After the Christmas quilts came down from their perches on the walls, there was space for snow themes. The one I finished last year was a doozy, in that the process involved a storm of pieces. I had seen a picture of the design on social media and went digging for the pattern. Because it was a digital download instructions were in my eager hands within minutes. But that had no bearing on what was ahead.

 

Each large snowflake involved twenty four triangles, half of which were foundation pieced. This means that underneath the fabric, guiding my needle, was a scrap of paper with innocent looking lines and numbers. Lots of them. With about a dozen small scraps of white and blue in each one, every triangle took half an hour. I don't really want to do the math but you can. I did the piecing. Fortunately the designer resisted any urge to predict how long the project would take, as appears beside recipes in my favorite cookbooks. 

 

It could be compared to a paint by number, in that the sequential steps will lead the quilter to a replica of the original, made unique only from the choice of fabrics. And the imperfections of her skills. Plus it must be admitted that compared to many designs, the practice is wasteful. When I teach people the method, my motto is "be generous". I have had too many occasions when the blue did not quite cover the oddly shaped trapezoid, because of the mental gymnastics of predicting, snipping, laying it both backwards and wrong side up, only to unfold it and discover an infuriating bare spot. Then you have no alternative but to rip the seam, cut a bigger swatch, reposition and press the pedal. 

 

Well, there is another alternative. After half of the triangles were done, I gave up. It stopped being fun, so I stacked them in a basket and set it aside. So there. 

 

Half a year later I came across the bundle and since amnesia had set in about any struggle, I began anew. As blocks began to spread across the living room floor my kids chimed in with encouragement, and I persevered. Barely. 

One of the attributes of foundation piecing is that the guiding layer becomes obsolete. After you have sewn the blocks, you no longer need the directions on how to do it. Having spent a slew of weeks bent over the needle, the encore is to tear off the paper. But what quilters will reluctantly admit, it that it is only with tedious effort and a pair of tweezers that the bits are coaxed toward the trash. This is when it truly looks like a snowstorm in my house.  

 

One time John told me a curious thing. He said that when love is in the primary place, truth becomes invisible. We start with the instructions, learning how to be generous, and what it means to forgive. But by the time it has become part of who we are, compulsion is unnecessary. God is vague about how long the process will take. But a little amnesia can be a good thing. 

 

"When a person's rationality consists of goodness, truth disappears."

-Emanuel Swedenborg, Heavenly Secrets 2189