Started piecing four-patch blocks yesterday, to make a quilt top. I plan on it being plain blocks alternated with the four-patch blocks. The materials are newer ones, that resemble depression era/feed sack prints. All I know is, I got to the point that if I didn't do something like this, I was going to go crazy. It's therapeutic, and nostalgic, to piece by hand. It slows me down. I think, I pray, I remember. It's a happy link back to my beloved Grandma.
Piecing by hand always makes me think of my Grandma C. When I was a kid, I'd sit in her chair with her, she'd be piecing, and I might be drawing on a notepad or something. I was a little kid yet, and she was petite, so we both fit in the chair. The picture below shows three of my cousins and I (in the orange top) with Grandma C., and that's the chair and that's her house. I'm a little older kid by then, but you get the idea. Happy, happy memories.
