The Week that Was

It's strange - I usually dislike January and almost dread it: New Year (I much prefer Christmas), the feeling of having overindulged and overspent, the dark, grey days... but if you actually embrace it... well, it can actually be a comforting and (whisper it) enjoyable month. Who knew?

I've been allowing things to unfold in accordance with the weather. Walks on bright, take-your-breath-away freezing cold days. Staying home and warm on wet, dark afternoons. Today (Saturday) we headed into town. Not something I usually relish at all but it was necessary - my mobile phone needed looking at - and we stopped in at Waterstones on the way back to the car. 

Of course, with Joe in tow any dreams of whiling away a couple of hours amongst the books was just that. A dream. But I still got to look at all that lovely stationery, the volumes of poetry, those piles of books with beautiful covers.

Needless to say that Joe came away the winner. A set of Gruffalo matching game cards and an Usborne Rainy Day activity book. I love Usborne books for little ones.

The matching game went well until he lost. You'd have thought the world had ended. He also insisted on trying a game of Monopoly last night. I hastily made up a very simplified version. And when he landed in jail... The tears, the tantrum! 'Chance' cards angrily scattered all over the floor (needless to say, he was made to pick them all up again, despite my struggling to keep a straight face). I suspect Monopoly will be remaining in its usual spot, gathering dust on top of the dresser, for a long time to come.

Or at least until Joe learns about being a gracious loser.

The Rainy Day book didn't provoke a meltdown. You can always rely on books. Especially books with stickers.

There have been the usual domestic pursuits this month. And organising. I sorted through a lot of old paperwork this afternoon. My calendar and diary are up to date. Other indoor activities: watching Lucan, reading an old favourite (Thornyhold by Mary Stewart), making endless bird feeders with Joe from bird seed and lard. He's going through yogurts like nobody's business so we can save the pots. The garden's a-flap with jackdaws, robins and a now quite hefty-looking blackbird.

Those of you who follow me on Instagram will know I've been printmaking too. I added a few new designs (Bluebell and Fritillary) to my Frond & Feather shop. One good thing about the printmaking process is that there are always those which are initially printed onto scrap paper, and some which aren't quite right for one reason or another. So I get to stick them up on the walls. And my spring designs are quite cheering.

Today's been horrible and wet and dark but we have seen some sunshine during the past week. I met up with my stepdad for a walk around the local reservoir and then lunch at the nearby antiques place. It was incredibly cold, particularly on the high spots. But when the sun came out it was lovely.

Closer to home, I've been nipping out with the camera after dropping Joe off at school in the mornings. I run across the road to the churchyard, or up the little lane next to the school to capture the frost before the sun gets to it.

Everything's still bare and quite dead-looking, but there are a few signs of spring approaching. The magnolia trees in the churchyard are covered in fat, fuzzy buds. And there are lots of green shoots poking through the earth.

The antiques place I mentioned earlier is near a cemetery. I do like cemeteries and graveyards. Nothing morbid about it: I just like walking through, reading inscriptions and enjoying the quiet. You find some wonderful old names too. There were primroses growing all over the place when I went on Wednesday and the afternoon sun was really uplifting. You can feel optimistic in the most unlikely of places sometimes.

We're trying to get the chores done today in readiness for a slow Sunday. That's how the week often pans out: Monday to Friday I do artwork, admin and anything business-related. Evenings are spent cooking, eating, doing things with Joe then once he's bathed, read to and put to bed, we tend to just collapse in front of the T.V.

Saturdays we shop, clean, do the laundry etc. (around Joe). We try and get outside too. And by the time Sunday rolls around we can take it *easy: a late breakfast, a walk, afternoon baths, a roast dinner. Sundays are for home and family. 

*As easy as it gets with a four-year-old early-riser.

So, that's my little update of my week. I hope you're enjoying your weekend. And that the rain stops tomorrow, even if it's just for a while.

New Year

Thank you for all the Happy New Year messages following my previous post. I hope the post-Christmas period hasn't felt like too much of an anti-climax for anyone.

I'm not really a fan of New Year, never have been. But I actually managed to get food poisoning on Christmas Day and spent the night being violently sick. Boxing Day was spent in bed feeling really quite ill. Suffice to say, after a couple of days chocolate made its way back onto the menu.

One thing that has changed though: I've started drinking my tea with lemon instead of milk. I much prefer it.

I'd intended to do the whole Healthy January thing but... well, it's cold and dark and we're still in a state of semi-hibernation. Although I did make some of my own snack bars using the ingredients listed on some very expensive ones. Cashew nuts, cocoa, dates and sultanas, carefully weighed out according to the ratios on the packet. The result: exactly the same flavour for around half the price.

