Earliest quilt memory. That was as a child in the '50s while taking a "drive" with my family. We had driven into the country, and I spotted what I thought was the most beautiful sight in the world. It was only for a few seconds, but I got my head out the window of that '54 Chevy to see appliqued and pieced quilts hanging on a clothes line with a "Quilts for Sale" sign stuck in the ground beneath them. My mother gave a disparaging remark, and my father continued driving. I gathered that I shouldn't care for handmade quilts. When I met my husband in the '60s I had another reason to celebrate...not only did he loved me, but he had two grandmothers that quilted.