Up in the air

It's almost a week since we returned from our (now annual) week on Skye. Only one rainy day was had - so we lit the fire, took hot baths and did our best to keep Joe occupied - and the rest of the time it was magical.

Dolphins, seal boat trips, castles, rusty old lighthouses, gardens, forest walks, beautiful beaches, mountains, bluebells, cuckoos... And solitude.

Things are a bit up in the air at the moment. In small ways and more significant ones.

My stepdad has sold the house he and my mum shared. It's far too big for just him so in some ways I feel sad but in others relieved. It just doesn't feel the same there any more. I always picture her waiting for us at the kitchen window, or summoning me upstairs to try on clothes. Visiting that house is hard.

He's offered me a few pieces of furniture and I'd like to have them. It's just a case now of figuring where they'll go in our little cottage.

Fortunately one of my friends lives in a house which owned the old village wood yard, so there's an outbuilding where I can store a particularly troublesome desk. The rest... Well, we'll just have to move things around a bit.

We're also wanting to put our house up for sale soon. There are a few health-related problems I want to deal with first though, so no solid plans just yet.

What we'd intended to do in terms of moving has shifted a bit, too. This after plenty of research and speaking to lots of people. But we're still keen to get moving and I'll share more once we actually know the details and mobilise ourselves into action!

And now we need to replace the hallway carpet (which was only fitted last year). On Tuesday afternoon I pulled the ironing board out of the understairs cupboard and tipped a tub of black masonry paint all over the floor. The resulting slick was an inch thick and about two feet wide.

The carpet, by the way, is an oatmeal colour.

I didn't take it well. Jay had to come home from work early to help.

Later that evening I learned that Joe needed a bug costume for the following morning. Cue panicked block-printing of an old T-shirt and stitching of muslin into moth wings.

He came downstairs way after bedtime to see how I was 'getting on' and managed to kick a cup of as-yet untouched tea all over the living room carpet. I may have yelled at him, then issued a grovelling apology shortly afterwards.

So what with arranging transport (and space) for furniture, needing more masonry paint to finish the gable end, and trying to find a carpet fitter, things are a bit all over the place.

Let's not even get started on politics.

And to round off this frankly rather self-indulgent whinge-fest (sorry about that): I just finished a book which had a sort of inconclusive ending. I managed all the way through to stop myself from peeking. I won't name the book (unless you ask) but the whole storyline was leading up to whether (or not) something would happen. And now I'll never know.

Anyway, there are more pretty pictures from Skye (without the commentary) here, if you'd like a look.

Have a great weekend. I've overdone it with the news lately so am hoping to perhaps unplug and do a few more mindful things instead.

The Top of the Mountain

We seem to have reached a bit of a crossroads, Mitenska and me. But that's not really how I view it. A crossroads suggests I have to pick just the one road.

In reality it feels more like I'm standing at the top of a mountain, looking down at a vast and varied landscape. Lots to explore.

As you know, I've been working on Frond and Feather. I'm currently running two Instagram accounts, a Facebook page which needs sorting out, two blogs, a rather neglected Twitter account and a few Pinterest accounts too.

Which suggests I need to simplify things somewhat.

It would make sense to just move everything to Frond and Feather. For the most part that's what I intend to do. But what about Mitenska? Do I just archive everything and move on? I'm not sure. It's different from Frond and Feather. More personal. Little stories of my life. Family memories, photographs. Thoughts and small celebrations, but also times of sadness and worry. Travels, what we eat, walks in the woods.

I don't think I want to let it go just yet. I think it'll stay here and I'll post maybe every few weeks. I want to keep this record going so I will.

The whole 'choices' thing applies to my work, too. I keep questioning what I should actually do (and do well). Printmaking? Illustration? Photography maybe?

Truth is, I really love all of them so I'll keep doing them all. Everything is inspired by nature so there is a thread running through all of my work. And if I want to try new things (current obsession: hand lettering and watercolour wreaths) then that's fine too. Surely it's a healthy thing to want to learn, to explore and experiment.

Joe finished preschool yesterday. I was surprisingly OK with it (alright, I did have a little cry afterwards picturing him having one last cuddle with one of the staff. She's usually very businesslike but shed a few tears as they said goodbye).

There was a teddy bear's picnic and treasure hunt through the village, then all the little leavers were presented with their files and a gift.

And now we have the whole summer ahead of us. I'm torn between panic (six weeks of entertaining him) and sadness that he's growing up. We already have most of his school uniform ready for September. He doesn't turn four until late August. He's still so little! 

Cue all kinds of misgivings despite much reassurance from friends, family and teachers.

We have so much to do. My work's going to drop way down the list while I've got Joe full time. But we're painting downstairs white (partially done), I want to repaint some furniture before autumn arrives and I do need to keep things ticking over on the work front.

But, to use that overused phrase, it is what it is.

I'm fortunate enough to be with Joe for the summer holidays, the last time he's a preschooler. I intend to spend as much time outside with him as possible. We have a key to the school grounds so we can go in and maintain the raised beds. It's somewhere safe for him to practice riding his bike.

On wet days - this is England, after all - we can walk in the woods. I suspect there will be many picnic lunches eaten at the little railway station, too.

We can get together with friends and play in gardens or go for ice cream. Or visit Wallace the goat up at the animal sanctuary.

Jay has booked us a night in Edinburgh in a few weeks. Just us two (while Joe stays with family). The thought of that is quite exciting - because much as I love my little one, there's something extremely freeing about time off. 

We're still hoping to move to Scotland next year. The plan is to put the house up for sale in the spring and to see what happens.

But right now we're going to enjoy what we have here: lots of friends, a happy house, village life. 

So, quite a view from the top of that mountain. I'm enjoying it.

And I'll continue to blog here (how regularly during the holidays remains to be seen) but at least I've made one decision: I don't want to leave Mitenska behind. It may change a little but it won't be mothballed any time soon.

Have a great weekend. We're just heading out for a picnic (as the clouds roll in)...

Looking back: June

I've been through so many photographs from June. And for this post I decided to stick with more from our holiday on Skye.

It seems fitting because the Colour Collaborative has now run its course. So as a final post it made sense to celebrate June in glorious Technicolour.

Ice-cream coloured houses at Portree harbour.

Sumptuous Liberty fabrics inside Dunvegan Castle.

Seaside colours at Waternish.

Skye was an island of blue and green in June.

The Fairy Pools were a strange shade of pale turquoise - almost other-worldly.

And there was bright colour in the castle gardens.

Joe played in the Fairy Pools wearing an appropriately-hued T shirt.

Red and sea-green: one of my favourite combinations.

Abandoned cottages hidden in the greenery...

More green and blue: water reflecting the sky, bluebells still in flower...

 I've also got this photograph in black and white. But I do like the subdued shades here.

The browns of the deep, silent pine forests, punctuated with verdant emerald ferns.

Acid green seaweed...

Gaily-painted boats and raspberry sauce-drizzled ice creams.

Soft moorland shades dotted with fluffy white cotton grass...

Khaki-coloured seaweed against graphite rocks.

And bright violet orchids growing by the shore.

The gorse was out in all its glory, smothering the hillsides in bright yellow.

And more turquoise: lobster cages washed up and tangled in the grass.

More muted colours: faded red paintwork, greying walls and creamy fleece.

Again at Waternish, an arty little settlement with a beautiful gallery: sun-bleached colours on the Inn sign.

That gorse again. It reminds me of last year's trip across to Bute. Very pretty but lethal if you go near it.

So, Skye in June. I'd love to go back in every season to capture it in photographs.

And farewell to the Colour Collaborative. I enjoyed being a part of it.

Have a wonderful July.