The Armadillo and the Cow

Growing up in New Mexico, I’d never seen a real armadillo until we passed one dead on the side of the road while driving back from my sister’s graduation. I expressed great sadness for the poor dead baby armadillo. My sister, whose college years in Texas had provided many opportunities to see this familiar form of roadkill, laughed and said that it wasn’t a baby, it was an adult armadillo. With great indignation, I informed her that full-grown armadillos were about the size of cows. Despite the incredulity of everyone in the car, I continued to insist. Clearly, the children’s alphabet book that had informed my knowledge of armadillos was not a reliable scientific source. This quilt is a cheeky homage to something my family will never let me live down.