Light

It's raining in northcentral Pennsylvania--one of those cold, constant November rains.

And while I am not motivated to take the dog on her long walk of the afternoon, I have been motivated to quilt.  My husband teases that my studio is actually our whole house, which is not exactly true, but, when I think about it, every room except for his study and the guest room has been the site of some quilt-related activity--and even the guest room is a great place to store quilts when it's not in danger of being used.  

Today, since one of my projects involves a lot of hand sewing of bias strips, I am seizing the opportunity to work in one of my favorite spots: a bay window that takes up one wall of our dining room.

Years ago we picked up an old rocking chair that ended up in that window.  It has gotten older and uglier over the years, but fits the space perfectly and circles on its base so that you can turn to face the room or to look out at the valley and fields outside.  It is also perfect for handwork.

In the summer the angle of the sun is such that it doesn't heat up this area, and it is the next best thing to being outside to sit here and work with both windows open on either end.  One of the things my aging eyes love about this spot is the light, and, even though my quilts are a bit different from theirs, I feel connected with all those generations of women who quilted with natural light.  

These windows face south, however, so in the fall and winter, they do their job of heating the house as the sun moves further and further into the dining room.  You can have too much of a good thing, and the sunny days become too hot and glaring to work in this space.  It's one of those paradoxes that I need light to follow the marking lines but too much light obscures rather than reveals.

Today the light is perfect, and I am enjoying sitting quietly with Terra, as I slowly move this quilt along.  So I will return to my work, and, if you are still with me, thanks for the company.

Pay Back

One of the great things about putting in all those sleepless nights trying to get babies back to sleep and then worrying about them as teenagers is that after they are all grown up they sometimes give you great gifts.  About a week ago I got a birthday present in the mail from my oldest daughter, Emily, and her husband.  Now my birthday is in the middle of March, but, since I did give my youngest her quilted graduation present until four years after the event, I won't quibble about timeliness.

Inside the box was a strange yellow contraption that when I unfolded the goose-type neck took on the aspects of a lamp with no cord.  Instead a removable solar panel was embedded in the base.

With the push of a button I get a great focussed light that I can put anywhere and that I can take with me anywhere.  What an incredibly clever and useful gift!  So far I have not had to recharge the solar battery, and Emily tells me she gets over eight hours of light on a charge, which means I take the little solar panel out and put it in a sunny window for a few hours.

Unfortunately, this light comes from Ikea--and we live inconveniently far from any Ikea store up here in the hills of northcentral Pennsylvania.  It's called a Sunnan, which may be Swedish for "lamp" for all I know.  I have already used this Sunnan several times, plopping it down on the table next to me when I needed a more concentrated light for a while and it folds down absolutely flat so it is eminently portable.

Thanks, Emily and Jim!