I had a peculiar thing happen earlier this week. I spent a couple of hours looking at pictures of quilts that I'd saved for inspiration, and going through my Around the Block books, all in an effort to come up with a new, exciting idea for my William Morris fabrics.
I decided on the Envelope block for these fabrics. I knew it would show them off well and with them being of not very varied intensity, they'd make a blended quilt that I'd like very, very much. I felt some relief on making the decision.
Then I picked out the first two FQs that I wanted to put together. I trimmed the selvedges and pressed them and fondled them some more. I got out my Envelope directions. I picked up my rotary cutter. And froze. I could not cut into them. I stood there, frozen, cutter in hand, for longer than I'd care to admit. And then I put down the cutter and came upstairs and started dinner.
Apparently, Bill was not destined for Envelopes. Who knew? I'd even been thinking "Letters From Bill" would be a nifty name. But I was mistaken.
The next couple of evenings I didn't go near the studio. I had other things to do, and when there was time to sew, I stayed in the living room where there are three hand-quilting projects in various stages of completion.
And then today I went downstairs and picked up those first two glorious FQs and laid them out and started to cut the first Basket of Bill block. It almost always comes back to baskets for me. I don't have a lay-out in mind. I don't know how many blocks I'm going to make or what size quilt they'll turn into. Right now, it is simply the joy of matching and joining the fabrics, of making the blocks, of loving the baskets.