Addiction is genetic

My grandma has it. And now I have it. Fortunately, it's a fun addiction that leads to the creation of a multitude of things.

Whilst at Grandma's house this past weekend I came across part of her stash. I went to move a bag in the bedroom and it was gee-whillikers heavy! The kind that almost dislocates your shoulder because you're not prepared for the weight. There was one just as heavy next to it.

These bags are large shopping bags, completely full of fabric. Thing is--I had already taken some of it out so I had room to look at the rest. She could quilt for twenty years and not need a thing (not even thread--she bought it by the trillion when she used to work at Joann's).

There was an obscene amount to pull out and have any hope of putting back in the bag, so I took a few shots of my favorites. Some of these are years old so I know I have no hopes of finding them anywhere except Grandma's stash.

I love this one for the simple fact that it's my favorite shade of pink.

 These remind me of an English rose garden. I've never seen one so I don't know where that comparison comes from, but when anyone says "English garden" I think of pink and green. Not that people walk around saying that a lot...

 The cool brightness of these makes me think of rooms with the shades pulled low to keep the summer sun out--I expected them to be cool to the touch but they weren't (I know--I'm an odd duck).

These are my favorites. They have a vintage sheet look about them, and would be adorable little dresses. Next time I see Grandma I might offer her my life savings for these remnants.

She has pieces from her very first quilt, and can look at each print and tell you exactly what she used it for. I suppose we sewists can all do that--I can't tell you what I had for breakfast this morning but I can tell you what every fabric I've ever used has become. I'm sure my boss wishes I had such an efficient memory for giving him his phone messages, bwahahaha.