There was a time when I sewed, as did many other women.  And even now I will occasionally pick up a needle and thread and do some mending, but it’s not something I’ve done much of lately. 
When I was a child my mother and both my grandmothers sewed.  I was very fortunate to spend time with those women and learn from them.  Their mastery of the craft and their skill made their sewing an art.  Each one of those women had a jar or a tin or a box that was filled with extra buttons – the ones that were saved from old shirts that were worn out, the buttons that were extras from the new shirts and/or dresses that were made, and the buttons that were purchased for future projects that just hadn’t been completed yet.  It was like a treasure chest of lovely gems — different colors, shapes, and sizes.  What a wonderfully tactile experience to run my fingers through the buttons, sifting from one layer to the next, experiencing the varied shapes and materials.  And what a treat to enjoy the colors and finishes.  Occasionally a button would trigger a memory of a certain dress or blouse that had been sewn and worn and loved.
I’ve just returned from a quick visit with my family in the Kansas City area and I’ve brought home with me a large quilt that I made in 1990 that is showing some wear and tear.  I’m now looking forward to the opportunity to pull out my needles and thread and make the repairs to this quilt using the skills and artistry that were lovingly passed on to me so many years ago.

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