A this-and-that kind of morning

I've mentioned before (maybe here, maybe over at Frond & Feather) that I've been trying to be a bit more structured in my approach to work. I'm currently working my way through the Maker's Business Toolkit and it's really helping. No, this isn't a sponsored post or anything. But it's been great to be part of an online community and to have a framework.

I plan out my working week and it's so much better than my previous scatter gun approach.

However.

Today has been a little bit... unstructured.

Maybe I'm just preparing myself for next week - half term - when any semblance of being organised will be straight out of the window. I'm looking forward to it, actually. Yesterday morning we were in such a hurry to leave the house, I locked the front door and as we walked Joe was crying. 'Mummy! You haven't put my shoes on!' Sure enough, I looked down and there he was in just his socks. I felt pretty awful about that one.

After dropping Joe at school today I went out of the side gate from the playground (you have to be quick once the bell's been rung or they lock you in and the only means of escape is via Reception and the wrath of the headteacher) and off up the hill for a little walk. Firstly, because it's been trying to snow for days and we've had just the lightest dusting and I wanted to enjoy it. Secondly, because I wanted to play with my camera.

You see: My name's Sarah and I'm an Autoholic. 

I've owned a DSLR for probably eight years now and am completely stuck in the point-and-shoot mode. In some ways it's served me well; I have some really lovely photos to show for it. And I tend to play with images later on, thanks to some nice editing software. Being a creative type I actually enjoy the whole messing around with effects process. Although it can be very time-consuming.

But I know I can get so much more from my camera. We're now a two-DSLR household, and I keep using Jay's camera with the kit lens rather than my own with a 35mm. I rely way too much on auto-focus.

A good friend of mine is a professional photographer and she couldn't believe I never move out of Auto mode. So yesterday I made lots of notes from my 'Photo' Pinterest board and had a go. 

Many, many horribly underexposed photos later I realised I was trying to run before I could walk. So instead of leaping straight into Manual, I decided that today I'd make a start with Aperture Priority instead. I know the basics - kind of - so off I went.

The photos in this post are all SOOC (Straight Out Of Camera). Other than the black and white ones. And, to be honest, I only did that to try and improve them as I wasn't too happy with them in their unadulterated state.

Still, onwards and upwards. Apparently using Manual mode becomes second nature. Just like riding a bike or driving a car. Well I can drive a car and a tractor - complete with a trailer full of hay - so I'm going to keep on persevering.

I didn't stay out too long, just half an hour or so, because today's to-do list is a long one.

So I returned home, swapped my wellies for shoes, and ran a few errands in town before heading home for a restorative mug of hot chocolate.

I'm also planning to send off my first article for Creative Countryside this afternoon (the accompanying picture will be taken later next week. Who knows, I may be an ace photographer by then). And I need to do a bit of a social media catch-up. 

Joe and I enjoy a bit of colouring. He does these huge, weird and wonderful felt tip drawings with the most surreal stories attached to them. I sit opposite him trying to ignore the marks on the table and use one of those 'colouring for grown-ups' books (this one, a T.K. Maxx bargain). Having read the reviews it would appear that some people take their grown-up colouring very seriously indeed. I'm not one of them. However, it's very absorbing and a nice way to de-stress.

This story is going somewhere, I promise... You see, I recently made some more plant monoprints. Being the most picky of perfectionists, I wasn't entirely happy with the fern (above). I'm also very resourceful and hate throwing out my artwork - especially when it's done using expensive paper - so I thought I'd colour it in with green pencil. It actually looks quite good propped up on the mantel.

I like the idea of hand-tinting my monoprints, so plan to have a go at that after lunch. Whether the watercolour paint will cause the (water-based) printing ink to run is anyone's guess.

And now the sun's gone in, it's trying to snow again and I'm heading downstairs and away from my messy work table. I didn't photograph all of it. A little section tells you all you need to know.

Perhaps a straighten-up later on then, before I collect the little tornado from school.

Have a great weekend, and stay warm.

P.S. I've been re-reading the first two 'Adrian Mole' books (it's probably twenty years since I last read them). I'd forgotten how funny they are...

The Quiet Winter

I saw that as a hashtag and liked the idea of it. January here so far has been fairly quiet; a few flurries on the work front and the whole back to school whirlwind but other than that... 

Actually, no. They're resurfacing the road outside. Yesterday there were four hi-visibility clad men standing outside for over an hour. When I say outside, I mean two of them were actually sitting on my living room windowsill, backsides pressed firmly up against the glass, smoking endless fags and shouting expletives at their colleagues. Some piece of machinery was on the blink. So was I.

I'm no prude (and enjoy a bit of colourful language myself, I'll be honest). But Joe was due to be collected from school and I didn't want him to hear it. So in between getting annoyed, and the house literally shaking as they finally got back to work with their steamrollers or whatever they were using, yesterday afternoon was about as far from quiet as you can get.

Still. They've since moved further down the road and I'm calm once more. It's almost peaceful. I'd love a deep snowfall to deaden everything - there's nothing like that feeling of feeling warm indoors, looking out at a layer of white snow.

Christmas still remains in some ways. I forgot to take my string of bells down and can't be bothered dragging a chair across to climb onto and get them. And I had a mild allergic reaction to the tree again. Silly me. I just hate the thought of not having a real one, and conveniently forgetting each year about the problems they cause me.

There are still some fairy lights up. I don't see them as necessarily Christmassy. A bit of twinkle during the darker months never hurt anybody. And it's often gloomy in here in winter - which is why I've taken some 'interesting' indoor photos instead, reflected in the glass doors. Above: note the dead daffodils on the mantel shelf.

