I love a good rummage. I might even admit that out loud in company if I didn't think it sounded faintly rude. The fact remains, though, that rummaging of every sort is undoubtedly good therapy, and fabric rummaging is particularly enjoyable at this colour-deprived time of year.
I don't have an enormous fabric stash, but it is big enough for a rummage. I keep my fabrics in a chest of drawers; teenagers think the floor is where clothes are kept and never put stuff away, so I thought I might as well appropriate some unused storage capacity for myself.
Whilst transferring my collection a little while ago I had the rummage to end all rummages and spent hours playing and sorting on the floor (I'm still a teenager at heart). I had a wonderful time deciding which fabrics worked with which, opening them out, piling them up, creating mixes, identifying themes. And then, when my bedroom looked like a colourful version of the teenagers' hovels, I carefully created little hand-tied bundles that might, in the future, turn into quilts, and filled the drawers with them.
Yesterday, I needed some fabrics for a project and went to the drawers and was surprised by how thorough and well-organised I had been. The time invested in rummaging has paid dividends; I have done the hard work of seeing connections and colour schemes, and all I need to do now is have a very sophisticated rummage of my bundles rather than flinging the contents out cartoon-style and making a knee-deep sea of fabric. So now I can find domestic reds together, discover that cerise pink and chestnut brown work beautifully, revisit a variation on a favourite vintage dusty blue and yellow theme, consider the possibility of sky blue and tangerine together, and be persuaded that a white, pink and black quilt must be made.
It makes me think there might be a market for a book called The Joy of Rummaging.