I love the smell of hot-ironed batiks in the morning.
Something mystical wafts into the air when that burning iron hits the rainbow fabric: magic.
The scent arises from the wax process used to dye these extraordinary fabrics, I’m sure – a logical explanation is out there. But not for me.
For the uninitiated: It smells a little like one of those Tibetan stores, minus the fist-thick beads and dark wood wall hangings. Well, minus the store.
I ironed a number of batiks yesterday for my 1000 triangles project, which may someday become a quilt. For now it’s a lot of equilateral pieces on my desk.
Inspired by Amish quilts I saw at the De Young Museum in San Francisco, I’ve started to sew a few together: