After the quilt "Fire Line: Do Not Cross" went its own way, becoming something beyond and quite different from what I had envisioned, I wanted to revisit my initial interest and wonderment at the line on a hill between an ashy burnt area and ordinary everyday tan grasses. As I wrote about early in June, the Corral fire had jumped a freeway, which forced me to take a detour from my current home to the place where I grew up. However, the road was open on my way back, and I could see where the fire had been. From the highway the view was stark. The dividing line between burnt and unburnt was as clear as a paint stroke. I imagined the firefighters applying a fire retardant, but using hoses instead of a brush, and I could sense the danger of being so close.
I started a new quilt the end of June, but it felt too static. I didn't like a piece of it, so I trimmed it. But I liked the trimmed piece on its own better than the larger quilt. I rolled up the larger quilt and put it away, attacking the long, scroll-like piece with much more energy.
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