At the end of October, when the summer crowds have gone home, the Greek island of Corfu grows quiet. The beaches are almost empty, the light turns soft and golden, and the sea still shines in every shade of blue and green.
During the autumn school break, we drove all the way around the island, past old Venetian fortresses, mountain villages, olive groves and wild cliffs. And, as always, a quilt came along in my suitcase.
Music that breaks through walls
This time I packed my Sound of Music quilt, a teal quilt made from one of my best-selling patterns. The design is built on one simple idea: music can break through even the hardest walls.
It is also my most detailed quilting so far. The wide white space in the middle gives so much room for free motion quilting, so I filled it with swirls and waves that follow the curvature of the stave.
A quilt that took so long to make deserves to be looked at slowly too. And Corfu did it justice:
The blues found their echo in the water.
The greens in the olive trees and wild forests.
And all of them stood out against the centuries-old stone.
My way of slowing down
Taking a quilt on holiday sounds like extra luggage. For me, it's the opposite. It's my slightly strange way of slowing down and being in the moment.
My regular days are family errands, never-ending to-do lists, and always feeling a little bit behind. Even holidays turn into to-do lists: things to pack, people to visit, places to see... I often come home needing a holiday after the holiday.
But having brought a quilt along for the fourth time, I noticed something: these holidays feel different. And this time I realised why. To photograph a quilt, I have to feel the place: its colours, its wind, its light. So I slow down, and I start noticing the details.
A rock washed by the sea, with every fifth wave embracing it fully.
The olive-green doors of a church in Corfu Town.
Young, fresh green sprouts on the floor of an old olive grove at the very end of autumn.
And I stop. It's beautiful here. So I take a moment to photograph my quilt.
What everyone else sees.
What I see. Often, a beautiful quilt photo is just a step closer and a slightly different angle away.
Slowing down together
I'm never alone on these little photo missions. The whole family gives me space to slow down and joins in the quilt photography quest.
Here my husband and my youngest found a creative way to fight the sea breeze that was getting out of hand.
My oldest son climbed barefoot over the jagged stone cliffs to get this edge-of-the-world photo.
And here is my middle boy, taking the photo of me and the quilt under the olive tree that became the cover of this blog.
Those are the moments I remember most from a trip.
Until the next sunset
And there's one more thing. On every one of these trips, I try to catch the golden hour with my quilt. Perhaps because I have always found the first and last moments of daylight somewhat special.
Some people collect souvenirs. I collect sunsets, with a quilt in them. Until the next one.
Greetings from Corfu,
Rugilė
