Hermitage Rima's most magical place, wherin she portrayeth myth, legend, fairy-tale, story in her inimicable, intriguing illustrations - laced through with her own mysterious life story.
Most of you who have read Autumn Cottage Diarist for a few years will know that the cottage is some three hundred years old. This brings the great pleasures of living in a character home - but it also has its downside..old house equates with old window styles, and although the window in the photograph is a 1960's addition, because we are a historic 'listed' building we are required to make sure that all additions are 'in keeping' with the original house.
Though this window has an aluminium metal frame, (not much of that around in the 1700's!), the person who installed it did follow tradition in keeping to 'leaded lights' - small window panes linked and held together by lead 'cames' - strips with channels on both sides to hold the glass, similar to the much older windows we have at the front of the house.
The result of all this is that indoors can be particularly dark in most of the house - which is why the wall colour most of the way through is a buttery creamy yellow, and the new curtains are of a gauzy, transparent texture. I think they work well, though the fabric - a very open, almost net-like linen, was the very devil to work with.
The next curtains to be finished will be the much-nicer-to-sew glazed cotton for my sitting/TV room (see my last 'Snip, Snip' post) ...though since the garden is yelling for attention particularly loudly at the moment, goodness knows when they will be finished. They sit - and wait - and look pretty doing so - but there is a certain amount of reproach in their presence.
Have you got anything waiting to be finished that sits and reproaches you from the sidelines - and - the garden is my (feeble) excuse...what's yours ?? :-))
It started for me when I was five...when I took apart the drapes on the doll cot that my grandmother had laboriously made for me for Christmas. I was severely reprimanded and told how 'destructive' I was (the first of the litany of reprimands with which my childhood was littered) - when my intention was only to see how it had been constructed.
I have always been entranced by fabrics - textiles of any sort - woven, embroidered, printed, felted...stitched into garments or soft-furnishings, decorated, embellished, and then used for more of the same, making my (or others') interior environment just that little bit more beautiful, enticing, welcoming. (Is there some genetic memory passed down from my ancestor - a merchant in the textile-trading part of London in the 1770's? I like to imagine there is....)
But for easily the last ten years, my sewing machine and embroidery threads have been tucked away, as I have engaged in and been distracted by other ups and downs in life, and more cerebral activities have taken the place of the work of head, heart and hands combined.
Pressing in between stitching...much more patience to do this these days - one of the benefits of being older?
Until last week, when I needed to amend the length of a pair of curtains, just to add the finishing touches to the interior painting and decorating done by my son. Out came the (possibly rusty) sewing machine, threaded up (with the aid of a little bit of black paper so I can see the hole in the needle these days!!) And tested...in with the fabric, down on the foot pedal and wheeee.....away we went, and back came rushing all the joys of creativity with fabric and thread that I had forgotten I loved so much.
Yes - the old machine does need a bit of oil, and my technique needs brushing up - but it is not being packed away again...but installed in the sunroom, I think in pride of place (everyone else probably thinks 'in the way!' :-)) - and all the stitching (and mending!) that has been ignored and neglected for the last decade is being brought out and enjoyed once more - alongside that ignored part of myself that - I now realise - also needs to come out to play. I write and I think and I discuss, yes - and I RELISH those activities...but I also garden, and cook, and stitch, and paint. ALL components are necessary for me to fully live - as I believe they are for us all.
What do YOU need to live your fullest life? Is there any languishing creative pleasure back in the recesses of your own memory that could be brought out again to play?
The next project already waiting - curtains for the little sitting room
Fiona Robyn gave me a 'heads up' this morning in the theme of her blog post 'Running on Empty...'...and Susie Grogan's blog title brought me up even shorter ...'No more Wriggling out of Writing', which made me turn my head here once again and ask myself the same question - am I 'running on empty' for ideas? Have I been 'wriggling out of (blog) writing' since I last posted here?
Far from wriggling out of it, my longing has been pricking me to do more of it, but...
...with temperatures last week hitting records for 'the warmest March' etc...etc....and a garden which has consequentially been bursting out all over and positively screaming for attention, ...With the lower garage still singing its siren song of 'clear me out' so that I can carry out the conversion to a library and workshop, ...With all the usual minutiae requiring daily attention which are the detail of family life that we all have infiltrating our more lofty desires, ...and with the constant overlay of a body which is starting to creak and get tired faster than it used to...(dammit)
Any more - in the form of putting together a coherent blog post has just felt beyond me.
