Only the first

Yesterday morning I had my first sewing lesson. When I entered my friend's home, the delicious smell and the warmth welcomed me in out of the brutal cold. I had flashbacks to walking into my Aunt Minnie's farmhouse kitchen as a child to the wonderful aromas of her cooking and the heat from her old wood cookstove. My friend had just taken a cinnamon coffeecake from the oven and the smell was incredible.

We chatted a while and inspected the various remnants that I had brought before getting down to work. Her instructions were clear, concise and easy to follow. Once I had cut out all the pieces, she suggested we take a break and have our coffee and cake. We did so in the coziness of her sewing room by the little wood stove while she told me a story about J as a boy. We laughed a lot.

She taught me how to use the machine and how to place each piece and how to line them up with the right notch on the foot as I stitch them together. As we worked, she included many little hints and shortcuts that made the job run smoothly and quickly. It seemed so easy; before I knew it, I had a beautiful apron. Needless to say, I felt quite proud of my accomplishment.

My friend is a good teacher and a lot of fun to be around. She graciously showed me the rugs that she braided and the quilts she had made and I felt humbled by her talent and the craftsmanship that went into each piece. She encouraged me to keep up the good work and to come back for more projects and I know I will; although I left with the confidence that I will be able to make another apron all on my own.