Yellowed on the topside and pure white on the underside, it had simple flowered patterns of old, faded fabrics scattered across it. Some "petals" had fallen off and edges were frayed, but I loved it.
My mom saw it on my bed and told me it belonged to her grandmother, "Bitty." I still can't figure out why I hadn't ever seen it the closet before (as in, the past twenty-one years)--it's like it just magically appeared. I think it's meant to get out and seen and used, don't you?
And Blanche took a liking to it, too. Can you blame her?