Wool-gathering on a Tuesday

 The house at the moment is revelling in the warm scent of freshly made marmalade. The jars have been filled and the lids are beginning to click down with the most satisfactory snap. Although still a little too warm to cradle a jar in my fingers, I have already sampled some for my lunch and it was heavenly.

I am making the most of today, it will be the last Tuesday I will be at home as now the seasons are turning and the earth awakens, the gardens I tend during the warmer months are calling me back. It is always bitter sweet at this time of the year, I am just beginning to enjoy the longer daylight and the gently warming air when I return, at least I am out and in the weather - more or less whatever she throws at me!

At work we have been preparing for our bees to return from their 'holidays'. I am looking forward to their reappearance with both anticipation and trepidation. They left us in autumn under a cloud and it was a relief to have the walled garden back from their tyrannical rule. The bees, as the season progressed, became increasingly defensive then aggressive and we had to keep the visitors and volunteers alike well away. The background hum of busy bees which is usually comforting, now made us all very wary. The bees had been gentle during the previous three seasons then with the passing of the old queen and a new and tetchy replacement whipping up the hive to an angry mob - working near the enclosure was nigh on impossible especially for me as I am allergic to their stings.

Our beeks (bee keepers) have been on a fact finding tour and peace keeping mission to see how our girls are fairing in their winter holiday location and to try to ascertain their present mood. 

Contrite I hope.

Saturday

For the first, in what seems an age, Himself and I managed an escape in the van for the weekend. We did not stray far, the van had been dismantled over winter to act as a workhorse and Himself had only recently returned all the interior to some semblance of order and he wanted to test it in case of any issues.

So we meandered our way over to Heysham - in particular - Half Moon Bay. A romantic sounding name for what is a rather edge-lands coast line wedged up against a ferry terminal and a power station - yes, I know, sounds 'very glamorous'. 

However, if you do the 'instagram thang' where you cut out the grot and only show the glory - it is a lovely little place. Surprisingly so. We followed the coast line discovering sculptures and ruined chapels, ancient churches and cute cottages. 

Our first 'wow moment' was the Anna Gillespie sculpture 'Ship' - it was amazing, the detail or rather the lack of it with its implied meanings were so poignant - the gashed chests hinting at the piece of you left behind when you leave your homelands - that struck home.

The church grounds were awash with glorious purple crocus, we walked up the pathway where several other visitors shared similar sentiments and their memories - it felt like a privilege.

In the church - we had hoped and then were delighted by, to find it was open so we could see the Viking hogback stone. We sat on one of the pews and in hushed tones were just astounded at the visual story telling.

We were joined by another admirer and the three of us just marvelled at the ancient monument. Apparently this type of stone carving is peculiar to the British Isles, appearing nowhere else.

The neighbouring chapel ruins had what must rate as one of my all time favourite views and I think I must have photographed the door arch a gazillion times before Himself was able to drag me away.

The small village of Heysham must be very loved by its residents, every corner, space ground or garden seemed to be filled with flowers and sculptures or signs or coast findings - drift wood, boats, shells and fishing buoys. It was so cheerful and uplifting.  I'll have to share Sunday's stories - they were just as uplifting - it is amazing what a little bit of sunshine and a lot of blue skies can do for the soul x

Today I did a quick water colour of the 'Ship' sculpture - it made me appreciate it all the more.

Three

 Three good things on a Thursday 

Glorious spring-like weather with gentle blue skies and a warming sun,

Spending the morning and lunching with Youngest in his new home

and the snowdrops in my garden are the best they've ever been,

Where does the time go?

Twenty seven years ago give or take a day or two, Himself and I were in a worn around the edges suburban park in Johannesburg. It was uncomfortably hot and sweat was running down my spine and plastering my fringe to my forehead.

We were on a bit of a mission and despite the midday heat, were out walking. I can clearly remember the decommissioned old steam train with countless layers of thick shiny black paint covering every last inch. In spite of the metal being hot to the touch, kids happily played in and on the old monster. Strangely Himself has no recollection of the engine despite him loving trains.

I felt listless and, although normally not supressed by heat, I felt heavy and drained and very uncomfortable.

