In the string of comments one woman asked a question.

"Is it hard to make?"

Hard? That is not the first adjective that comes to mind. Cutting happened quickly enough with the fancy rulers and cutters in my possession. I whipped the yardage into little stacks between waking up the kids and whooshing them out the door. I remember because even I was surprised how fast it went. Sewing pairs into squares came next, and I put on my favorite music. Hard was not part of it, though it took several hours. 

There was some kerfuffle deciding how to put the forty blocks together, and John jumped in. He loves geometry and had a boat load of ideas. I chose the concentric diamonds setting, and added four large triangles for the corners. It only involved one more trip to the store. 

Sandwiching came next which entails crawling around on my knees, who are less willing than they once were. Spreading the backing and the batting across the floor with no wrinkles takes some huffing, and does leak into the domain of hard. Sometimes in the summer I sweat so much my hair clumps up. By the time I have squeezed a hundred and fifty pins I deserve a treat. When I price a quilt for commission chocolate is one of the line items. 

Then I rip the sandwich away from the carpet, which has been secured to the ground with masking tape, and head to the machine. Bernie* has earned her place of honor in my sewing room, and starts to salivate when I change the regular foot for a darning one and lower the feed dogs. 

There is a clock above my head and occasionally I look up to notice how much time has passed. But mostly I am head down, hands circling the needle, completely focused on the line of stitching. Hard? Well, only if tilling soil, and perfecting scales are hard. Gardeners and pianists chose to do it every day, and hard vs. easy becomes irrelevant. It needs to be done.

I take breaks when the tension in my shoulders builds up. Scrunching up the perimeter of a queen sized quilt to access the center is a wrestle. Ok, it is hard. 

But it is also marvelous to be up close to the creation of something beautiful. Sometimes I look like I am listening to my kids tell me about their current book or what happened at recess and I am actually picturing the most recent quilt. No need to tell them. 

It is not perfect, let me assure you. There are points that don't match and it is not absolutely square. But it keeps me warm and I love it. 

I have heard people say that marriage is hard. But even the word hard is rigid and unyielding. My experience of relationships is more like the ebb and flow of quilting, with repetition interwoven with sweat, backing off not to quit but to be ready to jump back in. It is hard like turning blocks over and over in indecision is hard, or replacing a broken needle for the third time is hard, or shelling out forty bucks for six yards of fabric is hard.  

There are tools that make marriage easier, and people to cheer you on. It won't be perfect, by any means. But Lord willing it will keep your heart warm. 

* Bernina Patchwork Edition