I grew up in a house that was warm and inviting, so much so that I have taken ideas from it when decorating my own home. Mostly, I followed my parents approach to filling the walls with a rather eclectic range of artworks. This has definitely been a real asset in the house I presently live in because of the need for optical interest on the walls that span sixteen feet from floor to ceiling. But now that we have successfully covered them all with a more than sufficient number of paintings, and drawings I find that the home could use a bit more warmth. And that has brought me to recall that all the beds in my parents place were covered in quilts.

Now, these were not quilts that were picked up while on an outing to the local department store. They were in fact pieces created by a female relative on my father’s side who had devoted her evenings for decades to a quilting bee that existed in her community. She did so even though she had no background in any form of crafts, or any real interest in owning any quilts. However, she changed her mind along the way.

As my father told it, this aunt of his had originally joined the group as a way to become acquainted with the other women in the area when she moved into to a new place with her new husband. But, as the first weeks and months went by she came to love the activity too. Along with learning all the local gossip, exchanging tips on childrearing, and sharing both new and inventive recipes along with some coveted family one’s. All in all what she found was not only a love for the textile works of art, but some lifelong friends as well.

Of those she worked on, at least five of them found their way into my childhood home. I can clearly remember my mother treating them as the treasures that they were, and explaining to us how they were to be cherished and properly cared for at all times. But, even with those guidelines, the quilts never felt like a burden to us children. Instead, they seemed to emanate a feeling of security, familiarity and beauty.

We understood from the stories our father told us about our great aunt that the quilts had been made with the love, time and attention of anywhere from six to sixteen women. Thus, this goodwill was always a piece of the article, and I think we felt that each night as we pulled them up to cover ourselves, and every morning as we tucked them under the mattresses when making the beds up before heading out for the day.

At this time, I believe that what our house needs is what those quilts brought to the atmosphere of our earlier home. So, I am unpacking the remaining three quilts made by my great aunt, and plan to share those stories that we were told with my own children. Passing this experience on is an idea that I think will create not only a great decorative change, but also be a meaningful family experience all for very little effort on my behalf.