Aunt Syl's Rug

Some things are simply meant to be. 

I was a busy mom with a full-time job, three children, a husband who had long hours and an even longer commute, an aging mother and a small farmstead with animals and gardens to care for. It was a good and full season of life but one in which most fiber-related outlets were either memories from the past or dreams for the future. I also had two aging aunts, sisters of my mother whom I enjoyed very much. These three had weathered the depression as girls, loss of spouses as adults, limited incomes and health difficulties and now in their last years enjoyed each other and the comfort of their shared past and family ties. They had such a bond that I always felt a bit of an outsider when they were together but they were kind and were happy to draw me in through their stories, their quilt making and rag rug weaving on an ancient floor loom. 

One day one of the aunts handed me a folded and scratchy piece of unpromising looking burlap and told me, “You should learn to hook rugs.” I opened the burlap out and saw a lovely pattern drawn on the fabric. I had no idea what hooking rugs involved or how one would go about it. My aunt herself didn't hook but she valued all things traditional and she had a knack for picking up cast off treasures and recognizing their intrinsic value. I don't remember how I responded to her challenge. Probably I said something like, “Maybe someday....” This aunt had an old neighbor who could work metal and she had him craft a metal hook with a wooden handle. That was the tool I was supposed to use, another nudge toward hooking that pattern. Like seeds planted in the ground, the pattern and hook went into a sewing bag and rested there, awaiting germination. 

Years passed. The children grew up. The aunts and my mother were now long gone but still sorely missed. I found that once again I had a little time in my life for fiber-related interests. One day I was at a craft festival and I walked past a woman demonstrating rug hooking. It was the first time I'd ever seen someone actually hooking and I felt drawn to it like metal to a magnet. I stood and watched her for the longest time and knew in my heart it was time to learn this lovely skill and fulfill my aunt's prophecy. 

Like many things in life when there's a deep wish in your heart, a series of strange circumstances occur to bring fulfillment. I was led to someone who knew someone who hooked rugs. Through her I was introduced to a hooking group. I finished my first piece and knew I had to continue. There were starts and stops over the years but eventually I started hooking consistently. And all the time that piece of burlap was still buried like a seed in the sewing bag. It was a large pattern and I'd never hooked anything that big before. I was daunted by the size and challenge of color choices. Through all my projects I felt that somehow I was working up to tackling “Aunt Syl's rug”. 

This past year a dear hooking friend took me by the hand and helped me over the hurdles. We transferred the design from the old burlap onto linen, made color decisions, searched out wools, did some dying and finally in May I began the hooking. As I worked I wondered – how did my aunt know this was a craft for me? Where had she gotten this pattern? How long had she had it? Who had designed and drawn it? I wanted to know its history and stories but there were no markings on the original burlap and no answers to my wonderings. As I worked and wondered, I also imagined my aunt smiling approval on me for finally bringing the rug to life and making the roses on it bloom. 

Six months later, the rug was done. With those last loops and binding stitches I felt I had completed a circle, one that began many years ago. That scratchy old piece of burlap opened a door for me and has given me a gift far beyond it's material value. I wish my aunt knew how much I appreciate that gift and the road she started me on. Somehow I think she does. It was meant to be.