Balm

Some of us are beginning to show our age. I noticed my hands this year are looking particularly elderly for a 27 year old - dry, wrinkly creases have appeared across the back of my hands and up over my wrists. Too many summers of baking my pale English rose skin under a hot Norfolk sun have caught up with me - not that I wanted to tan, I just had far better things to do back then than stopping to apply sun lotion. Lesson learnt.

I am trying my best to drink my eight glasses of water a day. A moisturising barrier between my papery skin and the biting wind would also be helpful. We still have a few litres of olive pomace oil left over from soap making and some beeswax of forgotten prior purpose (perhaps just because it smells so nice?), more than sufficient to make something soothing.

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Winter balm

1 30g bar of beeswax, grated

1 cup olive oil

Geranium essential oil

1 clean prewarmed glass jar (1 1/4 cup capacity)

Heat the oil in a bain marie over a a gentle heat. Stir in the beeswax until completely dissolved. Remove from the heat and stir in the essential oil. Pour into the jar and leave to cool. 

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My hands are supple once again. I applied no less than four coats to my lips this morning, each coat being sucked into my skin almost immediately until they were back to their former plumpness. In this short space of time it has been pressed into service not only as a body, hand and lip balm but also as a shaving oil  - and a lubricating oil for the tension knob on my spinning wheel. I suspect it could be used as wood polish too. I love having one jar in the place of many, two ingredients in the place of potentially hundreds. 

I used geranium oil simply because we had it, but doing a little research suggests that it has some application in balancing oily skin, which is very handy for someone whose skin varies between filo dry and butter pastry. Most importantly though, geranium oil is the smell of spring and summer. It reminds me of  one of the happiest moments of my life, sitting drinking tea on the lawn of a hotel in Kathmandu, the walls, window sills and beds riotous with red trailing geraniums. Before that moment, I think, I had actively disliked the smell; now I love the 'greeness' of it. In our garden we had a geranium, 'Attar of Roses', with small delicate pink flowers that appeared at the height of summer and smelt of Turkish delight - I wonder if I were to invest in a bottle of rose oil, the two oils combined might recreate that smell?

Snow falling on toddlers

It was someone's first snow day today...

I expected our 18 month old daughter to appreciate the white stuff a little. She did, babbling inquisitive but accepting noises from her warm windowside seat. Then we decided to take her for a walk. Wrapped in many layers we set out for less slushy pavements and white spaces. She didn't smile through any of it. We set her down on the ground and she fell forward into deep snow. Turns out snow is cold and wet and she really doesn't like cold and wet. We carried her around for half an hour in an ever increasing state of grump until it was time to collect her brother from preschool. The magic was lost on this one.

We the parents had fun though. We met a few new local residents:

 

My beloved nearly fell down a fox hole, taking Elsa with him:

I took lots of photos of pretty snow covered trees:

We also lamented the loss of childhood. Where were all the ruddy faced munchkins who should have been out building snowmen and throwing snowballs at passing strangers (us)? We saw a handful on our short trek, though the local school was closed, and many a vast expanse of snow lay pristine where it fell.

After picking Gus up from preschool, we stopped to build a snowman and to have a snowball fight of our own. And then it was business as usual - time to settle down inside to thaw out slowly, time for lunch and time for me to go to work.

Today was a good day and once again the fresh air did me good and sharpened my mind. But the snow, the snow added something magical. It was impossible not to be mindful - of every step lest I slipped, of every branch and roof and car in a landscape that had been made new by a covering of white snow and every crisp breath of air that I drew. And whilst it made the urban landscape beautiful, it reiterated that I really was made for wide open spaces and a slower, rural pace of life. One day. 

I hope you also enjoyed your day, whatever the weather!

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Welcome Sam and louisemeiklem, thank you for following!

Let it...

Plotting

We might have neglected the allotment a little over the last few months. By which I mean we haven't even set foot on it since mid August. 

