This is a wonderful thread!
When I was growing up, we had no quilts--just scratchy woolen blankets and feather comforters (my mother called them eiderdowns) covered with satin that slid off the bed every time you turned over. Hated them.
When I left home to go to college, a mother and daughter in the church made me a beautiful quilt, butterflies outlined with black buttonhole stitching, backed with feedsacks. I didn't have sense enough to know what a treasure it was, and I don't know what became of it. I'm still ashamed of myself.