Looking out my Backdoor: Writing down a quilt

Usually I sit down to write with something specific on my mind. Today I have a scrap of this and a scrap of that. What does one do with scraps? One makes a quilt.

Michelle called. “Let’s go to the Plaza for cake.” In the Mercado a teeny coffee shop recently opened, fancy drinks and baked goods. They make the best carrot cake.

Michelle, Ana and I found a bench in the shade in the Plaza, where we enjoyed our drinks and cakes put our worlds in order. During this time, I had a realization. I am truly a resident, no longer a “tourist.”

The Plaza is the town center, lots of activity, with vendors of crafts, foods, clothing, even tools. The first years I lived here, I wanted to see everything, a tourist. Now I only want to visit with my friends.

Back home, I noticed the bed-sheet butterflies have returned. Even in the animal world, there are residents here year-round, tourists passing through, and snow-birds here for a few months. For the next month, some go north, some go south, some settle in for the winter. We come. We go.

I have a new resident in my home. For the last couple years, I’ve nattered on and on, wanting a dressmaker manikin but not wanting to spend the money. At present, my entire wardrobe is the result of the work of my own hands. I took apart a pair of pants for a pattern, easily modified; the other garments I make by guess and by gosh.

Often that means, stitch, take apart, adjust, recreate what I’ve just created, to fit!

Ruby Red-Dress has come to stay. As you might guess, given choices, I quickly bypassed black and gray and navy, and said, “Ruby, come live at my house.”

She will help me immensely, not just with sizing, but with the ability to be more creative. Why did I wait so long! Already my new friend is assisting me to make a top I could not have made without her help.

A few months ago my daughter sent me a box of puzzles, most new, but some from her local second-hand store. Puzzles allow my mind to shift gears.

When I dumped a previously-owned box of puzzle pieces onto my table, I sniffed, ah ha, “This belonged to a family with children.” I could smell it. I knew their home was lived in, maybe chaotic at times, but in a good way. Then I noticed a barely legible scribble on the boxtop. X MISSING PIECE. Does that mean 10 missing pieces? Does that mean one missing piece? A puzzle within the puzzle.

What fun for me to work what other fingers had worked. In the lower left, one piece is missing, though frequently I would have bet on more than 10. And a horse’s head is well chewed by a teething toddler. It all worked together to make this 999 piece puzzle more special.

Seasons are changing, winter is coming. I know I should not gripe. October is pleasant. November is tolerable. December and January are downright cold. To me, that means 40s and 50s F. Not so cold. Unless you live in an uninsulated, drafty house with no heat source. After a day or two, that is Cold!

I’ve made do with a space heater, which knocks the chill down a few pegs. But I’m never quite comfortable. When I get chilled, my bones hurt, so, those two months, I’m miserable.

My daughter told me about a different type space heater they bought last year for their basement. They live in a hundred-year-old country house. I figure their basement is about equivalent to my house in terms of size and heating problems. If it works in her basement, it should work in my home.

I went to the site we all order from, similar to our old Sears and Sawbuck Catalog, and asked for the same heater as Dee Dee bought. It told me, not available, don’t know when. Dee Dee, strangely, could order the same heater, but they would not ship it to Mexico. What’s up with this?

My girl and I spent an entire week looking at heaters, trying to assess whether they would work as well as hers, the one I wanted, the one I knew would work best for me. Each one we chose was deemed not available.

Frustrated, and on a whim, I went to their Mexico site. The first heater depicted was my daughter’s exact heater. One minute later, it was purchased and on the way.

Laugh with me. I think I can have my cake and eat it too.

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].