Winter Light.

At this time of year when the light is all but gone I find myself drawn to the shadowy blues such dim light produces. There is something quieting, soothing about these tones which makes me feel restful even when I am far from it. It is the sort of light a fall of snow produces casting blueish notes into an otherwise white landscape and there is something so vastly appealing in this for me that I thought today's post would reflect it, particularly as there is a distinct absence of such a tonal range just now with greys and depressingly sludgy colours predominating. .



Ah well, a trip through the photo archives will find cool seas and frost-rimed seaweed.



A row of Butterfly Bags waitng for packaging hangs from the mantlepiece, the mix of almost Scandinavian blues and reds forming a pleasing picture on this dull day.



I love these images of the little ragdoll I made for Isabella last Christmas (she has named her Celia after our friends' little baby girl). Her tiny bloomers with lace-edged legs remind me that my darling daughter Lauren and I fully intend to start a bloomer renaissance as we love them so much! Beautiful shadows are cast by the winter light as it falls on the soft folds.



There is something faintly nostalgic in the soft creamy white of the bonnet with the age-worn tones of the cotton lace, a gift from my Grandmother many years ago and one of many I have as a reminder of this incredible lady.



I am normally so full of moans about the cold, but the endless rain we have experienced over the past few years - sodden summers with low light levels, brief forays into golden sunlight in the autumn only to be thrown back into the clutches of the watery onslaught - have made me think again. I now can cope with the cold, can dress in a multitude of layers which though i find them uncomfortably restrictive on my small frame, do at least keep the chills at bay. What I find hard to remain cheery in the face of is the all-encompassing, never-ending wet which works its way through every bright thought I may have. If I can only remember to look for the beauty hidden behind it all, remember to go out and grasp it in the brief moments of respite to squirrel away in images such as these to draw on when it all gets a bit too much, then maybe the winter months won't seem so bad?



Because there is such beauty there from the starkness of a frost-ridden morn



to the twilight-lit sheltering warmth of my kitchen waiting for the candles to cast their glow.



And there it is.



Have a lovely day x

A gentle weekend.

The children recovered from their colds as quickly as children invariably do. I on the other hand grew feverish, sneezed with a highly tiresome regularity and turned my nose into a festive rendition of Rudolph's own with my endless wiping of the poor thing. I usually get a cold about once every one or two years which lasts for precisely one day and is thus indulged with snuggling close to the fire and a delicious hot toddy or three. To my utter disgust this one ran into day two and continued its merry way into day three for good measure at which point Mr Davey insisted I take to my bed, something I have to be forced to do as I love the idea, but can only endure it if I am well enough to actually enjoy the experience! Hence, it never happens. Sunday saw me ensconced beneath our quilt with a pile of knitting and the Country Living Christmas edition, and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed myself despite the exhaustion of endless sneezing fits. I did however get up for a brief while in the afternoon with the appropriate permission from Dave to make the Christmas pudding; well, it was Stir Up Sunday after all.



Dave and I both love cooking and have devised a plan to enable us both to get a bite of the Christmas cherry so to speak. This year it is his turn to cook the Christmas dinner and mine to make the pudding, such an enjoyable task that I was not about to give it up because of a cold. Goodness it was good to get back to bed after all that mixing though. Wishes were made whilst stirring by the children who were present - most of them on this occasion - and those who were absent received phone calls telling them to imagine they were stirring (while we actually did it for them) and make their wish that way. And here is the delicious end result: Mr Dave's Figgy Pudding,a gorgeously unctious mix of figs, nuts, zest and alcohol all made to his very own recipe.



And again...



And here is one of the bowls we use as we always make two



I also have moved forward with the little rag doll I am making for isabella and she now has a dress and hat trimmed with lace that once belonged to my Grandmother and now belongs to me.



Her face is yet to be finished, but she now has a little mop cap with a tiny bow nestled close to the brim. I so love making this.



A pair of lace-trimmed bloomers



So she is almost complete now - I hope Isabella loves her as much as I have loved making her.



I also managed to get some more paperwork done and some business planning for next year. How lovely to be trapped in one place and able to let the ideas just flow. I got increasingly excited at the thought of moving things forward, seeing where I could take my little business which has steadily grown over the last year and taught me so much about everything concerned from packaging, designing, making...oh the list is endless, but perhaps most important of all is what I have learnt about myself. I realise I am far more of a perfectionist than I thpought I was, far too hard on myself when things invariably go awry once in a while and far too ready to work myself to an early grave. On the positive side though I have noticed a gentle increase in self-confidence, always a huge problem for me, so Hooray for that!

Have a lovely day xx