http://military.discovery.com/video/science-of-war.html?playerId=2071353001&titleId=2241384001

Sage on the job

http://military.discovery.com/video/science-of-war.html?playerId=2071353001&titleId=2241384001
Check out my son Sage. He is an experimental psychologist and works at the Red Stone Arsenal in Huntsville Alabama. If you click on the clip about helicopters you will see him talk about the project he is working on to decrease pilot error on a new generation of helicopters. Very Cool.
He is the young man wearing a blue shirt in the video.

Carousel at the Carnival

Here is the Carousel at the Carnival again since the pictures overlapped in the last post.

Back to Quilts

Lately, I've quilted quite a few quilts. Most are Christmas presents so I can't show them until after Christmas. I can show these. They are on display at Blue Windmill Galleries Here in Abingdon. Check them out at ...
http://bluewindmillgalleries.com/

I am working on the quilt on the left to learn how to make the stripes all line up and to make curves work in my quilts. I made the quilt in the right out of an old paisley tablecloth that once belonged to my sainted mother. I call it "Carousel at the Carnival."
I hope everyone is having a great long weekend!

YIPPY!

I just want to say how excited I am that the trickle down theory is not going to guide our economic politics any more. I see this election as a change of heart. Greed no longer will rule. Everyone will get to sit at the table, roll up our sleeves and figure out how to let America be a healthy community rather than one where our situations are dictated to us by large and larger entities that do not have the best interests of all the people at heart.
YIPPY!

A wedding

This apartment building may not look like much, but this is where I lived with my brother during the summer of 1978. JJ came up to visit me on the first of July. He planned to wait until the fourth to ask me to marry him but he couldn't wait. He asked me on July 2nd. We were sitting accross from each other. I had a state of the art cardboard box posing as a dinning room table. We were sitting on the carpetted floor eating yogurt for lunch and he asked me, "Will you marry me?" I said, "Of course I'll marry you."
When we visited the building last month, JJ asked me agian. Of course I would marry him again.

A good friend of mine, Jessica, got married on The 18th! This is part of her first dance with her new husband. We had a great time at their wedding.
Wat can I say? I am real fan of marriage.

Vacation

JJ and I are on our last day of our vacation to the see the New England leaves. Our number one reason for traveling up to Maine was to see my old high school friend Polly. We had a great time visiting with her and her delightful family. Here is a picture of Polly with her daughter.
JJ was in three marathons during our trip. One in Mew Hampishire, one in Maine and one in Connecticut. Run JJ run!

We saw quilts. This Bargello was done by Janice Maves and is in the museum above a quilt shop on Intercourse PA. Thye sell material for $6.50 a yard. The same materail goes for $9.50 in every other quilt shop I've been to. I guess they can do that because they are Amish and all live in community.

We ate lobster.
We went to a monastery.

We went to the wadsworth museum and saw more quilts.

The Museum had many great paintings. Salvador Dali,

Piccaso,

The Lady of Shallot
And this New York guy.
Very cool!!!

rap

Check this out on atom smashers.

Obama!

Yesterday was quite a day. My good friend Karen got a ticket for me to go see Obama speak in Lebanon Virginia. This was going to be a big high point for me. I was excited, but I committed to co leading a meeting at my church on energy. My co leader Deborah and I already changed the date of the meeting twice to accommodate other attendees. I decided to be responsible to my original plan and forgo seeing Obama so I could help to lead the group. :( Sometimes being a responsible grown up isn't so fun.
Before the church meeting, JJ and I decided to go to the farmers market in Abingdon to get some vegetables.
There was a great hullabaloo going on when we parked for the market and I (of course) was drawn toward the excitement. Believe it or not, Obama stopped to eat at Pop Ellis' soda shop on Main street here in Abingdon!
We were just in time to be searched by a the secret service and get in the front row to see Obama.
Obama ran across the street to shake hands with us.

It was a very exciting experience. I shook his left hand. My friend Pam (she got his autograph) told me he is left handed.

This is the best picture I got of Obama.
He also shook hands on the other side of the street.

Then he got on his bus to go to Lebanon Virginia so he can catch the votes of the 33% of undecided voters in Virginia's 9th district. GO OBAMA!

