"it was not...that she was unaware
of the frayed and ragged edges of life.
she would merely iron them out
with a firm hand and neatly
hem them down."
- p.d. james
i love it when an old quilt (or any cloth...or for that matter, bit of furniture, crockery, cook pan or whatever) has been lovingly enjoyed so much that it bears its story proudly upon its edges! unlike p.d. james, however, i'm more inclined to simply allow them to tell their stories of love and delight rather than hide them beneath new borders and forced gloss. if everything were to always stay looking new and unused, where would the evidence of a passionately lived life be found?