In at the deep end

 Go on, I said, let me fix it for you ... I really would love to. You'll be doing me a favour - I need my hands to be busy and I love doing that sort of thing....

It took a couple of weeks of gentle (ok persistent but gentle) persuasion to be able to prise this jersey (well you lot would call it a cardi but a jersey is a jumper is a cardi to me!) and bring it home. It is a well loved lamb's wool super soft favourite of a dear friend of mine and I'd seen that she'd already made a couple of repairs and that another hole had begun to appear.

I brought it home and started to un-pick the stitches so that I could see what I was working with and soon found that there were many mini repairs all over the body of the jersey. It was like doing textile forensics with the differing coloured thread revealing many layers of repairs to this beloved item of clothing.

Every time I turned the garment over, I found another mend or another hole. So, I decided to start with the smallest wounds and work my way up the the major one on the left under arm.

I kept going, building up my courage and practising different techniques - good old fashioned darning, Swiss darning, boro-esque stitching, patchwork, applique, freeform, pseudo-Dorset buttons and 'wing-it'.

Each evening, after we'd eaten, I'd switch on my anglepoise lamp and stitch another hole closed, avoiding looking at the large one on the arm until apart from a worn thin area that I was going to weave over, I had no choice but to tackle the arm. In the end I took the scissors to it and just cut away all the threads and wool then picked up each tiny stitch and sewed them to prevent any more unravelling.

It was then a matter of finding a soft but strong fabric to patch from the inside and applique stars and tiny stitches to strengthen the knitting. Strangely enough, once I'd got over my reluctance to repair this particular gaping hole - it turned out to be my favourite mend.

This afternoon, after three weeks, I completed the final mend - the woven section on the left front, took the photographs and folded up the jersey. Both relieved and bereft it was now completed. It can return home tomorrow. I shall miss it's company!

This was an act of rebellion against the tide of the throw-away-society as well as an act of kindness to a friend who does so much - thank you x

Feeding the soul

 

Saturday was planned on being a quiet day apart from Himself and I getting our boosters first thing. We would spend the rest of the day gently biding our time while arms hurt and potential heads ached.

Then Youngest put in a request for help to collect his plants and computer and some furniture from his uni house. So after we'd been jabbed, we jumped in the van and drove up through large drifts of thick  grey mist and met up with him. After chatting and cradling mugs of hot tea, we loaded the van with his things then drove down to the docks for Moss. (Well, for us too - we love walking around that area and even though we knew there'd be no views, we still wanted to breath in the salty freshness).

The air was laden with fine cool droplets which swirled through the trees and drifted over the water. It had a damper effect making sounds seemed distant and hollow. The lapping of the sea against the boats felt almost as if a memory while bird song was paper thin and faint.

Dog walkers appeared out of the gloom and we nodded our heads in solidarity on our dog exercising duties.  A distant tractor's engine crackled and faded as we followed the old railway track.

Along the basin, where the narrow boats and the sea going yachts berth for the winter, water fowl paddled through the gloom with the occasional 'yark' or 'breeet' call seemingly bouncing off the water and rolling on to the shore. 

Moss of course wanted to swim and managed a quick paddle, rinsing off the mud from her legs and losing her ball in the process. Oh well, it had been a foundling in the first place - may it bring joy to the next dog who finds it.

I love reflections and the otherworldly images they give and even in this half light there were plenty to please me.

It was a short walk, but the difference it made was wonderful, Himself and I (and Moss) got back in the van and began the two hour long trip home.

Sniff sniff

I have a very keen sense of smell - my minor 'claim to fame' is I can (or I used to be able) tell which animal was on the surgery table before I saw them - by the smell of their fat..... (now you were not expecting that were you!)

Any hoo - onto nicer scents. I have just popped a fruit cake into the oven - one that requires all the fruit, spices, butter and sugar precooking in a pot before the flour and egg can be added. There is a deliciously spicy fragrance drifting through the house. It is a warming and welcoming scent and I am sure it will send Himself's nostrils aflare as he walks in!

I have just been experimenting with making mindful 'shower melts' - a natural bicarb and essential oil 'tablet' which you pop on the floor of your shower as you switch on the hot water. These natural tablets fill the bathroom with an invigorating waft of orange or sleep inducing lavender - I shall blog another time once I have used them. 

The washing machine has been churning away as I worked through my wardrobe. I am continuing on my mission to clear away the clutter and simplify my life. The clothes I am keeping which had been squashed behind all the other 'katunda' (clutter) stashed in the cupboard have been washed to freshen up. The weather outside is so dreary and damp that the clean clothing is hanging on the 'Victorian Kitchen Maid' - no I am not being 'posh' I really do suspect it is that old as I received it from a rather elderly gentleman when he had a clear out about 20 years ago ... it had been his mother's - she died when she was 105 ..... apparently it had been in their house 'forever'...   Anywhere this meandering story is going is there is a lovely fresh scent of washing upstairs, I am looking forward to hanging them back in my now virtually empty wardrobe.

