this week

 

There is an autumn touch to the air. The boys ate their first blackberries this morning and the weather has been so inclement that the stove and candles have been lit in the evening on more than one occasion. But there are still blue skied days and breakfasts in the sunshine and walks in meadows. There is also the prospect of August holidays by the sea and the pile of summer reading for those lazy moments when jobs are done. I'm halfway through The Story of Lucy Gault by William Trevor but I have to admit to being distracted - there's The Handmaid's Tale, Anna and the Swallow Man and Ginny Moon waiting for me too... thank goodness the days are still long.

Moon light and morning light

We are slowly stepping into the light and warmth. Yesterday we had lunch outside in the garden. There's a sheltered nook in the front where the wind doesn't quite reach. So there we sat eating a cheese and pesto sandwich and sunning ourselves for a few minutes hoping that this weather would continue. Nothing very big. Nothing very special. Just a sandwich in the sun. The first outdoor lunch at home this year.

inside::outside

 

We are still in winter. I know that February is the beginning of Spring, but in name only I think. There are snowdrops and crocuses out in the garden, and little green spears of tulips and daffodils pushing up from the cold earth but there's also days of frost and other days of fog. Every day though there's a walk, regardless of what the weather's doing. And there's fire. It's one of the best things about winter. The fire is lit first thing in the morning and by the afternoon a second one is humming in the sitting room and then it doesn't matter what's going on outside, for inside we are warm. And we are glad of it.

December days

A month of low light levels and candles, Christmas cake for breakfast and homemade door wreaths. I'm trying hard not to get caught in the bustle of it all. We are busy, yes, but making time too for fireside reading, making cards and gifts, seeing friends and, as we recently acquired a projector and screen, planning for Christmas movie nights with the boys...

friday

Just for you - fresh flowers from the garden and the promise of the weekend to retreat to, to wrap yourself up in and to restore your spirit...go gently.

morning ritual

It's raining. And with the darkened mornings and it being the weekend we've had a slow start to the day. I have a mountain of laundry that would make even Ranulph Fiennes think twice. There's a sleeping teenager upstairs to be negotiated, gently does it. But first coffee, toast and marmalade, candles and the book that's tantalisingly close to being finished. Perhaps if I stay really, really quiet no-one will notice me...

autumn feelings

Autumn means darkening days, finding cosy spaces to curl up with a book, lights on, comforting food (cinnamon buns and porridge with maple syrup, flecked with mixed spice). Grey skies on my morning walk and that sudden sense of bleakness that comes when the leaves fall, although there is the occasional splash of berries to brighten the way. It's cold and windy and I'm thinking about the sloes up the lane. There's a good bounty this year, so that means gin, which bring me back to cosy spaces...

what it means

 

September. One of the most evocative words. It means nightsounds and darkness. Wood stacks and splitting timber. The heavy thud of the axe. It means blackberries, pies and jam. Tea, endless tea. Dark skies and shadowed fields. It means school. And hometime treats of bread and jam, hot chocolate and marshmallows and sitting outside while there's still light.

"friendship," said Christopher Robin, "is a very comforting thing to have"

It's not often you get the feeling you've been adopted. Yet that's exactly what this young robin has chosen to do. He flies to the backdoor every morning, flitting at the glass 'til we open up. A flutter of wings and he's in, perching on the kitchen lights and then hopping to the dresser while a quick kitchen survey lets him know if breakfast is ready. He'll eat from the boys' hands and in return we get soft trills of robin song. In the garden, if we eat outdoors, he finds us quickly and steals from our plates. The dogs do not bother him and he is curious enough to check out any visitors calling to the house. So, a new family member and his name ~ Christopher.

summer scenes

Summer days, drifting past like dandelion seeds on the wind... all those laundry flapping, comic reading, garden growing, rhubarb crumbling, lake swimming, jam making days...

last night

Last night, outside but under cover, 10.15pm, tea and homemade cake, candles, fading light and flitting bats, the gentle pitpat of rain. Happiness.

evening

Late evening light on a lake near a friend's house. Strong early evening light in the garden, on the road and over the hill. These evenings are stretching and unfurling with possibilities, although sometimes we spend them by the fire as the rain falls...