A Quilter's Stash

A quilter's stash is her bank account,
With interest that compounds daily.
For every so often, she adds a yard
Of something that's caught her fancy.
She does not know quite where it will go,
For she has no quilt in mind.
But one day she'll go to her stash to look
for fabrics to blend and combine
and there it will be,
that piece that she bought,
patiently waiting its time.
©2003 Patricia Littlefield

Burnout!

Are you burned out on Bargello?
Indifferent toward appliqué?
Does stippling make you crazy?
And piecing causes you dismay?
Do attic windows make you moody?
Are you bored by Baltimores?
Then get in your car and go at once
To your nearby fabric store!
Your ennui is only temporary,
as you so soon will see.
You'll quickly spot some fabrics bright
that will make you want to fly
home to try some novel, new technique
you learned about in a book you just saw
that you also had to buy.
©2003 Patricia Littlefield

The Quilters' National Anthem

(To the tune of Sweet Betsy from Pike)
"True quilters are we and none can deny.
We stitch from sun up until evening is nigh.
With ten yards of fabric and 6 miles of thread,
We pin and we piece when we should be in bed.

Not a gaggle of ladies who sputter like geese;
We quilt and we work just as we please.
We do not fuss and we do not whine
about charity projects and who's not towing the line.
All the 'ought tos' and 'should dos' just get in the way.
We are the true quilters, so HIP, HIP, HOORAY!"
©2003 Patricia Littlefield

Stash Rhymes with Cash

Stash rhymes with cash, and that isn't funny
Cause in order to build one, it takes lots of money.
I find fabric to die for and buy just a yard,
So it’s good that I carry a small plastic card.
Shopping away, I move with great speed
and find some fat quarters that I really do need.
I know they will go with and look really great
with the 5 yards I bought to coordinate.
Yes, stash rhymes with cash, it's all very true,
but both clash and trash rhyme with it, too!
©2003 Patricia Littlefield

Oh, I'm a born-again Quilter

Oh, I'm a born-again Quilter,
Using up all of my stash.
No more trips to the quilt store
where I just leave all of my cash
Scraps are now my religion;
new gadgets a thing of the past.
I no longer crave cute, fat quarters
for I'm mending my habits at last.
Yet, I'm still addicted to fabric,
Just as I always have been,
So the Angel of Quilting
works overtime, keeping me free from sin.
©2003 Patricia Littlefield