Internet back again!!

Hello everyone hope you all had a good weekend.

Apologies for my absence last week, my internet provider was having problems with the broadband and TV connection and I had sporadic use of both for a few days, very frustrating, but then did catch up with the washing and cleaning!!!  Well here we are, another week, and what can only be described as a bleak Monday weather wise, all grey and half lit, didn't stop me walking to the village shop and enjoying every minute of it, the other plus side is the sun isn't showing up my dirty windows which I cannot clean until the fuchsias move into winter mode and I can get to the windows.  I spent the weekend gardening, walking and making yet more chutney, a batch of beetroot chutney and two jars of pickled sliced beetroot from a lovely bumper crop of beetroot from my brother in law, I think that may be enough chutney for the next year.  Standing over the chutney pan took me back a couple of years to the time when I was bottling jam and chutney as if it was going out of fashion for the Country Market Stall (ex WI) and peeling onions for pickling, good fun and rewarding if a little tiring.  

I have had an ongoing battle with the sewing machine, have threaded it, loaded the bobbin, checked it all works mechanically and apart from a duff light bulb (hardly a problem) seems fine.  However, and here's the but.....  when I use the machine, the thread in the needle does not pick up the bobbin thread. I cannot make out whether it is me, or if the machine is faulty, I have checked as much as I can, but cannot see where the problem actually lies, think this may be a job for the Quilters group on Saturday, someone may see what I am doing wrong.  Still I have plenty more avenues to research, like cheap supplies of remnant materials, and relieving anyone of their unwanted items to turn into quilts, reviewing and building my website enough to keep me occupied for now at least.   

I would like to share another of my favourite poems with you, once again from my school-days, but hauntingly reminiscent of this quiet road on a half lit day.  have a lovely day today wherever in the world you are, I look forward to hearing from you, one person regularly contributes and I enjoy her emails.  Thank you Jo.  Anyway back to the Listeners by Walter De la Mare  speak to to tomorrow internet provider permitting.

Listeners

Walter De la Mare

'IS there anybody there?' said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest's ferny floor.
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller's head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
'Is there anybody there?' he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller's call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
'Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:—
'Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,' he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,

Advent Calendar

Hello everyone a wonderful Wednesday to one and all.

I am looking out of my dining room window at the swirling mist coming in from the sea, an ethereal mist that speaks of late summer and early autumn, with the sun glimpsing through in small shards here and there, absolutely beautiful and magical.  The cobwebs are sparkling in the misty sun with beads of moisture looking like glittering necklaces, isn't nature wonderful. Having just picked a load of tomato's and made some wonderful tomato sauce for pasta, chicken and vegetables, whatever will go with an unctuous tomato sauce, I am in danger of freezer overload, especially as I have another load of windfalls ready to prepare for fruit pies etc and more chutney.  I am also going to dry out my hard herbs today for herb oils and storage for the winter.  This is stockpiling from natures larder at it's best.

I am about to finish my latest knitting project (cardigan) and embark on the next, an advent calendar, photo's tomorrow, the pattern looks difficult but needs must as they say, and I hope to do two.  Ambitious thoughts get you where you need to be I understand.  

My new sewing machine has been tested, for mains and operation only, not road tested on material yet, that is later today, I was very lucky to be given this as it seems to do a multitude of stitches and has a free arm for small pieces of work, what surprises me most is that when trying to find instructions on line and studying the somewhat battered box it came in, I discovered that this machine was imported for a short line by Lidl and only cost £40.00 new. I have heard from a friend of my daughters that this machine is indeed very good and reliable.  Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth I would have accepted any offer to help me on my way, and this appears to be better that I could have expected.  So back to the sewing table and stove top.

To Autumn             John Keats (1795-1821) SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,	5
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,	10
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;	15
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;	20
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,	25
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;	30
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. Once again, thank you for reading and may your day be wonderful wherever in the world you are.

Back Home

Hello everyone,

I hope you all had as good a weekend as we did, we saw our daughter, son-in-law and met our new granddaughter, a delight and pleasure to behold, one very proud grandmother here. But don't worry I will not be boring you all with details of family life and baby pictures, that is not what my blog is about, it is about renewal of life and picking up the threads of where we left off.

