Always rooting for autumn

Two whole months, whoops! I hope that you are all well and have been enjoying the sunshine. The blogging drought ends right along with the heatwave we have been basking (wilting) in - a few nights ago the clouds that had gathered tantalizingly overhead for three days broke in a rare show of thunder and lightning, our only storm of the past 12 months that I was sad had to end. We made the most of it, throwing open the windows to let in the loud rumbles and newly fresh air.

The rain has continued on and off for the past few days; the laundry has continued to pile up. The garden is loving the downpours and everything is looking newly green and perky after weeks of sparse watering. The water butt was completely empty for the first time in four years, leaving me with no excuse to not clean it out.

Perhaps it was the heat that had me in a dither, but the last few weeks I haven't felt like doing much of anything. I enjoy the heat up until a point - the point at which I really REALLY don't like it anymore. I feel the same way about high summer as I do about the depths of winter- oppressed. I find myself starting to consider a knitting project, to see if I can bring cooler days along prematurely - or at least pretend the heatwave isn't happening. I dream of pumpkin cheesecake. I want the elderberries and the rose hips to have ripened. The summer really feels like the years end to me, with late September the time of new beginnings and new projects; and I really want that freshness and newness now.

Still, the only way through the blahs is through them. We have been busy with birthdays and days out and family visits which have been lovely. Things have settled into a nice rhythm since school broke up and I am planning lots of things to fill up the days with. All of those things that are so much easier in summer - decorating, eating out of doors, trips to the beach and barbeques are all on the menu, along with lots and lots of laundry. We have weddings to attend and a summer holiday to go on. My very introverted self is going to be exhausted at the end of all of this, no matter how much I enjoy these things at the time. I look forward to the cooler days of autumn and a new knitting project on the needles as just reward.

It's going to be a long hot summer. 

Busy busy...

The great pumpkin/haribofest of 2012 has been and gone, birthdays, anniversaries, bonfires, barbeques (yes, you can get away with that sort of thing down here in October), fireworks, playdates, commitee meetings and more overtime than I ever care to do again.

Most of these things are good things. I literally look forward to halloween all year. Electronic zombie door chimes on sale in August? Well there's a form of gratuitous consumption everyone should get on board with! I like bonfires and fireworks too. But good god did it all get a bit much these past few months. I feel like I have lurched from event to housekeeping crisis to event to work crisis, day in and day out since September. The clocks going back just after a run of night shifts brought things to a head and I still haven't quite recovered my rhythm. The ridiculous thing about all this? It was partly by design.

Money is time for most people, me included. For every hour of overtime I do, the wispy threads of my daily routine snag and break. The rest of life falls apart. I have written entire posts over at The Simple Green Frugal Co-op encouraging others to manage their time wisely and to see that paid work can actually cost money not only  in terms of transport and other overheads, but how much you spend trying to catch up on all the cooking, cleaning and domestic productivity. 10 days straight and I am spinning, and not in a nice producing yarn sort of way. £40 in taxi fares where I failed to wake up at 5am and get my rear into gear on time for the bus. £15 in nice comforting food for my shifts, beacuse I sure as hell couldn't turn my bodyclock around enough to prepare anything from scratch.

Still, I can do better; and in the light of all of these fails, I am grateful. I have  job to go to, many others don't. I have a job where I can take on a few extra hours as needed, again many people would dearly love that opportunity. I have family and friends still with me whose birthdays and anniversaries are to be celebrated whilst we are all still together on this earth and for that I am truly grateful. This past halloween, I lit candles for the few who have left us during this past year; and those who vanished long before whose influence reverberates down the years as is they have merely stepped out of the room for a moment - and once again my habit of losing touch and not quite getting round to sending that email has left me smarting. A lesson for this year.

For those of you across the pond who are celebrating  Thanksgiving, I wish you a lovely day and hope you have much to be grateful for. I hope the same for all of you home here too.

Needing a push.

Our internet connection is playing up at the moment, so posting will be even more intermittent than it has been of late, until we get it sorted.

It has had its advantages. Many of the odd jobs I have been meaning to do since we moved in over two years ago are now complete. The living room has been painted. The sofa covers have been cleaned and dyed a deep (sticky-fingered-toddler proof) navy. Some more decluttering has been done and some rearranging of furniture. All in all, the house looks a little fresher and a little more welcoming; and it probably would not all have been completed had I had reliable internet access.

This is my favourite time of year, not least because I associate it with starting school and university and a year of learning, challenges and new experiences ahead. Its unlikely I will ever be going back to university; and as my darling OH has just started his mental health nurse training, I am tinged with a little jealousy too. I want to be immersed in piles of books and essays and seminars. I feel stuck in a rut. I haven't really pushed myself mentally since I left university; and my job seems to actively waste away my brain. There is no amount of decorating, crafting and housekeeping that is going to change this fact. I need a real challenge, a push, but in which direction I do not yet know.

The spinning is going better with each attempt and I am hooked. The rhythmic motions and productivity of it are very relaxing. I downloaded Respect the Spindle with Abby Franquemont and ordered the book of the same name and all I can say is I LOVE ABBY FRANQUEMONT. The book and video are beautiful and explain everything so well, at a pace you can practice along to. My spindle of loosely twisted, uneven merino has become finer and more consistent, almost yarn like, in fact...

Mild disgruntlement aside, I am looking forward to the rest of autumn and onwards into a new year. I know that most people have a season that they love and autumn is mine. Whatever you are up to, I hope you make the most of the months ahead, whether the passage of the seasons be winding up or winding down in your hemisphere. Enjoy it.

Knitting nemesis

 I have a head swimming with ideas for things I want to design and knit (or crochet) with my yarn stash. Winter is a coming, and autumn and winter are knitting seasons. They are also the seasons of wind chilled ears and numb fingers and toes; hence I needed to start stitching, ooh say, in March 2010.


Unfortunately I have a knitting nemesis apparently determined to thwart every swatch I cast on. Especially the ones with the complicated lace patterns, variable stitch counts and fiddly yarns. High surfaces, closed-tight cupboards and  knitting bags are apparently light (but absorbing) work for a toddler, as is pulling my starter rows off of the needles and trailing a knotty mess around the house. It takes him about the thirty seconds it takes me to put milk in my tea and walk into the living room.

I read a lot of those gorgeous crafting blogs,  the ones where lavishly heaped skeins in decorative ceramic bowls happily coexist with small children that, whilst the bowl is at eye (and therefore pingling) level, ignore it, instead seeking joy creatively but tidily elsewhere, leaving mummy to knit in peace.

Which makes me wonder...where do I get one of those magical decorative ceramic bowls that adorable  toddlers find so repugnant?

(Secretly I am of course delighted that one of the men in the house admires a hand dyed silk-merino 6 ply when he sees it. That child is going to be one screwed up yarn crafting genius when I am through with him).