There was even an array of styles in the actual stitching. Tiny stitches (“fancy quilts”) made it fluff up more and were the most popular. Larger ones made the job go faster. And the stitches themselves could be employed to make independent designs. Several different stitches are illustrated in ILLUSTRATION 13.
Emma Jean Buchanan, one of Foxfire’s editors, was witness to the most popular way of putting a quilt together—the quilting bee. All the women who gathered at Maggie Vinson’s home had previously completed at least one Dutch Boy or Dutch Girl square. The squares had all been gathered up, and by the time the women arrived, they had been sewn together into the completed top. Mrs. Vinson had also set up the four-piece frame so that it rested on the backs of chairs, attached the bottom lining to it, and laid the cotton, top lining, and top over that. Everything was ready for the actual “quilting” to begin.
Emma Jean wrote down some of her reactions as she watched: “The women sit around the quilt laughing and joking as if it isn’t a job at all. They never seem to get tired or want to go home. They all seem so content. The gossip is flowing as if I weren’t even around.
“This is my first quilting, so I sit there in amusement not knowing what will happen next. As I watch them making the final stitches, I wonder, just why would these women spend their time quilting when it’s much cheaper to buy a blanket at the stores nearby? Might it be that they quilt just for the social enjoyment?”
When we asked Edith Darnell the same question, she said, “It helps bring people together where they’d have quiltin’. It just seems like lot’ a’pleasure. You’re quiltin’, you don’t know you’re quiltin’—a’talkin’ and a’quiltin’ too. And y’have lunch. I used t’enjoy goin’ t’th’ quiltin’s.”
The most captivating custom, as mentioned earlier, was that of the Friendship Quilt. This was a quilt much like the others—it could be any pattern—with the added feature of a number of names embroidered on the squares themselves. Often each lady who had a part in the quilt embroidered her own name in the square she had contributed. As Mrs. Tom Kelly told us recently, “The girls had a custom of making Friendship Quilts. One person would piece a quilt block, and she’d give it to another girl, and keep on till she had enough blocks to make a quilt, and then all those girls would get together and quilt that quilt. And the one that started it around got the quilt. That was a very common thing in my girlhood days. The name of everyone that pieced a square was supposed to be put on the quilt, and they valued them. It was a keepsake really.”
ILLUSTRATION 13
Such quilts were made by the ladies of the community whenever a young person from that community got married, when a neighbor lost his house by fire, for a newborn child in the neighborhood, or just for a keepsake. When a boy became a man, he sometimes received one too; Edith Darnell explained: “We made ’em along when th’boy’s about your age. You know, everyone sent out—their family’d send out—a square, and everybody’d piece one for it. Everywhere th’square went, everybody pieced one to go with it. When they got th’ quilt done, all that pieced th’square went and helped quilt it. Then they’d wrap that’n [the boy they had done the quilt for] up in th’quilt when they got it done.”
The quilt pictured at the beginning of this chapter is nearly one hundred years old. It was made of scraps gathered from friends and family, and it was pieced by one woman. After she had put the scraps together, she embroidered on each piece the name of the person from whom it had come. It bears fifty-five names. Not content with the names alone, however, she also “fancied” every single piece by completely surrounding it with embroidery (ILLUSTRATION 14). Apparently, she used every stitch known in this area, and made up some too. The result was the most elaborate piece of work any of us had ever seen. The fact that something that must have taken months could have come from an era when survival itself was difficult makes this quilt all the more astounding.
ILLUSTRATION 14 This detail from the Friendship Quilt pictured earlier shows one of the panels and the elaborate embroidery that surrounds it. The same kind of work was done around each piece in the quilt.
Fancy or plain, however, the fact remains that quilts seem to us symbolic of some of our finer human qualities. Perhaps this revival of interest is a hopeful sign for us all.
MAKING A HAMPER OUT OF WHITE OAK SPLITS
Sitting on her front porch hammering away at the heavy white oak ribs, Beulah Perry looked as if she had been making baskets for a long time. Actually she had never made one before, but after years of watching her father, she knew just how to do it.
Even though I had known Beulah for over a year, she still amazed me with all her knowledge of the old times, and with her stories of how she and her family lived before there were stores in which to buy canned foods, cloth, and electric lamps.
Like many of the other people we interviewed, Beulah knows what it was like to have her closest neighbors five miles away, to have a cooked possum head as a reward for being good, and to get maybe a stick of peppermint when her father had a few extra pennies.
Her house is spotless. While she was showing us how to make the basket, she served us coffee and cake. Each person had a china cup and saucer—all different. When Jan and I helped her do the dishes afterwards, we were afraid she would think us bad housekeepers if we left anything undone and scrubbed the sink and cabinets with Comet. We were sure she did it every time!
I’ve learned tremendous respect for Beulah and all the others who shared similar hardships, if you can call them hardships at all. Their world certainly contrasts sharply with ours of TV, cars, and mothers who do all the work. We can’t go back now, but we can listen to what they have to say and learn from it. That’s one reason why we asked Beulah Perry to show us how to make a basket.
