My love of fabric and sewing began when I was very young. My mother taught me to sew, patiently guiding my small hands as I learned how cloth could be shaped into something useful and beautiful.

From those early days, I developed a habit that has never left me. I cannot look at a piece of fabric without imagining what it might become.

A dress, a cushion, a quilt, a small detail somewhere — every colour and texture suggests a possibility.

After school, I attended the Cape Town School of Fashion Design, where my interest in sewing deepened into a real craft.

In the early years of my marriage, sewing became more than a pleasure; it became a way to help our young family. I did dressmaking to earn money and help put my husband, Hugh, through medical school.

Later, when we lived in Weenen, sewing became a way of building community as well. I gave sewing lessons to many farmers’ wives in the area.

Over the years, I made 17 wedding dresses. The first was my own, and each one after that became more intricate and challenging. Every dress was a labour of love, made for women close to my heart and not for money.

My life changed suddenly when Hugh died in a fatal cycling accident while training for the Argus race in 2006. A friend of mine suggested that I take up quilting, using pieces of Hugh’s shirts.

The idea was simple but deeply meaningful — fabrics he had worn could become something beautiful and lasting. Hugh loved colour and was never afraid to wear it.

His wardrobe included many striking shirts, often from Pringle or Woolworths.

And so began my journey into quilting.

What started as a gentle way to occupy lonely hours slowly grew into a passion that has never faded. Each quilt I make becomes its own creative adventure, a design filled with colour, texture, and imagery that reflects the person who will receive it.

Sixty quilts later and still counting! Many of them have been gifts for my children, grandchildren, and special friends. In almost all of them, Hugh is quietly present.

Sometimes pieces of his shirts are woven directly into the design, their colours adding life and movement to the quilt. At other times, if the design does not allow for it, I sew my embroidered quilt label onto a piece of one of his shirts. In this way, every quilt carries a small part of him.

No fabric goes to waste. Even the cuffs and collars of Hugh’s shirts, together with scraps of batting and fabric, and old (clean!) underwear, are stuffed into a doggy bed bag.

The lucky dog who will one day inherit this unique bed is as yet unknown.

Creativity is key, and each quilt tells a story through its theme. One quilt, made for a dear friend who grew up in Australia and now lives in Kakapo Close in Noordhoek, draws on several layers of meaning.

The Kakapo shipwreck lies on nearby Noordhoek Beach, and the Kakapo is also a rare Australian bird.

Her quilt therefore features images of the bird, Aboriginal prints, Australian sportsmen, and native fauna and flora. To connect her life in South Africa, I added pictures of Nelson Mandela on shweshwe squares.

Friends who live by the sea often receive ocean-themed quilts. These are made from blues, greens, and turquoise fabrics, with Bali and batik prints that capture the movement of waves.

The stitching follows the same idea, flowing in patterns that resemble ripples, waves, and bubbles. For my own personal quilts, I enjoy experimenting with different designs and techniques.

One of my favourites is a music-themed quilt, reflecting another lifelong passion. Each block has a song title, beginning with Asimbonanga, the powerful song about Nelson Mandela.

I had a wonderful housekeeper in Hout Bay who used to watch me sew. After a few enthusiastic lessons, she became a prolific quilter herself. She’s now completed about 20 quilts, using the fabrics I don’t want and many scraps that friends and I have donated.

We collaborated on a quilt together for a young boy’s family from Imizamo Yethu, in Hout Bay, who was tragically murdered. It was probably one of the most difficult and heart-wrenching ones I’ve ever done.

My daughter, Cathy, opted to have her quilt depict Fynbos and birds. I printed images of these onto the fabric and embroidered the delicate detail.

Squares from some of Hugh’s red shirts add a colourful contrast to this challenging quilt.

And this is how Hugh and his wardrobe live alongside me as I stitch my stories.