A quarter of a century ago, when the quilting book a friend and I had written was published and being written up here and there, a woman I didn't know contacted me and asked if I'd like some fabric, as she no longer made quilts and needed to get rid of an accumulation.
Well, of course I would, and with visions of some really interesting fabrics from the past, my friend and I drove to Etowah on the other side of Asheville.
What it was was a PILE of fabric in a back room full of junk. It didn't look especially promising --lots of synthetic stuff--but the lady was so nice and pleased that we were there that we loaded up most of the stuff and hauled it off, stopping at a Goodwill to offload the polyester pieces.
And now, here I am, no longer making quilts (my back won't let me sit at a sewing machine for longer than twenty minutes) but possessed of lots of interesting fabrics. I've been going through the collection and weeding out a first round but then I wanted to find a good home for the pieces, most too small for big projects but fine for patchwork or scrap quilting.
I could just take it to a thrift store but then I bethought me of a quilter Facebook friend in the area. I asked if she'd be interested in 3 boxes of fabric and she said yes! Plus she's part of a quilting guild and can share with them.
Perfect!
I still have lots of fabric left. As well as lots of unfinished projects. Maybe Josie will be interested in making a quilt. We'll see.
But it was strange to think how I've gone from trying to get fabric to trying to get rid of fabric.
I saved so much that, as I went through the various boxes of different colors and types, I found countless tiny scraps which I consigned to a garbage bag.
I'm evidently in danger of being the something like the old lady in a story John reminded me of: when she died, her family found a box labelled String Too Short to Save. It was full of bits of string.
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