New Wall Hanging

Here is one of my new quilts. I call it approaching serenity. I haven't decided whether or not to add another piece of the blue batik cloth onto the end of the quilt and extend it out somewhat. What do you think?

last executed witch

Swiss exonerate Europe's last executed witch

I found this article today. It is always good to remember that a great many people, mostly women, were tortured and murdered because they were different or pretty or uppity or otherwise did not conform to the mores of Christian society. They were tortured into agreeing that they committed impossible atrocities and forced to give the names of their friends and loved ones so that they too could be tortured. When I think about water boarding and stress positions and the current shame of my country being involved in torture. I remember my sisters from the past and the uselessness of torture as a tool. We too can get terrorists to tell us they had sex with Satan. People who are being tortured will tell the torturer whatever the torturer wants to hear. Truth is not important. Maybe we can get some names though and torture more people. Does anyone really think that would be good information?

By THOMAS BRUNNER, Associated Press WriterWed Aug 27, 10:49 AM ET

A woman beheaded after she was accused of causing a girl to spit pins and convulse was exonerated Wednesday, more than 200 years after she became the last person executed as a witch in Europe.

The decision to clear Anna Goeldi's name came after long debate in the eastern Swiss state of Glarus, and was taken in consultation with the Protestant and Roman Catholic churches.

Several thousand people, mainly women, were executed for witchcraft between the 14th and 18th centuries in Switzerland and elsewhere in Europe. Yet Goeldi's trial and beheading in the village of Mollis took place at a time when witch trials had largely disappeared from the continent.

Goeldi, who was executed in 1782, was a maidservant in the house of prominent burgher Johann Jakob Tschudi. Tschudi, a doctor and magistrate, allegedly had an affair with Goeldi, according to a book published last year by local journalist Walter Hauser.

Last year, the canton's executive branch and the Protestant Church council both rejected considering an exoneration. The government said then it saw no need to make a "celebratory apology for injustice 225 years ago."

The Glarus government has said that the Protestant Church council, which conducted the trial, had no legal authority to do so and had decided in advance that Goeldi was guilty. She was executed even though the law at the time did not impose the death penalty for nonlethal poisoning.

Goeldi's execution was even more incomprehensible as it happened in the Age of Enlightenment when "those who made the judgment regarded themselves as educated people," the government said.

"In spite of that they tortured an innocent person and had her executed, although it was known to them that the alleged crime was neither doable nor possible and that there was no legal basis for their verdict."

The exoneration also was an acknowledgment that an unknown number of other innocent people whose cases cannot be reviewed had been killed over the centuries. The Glarus government did not assume any responsibility, however, for past wrongdoings.

The Glarus government said in June it would contribute $118,000 to an upcoming theater play on Goeldi as "additional sign" of her rehabilitation. A museum on Goeldi was opened in Mollis last year on the 225th anniversary of her death.

Copyright © 2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. The information contained in the AP News report may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without the prior written authority of The Associated Press.

New quilts

This quilt was inspires by a quilt I saw in a book by Colleen Wise called "Casting Shadows"
I am interested in developing depth and shadow as well as the energy found from floating in space in my visions of quilts. Amazingly it only took 3 days to piece.

recent quilts

I went to Jonesborough Tennessee with some good freinds of mine on a fabric shopping trip. We had a great time and also visited a big Amish store a few miles further down the road.
First we went to Tennessee Quilts. This is a large shop with incredibly beautiful material. There is a small room upstairs which holds lots of good cloth on sale. I love scanning the rows of colors flowing like waves of possibility.I found a series of pieces (c) Ravello by Jinny Beyer for RJR fabrics. They are wonderful shades of feathers and I made this quilt with them.

news

I was talking to some of my friends about the media yesterday. We talked about the bad news and the superficial news. We talked about what terrible trouble the world is in because we are inundated with worthless and unhelpful information.
I want to see and hear true news, News that matters and that helps people to make truly moral and ethical decisions in there lives. I want to hear news that will help us all to re-train our priorities toward what actually helps our neighbors, our communities and this place we call home. I want to here news that makes us all want to behave with more kindness toward each other and our living spaces.

