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!
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 →
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.