You haven't yet viewed any products on our store. If you've been here before, you may need to sign in.
Summer takes me by surprise. Every day recently I have woken to the suggestion of, or actual, sunshine. It seems such a long time since the northern UK had this long a spell of warm weather. The many light hours are enriching and full of promise with early mornings and late evenings the loveliest.
Walking with Bruce along field margins or quiet back roads is a joy. Less birdsong than there used to be but it's still there and the little hedge-dancing sparrows are the noisiest. Verges are full of all the wild grasses and blooms that I ought to be able to name, the churchyard sways with daisies, poppies spring up to glow for a day or two before shedding their petals. I want to memorise these gentle hours and store them for comfort on rainy dark days.
Preparing for Wednesday windowsill photos on Instagram/Facebook finds me wandering in the garden, studiously ignoring the encroaching ground elder and sticky willy (goosegrass/cleavers) while I gather the prettier weeds with their tiny blooms. So many people have told me they look forward to these posts that I will continue them and occasionally even dust the windowsills too.
Becoming ever more conscious of the fragility of life, I consciously seek out beauty in little things. Maybe it is working from home, spending a lot of hours on my own and sometimes losing my way in my days, that makes me focus on small elements of my surroundings both inside and out in the fresh air.
Something else I am consciously doing is gradually dropping 'stuff' which no longer fills me with pleasure or which uses up more time than it gives back in satisfaction/sales, or just more time than I have to spare. Obviously stitching has a permanent place in my life - I have stitched in one form or another since my teens - and I thoroughly enjoy developing new projects and kits. The act of dyeing yarn is still fun but having taken on a part time role as Fiber Ambassador with Rowan Tree Travel, my working days can be pretty full so my yarns will be bowing out at the end of this year.
Change is good. I wasn't built to stand still, and I am happy to be embracing new challenges, even if my subconscious hasn't yet accepted this is all positive and not a threat to life and limb!