As far back as I can recall our home became transformed on a regular basis into an organized quilting bee. Sometimes there were only a few workers; more often it was conducted by a large contingent of women. The process of preparation took a long time and usually involved many extended family members and friends.
Mom and Grandma were from a culture that knew the necessity of "making-do" which included sewing their own clothing, bedding, curtains and anything else that was needed. Grandma's old treadle sewing machine remained in our house and at some point was converted into an electric machine. While we were still on the farm, mom purchased a newer Singer machine, one that still sits in my storage closet. It works, along with the quirks it came with. The major negative trait is the machine's tendency to dog -track, pulling to the left with every stitch but because it does so consistently, we have been able to make do.
Mom used that machine through much of my growing years. It is the one we three learned to sew on, before we were under the tutelage of Mrs. Conway in Sundre junior high. Mom had the patience to guide the sewing machine and coax it to head in a straighter line.
I learned to work with it too. I didn't enjoy sewing that much; it was one of those of jobs that needed to be done, so let's get on with it. That is also the machine I was using when I ran the needle through my fingernail. I was no doubt trying it to control its wandering ways.
The women in the family in the previous generations were all quilters, able to piece together material that was salvaged from old clothing. We could recite the origin of much of the fabric that graced our bedding: Great Grandma's favourite Sunday dress, a familiar apron, Dad's good shirt. Of course all the buttons had been faithfully saved from each item and reused on the next projects.
Mom had some time during mid-day when her kids were all in school, to work on piecing a quilt top. She pinned it together, sewed a few pieces then ironed the seams flat. We would come home one day to find a quilt top ready to go and another one in progress.
When there were several ready for quilting, mom would arrange for a group to come and help with the process. Dad often helped to set up the frames and pin the backing into place. Mom's frames had heavy material stapled directly to the wooden frames. The backing was attached to the long side of the quilting frames, and then these were set up. Some quilters had legs for their apparatus; Mom's frames were simply tied to lower wooden chairs.
Once in place the frames were positioned with the material as flat as possible and then the shorter frames attached. The whole framing was held together with metal clamps, tightened together to hold it secure. The batting was spread out evenly, the quilt top centred and pinned in place.
Mom usually basted the quilt together here and there with large stitches, easy to remove later. When her work crew arrived, she was ready to go.
Mom and Grandma did a lot of quilting on their own. I believe Aunt Alma was also a quilter and probably Aunt Frances as well. Sometimes a group of ladies from the church arrived to help. Once we moved into town, Dad helped with the positioning and rolling of the frames.
The quilters worked around the outside, as far in as they could reach, with tiny, even stitches. Mom and Grandma always worked with a thimble on their finger to assist with working the needle through the multi-layered fabric. Those who didn't often left little pin-points of blood behind for mom to sponge out. Sometimes she removed a few of their stitches too if they didn't measure up to her standards. Dad removed the clamps from the frames and rolled the partially completed quilt to a smaller size, with the worked portion rolled with the frames. When the clamps were reapplied, the quilters could continue on.
When mom was working in the kitchen in town, Dad was quite willing to help. He did not enjoy a disorganized household and wanted to move the process ahead quickly.
I have no idea how many quilts and comforters that the women in my background produced. I do know that each of my siblings and I received a quilt of our own when we left home. Carol also became a quilter and helped out a lot more than the rest of us. The quilts of today have become more of works of art. Originally these items were a necessity for any household. Quilting was a skill passed down from one generation to another because they could not survive without it.