There'd been very little rain and the grass, though watered by the municipality, had a crunch to it as we walked towards some trees with benches in their shade.  We sat a while, which although being out of the direct sun was no cooler. The stilled air clung around and stuck to our skin, at least whilst we'd been walking, we'd caused a small draft which our sweat drenched bodies were grateful for.

Eventually we turned back towards the car.  Which had the glorious promise of aircon. Himself was careful and concerned and took me back home. I was what felt like 12 months pregnant with our first born son and he was two weeks over due. The ruddy faced midwife had cheerfully told us that walking would shift 'the little lodger' and so we walked, or rather Himself did while I waddled feeling the size of a house.

Sunday was his 27th birthday and we celebrated the best way we knew how - family, food, stories, candles, cake, films, pancakes, cats, gardening and fun.  Happy birthday Eldest !

The only time his feet were small........

Observations

Most of the droplets glisten when they capture the meagre early morning sunlight, others appear opaque. The window pane is littered with static rain beads giving the appearance of pockmarked glass. Then when the fast moving grey clouds curtain the sun, the droplets become almost invisible allowing my eye through the distraction. I now watch the trees in the garden are dancing in the brisk breeze, it fluctuates from a gentle flip of the lighter branches to whole tree contortions. 

We have a stained glass plaque in the window and at the moment, brief flashes of sun sing through the colours scattering speckles of colour on the glass.

Himself left for work while it was still the last drifts of darkness leaving the cat and me in bed, his parting shot - I'd stay there if I were you. So we have. Although I suspect I will be up long before the cat.

The hyacinths in the lounge have both decorated the room and the air with their delicious scent and blue flowers however they are beginning to fade and I am sorry to see them go. It will be another ten months before we have them up on the mantel and in the window again.  Primula have been brought in to fill that hole.

The cat is rhythmically snoring beneath Himself's aged lumberjack shirt - one reserved specifically for gardening and tucking around a cold sleeping cat.

I can see, but not hear, the wind chime in the garden twirling around in the wind. It is an elegant spiral of tubes which normally share a gentle chime as they tink against each other. Today I suspect it is more of an angry clash than a melodic background sound. The blackbirds do not seem to care. They are busily foraging around the plants and bird feeder breaking off only to chase each other around and across the garage roof.

I plan to paint once I have posted this. I  can feel the compulsion to sketch and run a watercolour filled brush across paper. It sometimes feels like a rising tide which I used to suppress - somehow 'adulting' seemed more important - but now I heed that urge.

Life is for living.

snapshots and scents

The plan was - get up, shower, strip the bedding then stick on the washing machine, finally sitting down with a mug of peppermint tea and toast..... The first two happened fairly smoothly, that is until it came to pulling back the duvet only to find the cat firmly burrowed beneath Himself's warm padded shirt. I hesitated. Her eyes were so firmly shut it felt quite disrespectful to disturb her. Instead I worked my way through the wash basket hoping that by the time I was ready to pull the bed apart, Pan would have decided to get up and leave me to my chores..... not a chance.

So I carefully untucked the corners of the sheets, gently pulling them to the centre. This produced the 'ears of annoyance' and the 'frown of disapproval'. I stopped. This time, I slowly pulled the duvet to the now bared mattress - this was considered inappropriate behaviour and I was given the sharpest of glares. 

How is it I have been reduced to a timid char lady to an elderly cantankerous cat?! 

I tried again, this time she poured herself out of the nest she had created and slipped off the bed and away with a rather cross flick flick of her tail.

Later.....

Chores done, breakfast eaten, carpets briefly tickled with the vacuum cleaner I reached for my knitting to do whilst I finished my tea. For what felt like the longest time, I have not had the need or the urge to knit or crochet however that seems to have returned and in the last few days I have knitted a pseudo-Sophie scarf and a warm scrappy hat for work. 

The weather has vanished again, leaving a sepia-grey sky heavy with damp and cold air. It took quite a bit of an effort on my part to go out, so I rewarded myself with the snowdrops in the garden. 

The kitchen at the moment, smells rather warm and inviting - I have a marzipan and vanilla loaf cake cooking in the oven and the fragrance is filling downstairs with a mouth watering aroma.

