pottering along

I'm not the best planner in the world. In fact I rarely plan anything, which in some respects might explain the state of my life so far. But about six months ago I wrote a list of things I would like to do. This might have something to do with the fact that I am approaching a birthday, not a big-y but a middle-y (in many respects a far worse prospect) and suddenly the time to achieve all these things might, well, be (small voice) running out. Some things on my list (like travelling to Iceland or walking 100km of the Camino de Santiago) will have to wait for next year or longer. But some have been achieved. I am now 7 weeks into an 8 week ceramics course and I can now pinch, coil, slab, build and glaze pots with the best of them. Or possibly with just the rest of my class. 

sloe sunday

A proper frosted morning. The dogs and I crunched our way through our morning walk and the air hung still and cold. After breakfast we decided this had to be the perfect day to pick sloes for sloe gin. Tradition has it that you pick them after a good hard frost and we knew up the lane there were plenty - the first time in at least two, maybe three years. A bit of extreme sloe picking was in order. We piled into the Landrover and bumped our way through mud and puddles to the overgrown part of the lane, where the spiny blackthorn waited. And there in bright sunshine we picked the dusted purple fruits until one of our party declared he couldn't feel his toes in his wellies anymore and he'd really rather be at home...

...so home we came to defrost by the fire and weigh out the sugar for the sloe gin to come.

solitude

painting by Anne Davies

Oh dear. It's one of those days. I need to run away and stay in a little green cabin. I need to sit by the fire, read by candlelight and watch snowflakes softly fall. I need the utter peace and quiet of solitude.

See some of Anne Davies work here

quiet time

November skies - grey, cold and with the promise of rain. The leaves are squelching underfoot and the brown-ness of everything can be a little too much. Time for candles and firelight. Toasty warm toes and a winter reading list, music, a glass of wine. Tune out from the world for a bit and re-balance the self. Quiet time is what's needed.