Of being a scatterling and feeding the soul

To be able to step out of the parked car into sunshine and to feel a lightly warmed breeze on my face was sublime.

There is a definite turn of the seasons, the fading of winter's grip and an awakening of spring.

 We left the car and stepped out of the gauzy sunlight into dappled shade following a yew lined mossy pathway. The track undulated gently alongside Arnside Knott in Silverdale, leading us away from the road and slightly upward revealing a silvery blue and green panorama.

 This is why we were here. The draw of that exquisite juncture where earth, sea and sky meet and vanish in a sunlit shimmer. It does something to me - it makes my heart pound and soar and I have to fill my eyes and head with the vision of it. Devouring everything.

Despite being surrounded by the sea, where we live - it is not that easy to 'pop down to the coast'. I originate from a landlocked country before landing on a northern island nation and I yearn for that thin clear blue light that only the sea air can give. Where my eyes can see forever and yet not see the end.

The track led us back away from the vista and into still winter sleepy trees. In the pools of light small evidence of  emerging spring flowers that I have been so starved of for what feels like an age.

 The dog acted as my heart felt - absolute joy of being out and breathing slightly damp woodland air tinged with salt. Her paws flew along as she ran and jumped and played with such visual happiness. Just having her around raises the spirits -she radiates delight in her surroundings and shows no mercy to mud or puddles or sticks or balls - they are all for the playing with and having fun.

The darkness of the woodland ended gently as we entered a rambling camping site, a jumble of static caravans tucked in between trees and summerhouses. A quiet murmur of holidaying folk could just be heard as they pottered about their personal boltholes.

Our path threaded through the site and led us past a colourful and noisy playpark filled with small children completely enthralled in their games while parents and grandparents sat by the cafe nursing hot mugs of tea or coffee. Most of them engrossed in a newspaper or some form of electronic device. The light and views and the gleefully playing children passing them by.

Leaving the noisy crowd reminded me of something I read about Seamus Heaney who advocated that we should move from HERD (easily manipulated masses) to HEARD (the discerning ear that keeps you alive to anaesthetic, trance states and seduction). It was a relief to step off that path on to a pebble strewn shelf towards the receding tide. To be able to leave the disarray of parked cars, disinterested parents and shrieking children in the distance was bliss.

As was hearing the gentle repetitive hush and shush of the sea on the stones. We happily stumbled around the headland, laughing as Moss propelled herself at high speed into the small lapping waves creating a dash of white water as she went along.

The chink and stumble of the pebbly beach changed to brackish streams, marsh grasses and mud banks. All the while the flash of the twinkling sea water filled my eyes and my heart. As I write, I can smell the salty air and see the sunglint on each small wave.

Our feet continued to follow the narrow corridor as it rose above the sea and wound beneath wind bent trees. On a gentle day such as today it belied the anger and strength of the on shore winds. This stretch felt as walking alongside the flank of a sleeping animal.

My feet by now were tired and heavy, the others however were still striding forward happily in their element and I was falling behind. Before, I would have felt agitated at my inability to no longer keep up as I used to. I would have angry tears and angry words in my head - raging at them and raging at me. Then I came to the realisation that this anger and disappointment aimed at my failing knee was more harm than help. So I told myself that I can only do and go as far and as fast as I am able and to allow them to range on ahead. 

This acceptance of my limitations actually freed me - I now enjoy my walking more. I feel more, I see more, I no longer miss out. Then, when one of the boys notices I have fallen back, they stop and wait. For when you wait - you see what you would have otherwise missed.

I am a scatterling - not a nomad but not held by one place - walking feeds that need, walking feeds my soul.

What feeds yours?

I walk. I stop. I see. I knit.

 

It has been a while,

since my knitting has come walking

with us.

A quick stitch here and 

and quick stitch there.

Too cold

to knit for long,

but long enough

to allow

the walk to weave in and out of the stitches,

moss and grass to collect on the knit,

the early spring air to fill the spaces.

I think both both my knitting

and I 

feel better

(although I am knackered!)

for being out

and about

on the hills.

Thank you everyone for joining in with March's Scavenger Hunt -

once again I was blown away by

your photos and stories - I love reading each and every one of them.

I will 'release' the next set of words soon!

xxxx

Edited to add : new list now 'released' and frolicking happily at the top right corner of my blog

March 18 Scavenger photo hunt link up party

Welcome to the 3rd Scavenger Photo-hunt of 2018 -

I am looking forward to seeing 

all your photos and reading your stories

Let the fun begin xx

If you have joined in with my

Scavenger hunt, please link

with me on your blog :)

Please add your name to the

link up tool below,

just follow the easy instructions,

don't worry - if I can do it so can you!

Please just add your Name or Blog Name in the 'Link Title',

Now, let the Link-up Party begin!

Don't forget to leave a comment when you visit :)

=

**

**
Late entry for the link up - Tigermouse - https://mousehouselife.wordpress.com/2018/03/30/scavenger-photo-hunt-march/

March's Madness - words and photos

Hole

I am a magpie, a collector of 'things' and of 'stuff' and 'magic' and of 'junk'

All of it treasure.

This knotty swirl of pine was found in a local stream and carefully brought home.

The pebble is from a windswept Scottish island beach

they were made for each other.

Making

Betty Ferrie's Sweet Shetland Oatcakes and Irish Soda bread

Reading Now

The Weir by Conor McPherson - it made my heart surge with sadness 

and 60 north -  which makes my heart skip a happy beat when it arrives through the letterbox :)

Black and white

Although not truly black and white - the shot of yellow gives it away.