I hope that it tastes as good as it smells😊

Postscript..... Himself declares the cake delicious and has scoffed two chunky slices, suspect it will be a 'make it again' 🍰

If Winter comes Can Spring be far behind? (Percy Bysshe Shelley)

Stepping in to the garden this morning was like stepping into an energy field. The air was crisp with the lightest of airy blue skies and I was surrounded by the sounds of blackbirds quarrelling, robins singing and the neighbour's hens making happy hen noises.

Leaves and twigs were brushed with the lightest of frost and in the sunlight they sparkled and twinkled catching my eye, filling me with joy. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly my spirit is lifted by days like these.

Whilst I was out, I fed the birds and cracked the glassy lid of ice on all their watering holes. I knew I was being watched as the trees rustled with blackbirds leaning forward to see what I'd left for them.

The cat has remained in bed - as is her want - she is a a bit of an 'old dear' and likes her creature comforts and usually I want to do the same, but not today. 

Today is too beautiful to miss.

A definite lack of rainbows

Being driven home in the dark whilst the car radio on allows my mind to wander. Himself is occupied by the drive and by nature is not a chatty person so I entertain myself with staring out the window.

The windscreen is stained by dried rain splatters and flicked up road dirt. This time of year it seems pointless trying to keep the car clean as every time I drive to and from work, my little white car has filthy streaks trailing down his sides. Yes, my car is male and he has a name - Bob.

In the distance small lights flicker as trees pass between us on the freeway and the farms sprinkled out on the hills. Sunday was a rather long day, we'd spent it with Youngest who'd put our a plea for help laying tiles on his kitchen floor and it turned out to be one of those 'takes longer than you think' jobs.

Storm Herminia was building up as Youngest's lovely girl and I were outside measuring the garden and discussing possible plans and layouts. It just got too wild and windy to linger so we retreated to the house and with mugs of tea and the internet we searched for ideas and inspiration whilst we watched the weather thrash about outside.

Monday was still reeling from the storm and although not as intense as the previous one, the walled garden suffered more damage. So after a meeting I started rescuing obelisks and wooden fence panels and dragging them into the glasshouse where they can dry off, get repaired then return to the garden. Some days at work - regardless at what life throws at me - I step up to the mark and come home satisfied. Then there are some days at work - I just want to shut the gate behind me and throw away the key.

Now, today, I am watching the finest of guti (that dreadful 'Scotch Mist / mizzle / drizzle / mist) that seeps through not just clothing but manages to dampen down through bones and flesh too. 

I know it is the dying days of January but surely we are due some nicer weather? I'd like to think so!

The pictures were snapped on Sunday evening on our drive home

A thorny issue

The garden was quiet again this morning once the storm had passed. There was a certain stillness - almost a sigh of relief - a moment's breath. The birds were flitting back and forth, making up for lost time I suspect. Today we'd planned to do the Big Garden Bird Watch ,  something we've tried to do annually for quite a while now. However, instead of sitting down in the summerhouse, notebook and mug of tea to hand, we were having to wrestle a 20 year old climbing rose who'd succumbed to Éowyn's howling winds and was now lying prone across the back of the garden in a very sorry state.

Himself and I armed with not mugs of tea or binoculars but with loppers, secateurs and the shredder got to work soon after breakfast. Metres and metres of heavily thorned and tangled rose branches were first lopped then shredded into piles of chippings. As we worked, the woodshed began to reappear from behind the unforgiving tangle.

To be brutally honest, I was not sorry the rose had to be reduced to a pile of wood chip. It had grown so big that the flowers - as beautiful and as scented as they were - were beyond our reach. We estimated it had grown over 12 metres (40 foot in old money) and was truly a monster. Now, hopefully it will recover and flower again in a year or two but at head height.

Did we still manage to see a bird or two? Well, surprisingly so - yes, many. They were so busy being birds that our shenanigans with the rose did not seem to bother them. 

Gentle Sunday nothings

A small downy white feather was lightly drifting on our pond. The slightest of breeze gently twisting it around - a little swan in it's own little lake. 

