keeping it simple

I spent most of yesterday feeling sorry for myself. This happens from time to time, and it's always ugly. There's no good reason for this, in fact quite the opposite: there are many good things in my life at the moment. But misery loves to focus on what we haven't got rather than what we have, doesn't it? And as we all know, misery loves company. It's amazing how quickly I can make a list as long as my arm of things that will change my life and cheer me up.


Anyway, today's a new day, and instead of moping about with the wanties, I've made a plan. Every day this week I'm going to do ALL the things on the list below. They're only little things, and it's not that I don't do these things sometimes, it's that I don't do them every day. And when I don't make things a habit, they get forgotten, and then they loom large and seem too difficult.

Everyday this week then, I am going to:

• Do a drawing
• Eat two apples
• Drink 'enough' water
• Wear a bright colour
• Do 20 minutes of some kind of housework
• Do some form of exercise

Simple...

All photographs were taken at the beautifully romantic garden at Mapperton Hall near where we stayed in Dorset.

beautiful dorset

Just back from a week in wonderful west Dorset.... where we had sun, rain and wind, beaches and hillsides and woods and wildflower meadows, lots of pots of tea, piles of books and magazines, lovely walks, delicious things to eat, and a LOT of sleep. It was absolute bliss.

I am full of inspiration... for the house... for the garden... for painting and drawing... for life itself...

Just as I had hoped.

a lime green day

I am not one of those people who go all dippy-skippy over bright, bright colours... I do really love colour, but I prefer it when it's seen in a tiny flash, like a kingfisher or a single buttercup in a hedgerow. There are certain colours though that make me go all weak and wanty, like pale dirty duck-egg blue, the beige-grey of unbleached linen, and today's colour, lime green...

As John Lewis were thoughtful enough to text me about the start of their summer clearance sale (uh? How did they get my number...?) I decided to go and 'have a look'...

It wasn't very long before ten balls of beautiful soft cashmerino yarn in the most perfect shade of slightly dirty yellow lime green 'found' their way into my basket... I wish you could feel how soft it is... it is absolutely divine and makes me want to stroke it. I am going to make it into a big, warm, lacy scarf for autumn. I love it.

Then, while I was waiting to pay (I had managed to wander all the way from the yarn department, past the shoes, clothes, make-up, fabric, cushions and bedlinen without buying anything else... how restrained am I?) this gorgeous gorgeous mug in the exact same colour appeared before me. Again, I wish you could reach into the photograph and stroke it... the lightly crackled glaze is so clear and the colour so pure and rich... it is hand-made in France by Jars (have a look at their website, it is beautiful). I am a firm believer in the cheering properties of a good mug, and as I need a new one for my tea at work, I had no difficulty in resisting it.

Lovely, lovely lime green. It ought to be available in little bottles from the chemist.

abstract still-life

Been thinking and learning a lot from Keri Smith recently about creative play, as well as from Amy and Jamie from the Pikaland online art course I went on in the spring.

It seems that whenever I sit down to 'draw properly', I end up dissatisfied with the results... a perfectly good representation of a shell or a feather or a plant or whatever... but no soul. Yet when I stop trying too hard and decide to 'play' with art materials in a more abstract way, I surprise myself with interesting compositions and patterns that are way more stimulating than the 'proper' art...

I know what I have to do... introduce one side of the family to the other...

small and pretty things

In the midst of life it is the small but lovely things that sing out... like this little bunch of gloriously scented just-picked flowers from the garden... and a piece of sponge cake with lemon curd and cream... I am particularly happy about this as I have finally discovered how to make a light-as-air sponge cake which is also gluten free. A mini-triumph... the best kind, I think.

"not matter the long pause..."

This excellent piece of advice was given to me by Rossichka in a comment she made on a previous post... she meant it about art... getting round to it again after many years, beginning to find a voice. However, I have come to see the truth of it in so many areas of life... making art, yes, and also reading and learning about it through books and exhibitions... picking up a forgotten novel again... remembering to take pleasure in clothes and my appearance... reviving my interest in walking and generally exercising more... finding new life in a relationship... and so many other things, including...

...finally finishing a piece of crochet! This blanket was started exactly a year ago and I wrote about it at the end of this post. It's a proper old-fashioned, make-do-and-mend, frugal patchwork blanket made to use up odds and ends of wool from previous projects and no new yarn. Apart from choosing colours that complemented one another, there was no great design involved, just picking up a yarn, working a square, selecting another colour and adding another square, and so on. When the yarn ran out, it was finished.

It's made with all different weights and types of yarn, mostly aran but some dk or finer, which I doubled up to get the right thickness.

Then I used a mid-blue to do a nice scalloped edge:

I love the back of it:

It has a soft, dimpled comfortable feel to it which is different to the front:

So for all of you who have unfinished projects on shelves or in baskets, or plans that haven't yet come to fruition, or unfulfilled intentions, or a sense of stagnation about things... these words are for you too:

Not matter the long pause.

It's true even, or especially, if you previously thought there was a full-stop. You can change a full-stop into a comma quite easily, you know... just add a tail.

nobody here but us chickens

These energetic, characterful and beautifully drawn hens were sketched, probably by a little boy called Robert, about three hundred and fifty years ago in the Taylor family Bible. Aren’t they exquisite? I love the curious, slightly bonkers expressions on their little chicken faces.

This sort of thing is the reason I love my job. To find out a little more about the chickens (but not much, because they will always remain rather an enigma) have a look at the Chetham’s Library blog, home of all things quirky and interesting, many of them in an untidy pile on my desk.

Clicking on the images will enlarge them - because they're worth it.