It had been a most beautifully harsh and cruel week for the birds.

They trudged and hopped through deep snow as they looked for food and water.

This blackbird was waiting his turn at the water trough,

as the snow kept falling.

Starts with an ... H

I'd mused over this one, not sure what would fill this space, 

until I caught myself staring at my latest felted hare ... 

next to my 'HOME' wooden blocks.

With a small pink Heart on an ear ...

My own choice

This photo was almost going to be the 'Black and White' choice 

however, I felt I would lose Moss' intense stare if I changed her from colour into B&W, 

so here, for your pleasure - 

Moss doing her best to fill the brief and making me laugh at the same time! 

And if you wondered why she has a harlequin face... well, 

she was charging after her ball with such intense concentration 

that she failed to notice a huge muddy puddle. 

SPLAT!

So, these are my words and photos for March :) Hope you enjoyed them, I am off now to see what you lovely lot have got up to xx

March Hare Madness

Whilst tidying today, 

I came across

a bag filled with snipperty bits of felt

and fabrics

I could feel a welling up of making-itis

and reached for a piece of paper,

scissors, pen and threads.

Snipping snipping,

soon two little hares

appeared,

one gold coated and his chocolaty shadow.

Tiny blanket stitches,

tiny bits of floofy stuffing ...

soon my hare

looked a little less flat.

Little Hare had to choose his tail...

would it be a greeny grey one with spotty dots?

Would it be a pale yellow one with a little heart?

Or would a shade of blue look better with his coat of gold?

Whilst deciding the perfect tail,

who should I spot but two little fellows

made many years ago

by a very much younger

and smaller son.

I'd forgotten I'd stashed these precious little folk in my button box,

now - at least ten years later,

I am making my own little felty creature.

It made my heart squeeze with both love and nostalgia.

Meanwhile, Little Hare continued researching

the perfect tail

and decided on the one he wanted.

With tail firmly added,

Little Hare met his 'cousins'

and wondered if they would like to become broaches too. 

Then he hopped up on to my jersey,

settled down

and kept me company for the rest of the day. 

I might be looking for more snipperty bits of felt

to be inspired by.

I feel another bout of making-itis coming on.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

looking for colour

It is such a dull day, 

the light is grey and thin.

Uninspiring.

Having to resort to creating my own inner sunshine.

I've done all that I have to do for the Easter Art Market tomorrow

and I have a meeting to go to shortly,

so just enough time to ...

Create what I am craving ... 

A bit of colour, 

while I wait for spring to catch up 

and fill the garden and the countryside

with colours of her own. 

 I'll wear these tomorrow,

with layers of socks and thermals

(plus MANY other such warm and cozy items)

Til the next time I pop in dear fellow colour seekers,

have a lovely weekend

and see colour 

EVERYWHERE !

Bitter winds blow

Today we awoke to a blanket of snow

and not to a particularly warm blanket

accompanied with a bitter wind.

Drifts up to our knees in parts of the garden.

Somehow

having a coat of powdery white

makes the mundane

see extraordinarily beautiful

Seed heads 

become otherworldly.

Other garden paraphenalia

become coated

appear hawkish

feel raw

overcome.

I knew this second icy blast was on her way

but still...

she is bitter,

sending a chilling howl around the house

and down the chimney.

In defiance - we went out

and despite floundering in the hip-height drifts

and feeling the icy-bite to our cheeks,

we have returned

feeling rejuvenated,

buoyant

and ready for a mug of tea and Shetland oat biscuits.

Welcome to my new followers - thank you for visiting my part of the blogisphere, it good to see you here. 

I have had a couple of emails asking me if I am ok as I don't seem to blog as regularly or as much as before, thank you for your kind concerns, I do feel to be busy at the moment but must let you know that I am also active elsewhere on the tintersphere.

I can be found here kjsutcliffe artist (which is my FB art page) and TAM - trawden artist makers, a community art page I do. 

My own page is for my art and studio plus updates and photos from the markets and fayres I attend and the TAM page is about a collaborative of artists and what we get up to - I would love to see you over there :)  I also have an art blog,  but like this one it has been a little neglected, something I will rectify once I have caught up with all the arty things I have to complete before the next art market I am participating in.

Sunday Sunday - so good to me

Sunday - you were great to spend time with.

You wore a lingering scent of spring.

The streams were full and burbling 

sounding like laughter

You were wearing your loveliest smile,

sharing your happiness with us. 

 Sunday, I really loved spending time with you :)

Sunday - you showed me that

 I must always find time for things 

that make me feel happy to be alive

thank you x

First day of spring ...

S'funny really.

This weather lark.

A few days ago it seemed that spring was quietly tip-tip-toeing in. Subtle hints of buds and birds evermore present. Seemingly dormant twigs tentatively presenting shoots and tiny leaves. There was an optimistic effervescence in the air.

Then.

This happened. 

A swirling mass of bitterly cold winds carrying snow and ice 

coating everything in a thick layer of white. 

Reminding us that winter has not yet left and she is definitely having the last hurrah.

Decided I will quietly hibernate rather than paint. 

Drink tea, listen to the wind singing around the house and down the chimney. 

Plan some sketches on new slates, book more art fayres and dream of spring.

And you?

How are you dealing with this natural but stark reminder 

that the weather is not to be underestimated?

If you are sharing these icy conditions - take care,

stay safe, keep warm.

xxxxxxx

Edited to add: went back to the painting - except I stayed indoors rather than go to the studio - the paints were calling rather loudly!