In Hudson's case, the chance to pass on her knowledge of traditional African-American quilting techniques to eager students has meant she can be sure a generations-old tradition is continued.

"I was born down south, and everybody quilted, because at that time they didn't have money to buy blankets and things, so it was just only natural that everybody did quilting," says Hudson, who spoke by phone from her home in Bristol. "I learned from my grandmother and my mother. It was the only way for most people to have cover to keep warm in the winter. During the winter there was not much to do. There were very few radios and so everybody quilted."

Hudson's voice retains the rich accent, pacing and humble manner of the South. When mentioning where her work has been displayed, she's more inclined to say "down in Washington, D.C.," than to specify the Smithsonian Institution.

Quilting was as routine as cooking and cleaning during her childhood in Opelika, Ala., a small city in the eastern part of the state. Scrap fabric was saved for quilting and a nearby mill provided free or low-cost pieces of cloth. Hudson gave up the craft temporarily when she moved to Connecticut in 1946.

She worked at a factory, helping to put her five children through school and when she again found some free time, she returned to the craft she had learned as a girl.

"When they went off to college and I retired, I didn't have anything to do, so I went back to my quilting," says Hudson. "I always loved it."

But quilting is more than just a way of keeping busy, keeping warm or even keeping alive a tradition. For Hudson, quilting is about memory and continuity and family. In her work, Hudson uses pieces of old clothing discarded or outgrown by her friends and family, so each quilt has a direct connection to individuals in her life. And, though she does sell the occasional quilt, most of them are given to family and friends.

If each stitch is a tie to those she loves, her sewing also traces out patterns from the past, patterns she learned from her mother and grandmother.

"I have a few (patterns) that I learned from them. I have three or four that I learned from my grandmother," she says.

Hudson has something of a photographic memory when it comes to quilts, and she recalls one pattern, the "Star of Bethlehem," that she remembers her grandmother used but which she never learned as a girl herself.

"It was a beautiful thing, but I didn't make it -- I always admired it, and when I got (to Connecticut) I could still remember the pattern and so I sat down and made it," says Hudson.

Like a composer who awakens in the night with snippets of melody and orchestration floating in her head, Hudson has visions of quilts; they visit her in her dreams. "I've got one quilt that I'm making now -- I was laying in bed and the quilt came and stood right before me, and I never had seen it before, so I got up and I drew it," she says. "I'm not finished with that yet, but I know how it goes."

She has a clear vision of what do to in her work. But Hudson worries a little about the general lack of interest that the younger generations show toward the artistic traditions of their parents, and the possibility that -- without the same need for inexpensive and warm coverings during the winter and the same tight-knit family connections -- an art form could atrophy.

"All the people that quilted when I was coming along, they are all dead; they are all gone, and the younger people don't care. They don't bother," says Hudson.

Lynne Williamson, the project director of the heritage arts program, works with Hudson and other artists from around New England, and she says that, like Hudson, many craftspeople are eager to pass their knowledge on to interested students. More than 160 artists have participated in the program. Each year Williamson works with dozens of artists -- this year there is a woman who specializes in Norwegian wood paintings, an Armenian fiddle player, Laotian musicians and dancers, a Hmong needle worker and a Franco-American fiddler, and she says there's no shortage of traditional artists in the area who love to teach and pass on their knowledge.

"They are passionate about it," says Williamson.

Hudson says she's taught her five children how to quilt and she hopes that one day they'll be able to pick up the thread too.

"They all know how, they just don't have the time. They all know how to sew, even the boys," says Hudson. "I want them to learn and to quilt. And even after I'm gone, I would appreciate them carrying the tradition on."

Sharing her knowledge with the community, through her church, lectures and work with the Cultural Heritage Arts Program, gives Hudson the comfort of seeing the craft continued.

"[The students] seem to be very interested. I show them some of the old patterns and they love them," says Hudson. "I feel that at least I've got something to give to the community -- to help somebody to learn what I have learned. I feel very good about it."

Hudson says she pays close attention to exhibits and quilt making shows, and she tries to get to see everything she can. But she doesn't much like some modern quilt-making styles. She finds them a little too busy.

"I like the old style much better. They seem more real," says Hudson. "

And Hudson's story offers a lesson to everyone who has had to forsake an artistic passion in order to pay the bills: It's never too late to go get out the sewing needles, the paint brushes or the keyboard.

"Once you learn something you don't forget it," says Hudson, "once you really learn."