Whilst waiting ....

 Whilst waiting for the carpet fitters.

Watching the trees gently breathe as the air warms - tendrils of mist lift and twirl up and through the branches catching the light

Watching a neighbour's elderly cat carefully sniff around our garden, find then, blissfully enjoy, the cat nip ball we have up at the back door for our cat. His closed eyes and pushed forward whiskery chops the epitome of a moment of feline pleasure

Having my eye caught by every passing van (of which these days appears to be a lot more) just in case one of them is anticipated carpet fitters

Listening to the radio, which alternately annoys me or engages me, but will always be on to help mask my tinnitus

Working on quizzes, bingo sheets, kid's trail questions and anagrams for work. Constant small streams of income for a charity are a life line

Planning the next display for work, contacting the relevant parties to encourage them to get their posters ready earlier rather than later - so no last minute panic. Not quite managed so far ...

Answering my cellphone - the fitters have got lost in the village - please can I direct them  

Whilst listening to the carpet fitters

Hammering, sawing and blokey grunts as they drag or cut or stick down first the underlay then the carpeting

Watching them remove doors and pile them up in the dining room 

Making them mugs of tea (sugar please)

Not* watching them admire themselves in the mirror in the hall and mutter things about how grey their beards are getting

Quietly (in comparison) painting a still in the green hyacinth to keep myself occupied whilst the cat hides and the workers work.

You can do it

During Wednesday's sublime light, this little flowering moss glowed in the sun

After the snow, there was rain, followed swiftly by driech grey mist which seemed to not only hang around the house and garden but around me too.  

Then yesterday the skies cleared and the sun filled the day. 

At work, the volunteers and I revelled in the warmth and light - it felt uplifting. We tackled something I'd planned months ago as an early autumn project which was then thwarted by the weather.

Finally on Wednesday, with a huge pile of chestnut palings, saws, mallets and steaming mugs of tea we started and the joy was palpable.

I quietly listened to happy chatter and bird song. Volunteers and birds all soaking in the light and gentle winter sun. However what made me smile the most was the obvious pride these ladies felt by the end of their session. They'd completed a rather manual and physical task and it looked bloody fantastic !

karma

It is early morning, the snow has all but gone, replaced by a gentle dull drizzle and drifting grey coloured mist. The brightness and clarity of the last few days has dissolved into the more usual leaden hues of a northern winter.  Everything is coated in a fine mizzle with jewel like droplets at the end of each branch. And it feels cold.

There is a whirling flash of wings flying back and forth past the bedroom window. 

The starlings are back. 

Our neighbour's bathroom roof has a conveniently starling size gap beneath the slate tiles and the millstone grit stones. It used to be inhabited by a garrulous family of house sparrows until the starlings in a rather nasty take over bid killed all the fledgelings and hounded the adults. It took nearly nine years before the sparrows returned to our garden.....

I digress. The present incumbents - the starlings, have raised between two and three broods every year for over a decade now and seeing that in the wild, starlings live between three and five years, it does mean several generations have passed beneath those slate slabs.

After the flurry of raising fledglings until the last minutes of summer, the starlings suddenly vanish, turning from parents to small dots within those magical murmurations. Then, as autumn begins to soften then decay, they return. They (are 'they' the same birds from summer? without ring ID - who knows?) return and begin prospecting, researching nest sites for the coming spring. 

Winter comes and goes, or lingers depending on her mood however the starlings have a fixed schedule and for the last three or four days the birds have been flitting in and out, squeezing below the snow melt to investigate their potential nesting spot for 2025.

The roof space above the neighbour's bathroom must be filled to the rafters with decades of nesting material. The previous owner, an older lady who although she owned the house for around ten years only really lived in it for about four as she suffered ill health. She was quite happy that the birds lived in her roof saying she was more their landlord that the owner resident herself. There are now new owners, a young couple who have been rebuilding the entire house for the last 18 (very long and dusty and noisy) months who I made aware of 'our' starlings in their roof and until today I thought the birds would be safe for another season. 

Today I heard work starting in the bathroom. I might gently remind them about the birds in the roof or suggest to the starlings that their residency, like the house sparrows they evicted, has now too come to an end.

           

Old news New news

 It was Himself who discovered this bundle. His head and hands buried beneath the floorboards as he scouted for any further unwanted issues. He tossed it towards me and returned to his 'below board' position. 

Carefully peeling it open I discovered the date - 30 December 1976 - this paper had been hiding beneath the floorboards for 49 years.

A gentle turning of pages revealed the frontispiece with the cost of the newspaper only being 7p, however the stories felt very familiar. Taxes going up, prices rocketing, unemployment etc etc. However the biggest difference was an advertisement for smoking. A full spreadsheet sized one.