No - I am not wriggling out of it, but more pondering how I can more often, or rather, more consistently, wriggle into it. I haven't run out of things to share with you...on the contrary, (see list above!) - I have lots of things going on here at Autumn Cottage that you might find of interest (though I must admit, I do sometimes hesitate to write about what seems like trivia just for the sake of writing something).
I enjoy keeping this blog, and I really love and appreciate hearing from other people who take the time to write to share their thoughts on their own reading of 'Autumn Cottage Diarist' with me. So there is only one solution. It's the one I offer to all the attendees to my workshops (I am a Past Master at proffering advice to others and not taking it myself!) - I need to make an appointment with myself, in my diary, to meet myself on the (blog) page at least twice a week, and simply hit these keys and WRITE!!!
Now all you have to do is wait to see if I can follow my own orders.
Oh, and by the way...regarding comments from other readers...I think some of you may enjoy looking in at the website of one of my readers - An Historical Lady - I certainly did. Thank you, all of you out there, who do make that appointment with yourselves, sit down and write, and constantly interest and entertain me with the blog posts that YOU all create. You are all an inspiration.
How many times have you realised that something wonderful is just under your nose, so close that you don't even notice it? That is the case with the Thatcham Discovery Centre, one of our local wildlife reserves, just on the other side of town to where I live, just outside Newbury.
It's not one of the places I did not know about - it has been there certainly since my boys were small - we used to walk there, feeding the birds and taking my Mother for picnics. But I hardly remember visiting since she died, nearly 14 years ago - I guess I had just forgotten about it in some vague way. Now, with the spring air blowing the cobwebs away from my mind, all I want to do at the moment is be out and about, savouring the time of the year. So what better thing to do on the 'official' first day of Spring than take a walk around the lake with my camera, breathe in the air, sit peacefully with the birds? I can't really think of anything more enjoyable - and free! - so take that walk with me...this is what I saw...
Canada geese swimming in formation
The Dipping Pool - part of the educational facilities at the centre - notice the seating amphitheatre and tables for investigating what comes out of the water
Wild daffodils down the bank to one of the peaceful viewing points
A sandbank with canada geese and Mallard poking about
Goldeneye
Alder catkins, some 12-15 cms long
A pair of courting Great Crested Grebe
Dog Violets
Black-cap gull
Pochard
The willow stand alongside the centre, already almost fully green
The elegant courting dance of the Great Crested Grebes
It would have been a special day, yesterday, (as days wandering the Sir Harold Hillier Arboretum and Gardens always are for me), if it had only been for the explosion of springtime colour through the wintering brown earth. The bursting gold of the daffodils and narcissi, the yellow clouds of blossom on the Hammamelis, the pink airbrushing of the early cherry blossom. The appearance of different plants, alone, always gives me an infusion of joy, an immediate reconnection, though primarily my visual sense (though also though olfactory scents) with the totality of the natural world, of which I am just a tiny part.
Dried Miscanthus stems
Iris reticulata
Euphorbia chariacas 'wulfenii'
All this would have been enough...but I also had the pleasure of sitting in the warmth of the garden Pavilion restaurant, able to tuck into delicious Thai lentil cakes and green curry, drinking Elderflower presse and savouring what the gardens had to offer (swathes of wild daffodils spreading down the hill, the Winter garden full of colour and already beckoning me) before we made our foray out into the wild.
The heather beds in the Winter Garden
These two pleasures would have been enough...but I also had the most wonderful encounter with another species. We had walked down to the Great Pond, past the Gunneras still wearing their winter hats and for all the world looking completely dead (before they make their own grand entrance out into the world again in a month or two). We were walking up to Jermyn's House, past the Himalayan gardens and Ghurka Memorial, climbing up though the valley of burgeoning camellias, azaleas, and early rhododendrons. gazing upwards at the new blooms.
Camellia japonica
Magnolia grandiflora buds opening
Rhododendron
Distracted enough, that I almost stepped on a little Robin, bobbing about around my feet. I sidestepped, warned Alec to ‘take care!’ and fully expected the little bird (it was a vividly red-breasted cock Robin) to flutter off into the undergrowth, where a hen Blackbird was also bobbing about, fossicking in the bark chippings for insects, happily unafraid of us, but keeping her distance.
The friendly Robin
But the Robin did not keep his distance. He reduced it, hop by hop, bob by bob. He quite clearly fixed his gaze upon me, looked up at me, cocked his head from side to side, hopped closer and closer - and sang to me. He did not just sing. He sang to me. He connected his gaze with my eye, and addressed me as clearly as I have ever been addressed - by dog, by cat, by human.
