Helen Kelley | loose threads

    This
    Is a New
    Day

Spring came early this year after an exceptionally hard winter. When the snow receded and bared the patches of garden at the corners of the house, the daffodils and crocuses began to push up in the still-wintry light. The first thing I did every morning was to inspect my treasures, watching every tip of green as it grew from a sprout into a plant. Finally, the blooms appeared. The side of the garage was blanketed with the white, waxy blooms of bloodroot. The daffodils in the corner by the porch stretched up toward the sun. Red tulips are just beginning to flaunt their new edges, tempting the local rabbits. In a few weeks, we will be pulling the leafy stems of the rhubarb plants to use in sugary cinnamon coffee cake.

As is sure to happen each year at this time, yesterday we had one of those spring storms that boil up from the west and rage easterly across the prairie. The wind roared all night. The rain and sleet hammered on the roof. Thunder shook the house.

This morning, as I look out the window from my workroom, I see the tiny, golden flowers of the forsythia bush scattered beneath the branches like a spilled pirate treasure. Under the cherry tree is a cache of pink. The sodden yard is carpeted with the glories of my early spring. Though the remnants of the storm may be disheartening, I can see through wet windows that the once bare lilac bush has put out lush leaves overnight. Soon, very soon, there will be heavy purple blooms and the sweet scent of May. The tight, new red leaf buds on the trees will open and there will be a fuzz of sweet green grass hovering over the winter-yellowed lawn. I can feel the promise.

As I stand here, I am thinking about my quilting. Last night I finished a small wall hanging. I sewed late into the night, clipping and trimming, and when I went to bed, I left devastation. This morning my floor is covered with debris. I shall have to sweep the carpet with my little magic lint remover before I run the vacuum over the rug or the machine's roller will snarl and tangle with the snippets and threads.

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.

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that I clipped from the back of my quilt top so that they wouldn't show their shadows through the background of my quilt top. Everywhere there are wee bits of material littering my floor, and like the flower petals scattered on the grass outside, they speak of promise, too.

Last night, when I finished my project, I pressed it and put it away. This morning, these glimpses of yesterday's work are a symbol of today. I shall sweep up the litter and begin anew. I will go to the quilt store and sort through the bolts, and then I will come home with wonderful new bits and cuttings. I will wash them and iron them and lay them out so I can cut them into patchwork pieces, sharp and straight and neat. I will stitch them all into another garden of fabric and texture and color. The anticipation of this new adventure lights up my day.

The light is still gray outside my window, but I can see beyond the sodden grass strewn with yesterday's glory, and I am ready for the joy that comes with fresh new ideas and possibilities.

©HK 2006