Gloves!

New gloves! Just in time for the cold snap!

There’s something about a pair of woolly gloves that reminds me of being a child.

Lucky enough to have an anxious mother (flip side reserved for another post!) I braved the cold winter looking like the sporn of Jo Brand and the Michelin Man. I remember shifting around like a gated racehourse as the wool and the thermals and the scarves and the hat were draped around me. Tugged at, squashed down and spun around; my body temperature would reflect a spring holiday on Kefalonia by the time I opened the front door!

Suffice to say, my new gloves remind me of those I’d wear as a kid in the 70s / early 80s.

Slightly retro colours, slightly itchy, and not lined, so that when you try to pull them on, your fingers get tangled on the skeins inside, and your thumb seems to head in the wrong direction, or your little finger gets confused and forgets it has a cover all to itself.  Not to be donned in a hurry, my irritation is tempered by an odd feeling of nostalgia.

One difference, these gloves have 3 fingertips with handy touchscreen technology. (Handy. See what I did there? Ho ho.)

Now, if that ‘s not a sign of the times, I don’t know what is!

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Morning Mist Over The Beacon

mist on the beacon

God bless Keats for his resounding line, ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness”

I thought about this as I snapped this shot yesterday morning as I drove through the woods.

I feel so privileged to bear witness to such beauty.

Autumn Moment

This beauty turns my ashen heart to flame and burns orange autumn tongues within. My soul bathes, basks and twists in pools of white, November sun. I breathe deep, damp earth. A single leaf makes heavy winter thoughts light and … Continue reading

New Leaves

Okay folks! I’m going to level with you and you’re probably not going to agree with me…

You know all those beautifully crafted books on the ‘inspiration and motivation’ table in your bookshop? The ones which, somewhat irritatingly for those who are OCD enough to care, won’t sit right on your bookshelf at home because they’re too small, or too square, or too thin?

The soothing, matte cover entices you to pick it up and slide your palm across it… and when you open it, you’re met with a spectacular array of orange sunsets and waterfalls and extreme close ups of droplets sitting heavy on thick green  leaves.

Each photo is laced with wise words we see stitched on cushions, coasters, coffee cups and small, extortionately priced pebbles and metal tokens.

I’m being facetious. But I hope you get the idea that I’m really not the kind of girl who buys into the ‘little book of calm’ culture.

Now I’ve prefaced my post with a stinging crit, I’m going to contradict myself royally by admitting that I saw one such little book in a charity shop and, having been quite moved by words I’d never heard before, I bought it!

One of the things that I believe about life is that every one of us, without exception, needs to believe in new leaves. No matter how good or bad we are, no matter what our race, creed, culture, we all have areas of our lives in which we need to turn over a new leaf.

Arnold Bennett inspired this reflection by putting it like this:

The chief beauty about time

is that you cannot waste it in advance.

The next year, the next day, the next hour
are lying ready for you,
as perfect, as unspoiled,
as if you had never wasted or misapplied
a single moment in all your life.
You can turn over a new leaf every hour
if you choose.

Arnold Bennett

I love the idea that at any given moment,  I can turn over a new leaf.

It doesn’t matter about the charred mass of rubble behind me, it doesn’t matter about the blotted page I’m standing on now, the next step is onto an unspoilt canvas.

God put it like this:

“I–yes, I alone–will blot out your sins for my own sake and will never think of them again”.

(Isaiah 43:25)

New Living Translation

And so it is, that I have to swallow my cynicism, and allow hope, once again, to permeate my soul.

I hope you can too.

Autumn Glory!

Today’s sky, thick with heavy grey cloud, has shed unrelenting, squally spirals of rain all day. The dark of the evening descended long before its due time and with it, a damp, earthy mist.

This time of year brings mixed blessings. The beauty of the colours pitched against the beast of coldness and no more sun.

Fortunate enough to live in a rural area, my drive this morning took me through an arboreal tunnel of Autumn glory. The rich colours of the leaves en masse, lifted my heart, as the joy of being in such beauty rushed through my veins.

The drive back was dark and wind beaten. I squinted at the glaring headlights of passing cars and my wiper blades groaned almost ceaselessly in their efforts to beat the heavy rain.  I remembered as I drove, that the light and the dark are all part of one glorious creation. They are perfectly balanced in the fragile but enduring orbit of the earth. Out of the long, dark evenings comes the slow light of dawn to show the ancient tapestry of red-brown threads that weave through the season’s days.

What art can compare with this natural landscape?