Still on with simplifying my life I worked through a wicker basket filled with cables, ex-mobile phones, chargers, laptop cables, scart wires, headphones and laptop to MP3 players (yes remember those?) and other wires of varies vintages and dotages. The ones I recognised - I dealt with and those I didn't were photographed and sent to Youngest who very quickly replied regarding what could be ditched and which should be saved. Good thing he did - I think I would have thrown out far more than I did!

Now it is that quiet half hour before Himself returns from work, so supper is about to be started (Monday's seem to be the only day I am organised or not too tired), I best check the fruit cake, there is a warm and cakey fragrance drifting into the lounge and it calling to me!

#blogmorevember

Mabon

Today is autumn equinox - Mabon in the old ways - where the heady days of summer officially turn into the more mellow ones of autumn. 

It is a time of rest and celebration after the harvest and look back over the year. A good time to complete projects and clear away anything no longer needed - making space for reflection and peace during winter.

It is also a good time to plant bulbs and make plans and to gently celebrate being outside with walking and by baking using some of nature's wild abundance. So far jams and fruit cakes have been made, picked sloes are in the freezer, awaiting the next free day I have, to be made into sloe and apple jam and grapes (in the greenhouse) waiting to be picked, washed and made into grape jelly (a pale and crisp clear jam - perfect on toast).

Branches of variegated holly, leycesteria formosa - weighed down by berries, cotoneaster, fronds of grasses and ferns have been picked and fill my favourite hawthorn jug.

The neighbouring hens have suddenly produced a flush of autumnal eggs and a tray appeared at our back door - cucumbers, pumpkins, spaghetti squash and tomatoes are on the cusp of being ready - so yes - it is definitely harvest time.

Later, I will make a Mabon cake - a bit like a large scone scored into eight sections and when Himself and I are home later tonight after work, we'll break it open and have it with blackberry jam and look back and look forward.

There is, despite what is going on, good things which have happened and good things still to come. The trick is to notice them, enjoy them and celebrate those precious moments.

Blessings Be xxxxxxxxxxx

Mottaini

I've not picked up a paintbrush or drawn anything seriously since October last year.

That's quite a while ago.


Leading up to the art fair in 2019, my artist-in-crime friend and I drove ourselves hard to be both organisers and participators of the event and right up to the last minute we pushed on, until the Friday of the setup when we, through gritted teeth, agreed 'no more'.

So we closed the event, after three years, we were burnt out.

I still have that inner urge to craft, however I yearned for something different, so I have started sewing. I am more of a 'craft-sewing' than a 'make your clothes' type person. It is not something I do regularly...  Until now....

I am not good at following patterns, it is not that I don't understand them, it's more that I.don't.read.them.and.just.wing.it......... I rely on them to inspire me rather than instruct me - which leads to a singularly bespoke item (interpret this as you will but the gist is - each thing I make can not be replicated - coz I just would not be able to do it!) 

I have even laid down my crochet hook (the last item I made was a hexi-lapghan and even that took longer than it should) in preference to the simple rhythmic dip, pull, slide of sewing simple circular boro inspired stitches purely for the enjoyment of the act and the pleasure of the finished piece.

 

 Originally done as a form of repair, as fabric was expensive and only the rich could afford to replace worn clothing, Japanese boro stitching was part of the recycling of fabric to allow every last scrap to be used and to be useful.

This philosophy centres around the Japanese belief of 'Mottaini' of wasting nothing of the intrinsic value of an object.

I love the simplicity of the circular motion and I love when I overlap the pattern and the stitches cross over and into each other. That to me is where the magic is.

The motion of my hand, the simple repetition of plying the needle and thread, are all good mindful 'clear the head' actions.

Have a good weekend, filled with gentle crafting to feed your soul xxx

Wednesday - at a stretch

A  quiet moment before I start blogging.

A beautiful candle (giving off a wistfully gentle scent) 

and lovely hippy-dippy Zen music filling the room...

 

Not all is as calm and soothing and gentle as it sounds, I have just done ten minutes of Surya Namaskar (Sun Salutations) and ten minutes of stretches and exercises and I am waiting for my heart rate and breathing to become a little more normal! 

All this gardening I am doing for folk has made me stiff as an old boot, so I thought I would crack out the ol' yoga mat and get on with sorting out the creaks (to my shame, I am not as supple as I used to be - so I shall be working on that!).

Later I shall blitz the bedroom which has managed to get ignored in the tidy-up routine a little too long..... then I am off working this afternoon.  The instructions I received by text last night were ..... Can you do two hours and bring saws!! Xx .... Wonder what I will be getting up to this later :D

I shall leave you with some photos from yesterday's walk post volunteering at the village community shop. I shall share more micro-adventures later on in the week, have a lovely and blessed Wednesday.

