Beth Ferrier’s Blog

It struck me years ago, in the early ninties, while watching Eleanor Burns demonstrating quilting techniques on PBS. I was still mired in my perfectionism, trying with all my might to do all things “right”. There was Eleanor doing the very stuff that I was shamefully hiding as “cheating”, and she was earning a living at it.

I don’t know if a lightbulb appeared above my head, or perhaps a choir of angels struck the chord of inspiration, but in a flash I understood two things. What may be cheating to some is innovation to others. And she was doing, I was watching.

I’ve been struggling with the doing/watching recently. I’ve become fascinated by blogs, qulting, kniting and writing blogs. I’ve been reading, feeling both impressed and outclassed. But reading is not doing.

This morning in Robert Genn’s Twice Weekly Letter (which I highly recommend), Robert offers his list of advice for getting down to the work of creating art, what ever medium we may use. There, in the middle of the list, was just the kick in the butt I needed:

Replace passive consumption with Creative Production

Six beautiful words to help us remember that we can’t be creative unless we create. Thinking about it, reading about it, knowing about it, wishing or desiring doesn’t get us there. It’s just simply by doing, not doing perfectly, best or even well. Just doing.

Take a couple of minutes and listen to this charming song. I dare you not to smile.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_oc1j5NakY

On this day (mumble, mumble) years ago, mom and dad brought me a new sister. Now you would think that since I already had two sisters that I’d be full up on them. But Stephanie was the first sister that I was old enough to appreciate as a baby. She was my living doll.

Poor Steph was teased terribly, being the only blonde. It’s a small wonder that she still talks to us. She’s maddenly private, and looking at the picture, it strikes me that even when she was small, she stood apart from us.

Now Stephanie is a wonderful wife and a terrfic mother to her three boys. She’s a smart businesswoman, flipping properties for a hobby!

Happy Birthday, Steph, you deserve the all the best in the world.

My favorite season is finally here, although someone needs to tell the trees. Here it is, almost the first day of fall and hardly a hint of autumn color in the leaves.

Even though I love my gardens, I just detest the summer heat. I wouldn’t last a week in the south. While I’m sad to see my flowers fade into fall, I relish the days when the thermometer settles down into the sixties. The light changes in the fall, the blue of the sky deepens, offering a perfect backdrop for the spectacular colors showing on the trees. Since the trees are slow to change this year, I hope we’ll still see the rich colors. Kent and I often go for car rides just to look for the reddest tree.

Now that the house has cooled down it’s time to crank up the oven. Baking is one of my favorite things to do, and pies and cookies rank right up there in my project choices. These little country pies, spiced piles of McIntosh apples gathered into a pie crust purse, baked up into a sweet treat.

Another special person in my life celebrates her birthday in September.

Karen Boutte, aka The Quilt Diva, is having a birthday today. I know how old she claims to be, but I’ll never tell. Besides, I think she’s fibbing: no way on earth she’s older than me!

It’s not very often that you find another professional who can also be a bestest friend. Karen and I share the experiences of teaching/writing/publishing in the quilt world. We also share mothering sons, maintaining long-term marriages, learning how to be mothers-in-law, terrible self-doubt, and wild flights of fancy. Happy birthday, dear friend. You look mahvelous dahling!

I guess I’m kind of slow because I didn’t realize that my dear sister’s birth date worked out to 911 until just months before the terrorist attack that changed the meaning of that date forever.

Now, like kids born on Pearl Harbor day or D-day, Valorie has to share her birthday with an event that forces us to be sober and introspective. We’re going to observe and remember the sadness and then rejoice that we have another year as sisters.

I like to say that Valorie (born when I was 17 months old) was my first student. Being the oldest, it was my job to keep her out of trouble. It didn’t quite work out that way, though, because while it seemed that I was always in trouble, dear Lori made much better choices. I think I must have taught by example, of what not to do!

 I love you sis! Have a great birthday.

Just when I think I’ve seen it all, I have yet another opportunity to test my traveling-teacher skills.

Tomorrow I am off to visit the terrific folks in Lawton, Oklahoma. For the first time in my ten years of teaching on the national scene I have found that I just can’t get there from here. Well, I can, but, well, let’s just say it should be interesting.

The Saginaw airport is wonderful, just fifteen minutes away, really nice folks in charge and it can usually get me everywhere I want to go, eventually. I’ve flown from here to Brisbane, Australia. I’ve even gotten myself to Rome and Zurich.

That’s not to say that I’ve flown there directly. Oh, no, pretty much the only places I can go directly from here are Detroit Metro Airport, Minneapolis, MN or Chicago. But that’s okay because I can get almost anywhere from there. Except for Lawton, Oklahoma.

To complete this trip I’ll first visit Minneapolis (makes sense to head north to go south, don’t you think?), and then pop over to Dallas/Ft. Worth where I will have to gather my bags at terminal E and tote them over to terminal B so that I can get on yet another plane (a much smaller plane) to Lawton. So if you’ve got any extra travel angels who specialize in making connections flitting about please send them my way. Thanks ever so much!

The airport doesn’t look all that big on the graphic, now does it?  I’m hoping that lovely tramway down the middle will help me muscle my bags along. If not, I’ll be hopping a cab for a quick trip around the airport! That’ll be a story for the cabby to tell at dinner. On the plus side, according to the airport website there are several locations for a pedicure in the place. What else would a girl do with three hours layover?

Have I mentioned recently how much I love quilts? They make me happy. Every step in the process, they give me joy.

Quilts make me happy when they are just a pile of fabric, waiting to be born.

They make me happy when they are a stack of blocks, waiting to be joined.

Lots and lots of applique, edges to be turned, flowers to stitch together, vines to grow, oh, how that makes me happy too.

Okay, so basting doesn’t make me happy, except when it’s done, and then I love it.

Quilting, stitch by stitch, feels as creative to me as developing the original design. Choosing the quilting patterns and seeing how they play out is exciting to me.

Washing the quilt, hanging  it out on the line to dry, knowing that it will have that smell that only comes when dried in the sunshine, that makes me happy too. If I ever win a million jillion dollars I will have people who make sure I have a quilt and crisp sheets, fresh from the clothesline, on my bed every night.

This quilt has been on my bed for several years. I made it from my collection of fabrics from the Smithsonian, some of the very first reproduction fabrics to be made available to quilters. It makes me happy to remember collecting the fabrics (mostly fat quarters, of course), how I thought they were too precious to cut and how glad I am that I finally did.