My First Quilt
As I walked along the gravel road on my way to my neighbor’s house, little did I know that this particular day would shape much of the rest of my life. I made the 1,800 foot journey from my doorstep to hers nearly every day the summer that I was seven years old. Normally my reward upon arrival to Ms. Frances’ house was a big piece of cake. Sometimes it was coconut cake, sometimes Mississippi mud cake, and always with a big glass of milk. However, on this day, as I topped the hill at the end of my long driveway, Ms. Frances was waiting for me in a chair on her porch. In her hands were a pair of orange-handled Fiskars scissors and two small pieces of fabric. Next to her was a shoe box full of more fabric pieces, which were sorted into several stacks. I was about to learn how to piece a quilt...and not just any quilt, but a Double Wedding Ring quilt!
