Domesticali

The smell of rain

Driving back from Cheltenham today, the smell hit me before I realised what was coming. That unmistakeable scent of summer rain on hot earth. And as the first huge plips hit the windscreen, I fought the sensible, adult impulse to roll up the windows and instead allowed the side of my body to be drenched as the heavens opened in one of those thunderstorms that seems inevitable after a spell of sunny weather in England.

Of all the senses, smell seems to be the one that can most easily evoke a moment in time. Summer rain will always be a first floor flat in Sheffield, some twenty years ago, when the midcentury modern decor was yet to be re-branded and was still just a horribly, dated early 70s hangover. The hopelessly sticking window with its broken sash cord, wedged wide in the hope of catching any stray breeze. And then that unmistakeable scent.

 Moving to sit in front of the open window and watch the rain splash onto the flaking paintwork and wash the layer of dust off the tree outside. There is no photo - I'm not even sure I had a camera then, but somehow the moment remains captured anyway, stored up to be released by the smell of this afternoon. 

Look at photos of flowers.

Breathe.

Erase all thoughts of passport related stress.

Two visits to the Post Office, three forms, two sets of photos. Does it really have to be this hard?

 

Diary consultation

This year, I really did try to enter the 21st century and use an electronic diary. But d'you know what? It hasn't worked out. I keep dropping balls. There was the birthday party I unintentionally forgot, the double booking of two important events and the offering to help a friend out on a day that was already busy.

Not like me at all.

So it's back to the big old diary on the kitchen counter - so what if I have to wait till I'm home to consult it. You can't stick washi tape on an elecronic diary. Or hedge your bets about when something is happening with judicious sprinklings of question marks. Sometimes, the low tech ways are the best.

And please, do not ask me how many cricket fixtures there are shoehorned in between now and the end of July. I may be the only person left in the UK praying for more rain.

The colour of rain

Love of colour always seems to me to go along with a zest for life. The sort of bold fearlessness that is guaranteed to raise the spirits - a call to joy. But colour requires energy, and sometimes there is more appeal in the soft focus of neutrals, which speak to me of  treading quietly. Of taking the time to observe, to look inward and reflect. They are undemanding, soothing, comforting.

Exactly the properties I feel should be present in a shawl. Not that I had made one before, or owned one, even. Perhaps embarking on an uncharacteristic project, led to an unusual choice of colour for me.

Pattern: The Shetland Trader, Simmer Dim 

Yarn: Juno Alice Sock in Pewter

Ravelled here

A wonderfully tranquil knitting experience. Quiet, on the sofa, with a cup of tea, listening to the rain falling outside.

 

Hanging around

Do you ever get the feeling that subconsciously, you are waiting for something to happen? In some sort of limbo that leaves you feeling restless and unproductive and not able to settle to doing anything of any consequence? The kicker is, I have no idea what it is I am waiting for. So this weekend, I have consciously decided to sieze the moment. If a thought comes into my head, I'm acting on it.

In some respects, this is a dangerous state of mind. It led to the sudden purchase  yesterday, of an upgraded drum kit for Mark. To be fair, he has been saving up for his share of the cost for over a year. And this child does not find saving easy. But when we went into the shop, and saw the kit with the spec above the one he had coveted, reduced to the same price and I said we should just go ahead and buy it, I swear his jaw almost hit the floor.

Thankfully, not all my impulses have been costly ones. It didn't rain today, which I took as a sign to get outside, prune bushes and bring in the last of the tulips from my cutting patch. The lilac is in full bloom, so some of that got cut and the greenery is courtesy of the lemon balm which grows like a weed all over our garden.

Clearly, the 'just do it now' mood is a catching one. I showed Johnny this post about a Nerf gun target and blow me, he agreed to making his own version right there and then. 

This makes me grateful on so many levels - perhaps I will stop finding nerf bullets all over every room of every house, building it occupied him for almost an hour and I am hopeful that it will give him something to do other than bait his older brother. Today, the torture of choice seems to be to follow him about, chanting 'puberty boy'. I had honestly forgotten what eight year old boys are like.

Perhaps what I'm waiting for is for him to grow out of it.

Good things from yesterday

::: Ric Rack the colour of sunshine :::

::: Quince Jelly :::

::: Meeting Sue :::

Nice things often happen in threes, don't you find?