Silt Quilt Guild Marks 25 Years of Stitching Friendships

Glenwood Springs —The smell of machine oil and fresh fabric hangs in the air at the Garfield County Fairgrounds and Events Center. Tables stretch out under the high ceiling, buried under mountains of scrap cloth, spools of thread, and needles. It is Sept. 1. The Anvil Points Quilt Guild is at work.

The short version: this group has been stitching together friendships and fabric for 25 years. They are the only guild along the Interstate 70 corridor between Grand Junction and Aspen that still hosts a quilt show. In August, they held their 22nd annual event during Silt Heydays.

That distinction matters. The I-70 corridor is long and thin, but the quilting community there has thinned. Not here.

President Lisa Caskey says the guild’s roots go back to a time when sewing was survival, not leisure.

“You saved everything, every scrap of fabric, because it used to be that fabric was cheap and clothes were expensive, so you had to make almost everything yourself,” Caskey told the Post Independent. “Now it’s the opposite.”

Her members remember that era. Former president Renee Morrison started at age six or seven, with her grandmother threading the needle for her. Sharon Hayes began because she needed bedding for her children. She tied edges instead of sewing them back then. Now, she quilters because she loves it.

Chrissie McNickels, the guild’s youngest member at late 40s, learned from her mom and grandma around age eight or nine. She dove headfirst into making bags, keychains, and clothes.

Cherrie Wall joined around 12 years ago. She still has the first scrap of fabric given to her by a member who told her, “there you go, now you can start.” Wall laughs when she talks about it. She hasn’t used the little triangle in anything yet.

The guild’s membership spans real estate, church work, preschool aid, adult relocation care for Garfield County, mortgage brokering, and business ownership. The backgrounds vary. The needle doesn’t care.

Caskey describes the act of sewing as “fabric therapy.” She says members don’t have to think when they are at the machine. It is a sisterhood built on thread and tension.

For Caskey, that obsession has taken over her home. Quilts cover the couches, chairs, and tables. She is debating hanging them on the walls.

“I hoard them,” she said. “I used to give them as gifts, but I ran out of people to give them to.”

The women bring their own materials to these bimonthly meetings. They cut, pin, and stitch in the same room where Garfield County holds its fairs and events. The space is utilitarian, but the work on those tables is precise.

The guild’s persistence is a quiet counter to the trend of hobby groups dissolving into digital groups or single-day workshops. They meet twice a month. They show their work annually in Silt. They keep the needle threaded.

The Post Independent noted that many members grew up watching mothers and grandmothers sew, back when the skill was a necessity. That generational hand-off is visible in the room. The oldest members remember the cost of fabric. The youngest remember the freedom of it.

Caskey’s quilts are everywhere in her house. She can’t get rid of them. The guild, meanwhile, keeps adding new members to the fold.

The next meeting is already on the calendar. The tables will be covered again.