For someone who said she wasn't a quilter . . .

I sure am building up a stash.

These beauties arrived on Tuesday from fabric.com. But wait! There's more! My lovely mother in law N. sent me a 20lb box of fabric a few months ago. Thud. From a quilting store that was going out of business. Uh huh. Just out of the blue for no reason whatsoever except that she's picked up quilting and wanted to enable me. Yes, she rocks.

I'm a prewasher because I tend to use the fabrics in garments as well, so after washing all the fabric that N. sent me I've been ironing all the little precut squares plus larger pieces of yardage and fell in love with every.single.piece. all over again. I always said I wasn't a quilter because it requires a level of precision I don't think I have but there's no way I'm letting these beautiful prints sit around unused. Isn't sewing merely an excuse to touch beautiful fabric?

I remember visiting my friend T. and admiring a lovely wall hanging she had quilted and exclaiming to her that quilting was too hard for me. That I likely would never tackle it while I had children under my roof. ADD and focus filled projects with kids underfoot don't mix well and all that. But here I go.

If you pay close attention I managed to sneak in at least one firefighter print and the boys honed in on it like bloodhounds. I'm hoping one day to tackle something like these quilts by Amanda Jean at Crazy Mom Quilts.

Oh and check out the first harvest from the kids' garden. I went out one evening to dust some more diatomaceous earth after a heavy rain and saw something green peeking from under the mountain of green bean plants. There were tons of green beans! I still can't believe they just threw these seeds in willy nilly. I told Mr. Maricucu that creation is amazing. Indeed it is.

The cucumbers are a gift from my wonderful neighbors P. and R. This couple has been generous with their time and attention and now we're getting veggies from their garden. I can only hope to return the gesture. Hmmm, maybe something blueberry . . .