Narrative Mending

Some time the 1960s, my mother bought a pair of quilts in Pennsylvania.  

With hand stitched appliqué strawberries and hand quilted swirls, they kept the family warm in New York, Vermont and New Hampshire.
Time and use did their thing 
Someone with a zig zag machine tried to slow down the disintegration of the polka dot fabric, but it probably seemed hopeless.

 A year or two ago, my dear sister pulled one from a drawer - saved from the trash. "I thought you might be able to do something with this," she said.  "Well, maybe," I replied, thinking of the other things awaiting my attention: tapestries, sweaters, drawings, fleece

 But when I got home to Idaho, I gathered materials: usable bits from my husband's worn out cotton shirts, a piece of mylar (for a stencil) and a hole punch.
 The rice paste resist is made according to  John Marshall's katazome instructions.
  I had an indigo vat going anyway.

  Eventually, I had fabric that matched -- kinda sorta, in its own way. 

First, I covered the worst spots

so  I could wash out the dust of decades

and render it usable once more.

Now I add patches as I can,
 strengthening the bits that are fragile
 but not yet worn through. 

It is a satisfying, ongoing task.  
And the colors make me happy.