Breakfast poem

Breakfast one morning

Breakfast was always ready
Egg, soft boiled perched in the china eggcup
Waiting to be whacked wide open by the butter knife
Toast and grapefruit sliced, buttered and sugared.
Nine-year-old hands reach across the oak table for the butter knife
Nine-year-old eyes glance toward Mother

It was 1969 but Mother wore post WWII fashion alla 1950
She was the essence of advertised modern perfection
She owned her place by imminent domain
She owned her appliance filled white middle class world
She owned her color TV
The TV held court next to the butter on the kitchen counter
Breakfast news served up red white and blue coffins
Good soldiers lined up, bagged and flagged
Mother had two sons in the Marines

Nine-year-old logic.
“Mom? Why would they fight us? With God on our side they must know they can’t possibly win.”
Another draped coffin is carried across the TV screen
Dragging Mothers well-kept 1950 modernity with it.
Nine-year-old hands take hold of the knife
“Mom? They must believe that God is on their side.”
The knife whacks the egg
Yoke bleeds broken yellow dripping down the side of the eggcup
Another coffin enters the screen
Flag rippling across the casket
It flutters and saturating ooze leaches into Mothers white middle class world.
An unkempt postmodern confusion she can no longer keep at bay
“Mom? Whose side is God on?”

Queen for a day

I went to a writers workshop yesterday. The poet in charge, Bill Brown, spoke to us about life changing events. I decided to write about my wedding since getting married is a life changing event. I also wrote about my wedding since my cousin who has schizophrenia went AWOL during the event. It is my cousin who caused me to feel forever interested in sever chronic mental illness. He is responsible for my eventual choice to work in psychiatric hospitals.

Queen for a day

The bride wore a sparkling white crinoline gown holding roses and peonies.
She performed the ceremonial kiss and danced the wedding March
Over current for the day

Cousin John wore a white light sparkling brain
Wilting scents and compelling confusion lived inside his absent facial features
He was seeking rhythm
Consistency
Normalcy
The under current for the day

Cousin John knew what he needed
Not Haldol! On the contrary, he needed home.
A psychotic man flees from a wedding in Ohio to a home in California.

How much can a Queen control?
Familiar clasps of congratulations
Receptive lines of Champaign drinking well-wishers
The Queen holds court in the over current

The under current rises
Phone rings, it’s the police
A caravan line to Cleveland Hopkins International Airport
Receives the absent cousin

Cousin and Bride
Over and under blending
The Queen, gracious and forever curious
The cousin, confused and forever beholden to grace.

Check out the new blog

Please note that I added a new blog to my favorites list. This blog is by Greg Griffy. He is going to Wake Forest university in a few weeks to start a graduate degree in Divinity. I met Greg at southwestern Virginia Mental Health Institute where he I was working as a clinical social worker and he was working as a librarian. He is talented and wise. I encourage you to visit his blog.

2 small quilts

Here is a small quilt that I made for Gabe. It still needs to be quilted.
I don't know why these words are underlined and I can't seem to figure out how to make the underline go away.

This is the baby quilt I made for Summer's soon to be born baby boy. I used some of the same material in this quilt that I used in the quilt I made for my son in law.

Satire

I like this satire about voting. I have said this for years but this is the first time since Reagan that anyone has listened.

modern medicine

Check out this funny cartoon.
I feel very frustrated by the cost of health care.
http://z.about.com/d/politicalhumor/1/0/o/A/2/miracle-of-modern-medicine.jpg

Meeting JJ part 3

Meeting JJ part 3
Was it April fools day? Since I don’t remember the date. Since it was the beginning of April. Lets call it April fools day. The day I embarked on the foolish adventure called love. The sun was warm. The daffodils were in bloom. The dogwood trees just beginning to bud, held court over trees that are less enigmatic. Both wafted in the gentle breeze of spring. There was no dog nipping at my heal, but I was poised to step over the precipice just the same.

