I made this.
And yes, it's hand quilted. Every ... last ... stitch. It took four months and I have the calloused fingers to prove it. It is for my grandson Clark.
My grandmother quilted. She would make at least two a year. It was more for protection against the cold Ozark winters instead of a show piece. That's not to say she wasn't proud of her handy work. I remember as a child, spending summers on my grandparent's farm and attending quilting bees with her. There were usually up to ten other women, all sitting around a square frame, stitching, gossiping, and exchanging recipes. At noon we would share a pot luck lunch. The younger children would then be put down for a nap. The older ones, including myself, could be found under the quilt frame playing with our dolls or trucks. When the quilt was finished it was given to a needy family with no thought of compensation. It's just what they did.
When she died, I inherited her frames. My ex mother-n-law quilted and so I would join her many afternoons next to grandma's quilting frame while we watched our soap operas. She embroidered tops for each grandchild. We quilted them and they received them on their wedding day. My son treasures his. So, it was just natural that I would make a quilt for his first born.
People were surprised I could do this. "You write and quilt?"
"Yes, and work, and scrapbook."
It makes you realize that not everybody has the 'creative' gene.
Let me know in the comments what you like to create.