Texas Quilts

“Hand me the scissors, please,” Bessie said, as she reached for the black thread and prepared to cut a length. Threading her needle, she held the calico print circle in place on the muslin with her thumb.

Julia tilted her head to one side. “Do you plan to go around the petals like that in black also? I can’t imagine how that would look. Wouldn’t it detract from the fabric?” She watched Bessie make generous stitches with the ebony thread, one-quarter inch in from the edge of the circle.

Pausing, Bessie considered. “Well, I might. Guess I’ll have to see how it looks when I get to that point.” She resumed her stitching, working quickly to get as much done as possible before the sun got too high in the sky.

Bright Texas sunshine poured through the window, the natural light ideal for the intricate detail work of quilting.

In the corner, Helen sat quietly sorting swatches of fabric, pieces from clothing no longer usable. She set blues in a pile and oranges and reds in another. “I reckon these would make a fine wagon-wheel pattern, don’t you think?”

“Sounds like a lot of work to me,” Julia stated. “Good thing you don’t have too much of the orange and red; you can make it a smaller quilt.” She idly sifted through the blues, adding some pieces of pink to the pile.

Bessie glanced out the window and started suddenly. “Dust storm coming!” She frantically began gathering quilt pieces, along with the paper pattern template, and stuffed them in pillowcases.

“Wait,” Helen said. “Try to keep the colors sorted.” Holding out a pillowcase to Julia, she pointed to the stack of blues and pinks and said, “Here, those can be used for a hexagon pattern.”

Just as the girls finished stowing the fabric safely, Pa sauntered through the door. “Pack up, girls. Once we survive this, we’re moving west.”