A solitary walk

In a continued effort to nurse myself back to cheeriness, I encouraged my very understanding other half to take the children off for a large chunk of Sunday. I'm prone to a little panic whenever I get a rare couple of hours 'off''. The feeling that I should be getting lots done can make me anxious. There are always any number of jobs to be done and my house could always do with some attention in the cleaning department (ahem). This time however, I decided to acknowledge my exhaustion and just give in to it.

I pootled about the allotment and marvelled at how the slugs had reduced almost everything I'd planted to nothing. There was also some quiet rejoicing that some of my potatoes have not only survived but seem to be thriving...at least we may have one harvest this year.

I stood and watched the action down at the canal. It's all happening, as you can see...

Then I walked home, so slowly that it may even have looked as if I wasn't moving at all. Slow walking is not a luxury many of us can afford and I took full advantage; stopping at every bloom and view along the way. There was much humble and overlooked beauty to be found...

Those little wild-flowers of herb Robert, cow parsley and forget-me-nots just sing of summer. All my grand plans slipped away, I was lost with the day.

I feel so grateful for the quiet of that day, so thankful for the warmth of the sun and the gentle thrum of growth.

It really is the little things isn't it?

Buckets!

Warning: there are a lot of pictures of hand-made buckets in this post - if you feel this may be too much utilitarian stitching - look away now!

I've been wanting to make these nesting buckets from Mayamade for ages and ages. But like most things around these parts they've been on a slow burn. Too many ideas/children (two, children that is), too little time.

They are fantastically easy to make and fantastically useful. I know some people like to de-clutter but I prefer to compartmentalise it - so these little clutter carriers have had me happily moving piles of 'stuff' about for days.

The fabric for the lining was bought at our local second-hand market as a pre-loved duvet and the outer fabric was a scrap bought for a song. Their humble origins make them all the more satisfying I think.

And here they are in action...the biggest sized one is great for toys, next biggest for general tat, medium one is just perfect for CDs and the baby one great for keys and wallets. Not that I would want to be prescriptive - I'm pretty sure you could find any number of uses for them!

Ah, creating with purpose - it does the soul good.

A slightly dark butterfly tale

I've been struggling to post here for the last couple of weeks. Generally I'd say I've been lacking in the joy and sparkle department of late.

My mood was mirrored by our hatched-in-captivity butterflies. When I ordered those teeny weeny caterpillars I'd imagined us being a part of a joyful journey of growth and transformation...but the experience fell short of magical. It was pretty impressive how quickly those little critters grew but I was perturbed by their food solution. They were certainly not on a natural diet of wild greens, and their plastic pen didn't allow them much room as they grew. They got bigger and bigger and bigger again. The chrysalis forming stage was incredible - definitely awe-inspiring - but as the slower developing caterpillars came along trying to find a space to hang from, their jostling knocked down one of the already formed chrysalides. I was worried...We transferred the butterflies-in-waiting to the hatchery, pinning the hanging cocoons to the netted side and placing the loose one gently on the floor as advised. We eagerly awaited the moment of birth...

They emerged unseen. One by one we missed the births; we discovered the empty shells of the chrysalides first, then searched for the bedraggled new-borns clinging to the sides of their temporary home. The fallen chrysalis lay unopened. The freshly-hatched butterflies did not flutter like wishes on the wind, they flapped and fell clumsily onto their backs and then scrabbled desperately up onto the walls once more to tremble fearfully. They did not eat the fruit nor the sugar water we provided for them but seemed more and more subdued. We couldn't release them because of the ceaseless rain, so for days they sat silently with folded wings. They became an oppressive presence.

It was disturbing to have these creatures in our house. They didn't seem to know how to fly, they didn't seem to know how to eat, their wings didn't look right; I associate butterflies with weightlessness and freedom and the whole business was starting to get to me. I decided that at the first break in the rain we would release them. Oh, but the wrongness didn't stop there! Our stunted butterflies fell from our fingers and flopped into puddles the wrong way up; they jumped from the flowers and leaves we put them on into tangled undergrowth and became ensnared. It was not the release I had hoped for.

They are, however, now with nature come what may. Perhaps the whole butterfly rearing experiment would have been more wholesome had we been able to release them much sooner on the warm winds of more welcoming weather...

I'm not sure where all of this is going, except to say that perhaps that some of us need the sun much more than others...

