Kim Hanson

Writing & Quilting

Trapped and Tangled Loon

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Good day everyone. It has been a very long, long time since my last post. I have been writing mainly, taking classes, taking photos, getting my garden growing, with some quilting on the side. Also, my Dad has been hospitalized yet again; I can’t remember if it’s been three times or four times during Covid. . . it’s been a lot for both him and for his family.

I was so excited to have my very first children’s story published in the American children’s magazine, Cricket. My story, “Trapped and Tangled Loon’ was included in their April, 2022 issue.

April 2022 Issue of Cricket magazine

It’s a story about two boys at Police Outpost Lake (near Waterton, Alberta) who help to free a loon who has become tangled in fishing line.

I must admit I was thrilled. 

Here’s hoping there’s more children’s stories, worthy of publication, in my future.

Insofar as quilting is concerned, I’m getting myself better organized. I’ve sold some of my “stash” fabrics online and will likely continue to sell some more. I really have too many fabrics and can’t see my way through them all. I’ve been working on two children’s bunk bed quilts – one of which will be featured in Quilter’s World magazine in the Spring.

My blogging will be on a much more regular basis now. Thank you all so much.

Kim

Quilter’s World – Summer Issue, 2021

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Good day everyone. I hope your spring is percolating along nicely.

I had the distinct pleasure of interviewing the mother/daughter quilting duo of Sherri McConnell and Chelsi Stratton. The article starts on page 64 of the Quilter’s World Summer 2021 issue. I’ve called it, “Living a Creative Life”.

Sherri and Chelsi work daily on quilt and fabric design from each of their home-based studios in Nevada. It’s likely, as a quilter, you’ve seen or purchased their work in the past. They are delightful, talented and very connected to family. You can read all about them and experience all the wonderful quilt patterns in the latest issue of Quilter’s World here.

Please take care of youselves.

Kim

Our Sweet Snowy

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As some of you are no doubt aware, Rick and I rescued a ten-year-old Maltese just a few months after our son, Mike, died. Her name was Snowy. . . not a name we would have chosen for her, but one she responded to.

She became one of our family so quickly. Snowy was a love, who gave Rick and I so much joy when we needed it most. She made her way to our hearts in lightning speed.

She was an old girl when we adopted her; but we obviously hoped we’d have her for five years or so.

In March of 2021, Snowy’s health rapidly declined. She had Cushings disease, which began to ravage her internal organs, specifically her liver and her heart. When it became painfully obvious that the medications were no longer working like they should, Rick and I made the heart breaking decision to have our vet put Snowy to sleep.

We have a country vet – a beautiful soul who works from her home near Cochrane, Alberta. I sat in the back seat of Rick’s truck while he drove us out to the clinic. Snowy was resting on my lap and didn’t move during the drive out. We asked the vet if she’d agree to put Snowy to sleep where she lay. . . in the back seat of Rick’s truck. She, of course, consented to do that.

The three of us were crowded into the back seat of the truck. I was crying uncontrollably – sobbing really as I stroked her sweet little head for the last time. Rick turned Snowy to face me; he thought she’d want to see my face as she passed. He was crying and our vet was crying too.

We had her for three short years, but that little pet meant so very much to Rick and I. After her passing, we both went through another grieving period for our Mike. Snowy was our salvation and hope after Mike died, so when she was gone, it brought us both back to March of 2018.

Since it was so very tough to let Snowy go, Rick and I thought maybe no more dogs for a little while. Two days later, we were both searching online again for another Maltese, preferably female. Snowy meant so much to us that we couldn’t bear to NOT have another dog.

We found Sophie in Lloydminster, Alberta. She is a female three-year-old Maltese, just retired from having puppies. She looks like Snowy’s sister and we love her already.

She’s cuddly and lovely and likes to “hunt” sticks in the backyard.

Take care everyone.

Kim

On the Way to Wayne, Alberta

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Good day everyone.

The idea of “hitting the road” has become oh-so-appealing these days; especially when heading to those places less travelled. From Calgary, most people head West, into the Rocky Mountains, Lake Louise and to places in British Columbia. . . and who could blame them? Nature’s beauty and splendour is on display everywhere you look.

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Or they travel South, colliding with the beauty and wonder that is Waterton National Park.

But, not many travelers head East from Calgary, so that’s where we want to explore!