On Friday evening I was given a sewing machine to help me pursue my love of quilting, and materials and wools have been promised.  I am going to be building an information website for all aspiring and returning knitter's, quilter's and embroiderer's, sharing methods and patterns, along with a sprinkling of poetry and a few seasonal recipes.  Something I am very much looking forward to, and I  hope you will be too.  Watch this space for more news as it unfolds.

As summer unfolds into autumn I found this poem and although it is still September, I liked it so much I wanted to share it and couldn't wait until October.  Driving home yesterday through the countryside of ploughed fields and autumnal hues this seemed so apt.

At Needlehole (Alison Brackenbury 1953-)

How lovely the land lies in October, Still as the moon. The new wheat is planted. The drivers are gone To pile up their wood Or be soothed by a screen.   The felled tree is sawn, The robin’s cross cry Now liquid and long, Uncannily high. The cold finds my fingers. The moon fills the sky. Enjoy your day, wherever in the world you are.  Speak to you again tomorrow.

In other words TGIF

Hello everyone and happy Friday.

I mean this in the nicest way possible, as being Friday means we get to spend the weekend with our Granddaughter, something I am very much looking forward to.  I have a pile of goodies to take down and I really cannot wait, so there it is, thank god it's Friday, roll on Saturday.  

I appealed, online, for a sewing machine and was lucky to receive a reply within half an hour, offering me an electric machine, which doesn't work, how difficult can it be to mend a sewing machine, surely not very, and I am sure my other half will do what he can, I will let you all know.  I am really looking forward to getting into the sewing for the quilts, having cut out so many squares and formulated a design, probably fluid for now till I learn more about it, I feel like a sponge mopping up all the information I can get.  I am also in the throe's for designing a knitting/quilting website which will have details for beginners descriptions and methods, and basic patterns, which will also display my work as it grows, very excited about that.  All in all am feeling good about my direction at the moment, and all this sparked by a beautiful little girl.

And I made a batch of apple chutney the other day from the windfalls, such a simple recipe using store cupboard ingredients and saved jam jars as they became empty.  I knew my minimal hoarding may come in handy, glad they didn't go to in the recycling bag.

And finally today's poem is taken from another of my favourite author/poet's Laurie Lee, loved since I read Cider with Rosie for O'Level, a favourite line from that book, that seems to suit a number of people so well "They thrived on their mutual animosity" about a couple of women who lived their lives bickering and when on died unexpectedly the other swiftly followed, her lust for life lost with her friend.  An abosolutely lovely book, read and re-read many times.  

Apples (Laurie Lee 1914-1997)

Behold the apples’ rounded worlds:

juice-green of July rain,

the black polestar of flowers, the rind

mapped with its crimson stain.

The russet, crab and cottage red

burn to the sun’s hot brass,

then drop like sweat from every branch

and bubble in the grass.

They lie as wanton as they fall,

and where they fall and break,

the stallion clamps his crunching jaws,

the starling stabs his beak.

In each plump gourd the cidery bite

of boys’ teeth tears the skin;

the waltzing wasp consumes his share,

the bent worm enters in.

I, with as easy hunger, take

entire my season’s dole;

welcome the ripe, the sweet, the sour,

the hollow and the whole. 

Enjoy your day and weekend wherever in this world you are and I will be back on Monday.

Birthday time again

Every year they turn up regular as clockwork, my husband, son and son in law all have birthdays within a couple of days of each other and my daughter's follows in a couple of weeks, so it's been a busy few days, so apologies for my lack of blog's over the last few days, I will make up for it next week, when hopefully we return to normal.  Yesterday I had a brainwave, my son bought me a bird-table for mothers day last year which I have had in the back garden, only to be seen when I am at the kitchen sink or in the garden itself, not the best site in the world!  I have now moved it so it has pride of place in the front garden where I can see it whilst I work, why didn't I think of that before.  I have now finished my granddaughters blanket, cardigan and hat, new cardigan started, photo's below, and the design for my quilt is coming on, I am in steadfastly searching for materials and wool to help me carry on the knitting and quilting, the hunt for local charity shops has started, and my family are busy finding old materials for me.  Any donations gratefully accepted.   I am looking forward to brightening up my autumn and winter days with a burst of colour in the house, and lots of sewing to keep me happy and busy.  Today an unusual sight here, a single Jay, beautifully flashing it's colours as it fly's, we have plenty of other birds but a Jay I haven't seen here at all before.

