American Quilter Magazine March 2012

One spring day about 12 years ago, my mother was visiting me up here in Northern California.  I had recently moved to El Dorado Hills which is located at the base of the Sierra Nevada range and is full of gold rush history which is literally right out my front door.   I was still trying to make this new place my home so I would frequently take little day trips to find hidden jewels along the country roads. This became my way to acclimate to the area.  

On this trip I had my mother along and took the back roads up to Placerville, which was  know as Hang Town back in the day because it was a hanging town, if you know what I mean! They didn’t have any lawmen back then so the citizens took it upon themselves to hang the bag guys from the trees.  Really! Not only does the town today have an old miner (a likeness - not THE miner) hanging from above the historic tavern, they also have some great antique shops and Mom and I wanted to visit them.

We were 3 miles up the aptly named Green Valley Road,  when we both spotted a field in the distance full of brilliant color. What was that?  When we got to it, we saw an old, carved sign that read Iris Farm. We both giggled. I turned the car and drove through the open gate, past the cows and up to the most beautiful sight we have ever seen. 

All of my senses were on high alert. The smells in the air were rich wet dirt, sweet blossoms and maybe just a hint of cow.   The ground was wet and our shoes got a little muddy but we didn't care. There where rows and rows of blooming irises in every color.  Blue, purple, reds, pinks, peaches and, of course, yellow. There was a teenage girl with a bucket walking down every row of flowers picking off the dead buds so that  more could bloom.  That is a job I would have loved  as a kid.

Is this what Van Gogh and Monet saw and painted?  I was so moved by the view and filled with emotion.  I just wanted to cry. 

So, I have had a love affair with irises for a long time. My mother bought these yellow irises that day from that garden and they now grow in my mother’s garden along with others she purchased that day.  When spring arrives these yellow ladies dance in her yard and now, also, on my quilt.  I have written an article about making this quilt in the March/April 2012 issue of American Quilter magazine.

This flower will soon be a pattern that I will be debuting at my Empty Spools Seminars retreat Easter week in Pacific Grove. Come spend Easter making beautiful flowers - just like Monet and Van Gogh.

Quilting in the Wine Country

The blessing of a sewing group. Where do I start?  I was just teaching at a wonderful venue in Ukiah, California.  I experienced an amazing group of woman that I will never forget. What made this group so exceptional was their truly loving support of each other. 

The minute we arrived (that would be me and the class cupcake, Peggy) there was a wonderful feeling that you could sense immediately. At first, I thought it was because of the breathtaking views of the rolling hills with rambling areas of wine grapes.  As we drove up the gravel path to the vineyard we passed horses on the hill and a little pond. We where awestruck by the view. This is where I was invited to teach for the next 5 days.  Did I die and go to heaven?

 Peggy and I soon knew it was not just the atmosphere that made this place special, but the woman we were about to meet.

Helen's home that belongs in House Beautiful.

View from our cottage.

Our hostess was Helen, the owner of this beautiful vineyard. She calls herself  just a farmer, but she is way more than that.  She set the mood by opening her beautiful home and studio up to this group of creative stitchers. 

Helen's stash that she shares with all.

This group meets one Sunday a month to share and stitch and once in a while they bring in a teacher that they all want to take classes from for 5 days.  There where 14 creative women of all skill levels. Each one of these women brought something wonderful to the table to make this group special.  They where kind, thoughtful, helpful, and sharing with one another.  When someone left the room nobody talked about the member who just left unless it was with love and caring words.  That is very rare in today’s world.   I have been in a few sewing groups and none of them were even close to the support and kindness of this group. 

Peggy and I asked her how this mix of personalities found each other.  She said that her friend, Dee, and her put a lot of thought into the people they wanted to invite to join their group. Bingo!  They also had been in a lot of small groups that started out great but soon morphed into an event that was no longer fun to be a part of.  When they would ask someone into the group they would ask that person if they had any problems with the other girls.  

Gate to the pool (forgot to bring my suit).

I always talk about how short life is and how precious time together is and if you are in a group that is not sweet and  encouraging, get out!  There are lots and lots of wonderful women out there. Remember, quilting is supposed to be fun.

