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I can hear a sound.
Plunk-plunk-plunk.
Rattle-clunk-ding.
And the purr of a newly cleaned machine.
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Time Goes By
By Helen Kelley
Sitting here in my workroom, I've been busy sewing my name on a quilt, and I can hear a sound. It goes plunk-plunk-plunk, and then a pause, and more plunk-plunk-plunk.
I can't see anyone outside my window, but I know exactly what it is making that sound. Somewhere in the neighborhood there is a high school boy dribbling a basketball and shooting hoops against a backboard mounted above his parents' garage. That sound happens on days somewhere between spring and summer when the sun is bright and the air is fresh. The plunk-plunk-plunk tells me that warmer weather will be coming along soon.
Other sounds speak to me, too. The other day, I lifted the pile of wet laundry out of my washing machine and transferred it to my dryer. I cleaned the lint trap, slammed shut the dryer door, pushed the "on" button, and in an instant I knew from the rattle-clunk-ding that something was wrong. I opened the dryer door to stop the mayhem, and I immediately grabbed the phone to call the repair service. The rattle-clunk-ding told me all I needed to know.
If we take the time to listen, we can hear messages from the world about us. Is there anything lovelier than the whir of a newly cleaned sewing machine motor, purring gently and flawlessly? It says without words that it is ready to plunge into a new, exciting project. No matter what your favorite music style, this is a sweet song to us quiltmakers.
On colder days when the sky is gray, when the weather cannot decide what the season is, I can hear twittering birds warming themselves in the chimney. They make a satisfying sound. The chirping makes me huddle closer to my quilt frame in the lamplight. The gentleness of the music on my radio murmuring in the shadows around my nighttime work table encourages me. The sound of comfortable solitude, a thoughtful quietness, surrounds me when I lay my patchwork pieces on the carpet and shuffle through them to devise patterns.
Last Friday night, when Bill and I went out to the mall for dinner, we were seated close to a tableful of deaf people. I watched them unabashedly as they talked silently to each other. They signed jokes. They exchanged news. They celebrated a birthday. All of this was done in silence. I was filled with a feeling of awe. It made me grateful. The sounds of my workroom blend. The undertones resonate around me. The laughter of my grandchildren and the hissing of my steam iron, the snip of my scissors, the ringing of my telephone, and the deep, hard sigh that says I am thinking. I hear the sounds, the plunk-plunk-plunk and the twitter of the birds, and I incorporate it all as part of my quilts.
©HK 2004
Helen Kelley is a quiltmaker, lecturer, author, and teacher from Minneapolis, Minnesota. You can visit Helen on the Internet at her website www.helenkelley-patchworks.com or email Helen at this address: helen@helenkelley-patchworks.com.
Helen's book Every Quilt Tells a Story: A Quilter's Stash of Wit and Wisdom is a collection of two decades of Loose Threads. Now in its second printing, the book is available at quilt shops, bookstores, or from us at https://secure.tpli.com/VillageQuiltShoppe/QV_Products.asp. Helen will be signing copies of her book at our Primedia booth at the International Quilt Festival, October 30 through November 2, 2003, in Houston, Texas.
View our archive of Loose Threads columns.
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