September '08 - True Confessions of a Naive Quiltmaker

Note:  I have a certain quilting acquaintance (you know who you are) with whom I cannot have a conversation without one or both of us lapsing into wildly imaginative fits of giggles about, oh, say, anything at all.  Our most recent phone yak is responsible for the content of this particular column.  

I use my quilts.  I use them on the beds, the couch, the walls, benches, you name it.  I also occasionally hang them on the deck railing outside as a decorative accent, matching color and design appropriate to the season or other events.  There used to be another reason I would hang my quilts on the railing, which I am going to go into at risk of causing nausea to some of you.  After talking with my Q.F. today, I will not be doing that anymore, I’m sure you will understand shortly.  In the early part of summer last year I decided a little sun exposure each day would minimize the pain of being severely sunburned at a summer event later in the season, so each day I would spend about 20 minutes on the back deck.  Now, 20 minutes is not enough to motivate me to go upstairs, change into a swimsuit, lay out, go back up, and change back into regular clothes, so….  What the heck, I’ll just strip down to my skivvies and set a timer.  Our house is out in the country with semi-woods/ tall weeds between us and the next house and our garage is on the other side.  A farm field borders the back yard.  What are the chances I’ll get caught?  Riiiight.  Well, after the farmer came through working up his field twice, the road crews working on the power lines, and the one low-flying plane that went over (I could see the pilot), I had a thought.  Let’s put quilts on the railing to be sure no-one can see me back there and be blinded by my winter white-ness. The sun was at a high enough spot to shine down into the deck; anyone at ground level wouldn’t be able to see me, but the airplane pilots would just have to suffer - blocking the top would defeat the purpose.  Anyway, I digress.  So, in our conversation, my Q.F. chuckled that the quilt hanging on the railing would be a signal to the neighbors that the crazy lady is out on her deck again, rather than shielding me and  protecting them from a very scary sight.  That’s where our conversation went certifiably silly.  We thought I might fit right into the history books, in the part where the slaves hung certain quilts to signal escapes, danger, or other circumstances.  Could that be why our farmer neighbor just had to work that particular field at that particular time? - because he saw my Plaid Frenzy out on the deck?  If so, he’s probably still trying to erase the image that could be forever burned into his retinas (talk about a frenzy!).  Anyway, I hadn’t thought of it as drawing attention to the deck, but since our conversation I’ve changed my mind.  I won’t be naively signaling the ‘hood anymore, I’ll just have to accept my pale pastiness. Besides, tanning isn’t cool anymore, right?

P.S.  I’m going into the witness protection program and changing my address, so don’t cruise our neighborhood looking for flapping quilts.