I bought some wool at the weekend and am attempting my first ever jumper. A very simple pattern and already it looks... homespun. Artisan. Yes, let's called it that.

The flooding around here has been terrible. Joe's preschool reopened today but they had to replace all the toys. All the houses in the village were a few feet deep in water. Bridges have collapsed. Even a mill, built in the early 1800s, came down.

We're fortunate that we're not close to the river. The garden was pretty waterlogged for a while (we're at the foot of the moors below a sloping field) but it drained away. And *touch wood* the kitchen roof's holding out. 

Joe and I have been out walking whenever we can. There have been picnics in the car and picnics on a rug in the living room too. We've made thankyou cards for those who sent him lovely Christmas presents. We've read books and watched DVDs and done jigsaws.

On the reading front, I gave up on Moll Flanders. I'm now midway through Westwood by Stella Gibbons, and enjoying it very much indeed. That and seasonal poetry are keeping me going of an evening.

The tree and decorations came down on Sunday. I was slightly worried about courting bad luck, especially considering the past year and a bit, but it was time. The needles were dropping - even though we had a living tree - and I decided it could go outside and enjoy the still plentiful rain.

Everything's packed away now. We still have candles but things have been rearranged here and there; some of our pictures are now up on the walls and the holly has been replaced with a bunch of cheery little daffodils. It all looks fresh and promising.

I even cut a piece of muslin into two and hemmed them to make some sheer curtains for the front window. The bobble trim is stitched on too. They look rather nice.

Tomorrow Joe goes back to his two days at preschool which means I can get on with some work. Commissions, getting a new website, booking tables at markets and craft fairs, making more lino-cuts...

I've even booked myself onto a printmaking course up on the Yorkshire coast in March. It's only for a day but I'm going up there with my stepdad and we're thinking we may stay overnight in a B&B. 

Speaking of treats (although the course is actually 'Professional Development', funded by my misleadingly impressive-sounding Business Account) I spent my Christmas money. A new coat. I'd seen it in a local clothes shop for more than I could afford. Then I found it online for 50% less.

It's now mine and I love love love it. Just my colours and old-fashioned enough to satisfy my Housewife, 49 tastes.

Treats like this are very few and far between, but for me personally it means I relish and appreciate them all the more.

Finally: resolutions. I'm not weighing myself down with a list of what I should stop doing, what I need to do more of etc. But having spent the best part of a morning today listening to a social worker (the visit overran by an hour meaning I had to cancel on my friends) and the prospect of more of these seemingly fruitless meetings in the coming weeks, I do need to prioritise. The danger is always that of getting caught up in so many things and feeling as though I'm being pulled downstream by a very strong current.

Family commitments and responsibilities, Joe, a new house, establishing a business: I'm struggling to fit it all in. Time alone to rest, to think, to be inspired, to grieve... It just isn't there. So I need to be firm with others and to safeguard that time. It's very easy to allow yourself to be pulled in all directions and to let others assume you're always at their beck and call. The hard bit is figuring out how to change that.

I'm determined to find a way this year.

Home

How long has it been? A few weeks? Something like that.

We moved house. 

It took three days of to-ing and fro-ing in that awful weather last weekend. Abigail, was it? Howling gales, torrential rain. It was not fun.

But we're here and despite our joiner-related woes and the lovely fresh paint being scuffed and marked and the chimney needing repointing (we have the damp patches to prove it) - this little cottage is now our home. Yes, things are in a state of chaos. And yes, every single piece of furniture suddenly leaning a little bit takes some getting used to.

It's a very warm house though. Just as well, really. This morning - finally - we woke to blue skies. No rain. But snow (secret 'Hurrah!'). I did a little walk behind the house and it is extremely cold outdoors. And perilously icy underfoot. I trod carefully and marvelled at how pretty everything had become. It almost makes up for those winds tearing the lovely autumnal leaves from the trees.

No, that's not our house. It's one I admire though.

There's an Instagram hashtag, #cornersofmyhome. I'm not trying to be cryptic or anything - the fact is, it's quite dark and gloomy (the days seem to be getting very short very quickly). So no photos of the house. I tried, but low ceilings and beams and small windows, coupled with the poor light levels, resulted in some rubbish grainy photos.

The farmer next door built his house very close to ours so it casts a lot of shadow down the gable end. I doesn't bother me too much, but like I said - not great for photos at this time of year. 

I will try again, but in the meantime I've taken a few pictures of little details. And a horse.

Thank you for being patient. I'm slowly making my way back to Instagram and blogging. Moving house really does turn everything upside down, quite literally, and on top of that I have a craft fair in a week and a half so am flat out trying to get plenty of stock together.