As I came out of the student center, I saw JJ sitting next to a fountain. The air was rich with the smell of new growth and seeds that wanted germinating. That poor sorry fountain was just a rectangle painted blue with water squirting up. But to me it was my first stride into the depths. He was playing a recorder. His trilling flute sounds mingled with the sound of the bubbling fountain. I flipped off my sandals, stepped into the fountain and danced. I danced across the water floating and spinning on the new spring warmth. I sat down next to the pied piper. We spoke with innocence about the weather, the flowers and the beauty of the day. Then he asked me, “Would you like to go on a picnic?”
“Where?”
“I found a new place out in the woods. It is already my favorite place in all the world.”
“What should we take?” After some thought, we decided we would get bread and cheese and fruit and wine. This is my favorite meal from then until now.
His communication skills about the subtleties of feminine comfort were limited at best. Most people believe they are being understood when they are not being understood. I believed I was being understood. I told JJ, “I am going to wear my sandals.” This meant, “I expect you to take me to a place where a girl can walk in sandals.” This meant, “If you are taking me somewhere that sandals are not appropriate, tell me now and I will wear boots.” He did not know that I was asking him if sandals were a good idea. He did not know that I would wear hiking boots if necessary. He was in a daze and unable to understand my cryptic world of woman speak.
I ran back to my dorm room to change into “picnic clothes”
“I am going on a picnic in the woods with a guy I have been trying to get to ask me on a date for weeks!” I was excited and breathless. My roommate was not impressed.
“Bonnie, what do you know about this boy? That’s no place for a date!”
“I’ll be fine!” I was very naive. I was a fool dancing swiftly over the edge.
I flew down the steps in my sandals and met JJ near his old blue Honda. We went to a delicatessen and bought some cheep white wine, cheese, rolls and fruit.
JJ took me to a back road that twisted along side Tools Creek as it makes its way toward the North Fork of the Holston River. The trees were brown and beginning to bud. They over hanged the winding country road forming a tunnel of meandering potential. He pulled over to the side of the road and we walked down to the creek carrying our picnic fare. JJ intended to ford the stream and climb up the side of a mountain. There were no trails or handrails. This was a good place for a rabbit to have a picnic. Did he not get the message about my shoes?
“I don’t think I can get across that creek.”
JJ agreed that I would need help. He carried me across the watery threshold of the hill beyond with the care one might give delicate china. Climbing the mountain was a total body experience. My feet slipped in and out of those sandals while I grabbed onto trees and rocks. We climbed up to a flat place where we could spread out our deli bounty.
We ate and talked and JJ spoke to me the poetry of the golden section and of the Fibonacci sequence. (He may have thrown in some Bob Dylan.) All I saw was gold and jewels coming out of his mouth.
“This is a man I could talk to forever.”
When you start to tumble off the edge of a cliff, there comes a point when you realize that there is nothing you can do to stop it. It is time to let go and plunge into the unknown. I don’t remember getting back to the dorm but I remember enjoying my fall into the web of his thoughts.

Phish quilt

This is a quilt that I made for Gabe. I liked the blue and green colors together. The poor quilt went through Katrina but came out just fine. I think Gabe felt badgered when I repeatedly asked him to get the quilt when he went back for his belongings. I love this kind of quilt because it looks complicated but is actually an easy quilt to make. I love the way a person can make a flowing pattern with straight lines. I think of this one as a Phish quilt. It looks kind of like fish and has an underwater flavor. Gabe was a one time follower of the band.
I think ol Freud would like this one too. It does look like a Rorschach test. Hmm "ant vat iz da virst thing you think of when you look at ze design?"

Jecholia wanted pictures

Here are some of my siblings.
Sage and Jecholia love each other but they are looking in different directions.
JJ and Jecholia had fun at Cedar Point

The reception was fun

The wedding was beautiful

The Wedding and other highlights, or, what I did on my vacation.