Button detail

Cardigan and hat

Blanket

Blanket detail

 So given my preoccupation today with colours and beauty of them I thought of this poem by Dorothea Mackellar and Australian poet and author, born in 1885.  Beautifully written I hope you agree.

The Colours Of Light (Dorothea Mackellar)

This is not easy to understand

For you that come from a distant land

Where all thecolours are low in pitch -

Deep purples, emeralds deep and rich,

Where autumn's flaming and summer's green -

Here is a beauty you have not seen.

All is pitched in a higher key,

Lilac, topaz, and ivory,

Palest jade-green and pale clear blue

Like aquamarines that the sun shines through,

Golds and silvers, we have at will -

Silver and gold on each plain and hill,

Silver-green of the myall leaves,

Tawny gold of the garnered sheaves,

Silver rivers that silent slide,

Golden sands by the water-side,

Golden wattle, and golden broom,

Silver stars of the rosewood bloom;

Amber sunshine, and smoke-blue shade:

Opal colours that glow and fade;

On the gold of the upland grass

Blue cloud-shadows that swiftly pass;

Wood-smoke blown in an azure mist;

Hills of tenuous amethyst. . .

Oft the colours are pitched so high

The deepest note is the cobalt sky;

We have to wait till the sunset comes

For shades that feel like the beat of drums -

Or like organ notes in their rise and fall -

Purple and orange and cardinal,

Or the peacock-green that turns soft and slow

To peacock-blue as the great stars show . . .

Sugar-gum boles flushed to peach-blow pink;

Blue-gums, tall at the clearing's brink;

Ivory pillars, their smooth fine slope

Dappled with delicate heliotrope;

Grey of the twisted mulga-roots;

Golden-bronze of the budding shoots;

Tints of the lichens that cling and spread,

Nile-green, primrose, and palest red . . .

Sheen of the bronze-wing; blue of the crane;

Fawn and pearl of the lyrebird's train;

Cream of the plover; grey of the dove -

These are the hues of the land I love.

With that I leave you for today  to enjoy your day wherever in the world you are and will speak to you again tomorrow.  Thanks for reading.

Foxes and squirrels

Hi everybody, hope this finds you all well.

What a lovely weekend, woke up early on Saturday morning and running up the road with an air of determination was a sleek fox, nearly all ginger, unlike our other resident fox that is browner and patchier in colour.  He/she was eagerly running up the middle of the road, and then returned with a small bundle in it's mouth neatly wrapped in paper, looked just like it had come from the butchers/ fish and chip shop! We used to see a lot of foxes when we lived in rural Devon, and although a beautiful sight, though not always welcome especially when you have a lot of egg laying hens, and get used to clearing up after a fox.  I did not expect to see as many in welsh city living despite hearing about urban foxes, I often get up early and look to see if they are playing in the garden or running up the road, not such a threat now we have no hens.  I was reminded of a lesser known poem by A A Milne to share with you below.  Another sight to gladden the heart was the leftovers from the squirrels at the foot of one of our Austrian pines, a neat heap of spent horse-chestnut shells from next door's tree, now I know what they have been diligently burying all over the garden, we are nothing but a wildlife pantry here, and I love it.  If we as a nation/world think we have ownership of the land we have built our homes upon, then I think we need to reconsider, it seems we are merely stewards for the wildlife and their well-being.  Not a philosophy, just an observation. 

We also went to Llanelli for a walk along the coast path, below is a picture taken from the start of our walk, both of us feeling very privileged to have lived and walked on some of the countries most beautiful coastline in Devon, Cornwall and Wales.

The Three Foxes (Alan Alexander Milne)

Once upon a time there were three little foxes

Who didn’t wear stockings, and they didn’t wear sockses,

But they all had handkerchiefs to blow their noses,

And they kept their handkerchiefs in cardboard boxes.

And they lived in forest in three little houses,

And they didn’t wear coats, and they didn’t wear trousies.

They ran through the woods on their little bare tootsies,

And they played “Touch Last” with a family of mouses.

