Before telephones and cars connected rural communities, quilting bees were how isolated farm women saw one another. The stitching circles offered companionship as much as craftsmanship -- a place to share news and build community, almost like a modern-day beauty salon. Now, some Amish and Mennonite women who have kept that tradition alive are wondering how much longer it will last.
Ella Toy never planned to operate Alma Sue's Quilt Shop. With a business degree, she envisioned a different career path. But family circumstances changed that.
“My mom and dad were snowbirds, and my aunt was a snowbird, and her husband died. My mom was the Sue on the Alma Sue, so I said, you need something to do, so I'll open a little quilt shop for you,” Toy said. “I didn't intend to really be a retail store or to be a fabric store. We were just going to keep them busy.”
What began as a way to occupy her mother and aunt quickly became something more.
“I put a sign up down at the Pinecraft and said, any lady that wants to do some hand quilting,” Toy said. “And next thing I knew, I had people that came up to sit and stitch with my mom and my aunt. And that's how it all started.”
Interest from the neighborhood grew quickly, and the shop evolved into a hangout space. But even as some communities maintain the practice, industry trends suggest quilting is not what it once was. On Jan. 29, a group of Amish and Mennonite women gathered around a large quilt made from feed sacks dating to the Great Depression.
“Long ago, they put the chicken feed for the animals in those bags. And then if they were big enough pieces, they would make dresses or shirts or something out of it. And then if there's little scraps left, they used it to make these quilts,” said Winona Miller of Middlebury, Indiana.
The women stitched carefully by hand, continuing a practice handed down through generations. When asked whether their daughters had taken an interest, their expressions tightened.
“My daughters never cared for it,” said Linda Gingerich, originally from Kalona, Iowa.
When asked if she had any worries, she responded with, “No, doesn't bother me at all. I mean, you can't force something on them, and you know they're going to do what they want to do. That's what we did, too,” said Barb Kemp of Nappanee, Indiana.
“I figure when they get older, they're going to want to do this,” Gingerich said.
“I think [they'll grow into this]. Yeah, or I hope they do,” Kemp said.
Toy said she is watching the industry’s contraction in real time. Her shop, Alma Sue’s, has expanded online retail and adjusted inventory to keep pace with changing demand.
“You know, when I first opened my quilting shop, they said the industry was the $10 billion industry that was back in 2002. Well, it's not a $10 billion industry anymore. It's more like a $3 billion industry. So, you can see that it has gone down somewhat,” Toy said.
The retail landscape has shifted as well. Joann Fabrics, once the nation’s largest fabric retailer, closed its stores after filing for bankruptcy in 2025. Big box craft chain Michaels later purchased the company’s intellectual property and announced plans to expand fabric offerings.
Still, some quilters see adaptation rather than disappearance.
"You can always go to other communities and buy the pieced quilt," Gingerich said.
Toy said quilting has evolved from the necessity it once was.
“It's really an art form at this point. It's good for people to have something to do, something healthy; it instills patience,” she said.
For now, the work continues. How long it lasts remains an open question.
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