Lately, I’ve been enthralled with the idea of finding standing ghost towns: you know, the little mining towns where one day, it seems like everyone living there just up and left. They’ve left behind their homes and barns and their way of life. I admit. . . I find it fascinating and unfathomable.

Last week, after doing a google search, we headed out of town towards Wayne, Alberta. The google searches listed Wayne as an Albertan ghost town, so I was eager to get a look at it. We drove through Drumheller and continued East a very short distance where, after crossing an extraordinary number of train bridges, we found Wayne. Disappointed, it turns out, Wayne is NOT a ghost town.

There are people living there. There’s a functioning hotel with attached saloon. People were outside working on their cars and buildings. Wayne is NOT a ghost town.

Driving on, in the rolling hills and beautiful landscape of Eastern Alberta, we did unearth a hidden gem; a space encompassed by hoodoo’s. It was just an old barn-like structure leaning toward the middle of an enclave of old, picked-apart cars. But, it was such a peaceful space, it really was beautiful.

Running parallel to this abandoned space, it was obvious that the train used to run right by the old barn. Following the path of the tracks left in the dirt, we happened upon a train bridge built over the creek.

Walking on the old, wooden slats of the bridge made me feel a little uneasy. There was quite a bit of space left between the boards.

It’s likely a little odd to feel this way, but we loved this place! And no one was there.

Take care of yourselves.

Kim

A Symbol of Unspoken Love

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I’m getting to that age in life where I’m so very grateful to be alive. I’ve lost family members and friends and acquaintances who have not been extended the same privilege as I have…to still be here in my sixth decade.

Thoughts turn to…What can I leave behind? What will my legacy be? Is it possible to touch the lives of my children and grandchildren when I’m no longer living? Basically, I wonder….can I leave a piece of my heart behind?

When they were young, my children were the center of my universe; my life revolved around them in a real sense. School, their activities and sports kept me running from one place to the next in a chaotic, frenzied way, never mind that my paid job also had to fit in. Days sped by like vehicles on the highway, turning into a blur month after month. Sometimes, the only way I remember those frantic and hectic days are when I look at all the photos, and thankfully, there are tons of photos.

My solace in those days, came in the evenings when the kids were tucked safely into bed. That’s when I would work on my latest quilting project, often late into the night. I felt such peace and strength and creativity as I sat stitching at my sewing machine, my fingers smoothing out the fabrics as they ran under my needle. Hours flew by, and I had to force myself to stop sewing and head to bed. I felt such joy and a sense of accomplishment when I would finish a quilt and be able to lay it atop one of my children’s beds. It was my way of protecting them, wrapping them safely in my love. But, did my children feel that?

Now, I have grandchildren – the greatest gift and blessing of all. I have quilted and sewn for both of them, many times over. Now, with the luxury of time, things have changed. I no longer have to choose between sleep and stitching; I work on my quilts during daylight hours. Life’s frantic pace has slowed down, and I can breathe and relax and reflect.

But one thing has not changed. I still feel such joy and a sense of accomplishment when I finish a quilt and lay it atop one of my grandchildren’s beds. It’s my way of protecting them, wrapping them safely in my love. But, do my grandchildren feel that?

My stash-cupboard has baskets and crates, filled to the brim with fabrics that tingle the senses; vivid, intoxicating colours of teals and pinks and reds, fabrics that are just waiting for me. The patterns and colours evoke joy and make me feel like a kid again – full of excitement, endless possibilities and wonder. But will those fabrics speak for me?

I have a lot of work to do in the upcoming years. So many quilts to make, so many stories to tell – I pray that I will get time to expand and express myself in all the ways that I wish to. Even at this age, my brain is still overflowing with concepts and plans and ideas for the future; I doubt that will change. As long as I’m able, I want to be creative. Perhaps that is part of my DNA…part of what drives me. More likely though, it’s my veiled attempt at articulating love.

So again, I wonder when I’m gone, will my quilts remain? Will my family truly understand that they are, and always have been, an expression of my love for them? Will they “get” me? Of course, my secret wish is that they do understand. I’m ever hopeful that my quilts will serve as a symbol of unspoken love. I’m ever hopeful that my children and grandchildren will still snuggle under one of my quilts, late at night, and feel protected and cherished and secure. I’m ever hopeful that they will know, with each quilt I’ve stitched, I’ve left behind a teeny tiny piece of my heart.

Take care.

Kim