Cottage on this side, studio on the other side.

Janice's Geranium.

Beth's Hibiscus.

Dee working from her own picture. She is almost there.

Angie's  pears.

Helen working hard.

Janice posing with her quilt.  Ta-da! 

Lori.

Helen's finished quilt.  Time now for the thread work.

Class "cupcake" Peggy and Helen cutting out little pieces.

Kay's flowers. 

Olive oil garden - where did you think it came from?

Shirley's work.

Najellcka's rose.  Say that 5 times fast or even 1 time SLOWLY.

Kim's rose.

Linda and Kim's finished flower.

Helen #2 working on her Apple Bowl.

Bobbie gave her pink flowers to Kay because
she didn't want to stitch on them which is great because Kay is making pillows with them.

Betty  made 2 Sunflowers.

What are you doing this year for Easter?  Why don't you join me at Empty Spools Seminars  in beautiful Pacific Grove, California from April 8-13.  We will be making some beautiful flowers and playing with threads.  You can either use one of my patterns or work from your own flower photo. I will bring the chocolate, you bring the bunny!

Bamboo needles

Being a native Californian doesn’t give you a great understanding of what a snow bird is.  That is,  until this week at Quilting at the Lake at Lake Havasu in Arizona where lots of snow birds congregate during the winter months.

My adventure started with the typical trip preparation that starts days before my ventures. The folding of patterns, cutting fabrics and checking supplies, packing my bags and, of course, preparing a project to work on just in case of delays or boredom.   I learned that trick back in my flight attendant days.  Always carry a applique, cross-stitch or knitting project to help pass the time. There is nothing worse that being stuck for 12-24 hours in an airport with nothing to do unless it's 12-24 hours without any food.  I've done that, too.

It’s a quick trip to the airport and a quick 1 hour and 20 minute flight to Las Vegas.  Then I will be taking the shuttle bus to the Lake.  OK, I did notice the bus trip out to Havasu is 2 ½ to 3 hours but I have my book, iPhone and knitting to keep me busy. This is why you need to read the small print before you sign the contract.

Then my fun begins. As I sit down in my seat and buckle up for take off I reach for my knitting. I am working on this sweater that is made up of domino squares in 20 different colors but when I reach in my bag to pull out my knitting, I find that I have lost one of my size 3 bamboo needles. In a panic, I start digging through my bag and OMG, I have lost it.  Great!  My leg starts to shake, my eyes start to twitch. What am I going to do without a project?!   I try to stay calm and close my eyes, breathe slowly, I tell myself.   My eyes stay closed and BOOM, I am asleep until my snoring jerks me awake.  I wipe the drool from my chin as we touch down in Vegas.

Las Vegas is not one of my favorite places. I have been going there since I was 18 and yes, it has changed a lot over the years. Or has it?  It’s still sleazy, loud, and turns the most wholesome of people into raging idiots.  And believe me, I know raging idiots when I see them.

So the thought of sitting in Vegas for 3 hours without something to do was very frustrating. I retrieved my 3 large bags and tried to find someplace to sit that didn’t have loud speakers overhead announcing the next show on the strip.  Then I had an idea. What if I found a place to keep my bags and hopped a taxi to the closest Michael's craft store to pick up new knitting needles?   I asked the girls at Southwest where to store my bags and they asked if I had taken them of the carousel?  Yes, I had.  Well, then they couldn't help me. What if I throw my bags back onto the carousel, will you then put them in storage?  Well yes, but you already told us you picked them up, so no!

The 3 hours goes by so slowly.  At last it is 5pm, time for my shuttle pick up. I wheel my bag to the van and hop in the bus only to find the bus is full so I sit in the passenger seat up front, across from the driver.  I'm getting settled when the bus driver tells me I have to move to the back because a handicapped person has reserved that seat so to the back I go.  There are 3 rows of seats and 2 people in every seat. Then the driver announces we are picking up 4 more people.  Someone asks When we will get to Lake Havasu?  He says about 9 pm.  I do the math...I thought it was only 2 ½ - 3 hours and now we're at 4.  And here is where the fun really begins.  He tells us he has to make a few stops.  Like 5 more and Lake Havasu is the last. I feel sick.  I haven’t had anything to eat.  I reach for the bag of broken chips I bought at the last minute, just in case.

