Crossing the footbridge across the branch beside the house the other day I was struck particularly by the reds in the old quilt hanging on the line by the shed. Ann had found it in town (at Finders Keepers) in sad need of repair.
So having patched the patchwork quilt and washed it (it held up!) it hung on the line first thing on a sunny October morning.
Against foreground of the single crimson dogwood, the pale pink of the mums and the angular beauty of stacked firewood, the hand-crafted functional art of the old quilt seemed to fit nicely, both visually and thematically. I could live without the black plastic–visually but not practically. Dry firewood will soon be a daily commodity–to keep us warm.
Quilt and stacks of wood: in the end, getting by, when you get right down to the bare bones of it, is all about maintaining body heat, isn’t it?
Click the image above, and when the enlargement opens, click your right arrow key for another view of the quilt showing how the morning light is already setting the ridge aglow even while the house below (and clothes line) is still in the shade of the ridge to the east and bathed in the even light of open sky.