There was so much wrong in our relationship with our plot - it's too far away, we have to drive to it, we didn't have any spare cash to throw at it, we were really really busy, Gus hated it and would run off, Elsa would start grumbling within ten minutes of arriving...the list of negatives was quite long. We almost gave up the lease in December when the renewal notice came through the door.

At the very last moment, I panicked, called up and payed our dues with hours to spare. The thought of being in the city without a patch of actual earth to cultivate was a little too much. Instead, I accepted our failure over the past two years, took a deep breath and set to work rethinking the whole thing.

The original plan was ambitious and maximised the amount of growing space. Lots of bed space, narrow paths and not much else - fabulous. But it didn't work. Growing space is only so important to actual productivity it turns out.

We have a new plan.  A large part of our problem was that in an attempt to maximise growing space, we forgot the most important things - space to sit, space to throw down a blanket for a picnic, or a tent for the very sunniest and rainiest days. We forgot the people who make the garden.

We visited the plot yesterday. Elsa was happy to eat clods of earth and watch us work. I think we have a real allotment baby toddler there. Which is good, because we have much work to do...

whoops.

The longest month

Every winter I am melancholy, usually more intensely so after the winter solstice. My rational mind tells me that the darkest days are now behind, but by that point the damage is done and the dull wet landscape particularly dispiriting. I find myself wanting to sleep for 14 hours a day (if only!) and to lock myself away for the rest of the time. My brain slows down and everything is a little fuzzy until well into February. By March, I am quite content again.

This year I resolved to get outside more. Every day I need to get outside and see sunlight; not just on my way to someplace, but to really get out and see. A walk, a good long potter around the yard, sitting in the park. Not just to soak up the light but to find something in this grey urban landscape to be inspired by.

I 'borrowed' my neighbour's dog a couple of days ago and headed out for a walk around the grounds of the mental hospital. This is one of the most beautiful corners of my neighbourhood, sprawling Victorian landscaping, no flower beds, just trees and shrubs and lawns. Everything is a little wild and overgrown and if you stray from the main road, you could be in the countryside.  I ran with her through the muddy grounds, she was happy, as was I when I dropped her home. 

On Monday I didn't make it anywhere, but made up for it yesterday.  I spent 15 minutes pottering in the garden an hour after the sun rose. The yard is a mess - less pottering and photography and more tidying next time!

Spring comes early to our patio yard. It hasn't seen a killing frost yet. The annual geraniums have stood through the winter, the chard is looking majestic as opposed to standing-but-battered. There are random bulb plantings left over from previous occupants that spring up every year and this year they have started particularly early. Most  importantly of all, the rhubarb is on its way.

Later we took an afternoon stroll to the beach. We sat and had a cup of tea from The Coffee Cup and then wandered along the prom, then back through the gardens, which is a whole other post, because we found yet more nooks and crannies of Portsmouth that we never knew existed, hidden in plain view.

Fresh air and greenery are the very best medicine for a funk; add a little exercise in and I feel a thousand times better. I had a solid seven hours of unbroken sleep, a rarity these days.

Dogs are also good medicine. Have I ever mentioned how much I wish I had a dog of my own? A huge, shaggy house-bear of a dog, like a Newfoundland. A house bear that could drag me out of the house in the depths of winter. Oh for a bigger house and a large garden. One day, one day.

T'is the season...to go nuts!

Yule must be coming around, because three nets of whole nuts have made their way into the Island Dreaming household.

This doesn't happen at any other time of year, for reasons that aren't really clear to me at all. None of us are allergic. I love nuts. Nick loves them. The kids are partial to them, including The Picky One (formally known of here as The Boy). Intact in their shells and stored in a cool dry place, they will store for a year or more and stay fresh tasting. Shelled nuts can be hit and miss, if not slightly rancid tasting and waaaay more expensive. No, for the rest of the year, the only nuts that make it into the house are either in butter form, enrobed in chocolate (possibly both) or, rarely, shelled and saltier than the Dead Sea. Defying all food convention, nuts will never be healthier in our house than they are during the biggest feast of the year.

