My mother had the patience of a saint. Or maybe she just really wanted to sew! When I was five she would sit me on her lap and let me push the knee pedal to start and stop. When I was 21 and my mom died, the same skirts and dresses we sewed together were discovered in the back of her closet, inspiring me to make a quilt in her memory.
We also dyed cloth together, my mom and me, standing over steaming pots of RIT dye. Now I am spending my days concocting color and creating quilts. I can’t help but think mom would approve.
Read my biography.
