It started with the quilts

The idea was to photograph and document our family’s handmade heirloom quilts, some of which are nearly a century old, faded, frayed and dearly loved. I wanted to preserve images of the quilts before they deteriorated further and identify, when possible, who made each of those humble and treasured works of art. 

Those photographs became a picture book and the pictures became notecards gifted to the family members who loaned quilts for the project. Soon requests were coming in and eventually Laureate Printing emerged. The quilts were the springboard.

Mama’s maternal grandmother, Mae Holstein White Armstrong (Granny Mae), was a skilled quilter whose work evolved over the years.  Her early quilts are cotton and intricately pieced (pictured above on the right); later quilts were polyester and tacked down with yarn.  Growing up, they were the quilts we had on our beds.  Granny Mae married young, about age 14.  She had three girls of her own (my grandmother Doris was the middle one) and took in a fourth girl to raise as a daughter.  I don’t know all the details of her life, but there were many challenges to overcome. Granny was a tiny little lady that I remember well.  Her 80th birthday cake was made to look like a bed covered with a quilt.

Cade and Mae White with Baby Estelle (Note the crocheted collar and sleeves on the dresses.)

Mama’s paternal grandmother, Nancy Salter Walker, was a less skilled quilter and probably lacked the time and patience for quilting.  The quilts she made, with assistance from her daughter Maude, seem more improvised with patchwork that isn’t quite exact or consistent.  She, too had a hard life, rearing numerous children on a farm in Sabine Parish. 

Patchwork quilt by Nancy Walker and her daughter Maude

Daddy's mother, Esther Lopez Pilcher (Mamaw), was prolific with needlework and crochet. I have several embroidered pieces of hers and quite a few crocheted afghans. After she died, we found several quilt tops in her home that didn’t seem to be quite her style; we later found out they were pieced by her sister.

My dad, Charles, playing on a quilt in March 1938

And there was Irene, our babysitter and bonus grandmother. Irene made my brother, sister and me each a quilt, a modified Sunbonnet Sue in blue for Karla and green for me, and a boy fisherman for Cade (pictured on the left above).  And since I’m the baby, I also have a well-loved baby quilt embroidered with rocking horses that she made especially. 

Spreading out the quilts for photographing, I realized there were several that I’d never seen in their entirety. The oldest ones are smaller than a standard modern blanket.  When not folded and stored in a closet, they are usually layered with other bedding, so unless it has been hung out to dry or used it as a picnic blanket, I had not looked closely at the soft, colorful fabrics, the improvised patch here and there and the backs of the quilts, which sometimes have interesting details as well. Some fabrics show up in multiple quilts, as if every bit was put to use. And where did those scraps come from? Where they once calico flour sack dresses, worn bedsheets or striped shirts that came west with the pioneers, or is the homespun butternut the last bit of a CSA uniform?  Who knows.

As for the women who stitched those quilts together, many had little formal education and no outlet for creativity; yet here is something beautiful and functional made by their own hands that has lasted for generations.  A mama wrapped her baby in the Hexagon Honeycomb and that baby became my father. The Tumbling Star that Granny made before World War II kept her warm during the last moments of her life. They are a tactile connection to our grandmothers and much like the women themselves – practical, hardworking, enduring. 

Granny Mae, far right, with her mother Martha and sisters

So, I share them with you now through the stationery collection titled “Granny’s Quilts,” available in three suites, for a total of 24 unique notecards, and hope they give as much joy as a written notes as they have given us as family keepsakes.

At the end of the day, is there anything more comforting than a quilt made by your Granny Mae?