I think this is mostly a problem of availability - most shops only sell whole nuts during a three month wintry window. I know if we are to be healthier this year then a daily portion of freshly shelled nuts throughout the year will do us some good, which means bulk buying over the next month or two. Whilst calorific (good for those trying to maintain their body weight and for fast growing kids) they are mineral and vitamin dense too. I have previously added flaked almonds to pasta dishes, crushed walnuts to shepherds pie and pistachios to rice dishes - but only between the months of December through to January.

In spite of my best efforts now that I have small children who believe in Santa, I am still an unreformed scrooge at heart. I have been ignoring the fairy light and tinsel early adopters in the streets around here since early November (as well as I can with a preschooler who shouts 'LOOK, MUM, SANTA!!!' every time we pass such a house), but now we now have a nut bowl on the kitchen counter, the season of good cheer and cut price plastic toot is well and truly upon us. 

The mother of invention

As part of my winter preparations, a new hat is in order for yours truly - last year's acrylic crochet ensemble was a little too baggy tea cosy like, a little too garish and not warm enough. A browse of Ravelry led me to conclude that I wasn't going to find a suitable crochet pattern that (a) was big enough for my huge head (b) compatible with any of the stashed yarn I have to work with or (c) wouldn't look ridiculous on me. In the end I bit the bullet and begun to search the knitting patterns - ignoring anything with colourwork, cables, lace, fancy shaping or any other extravagance that could trigger another knitting related mental breakdown in me (though that happened later anyway when I happened across the bag containing the infuriating unfinished jumper that originally triggered it). I finally settled on this Wurm hat in Sublime Extra Fine Merino Wool DK.

Knitting in the round is one form of knitting that still holds some charm for me. I am mesmerised that the humans who came before me worked out how to create the most important extremity-protecting garments - the socks, the hats, the gloves - using just their opposable thumbs, a clutch of double pointed sticks (and particular kudos to the smart-arse that threw away all but two and joined them with a length of string) and some nifty shaping techniques. I like the fact that rows and rows of knit stitches form stocking stitch - no need for any awkward purling or turning or sewing up. I like the fact that thanks to the short needles it can be done, bleary-eyed, with a baby balanced asleep on my lap at 3am should the need arise - and last time around, the need arose fairly frequently. It's not crochet, but it is a beautiful thing nonetheless.

Unfortunately, during the great knitting revolt of 2010 and the great house decluttering of 2011, the DPNs and circular needles have been mislaid, bar a single set of 4.5mm circulars - which having found my pattern and being  itching to get started, is annoying. The cooler weather combined with my being unproductively beached like a whale on the sofa for much of my day just served to remind me that I have lots to do between now and autumn and I shouldn't be wasting more time than I have to. In desperation I remembered a set of kebab skewers that I had saved for use as plant markers and serendipitously they were 4mm in diameter, just the size required - a quick sharpen with a pencil sharpener and I was ready to cast on. They would be better if I could have been bothered to find sand paper; and five would be easier than the four I have, but beggars can't be choosers and they have performed admirably.

As I rarely need DPNs this wide, these will probably become my permanent set, saving me several pounds; I will have to trail the charity shops and eBay for my finer pairs - though I am now tempted to go the DIY route and make my own from dowelling. I hereby offer my apologies to my dearest OH for the rant about the evils of expensive preprepared kebabs I subjected him to when he brought home the offending pack from the shop as we have managed to get our money's worth. Happily, it looks like I will have warm ears this winter.

Preparing for winter part 2

Whilst we don't regularly suffer extreme weather conditions in the UK (last year being an 'extreme' winter for us), we do have four 'proper' seasons. I like winter weather, as long as I am prepared for it. I like the cosy feeling of being wrapped up and impervious to the gales and to the drenching rain. I like being swathed in layers of fabric and hats and gloves and scarves, big chunky boots and socks.

