The Fox & Hare Quilt

Quilting my way out of a rut.

I had been in a slump for a few weeks, when I decided to treat myself to a little crafting eye-candy. I wanted to walk through my local fabric store and find two fabrics that I would like to look at. I expected nothing from my fabric, no finished product in mind, I just wanted something pretty to hold in my hands while I was working through a rut. My kids were grumpy, I was feeling lost, every task felt too difficult, like it all took more energy than I had. And in my creative space, I was uninspired and all my projects felt too big and unwieldy and overwhelming. There was no outlet that felt relaxing or comforting. I had tried starting some simple projects but even those felt like another chore on my list, draining more energy than I had to give. 

So, I decided, if I was going to spend another week pulling out a project that I couldn’t bring myself to work on, at least I would enjoy looking at it. A little bright spot in a dark moment. I figured that I would make 9 English-paper-pieced squares and stitch them together, and they would likely go into my drawer of various squares and blocks - this stitcher’s version of a sketchbook. 

Playful piecing: my drawer of small blocks I have stitched together.

And as I wandered through the fabric store, I came upon a floral print that was not bright or overtly cheery or anything I expected to want. But I couldn’t stop looking at it. I let that be my clue and held onto that bolt as I looked for a complimentary fabric. After looking for a matching teal or minty green and coming up empty, I got help. Together we pulled bolts and held them under different lights, and I let my eyes lead and let my brain take a back seat.

Playing in the fabric store, I felt the first zip of inspiration that I had felt in a while. I left the store hugging my 4 fabrics. The next day I cut some strips of fabric and stitched them together, with a simple block in mind. Occasionally my mind wandered to elaborate projects that I could make from these four fabrics, but I could immediately feel inspiration waning and dread rising. I had to remind myself to let go of plans, and I wrote in my journal “Maybe I should stop thinking about the quilt as a whole because it’s shifting how I think about this activity… What is the purpose if it’s making me anxious?” I only wanted to chase my delight. And I was delighted by the simple work of combining squares and rectangles with my sewing machine. 

The methodical work felt safe and satisfying in a time of burnout. I didn’t have to think about anything beyond the next seam or two. I can’t check my email while machine sewing, I can’t stir a pot on the stove while machine sewing. All I can do is feed the next two pieces into the feed dogs. And then the next one. And when it’s time to iron, I get up and slowly work through the seams. That was my leisure time, that's what I did after the kids were in bed. I had been feeling so adrift, and I appreciated how anchored I felt while doing a simple task over and over. 

And within a week I had a whole flock of squares. And only then did I let myself think ahead to what I could do with these squares. Could I make a quilt? I did some math, and I would need a lot more squares. Could I alternate my pieced squares with a large square, so I wouldn’t need to sew much more? Could I find something that a kid would like and turn this pile into a quilt for my 8-year-old’s birthday? 

Back to the fabric store I went, looking for answers to these questions. My friend Regina was working that Monday, and I laid my questions and my blocks out on the table and asked for suggestions. She plucked a bolt of fabric from the sale rack. The foxes, rabbits and birds were charming and the color palette match was uncanny. It felt serendipitous. I got the inspiration chills. Again I left the store hugging my fabric.

I worked for another week and now we get to the part where I was close enough to the end that it really looked like a quilt. And the birthday was only a week away. I did the awkward work of making a quilt sandwich, and there I was stuck. I folded the quilt up and put it on the floor and my time was needed on family activities and cleaning and cooking for a family birthday party, and then another project caught my attention.

I had gotten what I wanted from that floral fabric - I was expecting it would keep me company in my slump, and I had hoped it might help jump start my creative energies. And it did both - I was decidedly out of my slump, I was delighted by what I had made, and I felt good. I felt less adrift, I felt less overwhelmed. I was more focused.

And the quilt sat folded on the floor for 3 months. I saw it and felt a stab of guilt - i had gotten through the project in record time, and now I was just letting it linger? I should have finished it already… But in keeping with a project born out of meeting my own needs, I figured I could try that kind of trust instead of guilt. Every time i looked at the quilt and started down the guilt road, I said, out loud, “I trust that I will finish it when I am ready.” I mostly believed it.

And this past 4th of July weekend, we spent the afternoons enjoying the slow summer afternoons. We all curled up on a bed, with the only air conditioner in our house, and we just relaxed. It was slow and decadent and lovely. And on the second afternoon, I saw the quilt and it called to me. I wanted to finish it up. I wanted to do it. And I got through the binding until the last step, which calls for hand-stitching. I hand-stitched that binding while watching shows with my son, or listening to an audio book after he went to bed.

It was slow and luxurious and a lovely way to end the work of the quilt that came to be. It begun as a rope tossed to myself while I was adrift at sea. Then worked on with the focus and drive of a person who needed to have tangible evidence of her labor, to count her progress at the end of the day and still find the same number there the next morning. And it ended with rest, with leisure and pleasure.

Fox & Hare Quilt: Made with the Makower’s Grove Panel, Jen Hewett Palmiers in Cactus and Sky, and her Tendrils in Cactus, and Cotton + Steel’s Good Vibes, plus one other fabric whose names I forgot, but will add as soon as I find it.