Stash lives in my home in many forms, from fabrics to books, and of course to thread. Funny, the Webster definition of 'stash' is to store something safely and secretly in a specified place, usually a secret place for future use. The first known use of the word was in 1797. Synonyms are fun too: Cache, hoard, stockpile, salt away, squirrel (away), treasure.
Reminds me of 'secret toast' that you make late at night when no one is around, as if anyone cares. Secrets are fun for some folks, though my stash hardly qualifies as secret any more with all the posts I've made about it. I guess I am not into secrets, or mysteries. I do eat my words about those mystery quilts after they finally get finished and love watching Sherlock Holmes.
Thread from Lee's estate is almost used up, almost and not yet done. I've gone through most of the lighter colors. Sometimes its just the outer layers of a spool, exposed to years of light and temperature stress that fail a 'tug test'. I've read that you can get the spools damp, put them in baggies and freeze them overnight to rehydrate. Not sure about that because I am not the original owner. If I have doubts about it, I will use the spool to do hand basting.
Of course, I have added to the stash as need prevailed, yet some spools, like some of her fabrics, are interesting choices. Did she buy them just to have them or did she have a specific use? No clue. My task is to repurpose and use up what I have.
Spools of black thread were next on my list and worked for blocks made yesterday and seams for the cat blocks. I did simple grids on a few holiday mug rugs and finished out the spool on more cat blocks before stopping for the day.
After pinning the blocks for the Constellation quilt, I realized that its got too much white on it for me to feel comfortable using a color like black that might show. I set it aside until I can get into town and buy some off-white.
Its not that I think more of off-white than I do the colors, but the recipients I send to are more traditionalists and would not welcome any sort of mis-matching. I love the richness of color, especially black which I see as making other colors pop. Yet, like all things, it has its place.
As I think of the secrecy of a stash, it reminds me more of my inner universe and the secrets of thoughts which are visions yet to be made manifest. I bless Lee and all her visions and all the quilts she made. Her mind is a mystery to me; what she considered, how she chose what she bought. I see her smile, and remember her passion for quilting. Those things I do know and do remember.