In the early sixties, my grandmother gave me a log cabin quilt. I'm thinking it was when I turned 21.
She normally gave them as wedding presents, but I was slow, and she was getting older.
In fact, she died before I got married.
I used it and washed it and used it. It frayed; I mended it. The edges tore; I mended it.
There's a quilt show here at the library, celebrating 50 years of the town's incorporation.
Oma's quilt is one of the ones on display.
Wonder what she'd think of that!
The second picture shows the colors better.
All the center squares are red. The "logs" in the log cabin blocks are made of scraps from Oma's sewing and from my mother's scraps. I still remember some of the skirts and dresses that the pieces represent.
Her color sense was impressive.
No rotary cutters, rulers, and mats.
Just tear the strips and sew them together.
Make the blocks, lay them out on the bed, and get your granddaughter to help you look for touching pieces of the same fabrics. One of my earliest quilting memories.