For a princely sum of 45 pence you could get your grubby little fingers on a packet of 12 KING SIZE cigarettes. I looked up the company and in 1976, this company was at it's height with it eventually being hobbled first by taxes, then health sensibilities, finally being absorbed by an American company and fading away. 

Another full page advert was for a car - I looked up it's number plate on the MoT checker and it reported that yes this was indeed the car in the photo but it also informed me that it had a red livery.

There was a 'pocket cartoon' - which has a woman asking a bloke whether ' kissing was a health hazard' as well as a simple weather report stating that it was a cloudy and rainy December - yup - some things never change........

To purchase the current version of this paper is £1.70.

The Fiat was sold for £1500 at the time, I have looked up car and classic car type websites and the same model can command a price between double and 12 (yes TWELVE) times the original cost. wow.

Not quite as planned

Today has been an odd day, one that any plans, simple or otherwise have taken a journey of their own and despite all good intentions - 'things' have happened.

An entire can of carpet glue exploding upstairs and spiralling furiously as it sprayed the stickiest 'web' everywhere until it expired

A water pipe being pierced by a nail by a previous unknown workman and on removing the nail some decades later - a present workman created an unwelcome water leak. He was horrified and very apologetic even though it was not him.

Decades old pipes, wires and a 1976 newspaper lying amidst so much filth and dust between the floorboards that it felt like an archaeological dig rather than a repair job

A lemon drizzle cake - usually the mildest and meekest of bakes - fought back and caused so many deviations that subsequently a lot more washing up was created.

All this before lunch............

And now, sitting on the floor, listening to the ice melt dripping, the neighbour drilling and the radio churning out over-cheerful yabba, I am mending Himself's hat. 

And it suddenly feels a whole lot better.

tip my hat

 A personal challenge - try and write something every day for January 2025 

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Having come home (albeit a little earlier than normal) from the day job, I'm doing my 'homework'. A portion of my day is computer related which I choose to do at home. Today I am planning and designing a treasure hunt for children based around the park, a 'bingo' card for littlies to tick off as they run around the gardens and an adult level anagram and word search. 

However, I keep being distracted.

I'm in the lounge which faces the lane through the village. Any movement makes my eyes flick over towards the window. So many bobble hats, beanies, trapper hats, berets, slouchies, hoods and caps trog by. After my eye was caught yet again by something colourful bouncing along as the wearer made their way down the footpath, I stopped trying to avoid looking out, leant back and gave myself permission to enjoy the visual feast.

Most folk seem to be ensconced in some variant of woolly type head gear, whether knitted professionally or by their gran, they all seemed to be tugged firmly down around the ears, resting just above or over their eyebrows. 

A few fleecy type hats have loped passed, usually more trendy in appearance with bright colours or patterns. The best so far has been a furry trapper type hat. The kind that have long 'ears' which can be fastened tightly below the chin with the hat part pulled down deeply, keeping the head and a goodly part of the face covered .... except this one was not.

The hat was jauntily perched above a cheeky chappy's face with the ear flaps sticking out horizontally, very reminiscent of Grogu's own ears, bouncing quite merrily in time as he walked.

About a half dozen of teenage lads then lanky-legged by in their school uniforms - no hats or scarves and certainly no coats. At what age do lads mature into hat wearing, coat donning, scarf wrapping, fee paying members of the public?

I 'double-hat'. 

I wear a thinnish skull cap type - usually crochet cotton courtesy of my sister in law, this acts as a heat trapping layer, topped off with a thicker knitted slouchy beanie. This allows me to removed the outer hat if I get too warm without actually exposing the horrendous bird's nest hat hair that lurks beneath. It does not matter one jot if I contain my feral hair as tightly as possible, I know that once it is hidden deep in a hat - it goes even more wild and makes me look like I have been dragged through a hedge backwards.

The view through the Victorian Folly towards the Italian Gardens and Chinese stone lantern

we are all things to all nations if nothing else here at the park...

Surround Sounds

  A personal challenge - try and write something every day for January 2025 

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I have a busy brain. It chats happily to itself and to me, organising, discussing, replaying, planning, making lists and anything else that it fancies to annoy me with. For a few years now, I have been gently practising the art of silencing the incessant chatter.

Some days it works and others - not so much. I have learnt and regularly practise ... to just listen. Listening to the sounds around and not letting my busy brain discuss them. Listening in silence.

The tearing of the wind as it rustles through trees.

The crackle and bursting of air bubbles when a river tumbles over the rocks.

Birds singing for territory, for mates, to impress.

The sound of boots slurping in mud, crunching on frosted snow, clipping on tarred pavements, scrunching on pebbly tracks.

The drag and whush of the retreating tide on a rocky beach.

The crisp sound as a page is turned in a new book.

The clink of a paint brush as you swirl it in water to clean it.

The quiet breathing and sometimes the deep snoring of a fast asleep cat.