They didn’t go shopping in the High Street shopses,

But caught what they wanted in the woods and copses.

They all went fishing, and they caught three wormses,

They went out hunting, and they caught three wopses.

They wen to a Fair, and they all won prizes —

Tree plum-puddingses and three mince-pieses.

They rode on elephants and swang on swingses,

And hit three coco-nuts at coco-nut shieses.

That’s all I know of three little foxes

Who kept their handkerchiefs in three little boxes.

They lived in the forest in three little houses,

But they didn’t wear coats and they didn’t wear trousies,

And they didn’t wear stockings and they didn’t wear sockses. 

Bye for now and enjoy your day wherever in this wonderful world you are.  Speak to you again soon.

Butterflies

Hello all,

All is well here, much needed rain has arrived, albeit sparsely, but everything is looking fresher and colourful and the butterflies are flitting around enjoying the sweet nectar of the water on flowers.  Have had a lazy couple of day's although I have finished the main part of my granddaughters blanket, just the edges to go, and the wool has finally arrived so I can finish the cardigan, I will walk to the wool-shop and collect that later.  Burning question today is whether to knit a Christmas stocking for her, or sew one?  It always strikes me that packages stick out more in a knitted stocking that a sewn one, which to do that is the question, I shall be pouring over the patterns later on to try and come to a decision.  I am also on the search for some nativity figures for the Christmas Crib, my husband has been tasked with making.  He made one for our daughter's first Christmas, and it has been the source of delight over the years, mostly because I had to find the figures as they mysteriously removed themselves and hid in various places around our home, all part of the tradition of Christmas I am told, and there has to be a new one for the new baby.  I know it is only September, but if I am going to make these items I need to be thinking about them now.  I am also planning on giving my son and daughter a chocolate advent calendar this year, they missed out in the last couple of years, only these are going to be knitted, not the chocolates of course, but the calendar will be.  Somehow I think this may keep me tied up for some time, especially as I only knit in the evenings!!  Thank and the Christmas cake and puddings need to be made by the end of September if they are going to be rich enough for Christmas.  Right enough of the c word, and planning.  We are planning to take a trip along the Gower coast tomorrow, picnic and camera in hand, I hope I will have some nice photo's to share. 

To a Butterfly

William Worsworth

I've watched you know a full half hour'

self poised upon that yellow flower;

And, little Butterfly, 

indeed I know not if you sleep or feed

How motionless, not frozen seas

more mothionless, and then

what joy awaits you, when the breeze

hath found you out among the trees

and calls you forth again

This plot of orchard ground i sour;

My trees they are our sisters flowers.

Here rest your wings when they are weary;

here lodge as in a sanctuary.

Come often to us, fear no wrong;

sit near us on the bough.

We'll talk of sunshine and song,

and summer days when we were young;

Sweet childish days, that were as long

as twenty days are now

Enjoy today and I will speak to you again soon.

Clouds

Hi,

Wednesday dawns bright and early and after a lovely family get together last night for dinner, I am feeling on top of the world, ready to deal with whatever comes in my path today.  Dinner talk was all about what we had achieved in the last few weeks and what we are going to be doing in the next few weeks, and of course talk of our new granddaughter dominated.  There was a particularly lovely sunset, some clouds all red and beautifully back lit by the setting sun, followed this morning by more clouds painting pictures in the sky.  I still look at clouds to see what picture I can make out of them, either scurrying across the blue sky, or languidly lying there, like fluffy little sheep, otherwise we have the foreboding moody clouds, threatening to water the ground, much needed at the moment.  All wonderful and expressive.  How I am going to pull these into my sewing I really haven't worked out, but try I will.  Today's task is to conquer the rotary cutter and cutting of logs for my log cabin bag, I may manage a picture or two tomorrow, and carry on with the blanket, offering, inspired by the clouds and by a much loved song by Judy Collins.  Have a lovely day wherever and whatever you are doing and speak to you tomorrow.