There will be more house-related posts coming up. And I will be reading other blogs too. Things will settle down - in fact, by mid December we're stopping. No more decorating or tip runs or any of that stuff. Just a few weeks of festive relaxation.

Hope you're having a great weekend (and keeping warm).

Bright (and a bit of brave)

This post is not a cop-out. You see, I'd fully intended to go out with my camera and thermals and find little beacons of brightness in this grey January. But I haven't. Yet.

The wind, the hail, the rain, the biting cold - I've retreated. I've done something which, thus far in my blogging career, I haven't yet resorted to: gone back through the archives. I actually enjoyed doing it, looking at all those pictures and noticing how my photography has changed (progressed?) over the past two years. Seeing Joe as a little baby. Re-living summers and places visited and small pleasures had.

A few blogs I visit have done this recently. I've admired their colourful collages and looked at all those bright hues. I believe there is definitely something to be said for colour therapy.

So here you are. Some of these images and collages may be familiar to longer-term readers. If you've recently found the blog, welcome - and I hope you like looking back through a little pictorial history of Mitenska.

I've been trying to stick to my 2015 plan to be more brave. It's been interesting so far; at least one challenge each day. Yesterday I braved the weather and went to a yoga class with a friend. It was pretty daunting: a room full of very flexible people and us two the only newbies. But the teacher was great, I somehow managed to coordinate myself to follow the sequences and I'm going again next week. I'm even trying a fitness class tomorrow. There's a creche so Joe will be taken care of while I pant and sweat and try to keep up.

I've made enquiries about possible work opportunities, contacted some lovely helpful people (you know who you are) about a possible blog redesign, reached the end of all the formalities regarding my mum's will, and made some important appointments.

Tonight I'm trying a new recipe from one of my cookbooks. It involves mincing chicken so we'll be dusting off the (as yet unused) mincing machine and giving that a whirl. Apparently you shove a slice of bread through first to ensure it's clean then off you go. I quite like culinary contraptions. This could be the start of a short-lived novelty beautiful relationship.

There's also been much reorganising and tidying-out of drawers and so on. 

Last week I brought some of my mum's books home. When I say some, I mean quite a lot. It's an eclectic mix: Polish history, classic fiction, cookery books, scuffed old paperbacks I can remember from being little. I set up a little bookcase in the bedroom to house them all safely and will not be stuck for anything to read for a very long time.

Looks like I've got a bit of momentum going here. And as soon as the weather calms down I'll be out snapping away. But not yet - there's tea to drink and firelight to be cosied up beside.

Losing yourself

It seems to be a modern-day affliction: Too Much To Do syndrome. Overwhelm. I know lots of people suffer from it; I just need to visit other blogs to read about how we're struggling under waves of to-dos, feeling as though we're just about keeping our heads above water. Nothing gets finished. If it does, it's not done to our satisfaction.

I'm starting to feel stressed by all the things demanding my time and attention. The simple fact is that there are not enough hours in the day to deal with it all. In terms of priorities, Joe comes first. He's a year old (almost two) and it goes without saying that, during his waking hours, I'm the one who takes care of all his needs. There are many. A close second to Joe: home and family. Keeping things running smoothly so Jay and I have a nice home with a clean bed to climb into at night and good food on the table.

Then there are all the other demands: friends and wider family, blogging, chores, admin - phone calls, form-filling, banking. Helping with playgroup (and the old ladies up at the church are a pretty demanding bunch, believe me). Getting involved in the Incredible Edible scheme. Commitments. Somewhere near the bottom of the list is taking time out to relax. Even lower than that: creative pursuits.

Back here I wrote about the whole needing to slow down thing. I fear I'm reaching that same breaking point again.

So I've done my best to deal with it before things get too much.

Yesterday I did some timetabling and wrote a huge to-do list. It was actually quite frightening and anxiety-inducing to look at. But look at it I did. I separated it into sections then categorised it in terms of what needs to be done daily, every few days, weekly and monthly. I felt a bit better.

My mind is as busy as I am. Busy, by the way, doesn't necessarily mean productive. But by writing things down I feel a little bit more in control. I know what I need to do, how important it is, and when it needs to be done by. I picture my mind and thoughts and ideas as being like a street on a windy day with sheets of paper blowing about all over it. I'm always running after the paper, trying to catch it but not quite getting there before it's whipped away out of my reach again.

Writing down to-dos, ideas, plans: it's like grabbing all those pieces of paper, shuffling them into a neat pile and putting a great big paperweight on top.