The wedding of Kim Hird and Ryan Spencer opened with the traditional procession of young men. They entered from the back of the sanctuary and walked along the side of the church. They slid in and out of sight behind the sanctuaries columns like waves swelling to the strings of Pachelbel. The men appeared and disappeared behind those columns affecting a surreal ambivalence to this ritual. The quartet played with traditional aplomb and the ladies arrived looking beautiful in dusky violet gowns. Kim was drop dead gorgeous, smiling down the isle with my proud brother Pete. Kimmy stepped up to the crest of the wave and said, “I do.” The wedding itself was short and sweet. This is the way I like them. I think it is the party afterwards that really seals the deal.
The reception was held at the country club. I grew up in this club and told Jecholia and Sage (again) about walking into the dining room with my mother and father. There was a grand piano and the pianist always stopped what she was doing and played Adalvise from "The Sound of Music" because that was my fathers’ song. Bernie the matradee would sit us down and then bring me a pettite bowl of black olives. I loved black olives. I never had to ask for them. Bernie made them appear. I would eat my olives and go play in the ladies room. The ladies room was plush with a mirror that filled the entire wall. There was a vanity that had combs and brushes and lotion and tissues. Soft padded cushions sat in front of the mirror and if I sat up on my knees, I could see myself in the mirror and primp. When I was finished playing, dinner was sitting at my place at the table. I was a princess surrounded by people who anticipated my needs. That was pretty cool. I know, it is not PC, but it was pretty cool.
Anyway, Bernie was at the reception and I introduced him to Jecholia and Sage. He is a part of family history. Bernie was also a big Browns fan and always knew all the details about the team. I think he organized bus trips to the games. We all loved Bernie.
Parties ensued all weekend and as the designated airport shuttle, I did a bit of driving. The airport is only 15 minutes away from the hotel. Speaking of the hotel, I would not recommend the Holliday Inn Westlake to anyone. The people in the room next to us placed a tray of dishes outside our adjoining doors and it stayed there for 2 days. Yuck. On Friday night, we were swimming in the pool with about ten other people. There were several people relaxing in the lounge chairs in the pool area. An employee came by turned off the hot tub jets and said the pool was closing. He immediately rushed around the pool and picked up all of our towels before we could get to them. Several of us brought towels from our rooms because they were bigger than the poolside towels. The man was just plain grumpy. Maybe he was a Yankee? Have I been in the south so long that I forgot how people in other parts of country behave? No, I think he was grumpy.
Lastly, we went to Cedar Point, “Your American Rockin’ Roller Coast! Roll on!” The newer roller coasters were fabulous. They were a smooth thrilling ride. The older ones jostled us around quite a bit and I vowed not to go on them any more. They have stopped being fun for this old gal. The park was a chaos of noise. The cacophony was so persistent and intrusive; it was almost hard to see. Shapes and blobs of color screamed and by the end of the day, I was exhausted, not form walking about 5 miles or being thrilled by rides. I was exhausted by sound that intruded on my cognitive privacy. I think this must be something like the ongoing irritation that my clients in the psych ward experienced. Their illness causes them to lack gating capacity. Gating is a normal brain function that helps us all tune out most of what goes on in our world and to focus on the things we decide are important.
Finally we stayed at a run down motel in Cleveland that could have been the set for the old movie “The Shining” It was a confusing maze of dingy carpets with the occasional set of wires hanging from the ceiling. It was sad, drab and spooky. I didn’t want to take my shoes off. The beds were surprisingly comfortable.
The ride home was uneventful and I am very glad to be here.

trip with friends

I went on a trip to Tennessee with some of my friends. Two of the lady's on the trip were full of youthful energy and they researched the area and found a beautiful waterfall with a paved walking path up to it. We had a delightful time walking to the falls and were happy to see a variety of people speaking many languages vacationing in little ol Tennessee. I love living in a place were everyone gets to play. Here are several of us sitting on a bench near the falls.

This adorable baby is my nephew Leon. We went on a pick nick at a local park and he decided that he wanted to wear the black hat. We ate great hamburgers made from cool organic meat and happy healthy cows. The sprouted lental salad was very good too.

big wedding and a bike trip

JJ went on a bike trip. this is his "before" picture. I don't think that hat is going to be as effective as a helmet. Sure hope he doesn't fall down.











I decided to include some general info in this blog so it can be a bit more interesting.
Everyone in my family is excited about going to a big wedding in Ohio. My niece is getting married on June 14th. We expect to have much fun and wear ourselves completely out with dinners and cookouts and THEN go to Ceder Point. If you don't know about Ceder point, you should look it up on the web. Ceder Point is your Roller Coast. It is an amusement park that boasts the highest longest fastest roller coasters in the country. We will be with my brother and his three grandchildren. Distance and money has prevented me from meeting my nieces and nephew and I am looking forward to the delights of little ones at the big park.
JJ and I went to Asheville yesterday to survey a sign sight. We ate at a restaurant called Salsa's. It served Caribbean, Mexican food. I get tired of Mexican but this was a whole new twist on food and I recommend the place to anyone going to Asheville . Delicious!