Although still, meteorologically speaking, late winter today felt a bit like spring. When the weather is quiet, with a muted air about her, Spring has a certain stillness that feels clear and fresh.   

With a sense of anticipation. 

Snowdrop and daffodil leaves have pushed through the decaying leaves left by autumn promising much - just not yet.....I will have to wait a little longer.

The birds have been singing their little hearts out - Robins, Coal, Great and Blue Tits, Blackbirds, House Sparrows and both the Gold and Bullfinches. They are also celebrating that the seasons are turning and each day further from the solstice is a day nearer spring.

In the greenhouse I'd left an untidy mess from an end of year pruning of the vine which - to my shame - I never cleared up. However just by a lucky turn of events, I am now to teach a Spring Wreath workshop and the once discarded vines are now twisty hedgerow wreaths ready to fully dry and then be decorated with hand made nests with faux eggs, moss, feathers and ivy.

You can do it

During Wednesday's sublime light, this little flowering moss glowed in the sun

After the snow, there was rain, followed swiftly by driech grey mist which seemed to not only hang around the house and garden but around me too.  

Then yesterday the skies cleared and the sun filled the day. 

At work, the volunteers and I revelled in the warmth and light - it felt uplifting. We tackled something I'd planned months ago as an early autumn project which was then thwarted by the weather.

Finally on Wednesday, with a huge pile of chestnut palings, saws, mallets and steaming mugs of tea we started and the joy was palpable.

I quietly listened to happy chatter and bird song. Volunteers and birds all soaking in the light and gentle winter sun. However what made me smile the most was the obvious pride these ladies felt by the end of their session. They'd completed a rather manual and physical task and it looked bloody fantastic !

'Keewik keewik'

A personal challenge - try and write something every day for January 2025 

***************

Carrying a small tub laden with toast crumbs, dried sultanas, cold bacon fat and cake, as well as a full kettle of not quite boiled water, I carefully picked my way through the garden to the bird feeder. The Robin was giving running commentary and a cluster of Blackbirds were loitering by the pond watching me with bead bright eyes. 

The bird snacks were emptied into two trays and the water used to help dissolve the thin layer of ice in the water bowls in the garden. 

The sky was the thinnest of clear blue with ragged white contraflow criss-crossing the expanse. In the distance a barrage of shooting - a 'side effect' of living in a village on the edge of privately owned moorland......

Suddenly the female Tawny Owl whistled a plaintive 'keewik keewik' triggering the garden birds to send up warning calls and flutter nervously through the trees. 

I retreated back to the house, more layers needed as my fingers and feet felt lumpen and cold. I returned with my camera and snapped a few photos of frost covered leaves with daggers of ice acting as temporary armour.

Vinca leaves encrusted with sharp stilettos of ice

I recorded the garden birds - Robin, Blackbirds (male and female), Dunnock, Jackdaw, Mistle Thrush, House Sparrow, Great and Coal Tit who were all still grumbling defensively about the now silent Tawny Owl.

a watercolour of a hen Blackbird from my #perpetualjournal - 

ignore the dates, I wrote them incorrectly, I have since amended them.

Going for world domination

Oh April - where have you gone? Admittedly you were mostly shrouded in cloud and often drenched in rain but were also bathed in sunlight and lifted by the most glorious blue skies.

Among many things keeping me occupied (work, life, gardening, living) I have been quietly painting - a tiny picture a day. I can't explain the simple joy they brought me.  A mini escape in watercolour.

Now, suddenly it is the last day of April and the last day of the challenge - #30minipaintings, so I thought I would, to commiserate/celebrate/acknowledge the last day of the month by sharing them here.

Each little picture (well - 28 of the 30) is a record of a real event on the day or the day before they were painted - 28 little stories of my life. The other two were just quickly done late on in an evening when I'd not had time earlier to paint.

Cats, plants, gardens, adventures, family, tea and life - that sums up April. And to show how small they really are .....

A small and furry for comparison.

Post Script - I am on with another painting/drawing challenge - one I kick started at work at the beginning of the year to encourage folk to get creative - it gently grows with more people joining in - we're going for world domination through the medium of art!