JUDY COLLINS
"Both Sides Now"

(Clannad & Paul Young)

Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air

And feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun they rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It's cloud's illusions I recall
I really don't know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and ferris wheels the dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real, I've looked at love that way
But now it's just another show, you leave 'em laughin when you go
And if you care don't let them know, don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall
I really don't know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud, to say, "I love you" right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I've looked at life that way
But now old friends are acting strange they shake their heads, they say
I've changed
But something's lost but something's gained in living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

Hi,

As the sun shines on the houses and landscape I am acutely aware of the sudden fall of leaves from the trees, striding through the leaves as I walked to the post office yesterday, leaves that weren't there on Sunday.  I remember the lovely golds, oranges and browns swirling in the air before settling once more on the ground, only to be launched again by children's feet.  added to which there is a horse chestnut tree in my next door garden, laden with conkers, memories stir of collecting unbroken shells and opening them to reveal the lovely shiny chestnut within.  I just love all the variety that every season brings.

I am getting close to finishing my granddaughters blanket, and the next knitting project is on the back burner ready to go, I have decided which quilting project I am going to start with, a bag to contain all that I need for quilting, a bit like a baby changing bag, but for needlework, I shall crib from my daughters new changing bag.

 Swans on the river Wye on Sunday

Ducklings in our local park

We went to Ross on Wyse for the afternoon on Sunday and as we walked beside the River Wye, the sun glistened on the water, the swans were gliding serenly on the river and the crops had been collected from the field leaving only the stubble waiting to be turned back into the soil and so starts another cycle of growth, I was reminded of a poem Summer Farm by Norman MacCraig, which seems to amply convey the late summer feel.

Summer Farm

Straws like tame lightnings lie about the grass

and hang zigzag on hedges.  Green as glass

The water in the horse trough shines.

Nine ducks go wobbling by in two straight lines.

A hen stares at nothing with one eye,

Then picks it up.  out of an empty sky

a swallow falls and flickering through

the barn, dives up again into the dizzy blue.

I lie not thinking, in the cool, soft grass

afrais of where a thought might take me - as

the grasshopper with the plated face

Unfolds his legs and finds himself in space

Self under self, a pile of selves I stand 

threaded on time, and with metaphisic hand 

lift the farm like a lid and see

farm within form and in the centre, me.

I feel privileged to live in such a lovely and diverse world, and hope you don't mind me sharing this with you.  Enjoy your part of the world wherever you are and speak to you tomorrow.

Cargoes

Hi, well a busy but also relaxing weekend for me.  I woke on Saturday to be greeted by a lovely sight,the early sunrise filtering through a very fine rain, it looked like a curtain of fairy lights twinkling, absolutely beautiful, and by the time I found my camera, the rain had stopped.

I went to the Quilters Guild and had a wonderful few hours, such inspirational work and interesting people, not at all what I was expecting, traditional quilting was present, but artistic quilting was abundant.  One lady had painted calico in blocks of colour, this was topped by more locks of coloured very fine silk so that the two colours blended, but also overlapping to give even more colour, and then quilted with a rainbow coloured embroiders silk, the effect was stunning, she had also brought in an embroidered piece, which was a log made from  an embroidered stuffed tube in the colours of a log, covered with embroidered fungi, again absolutely stunning.  I learned a little about log cabins, a term I had heard of but was quite ignorant about and am now about the start a simple one myself.  Basically the block starts with a double size square in the centre, this being the log fire and traditionally was in a warm orange red colour, and then the single pieces start radiating out in a square spiral if that makes sense and these are the logs and get longer as the block grows.  There were at least two people doing that, and lots more besides.  To be fair, I was so entranced and interested in everyone else, I did little, but observed a lot, and was also given help on the design of my first log cabin pattern! I can't wait to go again, but that will have to wait, as I cannot go now until October as I shall be going to see my Granddaughter for the first time when the next one is held, one very proud grandmother here.

Inspired by the morning rain and the beautiful work I saw, I would like to share the first few lines of Cargoes by John Masefield a poem I first learnt in school and have loved ever since.

Quinquireme of Ninveh from distant Ophir

rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,

with a cargo of Ivory, 

and apes and peacocks,

sandalwood, cedarwood and sweet white wine

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,

dipping through the tropics by the palm tree shores,

with a cargo of diamonds,

emeralds and amethysts,

topazes cinnamons and gold moidores.

Dirty British coaster with a salt caked smoke stack

butting through the channel in the mid-March days,

with a cargo of Tyne coal

road rail and pig lead

Firewood, iron-ware and cheap tin trays.