Meeting JJ part 2

Meeting JJ Chapter 2

I was newly living in the south. Sometime toward the middle of my first semester at my quaint southern mountain college, I experience the pangs of full blown culture shock. I was a northern city girl and I thought I was sophisticated. I was raised to believe that stereotypes are an untrue but humorous affectation. They were only supposed to be used with poetic license to tell stories like Faulkner’s’ “Tobacco Road”.
My experiences with southern living were confusing and enlightening. The young ladies who lived in the dorm had an aristocratic heir about them and lilting southern accents. They spoke in superficial self-important prose discussing things like how many marriage proposals they had during summer break. All that was missing were their bell shaped dresses and crinolines.
It took me about 20 years to actually become acculturated. Fortunately, it only took me six months to learn to pay attention to the culture I was in. I knew that I could not just walk up to this beautiful black-hatted man and start talking to him. This was not 1979 in a northern city like Cleveland. This was not a metropolis leaping with abandon away from disco and into the cocaine mania of the 1980’s club scene. It was a small southern town that was so many years behind itself that it might as well have been 1955. I expected to see sheriff Andy Tailor and aunt Bea around every corner.
In six months, I learned enough of good southern manners to know that I needed to be introduced to a man before I could talk to him. I started asking around, “Do you know that guy with long blond hair a black hat and brief case?” I found out that he was a quiet guy who everyone thought was quite smart. He was a Music Major.
Soon I found someone who knew him well enough to make introductions. He told me when Carl, for that was his name, would likely be in the student center on campus. I made sure that I was in the student center at the auspicious time.
Carl walked down the steps of the student center to the snack bar area where most of the students took refuge. The brief case was in hand and the black hat was on head. The young man I asked to introduce us did exactly that. He invited Carl to sit at our table and he said, “This is Bonnie.”
“Howdy” was his response. How cute!
He was darling and shy and polite and lanky. He had piercing blue eyes surrounded by blond eyelashes. I began to form a plan for spending more time with this guy.
First you find the man and then you secure the date.
Having found the man I knew I wanted to get to know, and getting myself introduced to him, I began stalking him in the music building at the college we both attended. It only took a few hours for him to show up in the hallway. Fortunately, he stopped in front of a poster advertising a harpsichord program that was scheduled for that very evening.
I stood next to him in front of the poster and after simple hellos, I lied, “I just love harpsichord music.”
Never mind that the totality of my experience with harpsichord music was watching the famous and flamboyant pianist Liberachi on a Star Trek episode. I would have said anything to get that gorgeous long blond hair and those beautiful blue eyes to ask me out.
Carl looked at my innocent smiling harpsichord loving face and believing in my honest sincerity, he did as I intended, He said, “Would you like to go to the concert with me tonight?”
OK, so I did not think this all the way through. The concert was that night and I had a rehearsal for the senior spring dance program that night. I wasn’t a senior but part of their grade involved finding and working with other dancers to produce three pieces, a classical ballet, a modern piece and one that could be anything they wanted. (These often involved rock music and jazz moves.) I was one of their dancers.
“I’d love to go but I have rehearsal tonight.”
Carl had trouble thinking beyond a few hours into his future so instead of working out another date, he said his good byes and left the poster, the building and me behind.

Leaves Falling into an Empty Nest

This tessellation quilt was made in 2003 after all my children left home. I used fall colors to represent the autumn of my life and the empty nest that I was living in. I call it Leaves falling into an Empty nest.

This is a quilt that had many pieces all numbered and lettered and pressed up on the big felt board I have in my sewing room so that each piece would not get mixed up. The color changes were tricky. Fortunately I had a book to go by. The book is called Tessellations by Jackie Robinson and can be purchased from amazon.com

plans for chapter 2 of the meeting JJ story

Well I wrote a bit about meeting JJ but he said I got completely off track from the point of the story when I began talking about Star Trek and that being my only actual connection to harpsichord music. Since the Star trek rant was the biggest part of the story, (and a huge part of my youth by the way) I am definitely in rewrite mode. It will be first on my list tomorrow and we will see if the newer version passes JJ muster.
On the lighter side of things, I am working on new quilt that is designed to look like the aurora borialis. Unfortunately it is in that annoying part of the creative process where I am afraid it will deteriorate into randomness rather than evoking awe and coolness.
I will keep on working on the quilt of course since I am an annoyingly diligent worker even when I don't have a job.
JJ and I are excited about our impending trip to Maryland to visit Jecholia, Brian and our granddog Molly. We leave on Friday afternoon.
Yippy!

