Ospreys in Fabric

As some here may remember, my mother Betsy Abbott is a gifted quilter, an artist in fabric whose quilts are truly spectacular. This one now hangs in the living room of the old, rambling house by the sea we have managed to keep in the family for 61 years and plan to do for at least 61 more. She made it in honor of my grandmother, who passed away at nearly 97 last November and whose life we and over 100 friends and relations celebrated over the past weekend.


Mom and Gran shared a deep bond and a mutual love of birds. When my grandfather died in 1991, for my Mom something in his spirit became an osprey, those glorious birds that have reappeared, unhoped for and phoenix-like, after the ravages of DDT. I can remember the first time I ever saw an Osprey - August 1974 when I was 6 years old, because it send my parents into raptures as the first of its kind they had seen in many, many years. Now they soar and dive out beyond the bluff at our beloved Windrock and cry to their life-long mates on the wing. It is absolutely fitting that she should have decided on a pair of Osprey, one patiently waiting while the other wings homeward, as her great gift of love in honor of her mother.


The view is clearly recognizable to any who have been to the family homestead on the shores of Buzzards Bay - so called because of these fish hawks and not any vulture. Indeed, it mirrors the view from the brace of picture windows in the room where the quilt now hangs, except the osprey pole outside has never attracted a nest. No matter: my mother has righted that small injustice with her artist's license. The fabric that comprises the nest actually twists and dangles into the third dimension, just as the outstretched wing of the descending bird breaks the bonds of the frame. It is a masterpiece, and I am incredibly proud of her.