I am shockingly under prepared in the clothing department for winter this year. The dull winter coat that I have sported for the last two years, that I bought out of desperation just as cold weather set in, was never really that warm and never fitted my long top heavy frame properly. Last year's snow and slush was a miserable experience as the icy winds went straight through me - one of the reasons that I couldn't wait for spring to arrive this year. My lovely winter boots that have seen me through the last few years fell completely apart this spring - zip and soles - and the quoted cost of repairing them was astronomical. This year I need to replace almost everything and don't want to succumb to desperation and part with more cash for less value than I have too. 

Whilst Operation Preparing for Winter Part 1 isn't going so well (as you can see from all that still naked glazing and wispy curtains), clothing us is going rather better. I rediscovered the joys of eBay this week and for the princely sum of £21.78 (inclusive of P&P) I have bought my own and the kids' winter coats.

I didn't expect to find a full length wool coat, in my size and in mint condition, within 5 minutes of beginning to look - a coat I actually lusted after brand new a couple of years ago but that was way out of my budget, so this was obviously (obviously) meant to be. It certainly made the frustrating hour I spent recovering my long abandoned eBay and Paypal accounts worthwhile. The Boy is delighted with his faux-sheepskin hooded coat and has been parading around the house in it for much of the day. The Girl's coat is in the post and I am just hoping that she likes purple.  Buying second-hand clothing makes some people squeamish, but when it comes to expensive garments like outerwear that you want to last a few years, it makes perfect sense. It is also the way to go for children - The Boy's first coat cost an arm and a leg new, for just four months of wear. This coat should see me through several years - at least four or five, hopefully more - if I look after it. It is warmer, longer and more attractive than anything I could buy on the high street for the same price, if I could buy anything for the same price. It is definitely worth the time and effort of searching regularly (out of season) for whatever you need.

There is still plenty to be done. I need to dig out and launder the winter accessories. Gloves need to be strung together so that when they are inevitably lost, they are lost in pairs and won't feel lonely. The Girl won't be old enough for shoes and I feel a woolly-bootie craft project coming on. The adults in this house could probably do with some nice warm woolly socks too, though I have never actually finished any of the knitted pairs that I have started and there is no reason to suspect that this year will be any different. I am even considering giving primitive crocheted socks a go as I imagine that they grow faster and less complainingly than their knitted counterparts. Pyjamas and slippers and robes need to be sourced too as we are determined to keep the heating off as much as possible this year. The to-do lists are getting ever longer, but actually this one is much more manageable than the house prep - and the thought of being wrapped up in swathes of warm fabric when this lovely warm weather fades makes me almost excited about the prospect of a cold winter.

And yes, I understand that Sod's law dictates that this will be the mildest winter on record. Better to make hay whilst the sun shines, however, just in case.

Preparing for winter part 1 - gimme shelter

Yup, you heard right. The nights are drawing in once again and the days are getting shorter... I should have started preparing days ago : )

Which actually, I did. In one of the weird bursts of energy that punctuate these last few weeks of pregnancy, I finally nailed the replacement draught excluder to the bottom of the front door. I only chose this particular unfinished task of many because The Boy had taken to using said draught excluder as a rather expensive and sharp edged toy sword and I thought it better that it was nailed to the door rather than embedded unproductively (and expensively) into something rather softer - say, a cat. As the tool box was out I also filled a substantial hole underneath the door knocker and replaced the internal letterbox flap. So far, so self-satisfied.

Until I took a step back. The front door, now draught sealed, still comprises two panes of single glazing - and sits under a huge window extending from the top of the door to the ceiling. Draughts are the least of my hallway's worries. A glance around the rest of the house shows just how lax we have been about heat conservation the last few years. We have replaced thick-but-ugly-and-too-big curtains with flimsy-but-pretty ones. The cat flap in the back door blows open at the slightest breeze since our bruiser of a cat decided to crash through it when it was locked and break the mechanism two years ago. There are little cracks and crevices around the window frames that really do need to be sealed. The uninsulated kitchen extension has a concrete floor that you could spray with water and skate on in winter. All of the internal doors in the house have massive gaps underneath them or around them. The old fireplaces are not as amply stuffed with newspaper as they could be.

