After an odd week at work where two of the three days in the walled garden flew by at an indecent pace and I was left reeling almost as if I'd stepped off a roller coaster by the end of the day, followed by the slowest Friday I have experienced in a very long time.
It took an age to get to 10.30am, forever to get to 12pm. It then appeared to be 1.45pm for several hours. So to get home was an incredible relief. Sitting on the settee nursing a couple mugs of tea before I could move was the best way to recover.
This weekend was set aside to celebrate Eldest's birthday (which had been earlier in the week). When the boys were little and a birthday was during the school week - they were allowed to choose a weekend to celebrate their birthday and the entire two days would be for them. We still do the whole weekend thing but on a more sedate and grown up way these days .... like visiting historic houses and doing afternoon tea.
The weather at the moment is a bit 'nothing', it is almost as if spring thought she could start to appear is now holding her breath while we all collectively wait apprehensively for the return of a vengeful winter.
I wondered if buds and bulbs are not aware of the dire weather reports we have been subjected to recently and are cheerfully making an appearance. Even my garden which is a bit dull and bland this time of year has been cheerfully singing a song of snowdrops and crocus accompanied by choirs of clematis leaves and song birds.
It was interesting wandering around an historic home and grounds during winter - without out the exuberant garden and its abundant roses and lilies obscuring the architecture. I noticed so much more.
Despite a fair number of other visitors, there was an air of quiet on the cusp calm. The garden was definitely showing signs of bursting into song but the chill air and grey skies were reminders that winter has not gone yet.
I am typing this early (and I do mean early) Sunday morning having woken up from a restless night and decided that rather than lie and listen to the house creak and the cat snore, I'd come downstairs and quietly enjoy a mug of tea and a quiet moment. It is (and I say this in a whisper) pretending to become light. I might slip back into bed once I've finished meandering around the keyboard.
The old house has had a checkered past, but then - most of them do. East Riddlesden Hall
is an oasis of historic charm surrounded by industrial and modern life. I was surprised how much it is looked over by neighbouring suburbia. We've not visited in winter before and the bare trees showed starkly how exposed the house and gardens are when not sheltered by thick green foliage.
Today - Sunday - Moss is hoping she'll get a dog walk and I suspect she will have her wish come true. I think flasks and boots (and a camera) may be involved. She'd like that.... the walk part, she's not bothered that much about boots and cameras!
The crochet blanket is growing slowly and the gentle rhythm of the hook and chains is rather soothing in the evenings. I find with blanket making that it seems to start quickly, rows appear and like magic the yarn starts to look like a scarf for a giraffe, but then as it becomes shawl-sized, it slows down and it is only when it is almost big enough for a bed that it seems to have a growth spurt. This one appears to be doing the same....
Hope, whatever you are doing for the rest of your weekend makes you smile - xxxxxx