This is a quilt I made for my daughter Jecholia. In 2005, I met my goal to get a masters degree in Social work and quit my job working as a registered nurse. I worked all day most days from my graduation until I began working at the state hospital. I put this one together in about 6 weeks. I found a rose and took a picture of it and then enlarged it on a grid to make the pattern. This rose quilt has about 10,000 squares in it. It fits a queen size bed.

My latest quilt

This is the top of the quilt finished. I will fit on a queen size bed.
This is the center portion of the new quilt. I love the star pattern. JJ helped me to pick out the colors.

How I met JJ

This is the beginning of a story I often told my children about meeting their father. more will follow as I work out the tale in print.

When I was eighteen years old, I was majoring in ballet at a small women’s finishing college in Southwestern Virginia. Their were about 700 students at the time and since the school had decided a couple years earlier to admit men, there were about 50 students of the male persuasion. I didn’t go to college to find a man but I was in full youthful bloom, it was the end of March and daffodils, dogwood blooms and small baby leaves were appearing on every brown stick my eyes had trundled past during the long winter of my freshman year. The uniform for ballet majors was variations on a leotard skirt and bun theme. I was wearing a red circle skirt over pink tights, a pale blue leotard with long sleeves and safety pins. The pins weren’t to emulate the new punk rock look that was creeping into the art savvy fashion of the late 70 s and early 80’s, the pins were functional and held my bra straps in place. I did fancy myself as artistically savvy but in retrospect I realize that I didn’t have a clue about art. I didn’t even know that most of the songs I liked were about sex and that sex is the reason for art in the first place. My hair bun reflected my ignorance. It was severe and was held in place by elastic and bobby pins and sweat because for me art was a severe endeavor.
So there I was in my seriously artistic uniform standing on a set of stairs outside the dining hall after dance class. I was looking out over the campus when I saw him. He strode with determination across the lawn. He had beautiful long flowing blond hair that lapped at his shoulder blades while flowing out from beneath a black leather hat. This was no ordinary hat, it was hand made and stitched. The hat looked as if it were purchased from some back to the land hippy. The hippy must have returned from out west to live in the mountains. This hat maker was no doubt “into leather” and living off land, love, craft and marijuana sales. The hat wore like an old friend that had been taken in the rain and snow and through the morning dew via motorcycle to concerts, friends’ homes, piano lessons, long hikes and schools. This hat was not bought off the shelf and the man wearing it did not look like anything that could be bought off the shelf either. He carried a black leather brief case like some sort of businessman. The contrast was stunning and seductive. I had to find out who this man was. So my quest began.
I found out his name was Carl and he was a music major.
I began loitering in the music building on campus.

Atalanta and the Golden Apples

In honor of my sweetie who loves to run, I decided to learn the story of Atalanta and the Golden Apples.

