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For a few months now, I have been in a serious nesting and domestic mood (and no...I am NOT pregnant). I am not sure what the impetus for this has been and I have only been minimally acting on it, due to time and energy constraints. I have found that it is feeding into my levels of energy as well as my level of contentment, so I am going to have to make time to indulge it more.
This basic instinct and longing has been fueled by hours of time spent looking at food porn and craft and domestic sites. Most of my actions to satisfy this urge have been of a culinary nature. I do love to cook. I find that I have also been bitten by the gardening and quilting bug. My desire to dig in the dirt has been curtailed by too much rain and a lack of funds to buy seedlings and gardening supplies. I am sure it will by indulged, but on a scaled back endeavor from that of my grandiose imagination.
The quilting projects are quite another thing. What you all don't know is that I have a serious fabric fetish. Over the years, I have squirreled away an obscene amount of material, everything from yards of fabric, to fat quarters, to scraps. Many years ago, I started a Cathedral Window Quilt, which is very work intensive and a bit self-indulgent. The origin of that project has been laying dormant in my sewing box, patiently waiting for my return. My thought at this point is to make it into a lap size quilt for my granddaughter. Which means the completion of two other small quilts will be required (as to not leave out my two grandsons).
I learned to quilt from my grandmother, who mostly did applique. I have very fond memories of cutting, pinning and sewing small shapes of fabric to make beautiful pieces of art. Though my leaning has been more towards patchwork. Piecing together little scraps, that might have been otherwise discarded, in order to give them a new purpose and life. The combinations of colors and patterns seem to indulge my eclectic tastes.
Indulging in these domestic urges lately is my bliss. It also makes me feel very connected to the important and influential women in my past. I wonder if they knew how often my thoughts would turn to them in warm remembrances?
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