This is not to say we have been profligate with our space heating, our bills are well below average. What it does mean is that we have allowed the heat to dissipate faster than it needed to and made ourselves more uncomfortable than is really necessary. Both OH and The Boy 'run hot' and I grew up in a freezing cold old house with no central heating, draughts everywhere and no running hot water - I have a high tolerance for discomfort in this area. Except of course, I don't actually have to tolerate the discomfort any longer, I am in a position to do something about it - we just always seemed to have other priorities. This year, a combination of reduced income, energy companies making record profits and still raising their prices; and far too much reading about peak oil and economic turbulence; have inspired me to action.

We have had some genuinely uncharacteristic cold snaps (as you can see above - and yes I know that most of you, especially you North Americans, laugh in the face of such a light dusting). Late last year the country was brought to its knees by unseasonably cold weather and snow that persisted in some parts for months. I live on the south coast and in previous years, thanks to the Gulf Stream, have been able to venture to the corner shop on a December evening in a T-shirt without feeling too much discomfort. Besides, I know from experience that when we move to Norfolk, winter weather will be less clement, so I might as well get some practice in with the insulating and conserving.

We are lucky on several fronts- we have double glazing and there is loft insulation in the main part of the house. The carpets are underlaid. We rent, so the changes we can make are fairly superficial. Now is the perfect time to begin, not least because the costs of projects like this tend to increase with the urgency of completing them. A five month head start is good enough to get something done.

So, in the next five months I need to:

• Line or replace existing flimsy curtains, or install window quilts throughout the house. This will also help with the light pollution - and would actually be useful now in keeping the house cool during this mini heatwave we are experiencing.
• Install curtains or quilts at the front door and window - these must be removable in the day to allow daylight into what is a dingy passageway and living space.
• Install a magnet operated cat flap that will stay closed.
• Make draught excluders for the front door and for the door leading from the kitchen to the living room.The kitchen, with its lack of insulation and heating, is always going to be a weak link, so cutting it off at night seems like the best option. 
• Do a feather test and replace missing sealant around the window frames.
• Find a hard wearing washable rug for the kitchen floor.
• Pack the old fire places tightly with newspaper to stop draughts and convection currents - and try to make peace with the fact that the hollow chimney breasts are funneling heat straight from the walls and  out of the house anyway. Sigh. 

I think that I need to acquire a sewing machine. I think I should have started two years ago. I think that one day I will learn important lessons about not putting off till tomorrow what you could do today. One day.

Anyway, some useful resources I have stumbled upon in my quest for inspiration:
Preparing for Winter I and  Preparing for Winter II  forum threads over at Money saving Expert. Very long and chatty, but some good lists of things to do to prepare and lots of resources relevant particularly to the UK.

Draught proofing  information from The Energy Saving Trust

Make Window Quilts with these instructions from Many Tracks.

How to make a draught excluder from the Guardian of all places.

The Integral Urban House - worth borrowing from the library, this American 'Appropriate Technology' book explains in simple terms how heat moves and is lost in buildings and some ways to deal with it. Also lots of information about growing food, composting, rainwater harvesting and related self reliance topics.

Preparing for christmas.