MARY GARTH
ILLUSTRATION 15 The hamper requires twenty-four heavy rips, each about an inch wide. Crease each rib, while green, in two places, thus dividing it into three section, each twenty-two inches long (left). Here Beulah creases one rib. All knots and rough places should be hammered out so they will interfere with the weaving. Now the bottom of the basket is woven, using the ribs. The first ribs may be tacked down to help hold them in place until enough have been added so that the basket will stand alone (right).
ILLUSTRATION 16 Continue adding ribs, weaving the center section of each in an over one/under one pattern until …
ILLUSTRATION 17 … there are twelve ribs going in each direction, their center sections woven to form the basket’s bottom.
ILLUSTRATION 18 Now, beginning at the bottom of the basket, and using thin, pliable splits, weave in and out of the ribs to make the sides. Keep the splits close together and fairly tight so that the sides will stand firm when the basket is done.
ILLUSTRATION 19 Continue weaving until the top is reached. This will take nearly all the splits you can make from two good oak saplings. When the end of one split is reached, simply lap a new one over the end of the old by about two inches and continue as before.
ILLUSTRATION 20 At the top, the ends of the ribs will probably be uneven. Before the rim can be made, these must be trimmed off straight. This can be done with a knife or, as shown here, with a pair of hedge clippers.
ILLUSTRATION 21 At the top, take two more splits and line the inside top edge with one and the outside top edge with the other. Holding them tightly in place, wrap a cord or a thin narrow split around them to make a good, tight rim. A handhole can be cut in either side, just under the rim, if you wish.
MAKING A BASKET OUT OF WHITE OAK SPLITS
“I’ve been a’hopin’ and a’hopin’ I’d have company today. That just shows you if you wish and want somethin’ bad enough, God’ll usually bless y’with it.” With a delighted look on her wrinkled face, Aunt Arie greeted us early one hot summer day.
I first met Aunt Arie in June. My immediate reaction was one of shock. How could such a tiny, delicate woman, eighty-five years old maintain her own garden, do all her cooking and cleaning, make qui
lts every winter for her family and friends, and still manage to survive without luxuries? I didn’t wonder long. During the day, as Aunt Arie patiently taught us how to make white oak split baskets, I realized why Mike and Paul spoke of her with such affection. She is, to put it simply, just plain good. She is full of vitality and determination, and she radiates a warmth that few people have. Aunt Arie is really hard to explain. She’s downright likable and fun.
While we were making the basket, Aunt Arie talked of her childhood. Her eyes sparkled as she told us how she used to carry corn and eggs for miles in baskets like the one we were making.
At noon, she cooked dinner for us. Mary and I tried to help, but with an old wooden stove, black iron kettles, water drawn from the well, and general inexperience, we could do little more than watch Aunt Arie hustle about laughing gently at our mistakes.
With people like Aunt Arie and Beulah Perry, this work has been very rewarding for me. I’ve learned not only the skills required to make baskets, but also the value of sincere friendliness, honesty, and hard work—and that may be the most important lesson of all.
JAN BROWN
ILLUSTRATION 22 Tommy Wilson and Butch Darnell begin by whittling ten ribs for the basket out of heavy, quarter-inch thick splits. The ribs should be about a half inch wide, pointed on both ends, and long enough to reach around half of the basket.
ILLUSTRATION 23 Next, construct two hoops of approximately equal circumference out of four- to seven-foot heavy splits, depending on the size of the basket you want. Place one inside the other and nail them together at their intersecting points.
ILLUSTRATION 24 The weaving is done with thin green splits. It is a simple repeating pattern, as shown here (left). Work from both hoop intersection points simultaneously so your weaving will meet in the middle of the basket (see ILLUSTRATION 28 and 29). The weaving begins where the loops interset. The following two plates illustrate the first two steps (right).
ILLUSTRATION 25
ILLUSTRATION 26 When one split runs out, tuck in its end, insert the point of another into the weave, and continue (left). When the weaving is progressing well at both hoop intersection points, insert the first two ribs. Simply force their sharpened ends into the weave (right).
ILLUSTRATION 27 The first rib in place (arrow) (left). Continue weaving as before (right) …
ILLUSTRATION 28 … inserting ribs until there are five on either side of and parallel to the main hoop (left). Here, the basket is well over half completed. All the ribs have been worked in (right).
ILLUSTRATION 29 The finished product.
PURPLE MARTIN GOURDS
People in years back put up martin houses to entice the martins to stay on their place during the summer to chase off chicken hawks. Bryant McClure told us: “My mother had purple martins long ago and they were not for catching insects, but to keep the hawks away from the chickens. They’ll fight them. They’ll fight a crow. If a hawk comes around, these purple martins will gang up on him. They’ll chase him out of the country.”
The primary reason people erect purple martin gourds or apartments now is to keep flying insects away from their gardens and from around the house. People who have them say they can sit outside late in the evening in the summer and not be bothered by mosquitoes or gnats.
Lester Davis says, “I guess the martins help me a lot because they eat all the bugs and insects. Martins will cover a large area eating insects, mostly mosquitoes. They’ll be up in the elements all day long until nearly sundown. You can see them dive like a jet airplane. A lot of people like martins, especially around ponds.”
