in High School, I offer this rendition of Dona Nobis Pacem for this post’s Finale.
Grant us peace
Yes, I still stand with Ukraine. note- the Latin pronunciation for ‘Pacem’ is ‘pah-chem’.
I am woman. I have a uterus. Feminism is in my DNA. Family is my tribe.
I was once an at-risk pregnant person. I received accessible, science-based, person-centered care during those vulnerable years.
Years of mourning 6 miscarried spontaneous abortions. Years of nurturing 3 live births: 2 biologically female, 1 biologically male. Each breastfed. Each given loving affirming care throughout their lives.
I am now an elderly woman in leadership in a male dominated world.
Hear. Me. Roar.
Note:words in bold italics indicate words taken from the federally banned words & phrases list
Monday evening, 11/17: I just pushed ‘submit’ on the Fall of Freedom Event Registration Form. This is a big deal. Not in the fact that Kevin and I are now committed to the deadline, but because even as creative participants, we don’t fit the mold – we are not an organization.
In fact, under the heading Organization Name I entered: No Organization, just two composer-musician educators in South Carolina collaborating on a Fall of Freedom Project – Laura Bruno Lilly and Kevin McKinney (Doc Snow).
So, you see, filling out the form required a very creative approach. And while not necessary, it does ‘prove’ our participation in this call to stand up for our right to free expression.
Yes, one of the things that attracted me to this event was the assertion that no effort is too small. Ours is indeed small. Just us two with a fantastic 6-minute video piece (almost finished*!) we plan to launch on my website and his You Tube channel on November 21.
And, according to the Event Registration email confirmation I received, ours is the first from South Carolina! Small but mighty, eh?
It’s great to be a part of this socially relevant event even if we still feel very isolated from the rest of those participating.
“We live in a time when dissent is punished, truth is twisted, and silence can seem safe. Under the banner of Fall of Freedom, we stand together in creative resistance, because when free expression is under threat, art becomes our voice, our shield, and our sanctuary. Artists are a threat to American fascism.”
*Our scheduled voice-over recording session set for between-lessons (Kevin) on Monday ran into technical difficulties. My home alone ZOOM H4n Plan B recording session the next morning yielded (unknown to me at the time) too much background noise to use. Technical issues resolved, we hustled to set up again for another between-lessons (Laura) recording session Tuesday early afternoon. Successful this time around. I like to think of this as our ‘surprise snafu scramble moment’ that all projects with a tight timeline & deadline experience.
Breaking News 😊: I just went to the Fall of Freedom Participants Page. I entered in the ‘search events or states’ line – each item individually – first the name of our project, then Kevin’s name, and lastly, my name. Guess what? Each item entered yielded the same result. That creative entry I mentioned above? It pops up along with the name of our ‘event’. Check it out!
