When I was a child, I went to church.
In that church, we read the Bible. The whole Bible.
Or at least that was the idea, the goal. We were encouraged to read the whole thing, as well as memorize the names of the books of the Bible (which I can still reel off with weird precision 50-ish years later, for the first 20 or so).
Parts of the Bible were interesting. But then one would get to the boring begats, the long lists of genealogy, like this one in Genesis:
 And Seth lived after he begat Enos eight hundred and seven years, and begat sons and daughters:
 And all the days of Seth were nine hundred and twelve years: and he died.
 And Enos lived ninety years, and begat Cainan:
 And Enos lived after he begat Cainan eight hundred and fifteen years, and begat sons and daughters:
 And all the days of Enos were nine hundred and five years: and he died.
 And Cainan lived seventy years, and begat Mahalaleel:
 And Cainan lived after he begat Mahalaleel eight hundred and forty years, and begat sons and daughters:
 And all the days of Cainan were nine hundred and ten years: and he died.
 And Mahalaleel lived sixty and five years, and begat Jared:
 And Mahalaleel lived after he begat Jared eight hundred and thirty years, and begat sons and daughters:
 And all the days of Mahalaleel were eight hundred ninety and five years: and he died.
And on and on. Who were these people and how did they live so long? These were the sections I skipped.
I find, now, that my life is full of a different sort of begats. I think of this as the crafting begats, the way one project begets others.
These begats are anything but boring!
Each weaving project begets new ones. I start with one color and think what a different one would look like. Or one treadling pattern and imagine others. I work on a scarf and want to see how the structure would translate to towels or a baby blanket.
Each quilt begets new ones. As I work on the redwork squares to reproduce the antique quilt I have, I think of ideas for a modern version, with blocks that reflect my current life.
This weaving project begets ideas for a quilt—wouldn’t this look pretty in pieced fabric?
I work on the quilt I am making, with quotes about women’s rights, and think of embroidering a short phrase, a few words, to represent every day of my year, a stitched journal.
I iron vintage linens and inevitably find pieces with damage that makes them unsellable. I put them aside because, in my mind, they beget a quilt made of the pretty bits pieced together. Or they beget rag rugs, woven from strips of the usable fabric. Or they beget special buttons . . .
I imagine this organic moving from one project to the next, each unique but related to something that came before, happens to us all—gardeners, bakers, painters, potters . . . makers.
With my making begats, I’ll never be bored.
My projects are fruitful and they multiply. How about yours?