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Last year, I decided to display a miniature Christmas tree skirt, as well as a miniature fireplace quilt, as the focal points of a small room setting for the purpose of decoration. What looks to be bricks and flames are actually parts of a small quilt that was attached, with Velcro, to a wooden frame/mantel piece that Jim built. Those items are shown in the following photo.

Quilts made by Pat join with antique decorations to create this Christmas setting. photo by James Cummings, taken in 2006.

Directions for making the tree skirt were published in the last holiday issue of The Quilter magazine in 2006. The mini quilt under the tree is pieced, crazy quilt fashion, and includes some pieces of faux Redwork, print fabric. The Christmas ornaments are Crazy Quilt ones, and the top of the mini-tree is adorned by a pieced and stuffed star.

Some of the scene’s accessories are antique: the framed, cross-stitch silhouette of a woman spinning; the green vase that holds small pink, green and white silk flowers; some of the thimbles on the mantel; and the set of wax candle choir children.

Of course, the picture was taken in our 1821 home so the honey-color, wide floor boards, are also very old. In my opinion, they exude warmth and a quintessential essence of “home and hearth” that is not to be found in more modern dwellings.

Jim and I certainly had fun working together to create the Christmas scene above. We hope that you have enjoyed catching a glimpse of our collective world of creativity.

Patricia and James Cummings
http://www.quiltersmuse.com

THE TRAIN
There is something about a train
that conjures up a spirit of adventure,
inciting our wish to travel somewhere
far away, unknown and unexplored.

Above you see a portion of a piece of antique fabric with images of old trains and a date below each of them.

Trains are fun! Just ask anyone who has ever set up an electric train to run around his Christmas tree! In fact, trains are so amusing, there is a restaurant in Maine that features electric trains that run clear around the perimeter of the rooms, close to the ceiling.

We like the sounds of trains: “Choo, Choo.” We all may remember the children’s story called, “The Little Engine That Could.” The moral of the story is that the train said, “I think I can, I think I can…” and he did! Don’t ask me for more details than that. I’ve not read the story in at least half a century!

Another story was told in my family. It seems that a certain cousin was more likely than not to catch a free ride on a northbound train, every now and then, from Georgia to Manchester, New Hampshire, to visit relatives. The young man was considered a bit of a hobo!

Lots of movies features scenes on a train, particularly old movies. Today, trains are fast. They are more sophisticated. The Amtrak line runs virtually within yards of the home of someone I know. While visiting, we have to stop conversation for awhile, and in the meantime, the passing train makes the house shake, rattle, and roll.

There are scenic trains that are much slower, such as the Cog Railway in New Hampshire. Surprisingly, I don’t think I’ve ever rode that train, although I have lived in the state most of my life, and that train is a tourist attraction.

As we ride through New England, the old railroad ties are still in place, but most of them hardly ever or never used. I like to imagine the time when the railroads were so important for transporting goods and people. Then again, I often wistfully wish that I lived in another time and place, when life was seemingly less of a hardscrabble affair.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed seeing this piece of fabric, a small “piece of the past.”

Patricia Cummings

My friends have been requesting a photo of an old quilt from Lambertville, New Jersey, so I decided to share the image with my faithful blog readers, too.

This colorful, hand quilted quilt was created by the seller’s two aunts and his grandmother who once owned a sewing store in Lambertville, NJ. Their names were Mary J. Quinn Twomey, Honora (Nora) Twomey, and Kate Twomey. The last of them died in 1937. He believes that this quilt was made in the late 1800s to the early 1900s. Judging by the fabrics, he is right! There are cadet blue fabrics, including a separate binding, double pinks, and cheddar or “chrome yellow” fabrics, etc.

The designs of many squares certainly makes it appear that the ladies had quantities of fabric at their disposal. This is a planned quilt, definitely not a “scrap quilt.” Isn’t it lovely?

If anyone has any further information about the sewing store these ladies managed, such as its name, or when it was in business, or any information about the ladies themselves, please contact me at: pat@quiltersmuse.com

Thanks.

Pat

What do you think about when you hear the word “bloomers?” People who have not matured quite as rapidly as their peers are sometimes described as “late bloomers.” Then, there is the expression, “Have you lost your blooming mind?” Of course, in the spring, we have “blooming flowers.” In the “olde” days, people wore … you guessed it: bloomers!