That deep chest thudding roar of rain swollen rivers as they crash down a ravine.

......and just a gentle enquiry - how many of you heard the sound as you read the words?

Laying down the first tracks

 A personal challenge - try and write something every day for January 2025 

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The crusty crunch of our boots on the now frozen snow was the loudest sound first thing this morning as we kissed our goodbyes. It was still dark and the thermometer in my car said it was -7°c .... it certainly felt like it.

the track last week before more snow 

was unceremoniously dumped in large quantities

At work, I turned into the small access lane along side the park. It is a rough and unforgiving little track in the best of weathers so I knew today was going to be a rather bumpy ride. And it was. As I reached the far end, I noticed that were no other tyre marks - I was the first to arrive but not only that - the first to drive up the lane and onto the carpark since the more recent heavy snow .... I slowed down, carefully pulling into the small space we share with the Council lads and gently reverse parked hoping I would be able to drive back out.

Later I was cheerfully informed that everyone who'd tried to drive in a day earlier had to be dug free ....   It was good to catch up with some of the volunteers and the staff.  My 'work family' are actually special to me - but don't let them know that, it would go to their heads! 

Glad to be home though, I've had enough of this intrepid-driving/working-in-the-snow-lark - give me warm sunshine any day.

simple joy

 A personal challenge - try and write something every day for January 2025 

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Snow flurries dance past the windows, whirling and rolling before landing on the already frosty white ground. I'm glad to be inside. During the winter months I am home more - as primarily employed as a horticulturalist, I am busy beyond belief during the 'growing season' and although I diversify during the winter months into arty, craft or wreath making workshops,  I have the utter pleasure of have days off during the week to 'play'.

I recently discovered something new to me - 'perpetual journaling'* - which entails sketching or painting an item from nature once weekly in a book and repeating until that book is full which if done correctly can last for years.  Be still my beating heart.

I started mine in November (when I first made this wonderous discovery) and look forward to painting and adding my work each week. I love that each time I add to my book - you can see a visual change in the seasons.  It also makes me look at my subject of the week so closely - making me notice the tiniest of holes in a leaf, the thinnest of spines on a stem, the curliest of fronds, the crispest of dried foliage and it feeds both my gardening and arting heart.  

I love that when I am out walking I could just chance upon the perfect subject for scrutiny then sketching. All this joy and pleasure from something so simple.

 A snow topped teasel from the walled garden

*if you are on instagram - have a look, there are some absolutely beautiful journals out there.
#perpetualjournal
#lgperpetualjournal

And thank you for your lovely comments, they are much appreciated and it is lovely that I am 'meeting' some new-to-me faces - welcome to my little corner of the world 💚x

Madam does not approve🐾

A personal challenge - try and write something every day for January 2025 

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Working from home today. 

The snow has triggered where I work into a health and safety hyper-alert. It does not take much for paths to be slippery or access to become difficult and seeing a fair number of folk who use the community building and gardens on a daily basis are mostly older, it seems better to err on the side of caution.

So, instead of doing garden planning, checking on our seeds/tools/potting soil, making shopping lists and welcoming back the volunteers, I am at home having just endured essential mandatory training.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be at home when the weather is like this, I can wrap up and chat to the cat whilst I am working (not that she approves of this kind of frivolous comradery - she is more the 'you-work-and-I-watch - through closed eyelids - type of cat......)

Any hoo - I am now fully certificated on anything to do with fire prevention and safety in the workplace.  The cat was not particularly impressed when I let out a ooooof of relief on the final assessment.... however, I am just glad to have finished it. 

The eyebrows of annoyance say so much more that words could ever do!

Ginger cats

A personal challenge - try and write something every day for January 2025 

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Like much of the UK, when I flung the curtains open this morning, I was welcomed by a brightly white view. Snow.

Himself and the cat seemed firmly burrowed in the duvet, so I pottered downstairs and while I waited for the kettle to boil, took photos with my mobile. Quick snaps as proof in case the rain came and spoilt everything, washing the brilliant white away and replacing it with the usual dismal and drab northern winter.

Sipping our tea and coffee, watching the snow flurry this way and that through the window,  suddenly message after message from the family pings up - photos of their snow, their happy snow chatter, so I sent them ours and it felt lovely that despite the boys being in their own homes - we were 'all together' watching the weather and comparing depth and snow fall type.

Himself wanted to get out and experience the snow so we wrapped up warmly and set off. The cottages in the village appeared to hunker down in the mounds of snow, clustering around the lane running through it. There was a thin wind curling around the trees and funnelling through the stone walls and slicking across my face making my cheeks feel brittle, however I could not feel my toes...

After about three miles, Himself and I returned, shed our many layers, put the kettle on - time for a mug of tea and  still warm 'ginger-cat' biscuits.