LUDLOW, VT. — Paradise is a subjective thing: a secluded tropical beach. A bottomless shopping spree at Barneys. Eating all the chocolate you want and never gaining weight.
Mine is being able to work on craft projects for days without major disruptions.
Anyone who sews, crochets, knits, weaves, wood works, etc., understands this. I love my husband, I love my job and I love my cats, but they leave precious little time for much else.
So when I saw the ad in Threads (a sewing magazine) last spring for the Fletcher Farm School for the Arts and Crafts in Ludlow, Vt., I immediately called for a catalog. In its pages I discovered paradise--summer classes in everything from floral design to woodcarving to rug hooking to tole painting, all held in a converted farmhouse surrounded by verdant fields and hills. I knew that Vermont was also a craftsperson's dream, with cottage industries in weaving, glass blowing and pewter scattered throughout the state.
Perusing the Fletcher catalog, I zeroed in on quilting, finding a five-day beginning class in early July. Intensive instruction was exactly what I wanted. For years I longed to learn how to quilt, but the few classes I had taken in Los Angeles always followed an exhausting day at work. So far I only knew quilting as a frustrating, tedious craft, and yards of fabric sat gathering dust in my closet. I still wanted to try, but under better conditions.
Space was still available when I called, and the winter registrar promised to mail me a class supply list as well as information on accommodations and what personal items I'd need. The class was $175, and for an additional $50 a day I'd get three meals and a single room in a dorm-like facility, sharing a toilet with my next-door neighbor and showering down the hall--rustic was the word that came to mind, but that was fine with me.
There was only one little problem--I'd have to haul my extraordinarily heavy Bernina sewing machine 3,000 miles, along with fabric and other supplies, plus clothes. Although I found a travel case for the Bernina and it fit under the airplane seat, schlepping it was not a pleasant experience. Apparently airport security hadn't seen many on the X-ray machine; they'd invariably furrow their brow and say, "What is this?" I quickly learned to yell, "It's a sewing machine!" as it lumbered down the conveyor belt.
