From the banks of Willow Creek, I noticed a charred piece of a blue and white China dish. It desperately cried out to me, as if it had a rich story to tell of a proper lady who innocently followed her husband into a landmine of primitive childbirths and unmerciful disasters and disease, leaving only ashes of mental anguish on the very piece ground for
which she and her husband had sacrificed everything. I thought about the women of the 1800’s and their secrets to perseverance. What place did the old-fashioned Quilting Bees serve in their mental health and wellbeing? What place does the current day guild hold? My guess to both questions, is more than we all think.

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