I recently splurged and hired someone to wash all our windows, inside and out, and felt I had to apologize for the tumultuous state of my quilting space, which once was our guest room. "Don't apologize," window washer answered. "This is your Happy Room." I paused, thinking about what she had said, and then thanked her profusely for being so understanding, at the same time realizing that she had hit exactly upon how I felt about what I call my "quiltery."

There is no other place on earth in which I am more content than in that 12' by 13' disarray of fabric, spools of thread, rotary cutters, rolls of batting, an ironing board, quilts and quilt blocks in various states of completion, and quilting books and magazines. I also have a small TV with a VCR, a radio and a CD player, should I feel the urge for aural and video entertainment. One wall is a design wall that my husband made for me, and on a couple of others, some of my quilts are hanging. Postcards whose scenes someday I would like to turn into quilt tops are stuck into the edges of a small bulletin board which holds snapshots of kindred quilters and quilting bon mots that I especially like. When I am in my quiltery, I forget the outside world, despite it’s often messy looking state, and feel at peace, with it and with myself.

I do not go in there, however, unless I have at least a fairly large block of time to spend. Running in and out, squeezing in a moment of quilting whenever I can, does not work for me. Frankly, I like to wallow in my quilting time, savoring the feeling of creating something; this I cannot do on the fly. I fully realize how lucky I am to have an entire room to devote to quilting. I have friends who live in condominiums who must make do on the dining room table and put everything away before every meal.

Just this evening, my brother called and asked if he could come stay for a day or two. "Of course," was my response, "Just give me enough time to clean up my stuff." This is my only problem: occasionally we have a guest and I have to convert my quiltery back into its original identity. But you know what? Just as soon as he's gone, faster than you can say "Feed Dogs," I'll have it turned back into my Happy Room.

©2003 Patricia Littlefield