Friday, December 15, 2006


I caught this great item on Woman's Hour today about the quilts of Gee's Bend, Alabama. My mother had an old family quilt, which I loved to lie on and trace the patterns with my fingers. It disappeared one day, perhaps because of the 1960s obsession with all things modern; perhaps, like the way it was made, out of necessity.

These women quilt the same way, finding vibrancy against all the odds. I'm glad women's needle work is at last being valued in every sense of the word, too often you see work that must have taken months, and in some cases the maker's sight going for a song.

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Blogger chiefbiscuit said...

That poem is beautiful. Thanks for an interesting blog. I loved my visit - shame it didn't provide a cuppa and a biscuit tho'!! ;)

11:37 pm  
Blogger apprentice said...

Thanks CB. That would be good wouldn't it!

It is a lovely poem I like the way he's used the idea of looking into the cot and the coffin, and of running away from and to his brither in both these verses.

1:18 pm  

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