Offering, 15 x 10", for sale on Etsy.
I love houses. I am obsessed with them. Always have been and probably always will be.
As a child, I used to draw layouts of houses. If I were somewhere and did not have a pencil or paper, I would find another way to do layouts. If I found a bag full of clothespins, a can full of pick-up-sticks, or a boxful of crayons, I would use them to create walls, windows, and doors.
I've always loved stories of haunted houses. Souls that refuse to leave their homes have always fascinated me. I love houses full of life and I love abandoned ones also. Forget new ones. For me, the older the better.
Houses are vessels for our lives. They hold the good and the bad. They fill up with love, anger, birth, and death. We've all read stories of the houses of widowed women that are completely filled with garbage and newspapers. Tragically, we read about houses that are repositories of bodies and bones. Most of us work to fill up our homes with happiness.
My house quilts all seem to have a little bit of darkness in them. I think that is true of all of our houses. No matter how cheerful I work to make my little house quilts, they never turn out as happy as I wish. My subconscious wins in the end.
I would love to know about my readers' houses. What is your favorite, or, if you wish, least favorite house memory?