Five on Friday

To be able to walk out of my home, into the garden.
To be able to walk the dog through countryside from our home.
To be able to listen to the birdsong and watch fledglings learning to fly.
To be able to work in my greenhouse, growing vegetables and salad for the family.
To be able to hug my immediate family and see (at a safe distance) my parents, friends and neighbours.

These are things I am truly grateful for.

Thank you xxx

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The sounds of walking

The chink of the dog's lead, the shuffle of four excited feet and swift swish of a happy tail.

Our boots clump softly on the pavement as we walk down the quiet main street, turning right we step on to the old cobbled tram lines. Our footsteps now scrunch over the gravelled stones.

The kraaawk kraaawk kra-a-a-a-a-a-awkkkkk cackle of one hen and errrrrrrrr  grumbled by another. 

 A melodic whisper of leaves gently tearing the breeze, while we scrunch scrunch scrunch up the cobbles then the metallic clank as I walk over a cast iron manhole cover.

Birds sing, trilling and warbling in the trees above our heads, the brrrrrrrr of their wings as they flit through the branches. 

The dog, grinning from head to tail, her paws swishing as she runs through the grass, 

she stops, sniffs - quick repetitive snuffs as she catches up with her peemails. 

We turn left, into a little sunken lane, our footsteps lighter, protected from the breeze

we can hear distant bleating, bird song and the wind shushing through the hedge.

And the harsher tinkle of chimes in the neighbouring garden.

Looking up the trees, I watch them as they sway and quietly crackle in the light winds, 

their leaves flutter and rustle while clouds pass over in silent drifts.

The click and rumble when I lift the dog gate, followed by the skittering of dog feet as she shoots through. 

A small crocheted heart proclaiming love and community strength.

 Up the steep path, my ragged breath, the scuff of my boots on the foot worn steps, caws and cackles as crows chatter peaceably in the trees. Another heart, another click of the bolt, a squeak of the hinge. 

Clump clump clump of boots as we go up the steep stone steps. 

Through the farm yard, chickens scratching the ground and contentedly ka..ka..ka..kaaaaa-ing.

Turn left, silently walking on grass. The tinkling of the dog's tag against her lead.

A clink of chain, a groan of old metal as I swing the gate open, 

then the groan and clink as it I close it again.

The constant baritone blather of a ewe as she replies to her bleating lamb across the meadow.

And the even deeper rumble of a cow as she grunts to her sleeping calf. 

 The barely discernible snore of a lamb innocently sleeping in the dappled shade.

Again our clump clump clump of boots on tar as we walk up the lane,

the breeze making the milk church sign swing slightly.

Squeak 

squeak 

squeak.

Distant calls of fellow dog walkers in the field ahead,

their words whipped out of their mouths by the strengthening breeze.

A snatched moment - a dog waiting for the off, every muscle straining to be released,

a quiet word, the sudden rush as her claws dig into the dry ground giving her

the explosive start she delights in.

The quiet roar of the wind against my ears and the tick tick tick of my hair flicking against my hood.

The dry crunch as cows tear at the short grass, 

crunch..crunch..crunch - swallow, crunch..crunch .. crunch.

Down the lane, a solitary distant car - now an unaccustomed noise,

unwanted, disturbing the sounds I want to hear.

A haunting trill from a curlew, echoed by another further down the valley. 

The defiant hiss of a broody goose and her attendant gander

The huff of a happy dog, a distant barking, 

bleating and blathering of sheep

and our ever present footfall,

scrunch, crunch, crunch on the stony track.

An odd chemical scent and sheep lanolin fill the air,

sheep and lambs all calling and churning up the dust,

as they are wormed and checked by a red faced lass.

The snort of a watching beef heifer.

 

Scrunch scrunch

Bird song

Swallow's chitter

Curlew's cry

Mallard's rasping chuck chuck

and our boots, scrunch scrunch

The peep peep hiss of vigilant geese

A lapwing's distinctive pewit pewit pewit call

the roar of the wind against my ears

A tinny crow from a small cockerel

breaks my thoughts, 

his cockadooling setting off another cockerel's reply

The harsh sounds of my coat pushing past a millstone grit post as we slip through the final stile.

Clump clump clump, our boots

now on tar,

slap lap slap slap

as Moss fills her dry mouth

enough water to 'wet her woof'.

Another car, another intrusion to my walk,

chittering swallows above my head,

clump clump, we cross the road,

clump clump, nearly home.

Turn into our lane, click open our gate,

take off the dog's collar with a clack.

Turn on the kettle,

listen for the water boil,

the hissss as the water pours into the mug,

make a brew.

aaaaahhh

Another wonderful walk

filled with so much sound, 

which clears my head

and feeds my soul.