I was raised by my grandmother, and she was a quilter. She and her many sisters all would get together, or as many as could come, and they would cut out their pieces using cardboard templates and scissors. Cutting, hand sewing, with whatever fabrics they had. Everything was used. Outgrown clothes, the backs of shirts and skirts of dresses. They bought big 25lb sacks of flour that came in a fabric bag. The inside of the bag was calico or a tiny floral. I can remember them. It doesn't seem that long ago. I would tuck myself in a corner and listen and watch, not drawing attention to myself, knowing that I would be shooed outside with the rest of the younguns, if I made a nuisance of myself. But I watched and took in what they were doing with their hands and listened to their stories. My the stories, I can still recall, such wonderful memories I have of those women. Of course, I got to an age where I couldn't be bothered with sitting with "old" women and sewing and such. But that didn't really last long. I made my first quilt for my oldest daughter, knotted it, with the help of my grandmother. She would be around for another 15yrs, and she taught me so many things. Sewing, quilting, knitting, crochet, canning and as we worked together she taught me by example what it is to be a wife, mother, gr. mother and anything about me that is good. To me quilting is honoring those women who came before me and I hope one of my six gr. daughters can take over where I leave off. Nothing would make me happier.