He attempted to communicate with me - I did not understand what his message was - but a message he was quite clearly, and quite fearlessly, sending. It was not accompanied by any aggressive gestures; he came closer and closer, (about 30 cms away at my shoulder, when I sat on a bench) still fixing his eye constantly with mine. He warbled softly and most beautifully, directly to me, and I was immensely moved.
I suspected that he had possibly been hand fed, though when I asked one of the staff exiting the building if that was the case, he said, no, nobody there had been doing that to his knowledge, and so wasn't I lucky to be having that encounter anyway? I found it almost impossible to respond to him, because I was, quite simply, choked and overcome. Words are inadequate to describe the emotion I felt, I just know that there are many of you reading this that will know just exactly what touched my heart. One day, we will understand Them.
Helleborus orientalis - the 'Lenten Rose' - under the still-bare trees
All these things would have added up to a most delightful day - but even then, there were more special things in store. There is always an exhibition of some artistic nature in the Pavilion; yesterday, three artists were setting up their wildlife paintings in preparation for today's opening of the exhibition entitled 'Inspired by Nature'. I felt particularly deeply engaged with the art of one of the exhibitors, Daphne Ellman, who works mostly in acrylics and had produced a captivating series of paintings depicting various animals and plants present during each month of the year in the UK.
These monthly 'portraits' have been turned into a calendar, which was a lot more affordable than the originals, but still fell into my 'well, I *could' afford it, but *should' I?’ category. While I pondered, Alec stepped in, generously purchasing the calendar as my Mother's Day gift for today from him. The calendar is set for 2013, but before then, it will most certainly be dissected and framed (though where in the world I am going to find the wall space, I really don’t know!)
All these things would be more bounty that anyone could expect on one day - but the final treat was presented when I asked the artist if she did any teaching at all? One of my 'goals for the year' has been to get back to some creative activity, which I have always needed, and for a long time now have not really pursued. She answered affirmatively, and said she had a two day workshop coming up in April. I have a 30th Wedding Anniversary coming up in May, and once more, before I could do any pondering at all, Alec leapt into the breach and paired the two together!
The Birch Grove
Narcissi with Pulmonaria - a planting idea...
...and another idea - wild planting along the rustic hurdle fence to the Children's gardens
Now I have the happy anticipation of the upcoming weekend, as well as the actual pleasure of taking part. How’s that for a long-lasting gift – and don't you think my cup more than ran over yesterday??
Share a sip from my cup by listening to that Robin's song, welcoming Springtime, as well as myself!
If you have enjoyed any of the 'Small Stones' that I have been writing for the last month, you may like to know that I have started a new blog to record those daily observations that I will continue to write now that the my participation in the group 'River of Stones' writing is over.
Please look in at 'One Mindful Moment' if you are interested in following these little daily remembrances with me.
At bird-feeding time – a constant battle between me and my cat. His one desire - to interfere with my life saving mission. But Cat and Bird and Hunt and Death are the reality – I am the interference.
**********
They say it takes a month to break a habit - in my case, it has taken a month to make one. It's the last day of writing 'Small Stones' for the 'River of Stones' Month at 'Writing Your Way Home' - but it will not be the last for me.
An abbreviated form of what Kathleen Adamsdescribed (in her book 'Journal to the Self') as 'Captured Moments', I have grown to love this very simple practice of noticing one thing, mindfully, each day, so much that I will continue to post my own daily 'Stones' on a new small blog. (I will link to it here at Autumn Cottage Diarist, as soon as it is in place). I'll sometimes include images as well - though it has been a pleasure to spend a month just using words, without the pressure to always capture an accompanying image - which sometimes are not appropriate or possible.
But for now, I step out of the 'River of Stones' - and back to sharing more life with you here at the Cottage. Thank you, all of you who have read and commented upon my daily postings - I appreciate your responses (as I do ALL responses to my posts here) immensely.
Farewell to our old Galaxy, People carrier, War Horse, Off to the knacker’s yard, Sold up, stripped down, pillaged, crushed.
Our family Magic Chariot in your youth Through the mists of Glencoe To the Highlands, Skirting sheer mountain paths of the Islands, South to skim the sunbaked roads of France
There, in your worn-out old age, you sickened and failed, Towed home in indignity Languished, rusted, Jump-lead sputtered your last few gasps today, Left our gates for the last time, forever.
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