Hello again, I hope you're well.
Sorry I've not been around - I've spent most of January in virtual hibernation and am feeling better for the little holiday from my usual daily routines and self-imposed working conditions ;)
I'm grateful that Toby has been able to return to school (he attends a severe learning difficulty school and they've been wonderful at keeping the pupils safe and providing essential routines to underpin the week) and without him to constantly supervise, my January weekdays have been quiet, unhurried and peaceful. There's a feeling of stillness and sanctuary in our home and I've not really wanted to be anywhere else other than right here, which I am very grateful for since we are still in lockdown here in the UK and so cannot go anywhere anyway.
This time of year is usually melancholy, even in the best of years, but it's feeling more so this year, and like many others I've never felt such a need to keep things simple, small and peaceful and to shut out the goings on in the news as much as is possible. Here in my little sanctuary of homeliness I've been listening to music, watching films and have given in to a growing and deep sense of nostalgia and bought a copy of The Wind in the Willows. Curling up under a blanket and reading myself into a world of whimsy and delight, far away from the fear and poison-filled news feeds has been a favourite part of my January days, especially on the few days when it has snowed here.
And of course there's been knitting, though of the gentle, meandering kind rather than the focussed intensity of pattern writing. I've started projects, put them to one side and started another: lots and lots of animal heads (mostly knitted in Camarose Snefnug which is a new favourite); some mittens; a pair of socks and some crochet coasters - I pick each project up as the mood takes me and free my mind of any sense of deadline or purpose, and instead just enjoy the process of gentle making.
Toby and I are still enjoying our weekend wood walks, though we're choosing to walk at dusk as it's much quieter than earlier in the day when there are lots of famillies making noise and leaving litter and disturbing the peaceful air that we seek there. And I've been enjoying walking with my camera in the week, when I can take time to notice and observe the rhythm of nature. Most days I head out early, just after Toby goes off on the school bus and then the thought of breakfast waiting for me when I return makes me walk faster and I'm able to kid myself that this little extra speed balances out the calories in a buttermilk pancake topped with coconut yoghurt, blueberries and maple syrup :)
The woods are at their least enchanting at this time of year: the pathways clagged and clumped with mud and their margins tangled with soggy, dead bracken and mulching leaves; the overhead branches brown and bare and stark against the sky or shrouded in mists. There's little of colour to enliven the scene, but knowing that spring flowers are busy under the earth, no longer dormant, but steadily and surely pushing up shoots from fat underground bulbs is a hopeful thought and there's comfort in the wheel of the year inexorably turning.
As January draws to a close, I'm starting to focus on pattern writing again and have lots of ideas to shepherd into being. I'll be back here on a more regular basis too, though long absences do interupt the rythym so I hope you'll bear with me while I find my blogging feet again.
I hope that you're doing OK and keeping well, I'll leave you now with the quote that I've written at the start of my 2021 diary in the hope it will guide my thoughts over the coming year:
"If it's out of your hands, it deserves freedom from your mind too" Ivan Nuru
