WW I've Got...

WW I’ve Got…

I’ve got this thing about fabric. I love it. I collect it. I sew it. I save it. I buy it. I stack it. I dream it. I think it.

I have a huge new laundry room, thanks to my wonderful hubby and fifteen years of planning and waiting. My laundry room includes a sewing space with drawers and cabinets and open shelves to store pretty things. The end wall has open cubbies stacked with fabric, dress fabric on one side and quilt and craft fabric on the other.

But that is not all. One corner of the faux marble countertop has a huge pink and white woven basket filled and overflowing with scrap fabric, at least two dresses that have never been finished, scrap fabric from my Nana’s dresses that I want to make into some cute mini quilt and random pieces of lace fabric and layered fabric and bits I’ve bought to cover pillows.

And that is not all. Beside the overflowing scrap basket are stacks of more fabric; a funky purse ready to sew, a skirt for Mrs. Kearnan, my neighbour, and a denim jean quilt in various stages of doneness that my middle son has claimed for his project.

And there’s more. I have stacks layered out; a pile for Wyatt’s room in greys and blues and trains and such, a pile for the many-pocket bag pattern my mom bought me this summer in random pinks and greys and clever wordy blacks, and another pile pulled for a boy blanket in aqua and grey and navy. They are dreams, all of it. I look and pull and put back and weeks later I still have piles layered.

But there are more, hidden drawers of random garage sale fabric my neighbour friend so kindly gifted to me, drawers of slip fabric and lace and tricot and interfacing, a corner cupboard dedicated to batting scraps for baby quilts and mini quilts. And then there’s my cutting table cupboard with clear stacking boxes of leftover pieces from quilts gone by, to be used someday in some project.

I think we’ll overlook the remaining stacks and boxes of fabric and gaze happily at the bright pink crocheted lace piece my good friend gave me for my last birthday. It’s draped over the big window overlooking my back yard and it draws the eye from the colourful stacks of fabric to the soothing pale aqua of the walls and the white-white of the cabinetry.