The space heaters churn away to take the edge off the chill, but not much more. My dog agrees and decides to furiously dig at all my cheap, store-bought quilts to create her own bed of stuffing and cloth.
She is the guiding light behind Fronteras and one of the most inspiring people I have ever met.
Customers weave in and out of the pews, which, being it’s a Saturday, serve as a display gallery for hundreds of finished quilts and quilt tops.
The design choice is almost overwhelming, and people take their time deciding, studying the patterns, allowing the church volunteers to lift and unfold the quilts with care.
It is chilly now in the Big Bend of Texas, and dry as a bone.
Most all the leaves blew off the pecan trees in the last windstorm, carpeting Marfa in a potpourri of yellows, browns, and deep orange hues.