Photos of antique bloomers taken by James Cummings

Bloomers are garments composed of two separate, finished leg units, held together by a waistband that closes with one button. The inner crotch is completely open. The pair of bloomers that I recently acquired is marked on the back with one initial, a “T,” embroidered with black thread. After all, one would not want one’s bloomers misplaced on Wash Day!

Bloomers were a practical answer, when one needed to use the “necessary room.” They assisted with modesty, and aided the goal of staying warm. During the nineteenth century, the bathroom would be the “outhouse,” a small facility, made of wood, that was set at a distance from the main dwelling.

If one looks at salvaged boards from these units, one can see that more than one human being could be accommodated at the same time. I have heard these boards described as “three-holers” and they still sell them in antique shops, although I have not heard of anyone recently building an outhouse.

In times of gastro-intestinal illness, to wear easily manipulated garments was probably a pragmatic thing to do. Also, in the New England countryside, it can get pretty chilly at night, so the warmth of human companionship was probably welcome. My theory is that bloomers were designed to allow easier use of the “facilities.”

These particular bloomers would fit someone with about a 26″ waist, and they are fairly short, indicating that they probably belonged to a child.

The construction is quite fancy for such a utilitarian garment that would be worn under a dress. They were kind of a combination of the short “undies” we know today, and the idea of wearing an additional “slip.” The legs on these sport rows of pintucks, followed by elaborate Drawn Thread embroidery. Each of these treatments encircle the bottom of each leg. Additionally, the bottom is finished with lace. The size of the undergarment and its embellishments seem to serve as proof that these bloomers belonged to a little girl.

I hope that you have enjoyed seeing this “piece of the past.”

To read my latest “Pieces of the Past” column in The Quilter magazine, which focuses on European Bluework, this time, don’t forget to pick up a copy of the November 2007 issue, coming to a store near you, in early September.

Until next time,

Patricia Cummings

The nights are cooler and the days are breezier now, two signs that reveal that the change of seasons is upon us. After a much hotter summer than usual, that left me feeling like a wet dish mop, most of the time, I welcome the way that nature rearranges herself. Of course, by January, we will long for the heat of this current time, and we will bemoan the fact that we will have to pay to stay warm. All that aside, however, winter is the time that most of us start or complete embroidery, quilting, and other projects. Both autumn and winter are times of hope and anticipation, and they offer a sense of peace.

When I was a child, I so looked forward to autumn. I felt so grown up to go to the store to pick out school supplies. My mother would take me to Pandora Mills on Canal St. in Manchester, NH and would buy at least a couple of wool outfits for me. One year, a favorite outfit of mine was a black turtleneck sweater and a Tartan plaid skirt with a large, fancy safety pin to secure the fringed, frontal overlap.

Of course, the wool sweaters and skirts were destined to be my favorites and I would attempt to wear them the first day of school. When I did that, I really suffered. They were just too hot until much later in the fall!

I would be given a new lunch box, too, during those days before hot lunches at school. There was not much variance in the edibles brought to school: a peanut butter or tuna sandwich and Oreo cookies or chocolate chip cookies, if mother had baked. I’d buy a carton of milk every day and was given the task of collecting money from other students for their milk.

Autumn First, Winter Second

The delights of autumn and winter in New England are almost immeasurable. I still love biting into a fresh apple straight from the orchard. My favorite smells in the world are that of an apple pie baking in the oven, or maybe the odor of hot Molasses Spice Cookies, or the pungent aroma of the Balsam Fir trees near the Bay of Fundy in New Brunswick, Canada, where we visited last October.

I love the wind that blows the laundry dry. The wind goes where it will and where it must and travels the earth to be breathed by all living things. Sometimes, the wind seems to have its own voice, whistling, whining, and chanting in the night as we lay awake. The cool autumn wind rattles the windows and reminds us that soon snow will be banking up against the house, to help keep us warm.

If my descriptions have made you long for the time when Snowy Owls will easily locate their prey of field mice on top of the crusty snow, here is a photo for you to remember another facet of the season.

My son, James Gorham, and his dog, Emma, after a Rhode Island snowfall.

Never mind, I am going to go back to dreaming of snowflakes, gently falling to the earth in a magical dance. The honking geese are on the wing. Winter is a comin’ in.

Patricia Cummings