Carrying the sun

Well, the rain has arrived as we knew it would and should. I'm fairly sure that when the rain started I heard the earth heave a grateful sigh. I have been rather less happy. The weather affects my mood greatly and I'm generally a more pleasant person to be around when the sun is shining. I love the freedom of being able to walk out of the door with the boys in the morning and stay out all day - frollicking in nature; cares forgotten.

I've been feeling heavy and burdened this last week and struggling to shake it off. I can't help but think it has a lot to do with grey skies and damp air. I know people say there is no such thing as bad weather only bad clothing (or something like that!) but my appetite for the outdoors is definitely tempered by wetness and greyness. It is virtually impossible, however, for us to exist harmoniously indoors, so we generally brave whatever conditions are presented to us. The boys are seemingly unfazed by the lack of warmth, whilst I am a little more grim-faced about rain dripping from my hood.

 Those beautiful sun-filled days spent with friends in rivers and woods keep me warm when the sun is no longer shining...

Tacky sun-creamed skin, sun-warmed sandwiches and blanket-strewn grass are memories I carry and keep like treasure. This year Eli took to piling up river stones to make ephemeral sculptures and Monty tentatively braved deeper waters.

While this much-needed rain continues I'll pull on my wellies and waterproof, take a deep breath and walk out into the drizzle. I'll try and remember to be thankful for the lush greenery, the flowing rivers and babbling brooks; the verdant vegetation. I'll try and remember to be thankful for the rain, even whilst I'm hoping and dreaming of more sun to come.

Just a quickie...

...to say that if you've tried to comment in the past and couldn't, you should be able to now. So go ahead and comment, let's have a conversation!

What's the significance of the above photo? Nothing at all; I just loved the colours...

Canal side

Early summer is upon us and I do believe we live in one of the very best spots to enjoy its loveliness. Although these pennine hills and valleys are often cloaked in cloud, when the sun shines it feels like heaven. From densely wooded hills and wild open moor to babbling brooks and raging rivers - we've got it all. And running along the valley floor...a canal. Just perfect for a spot of weekend biking.

With all the gorgeous sun we've been having I'm sure it's not the last of these 'out and about' posts you'll see...you have been warned...

At play

Before I had my own, I assumed that children instinctively knew how to play. I had a vague idea that they would potter for hours blissfully consumed by their games. This has not always been the case for our family, which has caused me some concern and a lot of learning to let go of pre-concieved ideas. Children do not always do what we think they 'should' be doing.

Many thoughts have been spent on what to do about such an unexpected thing as a play-challenged child. I have considered whether our selection of toys is too limited or whether we need more exciting playthings - would greater choice or more novelty be enough to 'fix' my percieved problem?

Now for the soap-box: I am troubled by plastic. I am troubled by how it is produced, how it is disposed of and how unquestioningly it is embraced as an essential part of our lives. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the mass consumption of plastic toys. In every home, baskets and boxes overflowing with garish coloured plastic toys, many that will be tossed away into the bin not long after they arrive as they inevitably break under the strain of play. Having the latest must-have toy means that what our children 'must have' is always changing, meaning more spending from us parents and an early instilling of our culture's throw-away mind-set in our children.

To turn our back on the vast array of toys that are available to our children is not an easy job. I know I can sometimes worry that I am denying my children 'stuff' that others have, feeling that they may be missing out somehow. I am increasingly confident however that these concerns are largely unfounded - didn't our own parents tell us that they could play for hours with nothing but a stick and a smelly rag? I believe creativity can be nurtured by a limited number of playthings, and if those things are simple and can be used in a variety of ways then all the better.

Simple wooden toys may seem unexciting at first glance but they often invite creativity. Blocks and construction sets that feel satisfyingly weighty in the hand can become robots, castles, vehicles, animals and on and on if you're five years old. We have wooden animals that are made by hand which links the child directly with the maker. Wooden toys are often beautiful and durable, two qualities that many of us would look for in products that we might purchase for ourselves.

We still have many days when the boys find it difficult to play independently - they're social animals and understandably prefer the kind of play that involves others. But, I think I'm starting to see that we could be on the right track. As they get older, the pressure will really be on to buy into more complex toys or even enter the world of the video game. When I see them hammering rods into blocks and manipulating little wooden pliers, I sigh with relief - not yet, not yet...