To prepare a gourd for a martin house, a large round gourd with a short neck should be used. A round hole, two inches in diameter, should be made in the side of the gourd. Then small holes should be drilled in the bottom so that rain water will drain out. Drill two small holes through the neck of the gourd for a wire to be run through to hang the gourd by.
Mr. McClure told us how he got started with his martin houses. “When I decided I wanted to get purple martins, I bought an expensive setup—apartments, aluminum pole, and all that. I guess for two years I didn’t get a martin. Two came and sat on the little deck, but flew away and never came back. I asked Bob Hooper what went wrong, and he said, ‘You’ve got to have gourds.’ Gourds must be their natural houses. I got gourds. I sent to Georgia and paid seventy-five cents apiece for them. I put them up and the next year I got martins.
Articles needed:
One galvanized pipe – 20–21 feet long; one and one-half to two inch diameter
One galvanized pipe – 3–4 feet long; two to two and one-half inch diameter
Two crossarms – 2×4; seven to eight feet long.
Ten to twenty gourds
Bag of cement
ILLUSTRATION 30
ILLUSTRATION 31
ILLUSTRATION 32
ILLUSTRATION 33
ILLUSTRATION 34
Mr. Davis told us that he raised his own gourds. Ask for seeds for martin gourds. [NOTE: We have recently received word that seed companies like George W. Park Seed Company, Inc., and Hastings Seed Company sell not only dipper gourd seed, but also a special variety ideal for martin houses.] “I don’t have any trouble. I like to plant my gourds in fairly rich soil where they’ll grow good. I want to get a good growth. I plant my rows about twelve feet apart and my hills in the rows about twelve feet apart. I’ll take my shovel and dig a square about three or four feet out, fill it with fertilizer and rake it nice and smooth. I plant my seed in that in early spring.” Mr. Hooper suggested a mesh fence for the vines to grow up on, so that the gourds could hang down. This helps them to grow straight. Don’t pick the gourds off the vines. Let the vines die, and after the first frost, turn the gourds over so that they will dry out on both sides. Pull them off the vines after they are completely dry and hard—about December or January. Then they are ready for holes to be drilled in them and the seeds cleaned out of the inside of the gourds. Both these men save their seeds from year to year. Then they select the year’s crop of shortnecked, big, round gourds. Gourds may be reused from year to year, but as they get battered, replacements are necessary.
“In preparing houses for the martins, you should always clean the gourds out and put sulfur in them to keep down mites … about a teaspoonful to each gourd. Mites get in the feathers of the martins.”
Put the gourds on a pipe or pole, about twenty feet high. The gourds are put up in February and taken down to be cleaned and stored after the martins leave in late July or August. Nylon cord is recommended by Bob Hooper to tie the gourds to the crossbars on the pole [see ILLUSTRATION 30], as wire breaks easily when the gourds are blown by the wind. The martin houses must be erected out in a field or clear area in the yard, away from trees and buildings. The martins don’t want to be anywhere that a cat or snake could get to their nests. Martins won’t even light in a tree. They do not present the usual problem of birds near the house because they carry their droppings away in little capsules.
Mr. Hooper told us many interesting things about the martins. They have several poles with gourds in their back yard and sit out in the evenings watching the martins fly in and put their babies to bed after feeding them. They wake the Hoopers in the mornings with their chatter, and the Hooper family feels as though some of their children have left home when they depart in August. We asked if they thought the same ones ever came back, and they said that they really do think so. They seem to know their way around so well. Mrs. Hooper said that when she hangs clothes on the line, they perch on the electric wires and chatter. When she goes in, they fly off until she or some other member of the family come back out in the yard. They they come back to visit again.
About the only time they light on the ground is when they are building their nests and then only to pick up leaves and twigs. They like to line their nests with green leaves to keep the nest cool. They will come down for crushed eggshells if you put them out on the ground in the open. That is about the only th
ing you can feed them off the ground. They do most of their feeding in the air, low to the ground in the mornings and climbing higher all day long, then back near the ground in the evenings.
The martins send out scouts in early March. They can be seen around for two or three days. Then they leave and after several weeks, the scouts come back with others. By the twenty-fifth of March, about ten pairs will be around a set of gourds. Each pair usually likes to occupy two gourds—one for the parents and one for the young. They stay only long enough for their young to hatch and be able to fly. It takes about three weeks for them to hatch, and they start building the nests about the first of May.
The purple martin is about the size of a dove in the air. If the sun shines just right on the male, he is purple. Mr. McClure says that one morning you wake up and realize the martins are gone. It’s such a lonely feeling. There is no way to keep them here after late July. They stay just long enough to raise their young; then they go back to South America until the next spring.
BARBARA TAYLOR, ANNETTE REEMS
Photos by Tom Carlton.
DIPPER GOURDS
In the past, many people found that the gourd could be used in different and useful ways. They used gourds to make holders for women’s sewing notions, to store lye soap after it was made, and as small types of bowls or dishes for decoration or to put odds and ends in. One of the best uses of the gourd was as a dipper at the well or in the house for drinking purposes.
Household Crafts and Tips: The Foxfire Americana Library (12) Page 2