A rare trip to the supermarket last week caused me to adopt my seasonal bah humbug attitude a few weeks earlier than normal. Meandering down the  aisle of pretty christmas lights and baubles and garlands (glittery twinkly shiny stuff in the depths of an otherwise grey winter is one aspect of the holiday season that I can get on board with), thinking that it would keep Gus amused for a few minutes; I had failed to account for the presence of a massive display of  Toy Story 3 merchandise at the end of the aisle. Mine was not the only child within earshot that was clamoring to get out of his trolley seat, though I shamefully admit that he was the only one that took off his shoes in a fit of rage and threw them at a complete stranger's feet. After apologising, I hastily made my escape in the opposite direction, to more screams of protest from the now incensed boy; and turning the corner crashed into another stack of said merchandise. A quick sweep revealed I had walked into a parenting booby-trap, displays of Buzz Lightyear and Woody for the boys alternated with shelves full of Hello Kitty and Disney Princesses for the girls.

I have known, from the tenderly cynical age of ten, that this isn't what the biggest festival of our calendar should be about. Then again, neither is my well honed cynicism and refusal to get into the joy of a seasonal celebration that marks the coldest and darkest time of year. There is a reason that a midwinter festival of some sort occurs throughout the cold and temperate regions of the world, across religions; and who am I to have argued with the recived wisdom of my ancestors? The songs, stories and traditions of this time usually highlight the return of light to the world, tales of hope and redemption, peace and goodwill, the promise that a community could make it through the long harsh nights and bitter weather.  Central heating and air freighted strawberries have successfully killed that spirit for many, but the message should not be lost, especially in the depths of recession and increasing hardship.

That is I think what needs to be regained; and perhaps here in the UK, because we no longer celebrate our harvest festivals, a time for giving thanks for all that has been gathered in the previous year. I know that I need to recapture the joy of the Christmas; and trying to stick it to those who see this merely as an annual merchandising opportunity, whilst not strictly charitable of spirit, would only heighten my joy. This year I will be working Christmas and Boxing Day (yup, nothing screams celebration and sticking it to 'em like a regular day at the office),  I am on a low-fat diet thanks to gallstones (out with the mincepies, stuffed goose, chocolate santa breakfast and cheese and cracker selection then) and thanks to the debt repayment plan I have little money to plough into a celebration.  These supposed annoyances might just go in my favour and actually support my sticking it to 'em quite nicely. I have little money to spend, so I am going to be very careful where I spend it.  I can't binge on regular seasonal fare which means a lot of thoughtful food choices and cooking from scratch.

This week I began my preparations by making salt dough decorations; and being thankful that I have enough food in the depths of winter that I could throw it into pretty craft projects. That seems an appropriate start to a more frugal, meaningful season.

Organising

It seems that this time of year is a time for getting organised and knuckling down to all the small jobs that have built up over the year. Every blog I read seems to be abuzz with talk of decluttering, rearranging, streamlining and cleaning. It puts me to shame, it really does.

I am not good at daily routines, such as hoovering, laundry sorting and washing up. Just because the laundry made it to the machine and the wash cycle is complete does not mean that the laundry will get hung up to dry, not before it needs a freshen up cycle at any rate. It's this kind of disorganisation that wastes a lot of time and energy in our house; and probably money too.


So November is my month to knuckle down to it too. We have relatives visiting later in the month, which is an excellent incentive to clean up my act. Nothing like public humiliation to spur me to action, apparently. Today I spent a few minutes whilst waiting for the casserole to reheat to organise the kitchen drawers. That tiny little bit of progress felt ridiculously good. I don't have a plan to tackle a room at a time as such, but just to spend a few minutes every time I enter a room trying to make a little headway. I do need to measure my progress, however, so by this time tomorrow:

• The empty glass bottles that have stacked up over the last month will have been taken to the garage ready to be refilled with home brewed beer when the time comes.
• I will have pared down and organised  my cleaning supplies. 
• The kitchen floor will be clear of all objects but the bin, the cats bowls and the rug. 
• The laundry will have been sorted and put away, some sorted for charity collection. 
• The dining table will be cleared of paperwork.
• At least 3 unwanted items from every room will be leaving our house permanently.

This is all incredibly dull and unambitious, I know. But the difference it will make to my house and my mood is immeasurable.

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).