So, it's a week to December and I'm beginning to feel my festive juices flowing. The music is always what gets me first - Johnny is learning the words for his Christmas Service and there is much bathtime warbling of carols going on. The selection is quite eclectic, meaning many of them are new to him, but I find, deep in my memory banks 3 verses of the Sans Day Carol just waiting for me to access them.
Christmas is like that, don't you think? Somehow inexorably bound up with memories and traditions and recollections that spring up almost unbidden. But along with that wealth of the past, I like to add a little something new each year.
Glittery card, spray mount, circular punch, small helper, sewing machine...
One hallway, beginning to look a bit like Christmas. Feeling twinkly yet?
The weather forecast is predicting chilliness and so a final push at the weekend got my new mitts off the needles and firmly onto my paws.
The pattern is Zip Mits, and I must confess, this is not my first attempt at them. The fault was not with the pattern first time around (it is straightforward and pleasing in every way), but rather with my yarn selection. Against my better judgement, I was seduced into trying them with a thick and thin yarn. Epic fail. The resulting single specimen was a sad case, with mangy bald patches and the pretty stitch definition on the thumb got totally swallowed up.
This time round, I went for tried and tested - Quince & Co Osprey in colourway Honey 123. It is a pleasingly 'off' shade, which somehow seems to cope with my red coat, and my turquoise one and yet still magages to be interesting enough to perk up the black, puffy, rugby watching one.
As you see, I have my coat wardrobe at the forefront of my mind - this is more to do with having done the bi-annnual clean out of the cupboard under the stairs this weekend, than any particularly orderly fashion sense.
Perhaps it's adaptability is linked to the fact that it seems to be one of those shades which defies pinning down in a photograph - is it green, yellow, ochre?
Who cares - they are warm and snuggly with properly defined stitches. Now I just need to find something else to do with a single skein if thick and thin charcoal grey wool...
The light leaches so fast at this time of year. At four o'clock, what was a promising, blue-sky day is suddenly swallowed by evening. My washing, still on the line, turns from stiff to damp and cold again and I curse my forgetfulness as I pile it reluctantly into the drier.
This morning, there seemed to be all the time in the world. And suddenly, it is the tail end of everything and still so much left undone.
Even the smell of the banana bread in the oven is failing to raise my spirits. It's the indoors I am not quite ready to succumb to. To closed windows and doors that cannot be flung open. I try to appreciate the cosy, the domestic. But in reality, I feel like a caged beast and home seems stifling. I try to nest, but instead find myself frustrated by the futility of keeping order against the tide of muddy footwear and wet clothes and socks and coats abandoned willy-nilly.
Irritable and restless. The emotions of the tail end of Autumn. I know why bears hibernate.
Playing tennis too agressively gives you a sore elbow and little satisfaction. I wasn't in the right frame of mind today.
I will never be able to do all my grocery shopping online. Pushing my trolley up and down the aisles in an early morning haze is my equivalent of meditation.
Even when I try to plan out menus, I still fall victim to the sudden craving brought on by the sight of an ingredient we haven't eaten in a while. Today's impulses put spinach, curly kale and some peppered mackerel in the mix. I'm thinking that I might be lacking some essential trace something-or-others my body is subliminally trying to coax me towards.
My cat eats kale chips. Who knew? Maybe he wants to be a vegetarian.
Jacket spuds are in the oven, feels like the end of the week. Time to open the wine, I think. Enjoy your weekends.