The day-to-day housekeeping and admin list is stuck up on the fridge. The creative to-do list (now reformatted into a timetable/schedule): blog post ideas, schedules, photography tasks and so on, lives on the drawing board in my workspace.

Yes the lists are still long and daunting. But the thoughts and ideas have been safely committed to paper. And not in my usual scrappy way of a scribble on this bit of post-it and a cryptic note in that exercise book. It's made me feel slightly more in control and a couple more steps further away from the brink of freak-out.

Finally, a list of things I find help me to slow my racing mind. They're absorbing and somehow transport me away from the worry of an ever-growing to-do list and the panic of having forgotten to do something urgent. Feel free to make any suggestions, by the way. It's always interesting to know what other people do to relax.

Cooking. The slow, several-stages type. Baking a cake or making a pie or a soup.

Walking. Being outdoors somewhere green.

Colouring. Yes, really. Grown-up colouring books from discount bookshops are better than telly. Most of the time, anyway. The simple acts of choosing colours and staying inside the lines just works for me somehow.

Reading. Fiction, not factual stuff. Comfort books are my best escape (and children's fiction works a treat).

Pinterest. Pretty pictures to gaze at. Loads of them. Enough said.

I've also cleared out my bags of the usual detritus which collects in them and sorted out my jewellery box. Little organising sessions always leave me feeling better - they're like small victories and you gain a sense of accomplishment from them. They're therapeutic. And now I can go into the weekend feeling on top of things and a bit more in control...

Hope you have a great (and relaxing) weekend too.

P.S. I know the images for this post are a bit pick-n-mix but that's no bad thing. 

June in pictures

I know we're not quite at the end yet, but June's been a hectic month: packing, arranging, notifying, lifting and carrying, tidying...

But now we're here. This was our first Sunday where we felt life was getting to where we want it to be: peaceful, relaxed. We had a lie-in (well, until 8am. That is most definitely a lie-in when you have a toddler in the house), had bacon butties and took a leisurely walk along the old railway line. Joe had a meander and poked about with a stick, and was beyond excited to see the steam trains chugging past at regular intervals.

So my little look back at June is a day early because I'm taking part in a Blog Hop and will be posting my contribution on Tuesday - come and see!

Other than the all-consuming house move it's been a month of: roses... evening walks in the sunshine... elderflower cordial drinking... wild strawberry and gooseberry(!) picking... de-cluttering... family catch-ups... outdoor lunches (and dinners)... reading...

Meeting new people... watching Joe get giddy about having so much space... getting to know the neighbours (all friendly - phew)... shopping at the market... eating too many meals from the local chip shop...

And gradually settling in. 

I'm looking forward to the next couple of weeks. Being closer to my mum means we get to spend more time together. There's a lot of blogging-related stuff in the pipeline too. Oh, and I've spotted a great big patch of wild raspberries which should be ripening soon. Wild raspberries taste like nothing else - I love them.

I hope you had a wonderful June.

Midsummer meanderings

... Of both a figurative and literal nature.

Despite the (slowly diminishing) chaos indoors, we've been unable to stay inside for very long in the evenings. The long days mean we go out for walks before Joe's bedtime and make the most of the sunshine. One of the reasons we were so keen to move back was the countryside around here and the countless footpaths which take you through it. You can go for a 20 minute stroll or, if you're feeling so inclined (and there are plenty of inclines in these parts) you can just keep going for hours.

Some evenings we wander up into the village.

Others we go out into the fields.

There are nearby tracks which take you through the trees - perfect when the sun's low in the sky and the light's twinkling and shifting down through them, illuminating little spots here and there.

Interestingly enough, I recently came across a list of words on Pinterest which have no English translations. One is komorebi; Japanese for the sunlight that filters through the leaves of trees.

Haymaking already. It's often wet and rainy in these here Pennines so they're quite literally making it while the sun shines.

In more domestic news, I've somehow managed to put up a washing line which goes from the back of the house, through the yard and across the little lane behind. It's a whopper. Three clothes props required.

I know I sound a bit like an anorak but I don't care. These are the things that make me happy.

We've joined the local library and already been to a few playgroups. People are very friendly and I've offered to help out at the one at the crumbling Methodist church up the road. It's run by some sweet little old ladies who dress up for the occasion and play the piano at the end of the session. Watching them do the 'hokey cokey' on their frail legs... it was almost too much!

I've got so many things to catch up on yet but the blissful midsummer sunshine has got me thinking that they can wait. All in good time - a little bit here and there and we're gradually getting organised.

Finally, thank you for all your good wishes over the past few weeks. I hope you're enjoying the summer and I'll be catching up on everyone's news from Blog land this week.

Sarah.