Atalanta and the Golden Apples

Atalanta was left in the woods to die when she was a baby. The king wanted nothing to do with a female child, but a she bear found her squalling in the forest and took care to nurse and feed Atalanta for many years. When Atalanta was still a child, a band of hunters found her and took her in from the wild. They taught her to hunt and she proved to be a swift and cunning hunter. She grew to love running wild in the forests and developed a keen eye for game. Her arrows sang true and she clearly became the best hunter in the group. News of Atalanta’s abilities spread after a particularly dangerous wild boar hunt.
Atalanta’s father, the king, discovered that the wild huntress of the forest was none other than his own true daughter and the king and queen were reunited with her. They were very proud of her but her father felt that it was vital for the young woman to marry. Atalanta loved the freedom of the forest and did not wish to be married to anyone, but her father pleaded with her to marry until finally she agreed to marry the man who could beat her in a foot race. Of course, she stipulated that any one who tried and lost would be executed. This cut her list of suitors down quite a bit but, there were men who tried to race Atalanta and were executed for their troubles.
A young man named Hippomenes saw Atalanta and his heart burst at the sight of her. He could not imagine a love so deep and sincere, but here it was thundering away deep inside himself and it was all for Atalanta. Hippomenes knew he could not run as fast as Atalanta and could never win the race without using his intellect. So he sought help from the gods. Since this was a matter of love, he called upon the goddess of love to help him. Venus could see that this golden haired man was true to his soul in feeling love for Atalanta and she decide to help him. Venus gave him three golden apples and told him how he could win the race.
When Hippomenes approached Atalanta and asked to be her husband she looked at his golden air and beautiful strength and sighing told him that he would have to race her just as all the others had raced her. Atalanta was conflicted because Hippomenes was tender and beautiful. Even though she fell in love with him, she longed for the forest and the freedom of the hunt.
On the day of the race, Atalanta stood ready and Hippomenes, holding his three golden apples prepared himself at the starting line. When the race began, Atalanta quickly overtook Hippomenes running with swiftness and agility. Hippomenes took the first apple and threw it up ahead of Atalanta and a little to the side. Atalanta was so intrigued that she stopped and ran over to pick up the golden apple. The apple was the most compelling thing she ever saw. Hippomenes made a mighty dash and overtook Atalanta but soon she ran past him again, so again he threw a golden apple up in front of Atalanta and off to one side. This time he threw the second apple farther off the track and when Atalanta stopped to pick it up, he overtook her a second time. Soon Atalanta passed Hippomenes again and he threw the third golden apple in front of her. This time. He threw it so far off the track that Atalanta had to sprint into a grassy field to find it. Hippomenes overtook Atalanta a third time but she rapidly ran back to the track and began to catch up to him. This time though, the finish line was in sight and Hippomenes willed his love for Atalanta into his legs and lungs and pushed himself over the finish line just one step ahead of Atalanta.
Venus watched the race and knowing that Atalanta wanted both love and freedom, turned them into lions. Hippomenes with his golden main and Atalanta lived together hunting freely and loving deeply for the rest of their days.


These are the Roman names for these characters. If you choose to go Greek, Atalanta becomes Atlanta and Hippomenes becomes Melonion. The Greek version of the story names Atlanta’s parents as the king Lasus and queen Clymene. It was of course the king who placed in her in the woods because he was so distraught at having a daughter instead of a son. I tried to find the Roman name for Atalanta’s father and found that except for the fact that he was the king his identity is actually in dispute. Some tellings of this story suggest that being turned into lions was a punishment for Hippomenes because he failed to thank the Goddess or a punishment for Atalanta because she continued to refuse to marry. I like a happy ending so I used the version that depicts lionhood as the best of both worlds.

Arrow To the Son

This is another older quilt. It is called Arrow to the son after a native American story about a fatherless boy who is ridiculed for not having a father. He goes to a shaman who tells him that his father is the Sun. The shaman fashions the boy into an arrow and shoots him into the sun. When he arrives, his father is reluctant to claim him and he forces the boy to go through several trials. I don't remember each trial, he fought the elements. One fierce battle was with hornets. After the boy proves himself he changes into a rainbow reflecting all the light of the sun.
You can see the rainbows in the quilt and arrow up in the left hand corner. I put a Seminole pattern on the top and the bottom and the squares are, of course, Amish shadows.

Here is another unfinished piece. I am working out finding some kind of beauty in the discordance that screams out from this broken pattern. This is a shocking example of what can happen when you take the most visually satisfying pattern. (the one you see below) and break it apart. I call this Shattered Stars and it will become some sort of tribute to the men I used to work with in the mental health system. I have a third one made and plan on doing 4 all together. they will go together into some kind of wall hanging.


















This is what I am working on right now I will upload more pictures as I get more done.

This is also one of my earliest quilts. I love this one. It took me 2 years to make because much of it is appliquéd. The Celtic knot work was made by appliquéing long tubes of material. This quilt hangs on the ceiling in our bedroom. I call it Cosmic Creation. Each one of the Mariners Compasses is different. I hand quilted the piece with metallic thread. I hope the metallic threads are better these days because this thread kept on breaking and fraying on me. I made back in the 1990's probably 1993 or 1994. This is the quilt that reminds me that properly, quilts need to be on a bed or hanging up because I had this one folded up for a couple of years and now after being hung up for about 10 years, I can still see the place in it where I folded it to store it. I don't think anyone else notices the crease.