First stop, the Terrible's Hotel and Casino around the corner, to pick up 1 person. Then to Searchlight (1 person), then we stop at the Riverside Casino in Laughlin, Nevada for a 20 minute potty break.

Here I think I can get something to eat but the line at the snack bar is 25 people deep and moving very slowly. I will never make it. So back on the bus and on to Bullhead City where we drop off the guy from Searchlight and pick up some kid at the very dark and seedy place where the burned out sign says,  Ray's Boat Repair and below it says Greyhound Bus Stop.  At Ray's, 2 men try to bribe their way on to the van.

Then on to Needles where we drop off the handicapped woman at a quickie mart.   It 8:45pm and we have 2 more hours to go. This whole time I am seated between 2 large men on a seriously too small bench seat holding my bag on my lap because the is no room on the floor.

I try to close my eyes and sleep the rest of the trip but the road is bumpy and windy and I don’t want to fall on the guys next to me. Oh, I found out later on the trip home that the bumpy road part was when we crossed back into California for a few miles. That explains the crappy road.

I look up at the clock on the dashboard and its 9:45pm. Then I start to think there has to be a better way to make a living than this. Then I am ashamed of myself as I remember  my sister's commute every day, 2 hours in bumper to bumper traffic to beautiful downtown Compton, Ca. to feed her family.  And my Husband who has worked in the hood of Sacramento for 15 years to give Matt and I this great house and send our only son to college. How can I be such a whiner?

We finally arrive 10:09 pm. That makes 5 hours if you are counting. Not including the 3 in the airport.  But I am finally here. I made it without a project.  Amazing.

Now for the good part. It was one of the most enjoyable retreat /quilt camps I have taught at.  The students where great, the directors of the camp were wonderful, the rooms comfortable and quiet, the food tasty and the view fantastic.  From my classroom, we had a breathtaking view of the famous London Bridge. I had a wonderful time.  I hope I get asked back. So the trip was little long but if it hadn't happened I wouldn't have anything to write about.  The girls even got me new knitting needles for the trip home.  Now for the snow birds.  They have the best of both worlds. They get to enjoy their home in Canada or the states in the summer and spring and winter in the desert when it is at its most beautiful.  The trip back was a lot shorter and the new driver said it should not have taken 5 hours the first time.

In the morning light we could watch as the sun came over the desert mountains and how breathtaking the view from the van was.  So, if you are a snow bird and looking for something fun to do in January, 2013, try Quilting at the Lake in Lake Havasu, AZ. It’s worth it. But you may want to rent a car. Or take a different bus line.

I Love To Paint

 Painting on fabric has been a fun distraction over the holidays. It’s much quicker than cutting little pieces of fabric to do the same thing.  And it’s so much easier to quilt.  The thought has been, why don’t I choose to do this form of art quilting?  

I don't really  know?   I like both processes. The mixing of the paint to get just the right color is so thrilling and  wonderful. Plus, I love the smell of paint in the studio. It's a little sweeter than burnt fusible web.

Then there is the process. The process of pushing one's self to something more challenging.  Trying something new and harder. I love mastering something hard and difficult that I have never tried before.  Can I make this work, is the statement that is always running through my head.  Like right now I am trying to teach myself how to knit dominoes. Not going so good at the moment.

Every artist has there own motivating factor. The thing that sparks them to create.  It could be having to capture a moment in time or work through feelings like love, grief or worries.  Mine is all of the above.  But the strongest factor is: Can I?!  Can I do with fabric and scissors what I can do with a paint and brush?

So here is what I finished over the last week. It was fun to paint again.  But when it was all done there was kind of a let down.  Don’t know why yet.  This came out very easy and natural.

So back to my fabric and my scissors I go?  Not sure.  But I do have a new understanding of the medium of paint on fabric and the potential of what the future might bring. 

One thing I do know, never say never!