Little Cotton Rabbits

On the cusp of spring

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year it has felt like winter has lingered longer than usual, but there is at last a feeling of seasonal change here. Spring is definitely in the air, which has warmed appreciably from two weeks ago, when there were still traces of snow on the ground, showing up the tracks of Kit the fox all around the chicken run. On my walk today the touch of the breeze was pleasant rather than painful, with no need for bundling under woolly layers to keep out the chill and the bright sun was warming and very welcome. Although the woods are still wreathed in browns and greys and remain bare twigged, the leaf buds are starting to swell and it won't be long until they burst open with joyous green.

Birdsong is building in the early mornings, which is a lovely way to greet the day and is usually started by high clear notes from the robin. The pigeons bill and coo along the length of the fence and the bluetits are darting to and from the nest box, not yet bringing in nesting material but definitely behaving like prospective buyers.

Spring feels especially welcome this year and I'm daydreaming about the longer days to come, picnics, knitting in the garden, wearing short-sleeves and enjoying the feel of the sun of bare skin. Winter hasn't been all dull and dismal though, the skies have provided lots of splendid colour; whether it's been tightly focused in the curve of a rainbow or splashed across the whole sky in technicolour sunsets. And there is always colour inside in my knitting bag. I'm working on lots of new patterns at the moment, cabled sweaters, new animals and a few other ideas are being played around with. As always I'll keep you posted with more details once they're all further along and ready to share.

Lastly there's foxy news from the garden. Kit has had her third litter of cubs. We don't know where her den is but it must be close by as she's popping in daily for snacks. I knew that she was pregnant as I saw (and heard!) her mating in the early morning light on December 19th and throughout February she has grown obviously and progressively more bulbous around the middle. It's most likely that the cubs were born between February 10th-14th as she didn't come to visit at all on those days and when she arrived on the 15th she was no longer looking pregnant. It was the worst possible time of the year as Feb 10th was the coldest night for quite a few years with temperatures down to -7. I'm hoping that the cubs have all survived and are flourishing now the days are warmer and I'm wondering if we'll get to meet them later in the spring once they're old enough to venture out of the den. I shall make sure that I have my camera battery fully charged and ready, I'd love another morning like the one I had last year when Kit brought her cubs to visit for the first time :)

I hope there's a little in your life right now to lift your spirits and that you have a good weekend ahead. See you soon xx

 

January: snow, mists and mizzle

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

Autumn walks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's that time of year again, when the autumn woods are calling me, and this year more than ever I've been craving the peace they hold beneath their branches. Throughout October I've wandered their pathways many times, ambling along at my own pace, scouting for interesting fungi, listening to the wind in the tops of the tall trees and the song of small birds hidden in the thickets and each time I can feel the accumulated tension seep from my body, down through my boot soles and away into the damp and springy earth below.

At other times of the year these walks would take me 45 minutes or so but in autumn, with so much to see, they can easily take me a couple of hours and inevitably end with me having wet muddy knees. As always I'm stumped by the names of many of these amazing fungi but then appreciating their magical beauty doesn't require an understanding of their taxonomy. They're each wonderfully unique and I'm always thrilled to discover and photograph each of them as I make my way through the wood. I hope you enjoy them too and that you're finding your own small ways to navigate these anxious times that we find ourselves in xx

These pictures were taken across many walks in October 2020 at Broxbourne Common, Cowheath wood, Danemead, Brambles wood and Broad Riding wood.

 

A Panshanger picnic

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Tuesday, which looked like the best day of this week weather-wise, I took myself off for a picnic and my first solitary walk since March. Throughout the lockdown Toby and I have walked almost every day in his favourite woods, rain or shine (and sometimes very heavy rain), and the same route because sameness is a comfort to Toby and he has definite ideas about which paths to take in the woods so I am happy to let him lead. Walking so frequently in the same place as spring developed into summer has been fascinating - seeing the progression of greenery throughout the wood, the growth of different plants and emergence of different insects. But walking with Toby is all about his wants and needs and so there's not been time for the leisurely wandering that I like to do on my own with my camera in hand.

