Folsom Park

Yesterday, Mom and I went to Folsom with some of her friends to attend the Folsom Quilt Guild's annual Quilt Show. I spent some of my most formative years in Folsom--we moved there when I was nine and my parents finally quit the place when I was in England--aged 26. It's the longest my family has ever been based in any one city or town.

We don't much miss it. It's a nice enough place, but it grew too fast and now it's a nightmare trying to navigate the place.

Anyway, it was fun to see the city park, next to the community center where the show was held. A beautiful new library was built in the park a few years ago, but the old miniature train remains, and the gazebo, and a war memorial that my dad helped to make happen has been expanded.

The new library.

Watch out for dangerous mini-trains!

The war memorial.

The rock and the largest plaque are there pretty much because of my dad. The rest was added later.

I once read a poem from this gazebo, the day they dedicated the war memorial. I had written it and Dad liked it so much he put it in the program. It went something like this:

Here I stand,

Proud and tall

To be seen by one,

To be seen by all

I show the past,

The laughter the tears

Of memories gone

Lost in the years

I show them

Of young men gone

Destruction of war

As life presses on

I stand here

Proud and tall

To remember one

To remember all.

I was twelve or thirteen when I wrote it.

The flags (U.S./California, the POW/MIA flag, and one for each military branch) are a nice addition.

I don't know the significance of the dog-type animal in front of the library.

I was glad to see that 1) the train still runs and 2) it had a decent number of people riding it on a weekday.

Then, of course, there are pics from the quilt show. I can't sew to save my life but I appreciate the time and effort that goes into these incredible quilts. They are works of art, and the women (and men!) who make them should be proud of their work.

The ladies queued like Keane fans would queue for a Keane gig.

Mom and I used to know the lady who made this one (her son was in band with me at FHS).

Even the lunch options were classy. (This is Folsom we're talking about.)

The quilt above was quilted in red thread--gorgeous.

This is fabric. It is not a painting. It is a quilt. I was there, I saw it. It's really, truly a quilt.

We had a lovely day out, and it was nice to visit my "hometown" (if a woman who has moved about 27 times in her life--okay, so I'm exaggerating a little--can have a hometown) for a few hours.