olebat

The Early Life of the Bat Quilt
As a quilt begins its life, it speaks to its maker. The early utterances are vague remarks about the selected fabrics, warm, cool, soft or cuddly. Then comes the introduction of the pattern, and the fabrics yawn, “Oh yeah, we can do that.”, or “But if that happens, we might clash.” Perhaps, “Oh Momma, that’s a lot of technical piecing.” Or my favorite quote from a want-to-be-quilt, “You want me to do What?!”

The progression begins. Wash, tumble, dry, press; slash, snip, sort, pile; stitch, rip, stitch, assemble, rip, reassemble. Then the quilt begins to speak volumes. Remarks may be, a) “Hey you, this isn’t working. Why don’t ya just toss me in the rag bag, or do a quick finish and send me to the local animal shelter for bedding?” b) “What else can go wrong? Fold me up and put me in the closet and come back when you can think more clearly.” (UFO closet) c) “Who cares about the wonkie points? This is fun, let’s go for the finish.” d) “I feel pretty darn good. Let’s go to the County Fair.” e) “Oh Boy! Houston - Here we come!!”

So, my original design bat quilt went through many of these stages. There were graph paper and stubby pencil drafts in the hospital when I had a knee replacement. Then we migrated to EQ-6. Thoughts of magazine publication crossed my mind. Next, from the stash, began the fabric selection. After the first sample block was prepared, it was apparent that EQ & I had different sewing techniques. Back to the graph paper and opinions from trusted friends. Returning to the cutting board with confidence, yards of fabric passed beneath my rotary blades.

The Husquavarna-Viking purred and clicked as the blocks came, or whoops, didn’t come together. I heard the kennel call. Resisting the temptation to dump the heap into the rag bag, I persevered. As I laid the blocks out, There weren’t enough sub units. How could that be? (Oh yeah, math is not one of my finer skills, a little miscalculation here.) Back to the cutting board - (Now what were those measurements?)

More miscalculations, more frustrations. Then the thought of the work, the planning, the expense, and the experience gained - and yet to be gained. This was meant to be a fun quilt. It was a fun design. It needed to be a fun process. Time to put away the inhibitions and just let it go - wonkie and finished. It’s designed to go in my camper, not to Paducah.

The night before my departure for a camping trip, I set the quilt up on the long arm, and had fun. With no idea where I was going, I pushed the handles along, making loop-die-loops on the 14" squares. In the center of the bats, I applied primitive hearts. Hearts for the love of bats. Fun hearts for wonkie bats.

An so, it came to pass, wonkie and almost finished. I took it to the annual caver reunion which I attend, trued it on a picnic table at the campsite. There is a quilt group among the cavers which met on Sunday morning at our little outdoor Pub, which we call COOTers. Having attended a staff meeting, and a board meeting as the quilters began their meeting, I arrived late. The president had already gotten a peek at the work in progress, and was eager for me to show to the rest of the group. I listed the things quilts say. When I said, “Houston, here I come”, everyone held their breath. As assistants began opening the quilt, I said, “I give to you, Bats, Wonkie and almost finished.” I held the cut binding strips, and said, “This is all that is left.”

(Actually there is more. When I changed the bobbin, my tension was off, and there is about a foot of edge to edge eyelashes on the back.) As the quilt unfolded, the eyes of one of the quilters, a prominent figure in the caver community, and a fine quilter in her own rights, lighted with excitement. “Oh Carol!” she exclaimed, “Put that in the NSS auction next year. It will fetch at least $3,000!”

Now this lady knows her stuff when it comes to caver auctions. Personally, I feel this expensive quilt will be perfectly happy in my camper, where I already have a matching foot stool made for it. The pieces are cut and ready for the matching pillow case. It’s an ensemble, not to be broken.

While the rain pelted the little camper the last night of our stay, I applied the binding to the back of the quilt. The next morning, I glued the front down. Two days later, I set the travel machine on the kitchen table at home and top stitched the front of the binding.

It’s Fun, Wonkie, and FINISHED!