The year after I graduated from school Mom finally tackled the mountain of worn out clothes she had been hoarding in the attic in hopes of turning them into rugs.
It was slow tedious work cutting and tearing everything into two inch strips.
It makes my nose itch just thinking of all the dust and sneezing involved as we tore the fabric. Once we had a sizable heap of strips we sewed the ends of same colored fabrics together and wrapped them up into a big ball.
There was a certain sense of satisfaction seeing the pile of balls grow bigger and bigger. By the time we were done we had an impressive amount. We loaded them up and took them to Aunt Emma's house so she could weave them into rugs on her big weaving loom.
We were really happy with the quality and quantity of rugs all those old clothes made. Mom got to update all the rugs in our house and presented me with a pile of my own to put into my hope chest.
After LV and I got married I was thrilled to be able to use those rugs in my own house. I still have most of them, though one finally started unraveling the last time I washed it. I replaced it with one of the five remaining new ones I have been hanging onto.
It's interesting how many memories a simple rag rug can hold.
Sadly it's something our girls haven't experienced. Somehow I'm not as good as my Mom was in keeping worn out clothes for rug making purposes. Having a mechanic husband those clothes seem to go for grease rags instead. Useful, yes, but not nearly as pretty.