Contemplating the beginning of half term and the end of May and wondering how it slipped through my fingers so fast. Our perspective of time is often very skewed - the agony of watching the clock hands move through a double Maths lesson or the blink-and-it's-midnight sensation of a good evening out.
To fondle the squishy yarns and loose ourselves in the woolliest of rainbows.
It was my first visit to Loop in it's new location (if you don't count the 5 minutes spent with my nose pressed up against the window the last time I passed by, finding it shut) and they've put their extra space to excellent use, with oodles of new temptation.
Resistance was futile, so despite the fact that I have two unfinished projects on the go, I succumbed.
Destined to become some new Toasty fingerless gloves (planning early for Autumn this year, clearly).
Then there was a walk through the perfect blue sky of the afternoon.
And somehow, even though the day flew and I had to scurry on home to pick up the boys from school, in the little spaces between the eating and shopping and chatting and wandering, there was time to rediscover a little bit of the essence of me that gets buried in the everyday bustle of life.
Misplacing that kernel always makes me feel inexplicably sad and adrift - I wish I understood better when and why it happens, or that I could find a safe spot for it, so it was always to hand. But then, I suppose I never have been a 'place for everything and everything in it's place' kind of person. And perhaps there's joy in the rediscovery of chancing upon it again.
Anyway, all I know is that it's back. And I'm grateful.