For many years, during my life in Pasadena, California, I was part of a quilting group. The ladies in that group were my sisters, my aunts, my closest friends and my pillars of strength when life presented challenges. My son, Colin, was beloved by them. Before he was born, the ladies secretly made him a quilt. They each made a block or two in a pinwheel pattern with fabric from their scrap bags. They’d bring the blocks they were working on to the meeting each week and would wait until I excused myself — as a pregnant woman, my trips to the loo were frequent — and would quickly pull out their blocks to assess the quilt-in-progress.
Colin loved that quilt. He slept with it every night until he went to college. By then, it was nearly in tatters. I repaired it often. One night, when he was about 6, I tried to mend it after he went to bed. But he couldn’t get to sleep without it. He called out from his room, “Mom, can I just hold it until I fall asleep?”
In its fragile state, that quilt sits in my Pasadena storage unit, well-protected in a zipped bag. The blocks bear the timeworn signatures of each of the Quilting Ladies, as Colin fondly called them.
This week, I officially became a member of “Deux Mille et Une Croix,” a group of women who do cross-stitch embroidery in a community room around the corner from the village church in Vernonnet (just down the road from Giverny). Their name means “2001 Crosses” because they formed their group in 2001.
I met two of the members a few weeks ago at a fair in Giverny, where embroidered linens, fabrics and notions were on sale. I filled a bag and admired their beautiful work. Behold Monet’s house rendered as cross stitches on linen…
I attended my first meeting of the Cross-Stitch Ladies a couple of weeks ago and immediately felt at home. A lovely woman named Michele who speaks English took me under wing. Her son lives in L.A. and she has visited Pasadena many times. What’s the chance of THAT?!!!!
The group meets every Tuesday from 2 to 9 p.m. so that women can come and go as their schedules allow. The room accommodates two long tables — one where the ladies work on their projects and the other where tea and biscuits are served at 4. The room has a library of embroidery books that members can check out. I’d like to learn more about silk-ribbon embroidery. A French woman in the group has offered to teach me.
At this week’s meeting, I met a woman from Cornwall, England, named Anna, who has lived in France for many years. I liked her instantly. She reminds me so much of one of the Quilting Ladies (that would be you, Jo). She showed me her not-so-secret Santa project: she’s embroidering squares that will become a cushion cover, with colorful cross-stitched figures of women from around the world. The Secret Santa gifts are to be embroidered with a proverb or saying. Anna has chosen Martin Luther King’s immortal words: I HAVE A DREAM.
The group has special craft workshops and field trips each month. I’ve signed up for a class on how to make lampshades and a field trip to Paris (by train) to see the Yves Saint Laurent museum next month. Should be fun.
Now that I’m a card-carrying member of the 2001 Crosses, I need a project. At the fair in Giverny, I had seen a tapestry canvas, stretched on a frame, for sale. The design was a basket of flowers. Someone had already stitched the basket and a few of the flowers with wool yarn, but much of it is unfinished.
It didn’t sell at the fair and was sitting in a box when I came to the first meeting. Michele asked if I’d like to work on it. Pourquoi pas? Why not? I said. I liked the idea of finishing another woman’s work.
I said to Anna, “In America, quilters call unfinished projects UFOs…”
Before I could explain what that meant, she finished my sentence. “Unfinished Objects,” she said.
That made me laugh. It seems to be a global phenomenon among women who stitch.
At the fair, there had been a box of felt patches in the shape of flower petals. The vendor thought they might have been epaulets for military costumes. Another woman thought they had been intended as flower petals for an abbey prayer rug.
We really should leave notes with our UFOs, I thought.
The UFO tapestry canvas is now mine. I asked if anyone knew the original owner.
“She’s dead,” one woman said.
“Does anyone know her name?” I asked.
After some discussion, someone remembered: Madame Souliman.
Half the yarn is missing from the original kit, so I will be calling on Madame Souliman’s spirit to help me plan the colors.
I hope she’s happily looking down on her UFO. I will do my very best to make it as lovely as she had intended.
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