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Escondido, California 92026
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'Twas the Night Before Quilting

by

Mark Tiedeman of Quilter's Paradise

  ‘Twas the night before quilting when all through the shop
Not a bobbin was stirring, you’d hear a pin drop
The quilts were all hung on the high walls with care
In hopes that Saint Quiltie soon would be there

The bolts they were nestled all snug in their racks
And fat quarters rolled or in bundles and packs
The notions and patterns on pegboard formed rows
While I working late had started to doze

When out in the shop there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter
Away to the floor I flew like a flash
And almost fell down as I tripped on a stash

The light o’er the Longarm cast down its white light
Revealing bright colors from darkness of night
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But the Statler shifting right into first gear

The needle was dancing so lively and quick
I knew in a moment it wasn’t a trick
More rapid the stitches that formed on the frame
I swore that I heard it call out and exclaim

“Now Northcott! Now Moda! And Maywood and Hoffman!
Go Blank, Benartex! And Miller and Kaufman!
To the quilt top you go in shapes large and small!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As patterns emerged from a promising start
The quilt was transformed, it was one work of art
The Statler was humming, so smooth it just flew
The stitches were perfect in lines straight and true

And then in a twinkling I heard by the door
The faint sound of footsteps come into the store
I could not imagine as I turned around
That it was Saint Quiltie who I had just found

Dressed in fine fabrics from her foot to her head
Her clothes were a patchwork of pieces and thread
A tote bag of things she had hung on her side
She looked like no stranger with something to hide

Her eyes how they twinkled, her lips formed a grin
She looked all around with her hand on her chin
She set down her bag which she slid down her arm
And from her front pocket swung one scissor charm

A rotary cutter she held tight in her hand
Plotting the angles she mapped out her plan
With no wasted moves she dove straight through her packing
Selecting the fabrics for her top and her backing

She was quick and contented, an experienced quilter
Her seams and her stitching were never off kilter
A smile as her needlework used up her thread
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread

She spoke not a word as she streaked through her work
And pieced all the pieces with nary a quirk
And laying her finger aside of her nose
She nodded approval and struck a proud pose

She sprang to the door as if a live missile
And startled I almost let out a loud whistle
But I heard her exclaim, her voice pure like a lilt
“Happy Quilting to all and to all a good quilt!”

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