Up against the wire, a quilt for a very special person is finished just in time. It sits squashed in a bag in rather rumpled folds for a day or so. I roll it up and tie on a bow.
Oops - I remember just in time that I must take a photo. The camera batteries are flat, clouds are threatening, gales blowing (why does the wind always get up when I go outside to take a photo?).
The Head Chef is also an amateur at this game.
|Beware of the quilt monster|
Try and hold it straight, I say, as he steps back into the flowerbed.
Your slippers are going to get muddy, he said. And worse, I think, as I realize that I am standing just where the henhouse was until a couple of days ago. I don't have a coat on, and my hands are cold.
I promise you that it is a very pretty quilt. It has a quaintly antique air, and is not really as crinkled as it looks. And I will come back after the official presentation with some better pictures and some profound musings, or not, as the case may be.