Sorry couldn't resist, so had to put in the whole poem as the colours and the beauty wherever you are is wonderful, and this really conveys such beauty and colour, if and when I reach a stage of my quilting or embroidery this is one poem I would like to depict.  You may have to  wait many years to see that happen! 

Speak to you tomorrow.  Have a lovely day and enjoy what life brings to you.

Awoke this morning to feel the gentle caresses of late summer as I stepped into the garden, birds feeding on the hedgerows and squirrel's filling their pantry's with whatever they can.  The garden is alive and stocking up for the winter, which indicates I should be too, jam and chutney making with the abundance of apples and tomatoes and blackberries, reminding me of Seamus Heaney's poem Blackberry Picking, sadly he passed away last week.  Here are few lines, send me a comment if you would like the full poem.

Late August, given heavy rain and sun

For a full week the blackberries would ripen

At first, just one, a glossy purple clot

Among other, red, green, hard as a knot.

You ate the first one and it's flesh was sweet,

Like thickened wine, summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
picking.  The the red ones inked up and that hunger
sent us out with milk-cans, peas-tins, jam-pots
where briar's scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.

A wonderful picture of late summer, although we haven't had much rain, and I am truly tankful for the lovely summer we have had.

Back to the quilting later today, several shirts demolished and material waiting to be cut into fat quarters, the dining room floor was covered in little threads last night making a lovely pattern on the floor, but the vacuum spoilt their fun.

Have a lovely day wherever in this world you are.  Speak to you again tomorrow.

Material and button tin

Woke up to a bright and beautiful morning, birds singing in the trees a day to gladden the heart.  Last evening as I was cooking dinner our cat was sitting outside the back door watching a multitude of birds feeding on the berries in the hedgerow and two squirrels gambolling at the bottom of the garden, a serene and idyllic moment, cat happy watching the scene unfold.  Suddenly there was a ball of fur rushing past me as if on fire, one of the squirrels had had the audacity to venture a mere couple of metres up the garden, where was the cat?  Behind the settee!  It was so funny I just wanted to share it with you.  

My dining room has at present 4 heaps, bag of clothes for recycling (not suitable for quilting), clothes ready to prepare for cutting (buttons to remove etc), clothes with buttons removed and prepared material ready to quilt with.  In fairness the list is listed in six of each pile, largest to smallest.  All I need now is a sewing machine.   And a burgeoning button tin, this is another legacy from my Mum, we always had a button tin when I was young, it used to come out regularly whether to sort, play or count, use as money for shops, but always there.  When I got married I started a button tin, which again my children used to love (once they were old enough to know not to put them in their mouths!!) In turn my daughter has a button tin as does one of her friends who had never heard of this and had to have one for her and her kids.  The legacy lives on. 

Having mentioned a serene evening and lovely morning I couldn't help but be reminded a favourite poem by Wilfred Henry Davies (1871-1949).

Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night,

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

and watch her feet how they can dance.

Not time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life that is, if full of car,

We have no time to stand and stare.

Have a wonderful day and take time to stand and stare.

Hi,

This is a momentous day for me, I have learned a lot in the past couple of weeks and now I have started my own blog.  After a period of dark and gloom I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and this time is is not a train bearing down on us.  Through the devotion of my family, in particular my son and daughter, I am picking up the threads of my life once more.  I have started knitting, for my soon to be granddaughter and will soon attend my first quilting course, and now a blog, so many firsts.  The reason for my blog, is not to spiral into sadness and blackness, but revel in life and what it has to offer, to show how I can grow and hopefully others will blossom and grow too, to offer snippets of newly learnt advice as I get it and to show how to live within a budget, however meagre it may be.  My thanks also to www.frugalqueen.co.uk for her encouragement through her blog.

My first cardigan and hat is done, and my cot blanket is well on it's way, photo's later, need to master the blog first, fat quarters ready to cut and my new lease on life begins. This blog is dedicated to my dearest Mum Elizabeth, who wrote in my autograph book when I was 9 the words of Charles Kingsley:

Be good sweet maid

and let who will be clever,

do noble things,

not dream them all day long.

And so, make life, death and that vast forever,

One Grand Sweet Song.

Thank you for reading this and I hope you will come back.