For my walk I head to Panshanger park, which is a nature reserve on the edge of Hertford. It's a wonderful site with the ruins of an old orangery (all that is left of a once grand country house); lots of ancient trees, including the famous one called the Panshanger oak and a system of lakes that are former gravel extraction sites now returned to nature and linked by River Mimram - a crystal clear and swift running chalk river. The park gets busy near to the carpark but once you work your way along the river and through the meadows you leave the picnicking families behind and it feels as though you are deep in natural countryside. I spent 4 hours there, wandering over 5 miles, stopping for a picnic lunch and taking my time to notice all of the natural wonders that can be seen by slowing down and paying attention. It was a wonderful tonic and I arrived home again tired, a little sunburnt (despite the lack of obvious sunshine) and feeling the peaceful contentment that I always rediscover when I've had a day out on my own in nature. So here are some photos of my day: the wandering pathways through frothy cow parsley and hog weed; the meadows full of wild flowers buzzing and chirrupping with thousands of insects; the cool and vibrant green-ness that banks the river course; the beautiful longhorn cattle that are now resident in the pastures and the wonderful variety of flowers, plants and bugs, some of them quite scary looking! I hope you enjoy them, I'll certainly enjoy looking at them again in the future, especially when I'm back to walks with Toby over the long summer break.

Well I hope your weekend brings you a little of what you love, and that you find the same peace and contentment that Panshanger brought me this week :)

 

On finding routine

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hello, how are you holding up?

I expect that you're just like me and are finding that the days have lost their identity and all merged into a constant stream of sameness. Here we have settled into new routine of sorts. Happily Toby now enjoys a long lie in - something he has recently been starting to get rather good at, after many previous years of waking at dawn. So my early mornings do give me a few hours of precious free time and my favourite activities are tea, toast with honey and knitting in bed (currently working on lots of clothing patterns for the small version of my rabbits);  reading (currently The Wild Remedy by Emma Mitchell, an inspiring and comforting read) or pottering in the garden. Once Toby's up and dressed and lunch is dealt with we've been keeping occupied.  On sunny days we're outside in the garden which has needed a tidy up and a rearrange ready for summer. H has spruced up the trampoline, which needed a bit of TLC after the winter, and Toby has had fun bouncing with lots of bubbles from his bubble machine. On rainy days we're inside for some boxercise, yoga or a disco, depending on Toby's mood. Toby loves music and he's also really enjoyed watching the music videos on 'The Singing Walrus' - be warned before you listen as I often go to bed at night with the catchy songs still circling in my head! We've also been baking, tidying and sorting too and Toby's got quite good at helping peg out the washing.

Early evening is our time to walk in the woods. We aim to arrive there at around 6ish as this seems to be the quietest time and we usually walk our 2 miles without seeing another human soul. We do see plenty of other creatures though, rabbits, squirrels, woodpeckers, a host of small woodland birds, a sparrow hawk, a red kite and in the last 2 weeks we've regularly heard cuckoos. It's been lovely walking the same route each day and fascinating to see the progression of Spring throughout the wood. Back in March the trees were still bare but now the lanes on our short drive have once again transformed into leafy green tunnels and throughout the wood there's a gorgeous lime green light created by the new leaves dappling the sun. As soon as the leaves started to unfurl they were besieged by an army of tiny munchers and the lower branches are now strung with silk-suspended caterpillars. When we arrive back at the car we have to brush them off our shoulders. I always come away from the woods feeling deeply grateful that we can walk there. Toby has a couple of meltdowns each day at home but it doesn't matter what has happened during the rest of the day, our woods walk is always a peaceful and happy time, as you can see from his face :)

Then it's home for dinner and a quiet evening. Toby likes a bath with lots of bubbles and water balloons and then some quiet music until bedtime - hopefully before midnight as I'm usually ready for bed by 10.30, but like most things in our house Toby dictates when we can all turn in. I usually fall asleep with my book in my hand and then am woken up by the hens clucking for their breakfast, ready to start a day of the same again.

What are your days like? I hope there's a little room in them somewhere for the things that bring you pleasure x