Little Cotton Rabbits

A little lull

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There's currently a lull in our planning for Toby and a temporary reprieve from paperwork, so I'm enjoying decompressing a little with regular walks out in the woods.

Although winter still has the countryside in it's grip, there are signs that a change is coming, and the first flower of the year is now in bloom, the glorious snowdrop. I never feel right picking wildflowers to bring home, they all have an integral part in the wild eco-system, so I take only photos when I'm out and about, but the snowdrops in the little glass jar (clothed in beautifully made crochet by my friend Esther) were garden-grown and gifted to me by my cousin-in-law Nicky and are a beautiful reminder of their wild kin that are carpeting the woods right now.

Inspired by their delicate colouring, I have also enjoyed knitting myself a new hat. It's the Alpine Bloom hat from Caitlin Hunter of Boyland Knitworks and I've used some lovely Hampshire 4ply yarn from The Little Grey Sheep (colourways 'hellebore' and 'naturally').  I don't often wear green but I'm feeling drawn to it as a colour at the moment, probably because there is such a lack of it in the countryside over winter. Spring is on the way though, and long summer days will be following, all things to look forward to on a dark winter's evening.

There is a little gentle-paced pattern writing going on here again too, I'll show you more when it's a little further along, 'til next time I hope life is treating you kindly, J x

 

Winter Walks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The countryside is currently drab and dormant and much given over to mud, so most of the pleasure in a winter walk comes from the promise of what awaits on returning home. Coming back home after a chilly walk in the murk and mist is a delight; closing the door on the cold; peeling off layers of damp, muddy clothes and changing into warm, comfy and cosy things; cupping your chilled, weather reddened hands around a mug of hot tea and snuggling down by the fire is blissful.

But there is still beauty and colour to be found out there, even in the depths of Winter:

• The beech leaves holding fast to the trees and bright with the colour of a polished copper kettle;
• the red ember glow of the holly berries still held deep in the dark, prickly heart of hedges;
• the vibrant green skirts of moss that the trees wear in wet, wintry weather;
• and the sky, a constant shifting canvas of colour, most spectacular at dawn, but beautiful too when the watery sunshine pierces pearly cloud and outlines the skeletal forms of the bare branched trees.

This scant scattering of colour is not quite enough though, so I am eagerly anticipating signs of spring starting to show, and hope to find the first snowdrops soon as a sign that the greening of the woodlands is coming.

In Little Cotton Rabbit news there is not yet much to tell from here, but there are exciting goings on happening at Lucy Locket Land. Lucy had the brilliant idea to create some special kits throughout this year which mix my animal patterns with her own wonderfully imaginative and creative additions.

In January she had the mice dressed as Arfur the Handymouse and Martha the Mousekeeper  and these kits proved to be so popular that they are currently sold out. Februarys kits will be the pigs, so it will be exciting to see what they'll be doing and I can't wait to see what other creative fun Lucy comes up with for the other animals over the rest of the year. Here's a link to her instagram where she's posting teasers for future kits, and a link to her shop where the kits are sold.

 

Images copyright Lucy Locket Land and used with permission.

 

the golden hour

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The shortening days are making me appreciate how precious light is and I take time to notice how magical the daylight is at this time of year. Here at the beginning of December the sun only rises to around 16 degrees above the horizon and so even at midday there's a low light shining through the windows (I am doing my best to ignore that this highlights the dust on all the surfaces).

Early in the day the dawn highlights droplets captured on spider webs, condensed from the early morning mists.  And on clear afternoons from 2-3pm there's a wonderful honey gold light which glorifies the last of the autumn leaves still clinging to the trees and makes even the tv aerials shine as though burnished with precious metals.

This golden afternoon light glows through the hedge outside my window here at home and traces lacey patterns on the curtain. Out in the woods it is cut into thick lambent wedges by the tree trunks and illuminates the ferns and fallen leaf carpet to flaming tones, and the setting sun blushes great ships of cloud sailing across the autumn sky.

The colours that I see out in the woods prompt me to rummage out from my yarn stash all the colours of peaty earth, golden toadstools and sunlit leaves and I'm enjoying playing around with these colours in some gentle paced making.

I feel so thankful to live somewhere that has seasonal changes and contrasts and deeply appreciate how they give a rhythm to my year. At the moment that rhythm is encouraging me to slow down a little and conserve energy, a muted form of hibernation if you will and I'm planning on having a quiet winter, a much needed pause before the springtime planning that we need to do for Toby's future. Today I'm curled up here by the fire, knitting and feeling grateful to be warm and safe, I hope there's something making you feel grateful this week, J x

 

Autumn in the woods: part 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There's a line from a Mary Oliver poem, which resonates for me...

"If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much"

 'How I go to the woods' from 'Swan: Poems and Prose Poems'

For only a handful of people have ever come to the woods with me, and all of them are my most loved people.

Going to the woods is usually something that I much prefer to do on my own (except for walks with Toby of course), because being alone in a wood is a wonderful sensory experience which is greatly diminished if you're chatting with someone else. 

Alone you can walk quietly, listening to the forest sounds and concentrating on noticing small details: the curl of a leaf; the glint of a toadstool in the dark of a hollowed out stump; a leaf reflected in a small pool of silvery water cupped in the cap of a toadstool; the patterns in a decaying tree.

The woods feel safely enduring and impervious to the anguish and perils of the human world, and although this is of course a fanciful illusion, I am happy to embrace that feeling for an hour or two and let the woodland peace dissolve my disquiet.

Back home knitting is proving soothing too and I have a finished pair of socks and a few scarves still on the go.

I hope that you also have fortifying activities that gently reinforce hope, optimism and joy for you in these troubled times.

 

 

Autumn in the woods: part 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn has arrived here, with wet and windy weather and a sudden profusion of fungi out in the woods. I head there at every opportunity, savouring the soothing peace and quiet that flows between the trees.

It's been a good year for the hedgerow fruits of hips, haws and berries and the woodland creatures will be well provisioned this winter. Tree nuts have been abundant too - chestnuts, beech nuts, hazelnuts and acorns have covered the woodland floor, though most are now hidden away in the winter larders of squirrels and jays. And now the holly trees present their harvest and are heavy with scarlet berries. I hope to see the first waxwings, but am not lucky this time.

There is such great beauty in the natural world, but sometimes you have to get dirty knees and elbows in order to see it. Luckily for me the woods are mostly deserted on week days, so there is no-one to see me lying on my tummy in a soggy patch of moss in order to capture the close up delight of a toadstool and home is only a 10 minute trip in the car so I'm soon warming up in a hot bath after getting damp and chilled on my adventures.

Then it's back to knitting, for now just a little gentle-paced making rather than the more intense pattern writing. A pair of socks, a couple of Sophie scarves and quite a few pairs of very simple ribbed wrist-warmers are all currently on my needles and I'm enjoying just flitting between whatever takes my fancy at the time. And with each new project I begin to feel a re-kindling of my love of knitting, which I've recently felt has been ebbing away from me a little. Perhaps being so focussed on the end product, as is necessary when writing patterns, has diminished my enjoyment, and I just needed a little simple  'process knitting' time to find my joy again.

Hope you find a little joy somewhere in your week, J x

 

PS: it's been wonderful to see so many cows appearing on the facebook group and on ravelry, thanks so much for sharing pictures of your lovely projects :)