A few days ago in misty cold weather, I pulled up behind a truck at a stop sign.
The pick-up bed was crammed with furniture, moving, I suppose. But draped over one bedstead was a pieced quilt in lovely colors. . .protecting the wood from scratches. I grieved because someone had labored hours on that work of art. Are my quilts destined to be throws to protect furniture during a move or
to serve as a bed for the dog??? Let it go, Carol, grandchildren and great-grandchildren will do what they will. It cannot be my problem;)
