I cannot go into a fabric store and keep my hands to myself. Every fibre, thread and notion must be looked at and/or touched. The creative juices start flowing freely and soon, before I know it, I am all too consumed in what wonderful things I want to create. A quick glance at the time (notice how they never have clocks on the walls in those stores?), lets me know that in what seems like 20 minutes, realistically two or more hours have gone by!

If sewing can be an addiction – I have it bad!

In the early 80’s, I started using my Mom’s old “Brother” sewing machine. We had a small spare room in our house that was the sewing room. This is where my Mom first taught me how to sew. She had sewn clothes for me all my life, but this was the first time I sat down with thread, fabric and a machine…nothing but me and the foot pedal that powered it. I was instantly captivated! The sound of the stitches forming in the fabric was magical…I was creating!

As time passed, we moved several times. Each house had a bigger sewing room and soon I was granted my own sewing machine, a hand-me-down “Riccar”. Now I didn’t have to wait for my mom to finish sewing – I could sit alongside her and do my own projects. We kept great company to each other when we were in there together. Sadly, my mom passed away a few years later in 1989. All these years later, I still miss her very much. The sewing she has taught me however, will be with me for my lifetime.

Over the years, my thirst for more knowledge in sewing and quilting began to envelope me. I bought my first computerized sewing machine in 1994 (I have since upgraded that several times), the year before my son was born. I remember taping all the sewing shows on TV that I could find and then sit and watch them on my days off. I remember thinking that I wish I didn’t have to go to work so all I could do was sit in front of my sewing machine and create. But I needed to make money to buy more fabric…it’s a vicious cycle, I know!

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Fast forward to 2004. I had been living in the Greater Vancouver, BC area when the unthinkable happened. I was out riding my bike with my son and my step-son on a sunny September afternoon, celebrating the first day of school. The kids were going into Grades 4 and 3, respectively. In the blink of an eye my step-son’s front wheel slipped off the curb and he was struck down by a large vehicle. He fought hard, but didn’t make it. A very bright little light that made many people smile was now missing from this world.

Over the next few months I threw myself into sewing even more. It’s how I cope with stress. I made my then-husband a photo memory quilt to honour his young, beautiful son. It was a real labour of love. Not long after it was complete, requests from family members began and I was more than happy to oblige.

And thus my small business of making memory quilts began …