I spent this morning as I do most Saturday mornings, a cup of coffee at hand, tidying up my sewing room and putting away all the bits I'd been working on this week. I love it as I gradually restore order, and 'my' space emerges, all ready for the next round of sewing.

I assess what I'm working on, and if there's any extra cutting or ironing I need to do I get that ready; count piles of blocks, try out setting fabrics, just do all those little chores that might be holding the current project(s) up.

I love my Saturday mornings, and this morning I needed to find a little piece of pink for a certain block, so out came the pink drawer. I was going through it all, remembering where I got each piece, where I had used it, idly wondering if it could go in the place I needed when it suddenly struck me how many many memories there are in my stash. How many times have I gone through this same fabric, enjoying it's colour, the patterns, the memories of adding it to the collection. Then I imagined it all gone, incinerated in one dreadful moment, and I just could not grasp the finality of losing everything.

Henrietta commented "Those who have nothing are the lucky ones, they are alive..." and that is so true. But the enormity of having nothing, nothing in the world to call your own is something that few of us in the western world have ever had to cope with, until this sort of disaster comes along.

Gazing at my lovely drawers of fabric I felt for the quilters who have lost everything, and from emails and blog posts I know that soon these poor stunned people are going to be going mad, simply for the lack of something to do. For people who have always kept their hands busy, for pleasure,as relaxation, therapy, as a way of showing love, to sit in donated housing with nothing to occupy their minds and hands is going to be hard. Once the shock wears off, they will need something to direct their creative energy towards.

Blogland has taken on a different dimension to me during these fires. Now we can know of specific needs, answer particular calls for help, send things off knowing that we are donating to people directly, and it makes me proud to be part of this community. I'm thinking of two particular posts, one on Jenny Bowker's blog, and another on Tracey's.

Here in my lovely sewing room, surrounded by what makes me feel "me", I'm going to fill up a box of fabric to send on and pray that it brings comfort to someone else in the same way.