December 7, 2014. Ridgeland, MS. Quilts.

Being still has it's benefits. Last week I walked up the stairs at the condo and sat. While I waited until I could catch my breath, I looked carefully at the quilt on the bed, and marveled at the quilting and admired the family that made the quilt. It is a beautiful piece of work, all made with tiny stitches. We must have 100 quilts, all made by the same family, who live near my sisters cottage near McCullough Lake, in Ontario. It all started innocently when Ken and I noticed a sign stuck in the ground that said "Quilts for Sale". The sign was 4"by6". We stopped and, and was invited to look at the quilts. The family was Mennonite and used no machines and their houses are neat and sparse. No comfortable chairs. I asked if my husband could look at the quilts but I really only wanted him to see the inside of the home. We talked and one thing led to another. Mr. Yoder, the grandfather had asthma and when they discovered that Ken was a Pulmonary Doctor they were delighted and asked Ken many questions. Then they discovered that my sister was Carol Barby who bought maple syrup every year. We became fast friends. Every year we stopped over to buy another quilt while Ken answered questions.. Then Mr.Yoder died and Mrs. Yoder did not know what to do with herself so I asked her to make me quilts. And she did. At first I had her chose the colors but when I had six quilts in colors of brown and dark green I asked my sister to select the patterns and the fabric. My son David says that you can tell a Dickie home by the quilts on the bed. Between the old farm house and the Hill house we packed up 35 quilts and we have quilts in every place we own. But I never appreciated the quality of the quilts until last week when I sat and admired the craftsmanship. And old Mrs. Yoder quilts hearts into every quilt. She knew there was love in our homes.