view. I often felt guilty spending time on the quilt trail leaving Glen behind to his work. He was stuck in front of a computer, manipulating data and solving global problems for his employer. The work requires a sharp mind, intense concentration, and decades of experience; I admired the fact that he was at the top of his profession. Of course I was working as well, but instead of data, graphs, and teleconferences I enjoyed lively conversation, fresh air, and a chance to enjoy the local sights. My workday was fun, and, when I returned, my bubbling forth with stories sometimes felt like mocking rather than sharing.
I grabbed a quick bowl of cereal and my morning caffeine dose of Diet Coke and was ready to join Kitch for the tour. We chatted along the way about favorite quilts and quilt patterns and ideas she had gleaned from other quilt trails. Cindi Van Hurk, who chaired Michigan’s first barn quilt project, in Alcona County, had served as an early advisor to the Vicksburg group. This project is different from most, with its boundary not the county line but the Vicksburg school district, creating a compact and easily drivable route so that only a few minutes elapsed between barns. Kitch and I would stop mid-sentence, step out to view a quilt block and take photographs from every angle, then hop back into the car and resume our conversation seamlessly. After half an hour on the quilt trail, we had fallen into a rhythm like longtime friends.
Love the Land
Before we reached our first destination, Kitch said, “This might look rather familiar to you.” As we rounded the corner, I saw a barn quilt that did resemble one I had seen before; in fact the block is in the Iowa chapter of my first book. Kitch said, “I give barn owners the book and ask them what appeals to them—not to select something from the book but just to get an idea of colors and what looks good. After all, the colors are great combinations.” Freddi Coppes had been taken with the quilt block created by the Reese family in Iowa to honor their heritage and wanted the same one for her barn.
Kitch agreed that the barn quilt was lovely but thought perhaps it would not be an appropriate choice. The original design features a German flag, and Freddi’s husband, Richard, is a World War II veteran. “I just didn’t think that would work well,” Kitch said. A few changes made the block suit Richard and Freddi perfectly. Freddi’s ancestors were Dutch loggers and woodcutters, so pine trees were added to represent her side of the family, and the stylized American flags to honor her husband, the veteran. The couple could not decide what to call the finished product, so Kitch suggested Love the Land. The American flag snapping in the wind next to the milk house out front completed the scene and the sentiment perfectly.
Kitch enjoyed the barn quilt project immensely. She said, “We all love our big barns, but most of us had never been inside of ’em.” With local resident Sue Moore on board as the “mover and shaker” that Kitch needed, within two weeks the idea moved from a discussion to a reality, under the direction of a committee of four couples and the Vicksburg Historical Society. The Rinehart’s garage served as the painting headquarters, but it was definitely a community effort. Kitch said, “We have everybody painting—neighbors, friends, grandchildren, and even paint parties in town. We spread a great big orange tarp and four sets of sawhorses, and it was nonstop for a year and a half.”
Kitch and I visited the local farmers’ market, where the music from a three-piece bluegrass band enlivened the shops and rows of vendors. I had no need for produce or cheese or even beefalo but I grabbed some homemade fudge—dark chocolate for me, and milk chocolate with pistachios for Glen.
The Unique Furnishings shop sits among the brick storefronts of Vicksburg’s main street, and we found owner Christina Klok waiting. Within, a ceiling of creamy white tin set off antique light fixtures and fans. Glass showcases were laden with jewelry and trinkets, and shelves of handcrafted décor, soaps, and candles lined the aisles. I spotted a jar of salted caramels on a shelf along the wall and was tempted to grab a few, but Christina and Kitch were already seated, waiting for me to join them.
Before the conversation turned to barn quilts, Christina asked about our mishap. “I heard you had a challenging trip here. Holy Cow, when I read that email I thought, ‘These things don’t just happen to me!’”
Christina shared the significance of the Wreath of Lilies quilt block that she and her husband Leonard chose: “People traveled from far and wide to see the lotus lilies on Sunset Lake. They are what put Vicksburg on the map.” Christina had photographs of Victorian-era visitors and articles about the unusual blossoms. She went on to say that the trains carrying folks to the Chicago World Fair stopped in Vicksburg so that passengers could see the lotus lilies and buy them. Local kids uprooted the plants and sold them for a quarter or fifty cents each. The lilies were found in few other places, so the saucer-sized blooms remained a tourist attraction until the early 1930s, when they disappeared due to overharvesting. Referring to her quilt block Christina said, “We love flowers and the water, and we still have flowers over there—just not the lilies.”
Wreath of Lilies
Kitch and I moved on, and again our drive provided a chance to chat. Kitch explained how the quilt trail got started. “I knew one person—Sue. She had come to do a talk about our lake and she took some pictures from my house. She introduced herself and we clicked. It just happened later that I knew the right person to call.” One out of every five who were asked to host a barn quilt declined. An elderly woman was wary of having people coming into her property, and some others had recently added metal siding to their barn and didn’t want holes punched in it. Kitch said, “They had good reasons, but they broke my heart.”
I exclaimed, “That’s a cool barn,” just as Kitch slowed to pull into the drive where Dawn Hippen Hall stood ready to talk about her barn quilt. The family considered a patriotic design for their barn quilt, but the quilt trail already included a red-white-and-blue quilt block. Dawn said, “My parents, me, and my brother, and my daughter; we are like a star.” Dawn looked online and found Broken Star, which seemed appropriate. “When Kitch called me, my father had just passed away three weeks previous, and I had taken care of him for two years. I felt like the family had just broken up. The colors remind me of a rainbow and starting over,” she said.
Broken Star
Dawn and her brother, Daryl, especially love the fabric designs in the quilt block. Hugh and Kitch primed and dropped off the boards at the high school, where students painted the star, carefully using texture to create the look of fabric. Afterwards, all of the painters signed the border with their names and where they were from. The group included international students from Morocco, Italy, and Germany. Dawn and her family signed the quilt block also, and Dawn was very pleased with the final product. “She saw it and immediately started grinning,” Kitch said.
Dawn said, “It had been really tough. The farm was really important to my parents, and I have lived here almost all of my life. When I grew up there were barns all over, and I realized when Kitch called me that there aren’t as many as there used to be.” Dawn had touched on a critical aspect of the barn quilt movement, that of barn preservation. Many a barn owner has reported saving his barn so that it could be home to a quilt square.
Kitch and I drove on to Deb Fisher’s home, where we both commented on the well-tended gardens out front. Deb said immediately on our approach, “I hear you had some trouble on the way here.” I told her the repairs to the bus would take a couple of months, thinking at the time that my statement was hyperbole. Kitch laughed and said, “This was the shakedown cruise of this RV,” and she went on to relate that Glen and I were considering making the bus our permanent home.
“Not