But there's a matching bunch on the opposite end at least.

I haven't seen any more to buy yet. Maybe I'll empty the dead ones out this afternoon...

The holly in the jug on the landing window has decided to flower, which is quite sweet.

Yes - this is one of those 'miscellany' posts again. I just felt like writing one, so please bear with me as I jump from one subject to the next. So: my amber necklace. I sent it down to Cornwall to be re-strung and it's now safely back. I've worn it already. I'm very happy with it.

And another change of direction: my hair. I really hope this doesn't come across as vain or in any way self-indulgent. You know I hate having my picture taken. But in the interests of Mitenska, I thought you might be interested to see how my going grey is progressing. Cue more badly-taken selfies.

I actually took the dressmaking scissors to it just before Christmas. This is something I do occasionally in a fit of - what? Boredom? I don't know. The ends were getting a bit ratty, and I thought if I could get rid of a bit more of they dyed stuff I might as well. So I did.

I told you the house was gloomy. I have to take these incredibly unglamorous shots in the bathroom because it's just about the brightest spot in the house with a mirror.

Selfies using my phone aren't an option. I'm not 15.

Anyway, hopefully you can see the grey coming through more. I clipped the sides back as it's more obvious at my temples and hairline. I quite like it too.

Even though there's a lack of light at the moment, Joe's suddenly into creating big, splashy paintings. They brighten up the kitchen no end and he does love me exhibiting his work. 

Speaking of the kitchen, I've been eating a really healthy diet and am feeling pretty good. I tried this recipe last week and it was delicious. I omitted the orange juice and yogurt, but it was so good I'll definitely be making it again. The coconut and sweet potato soup would be great with chicken added, and the lentils weren't really a necessity.

Elsewhere, my house plants seem to be waking up. I love rose and lemon-scented geraniums and they're doing very nicely so perhaps it'll be time for cuttings soon.

I'm trying to keep the next few months as slow and simple as possible: home-based pursuits, local walks, no spending. The blouse was a purchase made before Christmas but I'm really pleased with it, especially for the price (£11.99). Yes, really. H&M.

I've been working through my Maker's Toolkit, reviewing 2016 and planning 2017 for Frond & Feather. It's been really useful so far.

Sometimes you need to have a bit of a treat, don't you? I know, I know - no spending. I'm trying. I just can't resist sometimes. I've been reading a lot lately (mainly in bed) and enjoying short stories, but the lure of the magazine gets me every time.

Finally: This. Lego. Still everywhere. I'm surprised I haven't killed the hoover with it yet. I have knelt on the odd piece (and suddenly my language matches that of the road workers). I sit down in the evenings and spot little half-built vehicles positioned on shelves, under the fire or behind the TV. The best approach is to shove it out of sight or to join in and make something.

They've forecast heavy snow for tomorrow. I'm crossing my fingers. Who needs Lego when you can build a snowman?

September

I've always loved September. Yes, it will always be tinged with sadness as it's the month my mum passed away. But there's always that 'new start' feel to it as well. 

Joe started school (mornings for his first week, afternoons for his second. And tomorrow he goes full time). He's taken to it really well.

The whole easing-in approach has been a double-edged sword. On the one hand I've not really been able to get stuck into any work. But on the other, I've been able to extend that feeling of him still being fully mine. 

So we've been out in glorious sunshine, picking blackberries and finding conkers. We made bramble jelly. His teacher knows all about it...

Other seasonal eatings: soup (this afternoon's recipe is roasted butternut squash), huge English apples from the market and lots of ideas from my latest library book, Antonio Carluccio's Simple Cooking. I do like the idea of rustic Italian food. Simple, quality ingredients and lots of flavour.

We've been out on loads of walks lately and even discovered a new footpath quite literally behind our house. I also managed to fall down a rabbit hole. Joe tried to fall down the same rabbit hole.

It's definitely feeling autumnal now. Even the holly berries are reddening. I know where there's a plentiful supply come December, although we sadly don't get mistletoe in these parts.

Out in the garden the sunflowers are in full bloom and I've been collecting calendula seeds ready for next year. Joe's turnip seedlings are ready for moving into bigger pots too. I suspect we'll be doing that later today.

Also on the agenda: a wander through the fields into the woods to collect pine cones. I need to make a garland ready for this next weekend. I'm hoping to doll the gazebo up a bit so it looks inviting and people come and look at my artwork.

And whilst the oven's on roasting the butternut squash, we'll be baking banana bread for Joe's after-school treats.

Moving indoors: a few photos of the house. You may have blocked it out, but here's a reminder of how downstairs looked last year:

The previous owners were kind enough to leave us with lots of furniture, dog dirt, rotting food and (not so) white goods to dispose of.

After a clear-out and many months of building (and demolition) work, we were left with an empty, newly-plastered shell. It was initially decorated in a greenish grey shade but we soon realised that the light levels weren't great.

So the paint brushes and rollers came out again (sigh).

And it's now much brighter. Yes, there's still plenty to do. The dining table is a bit too 'shabby chic' for my liking so I'll maybe replace the chairs and get experimental with paint.

Ditto the old (from my mum's garage) stereo cabinet. Mahogany - or whatever it is - will be painted over with some leftover paint from the kitchen.

In fact, everything's been done on a budget. The mantel is an old piece of wood, again from the garage, which had sat on the roof of my stepdad's boat for years. The TV stand was bought from the British Heart Foundation furniture shop. We removed the glass doors, sanded down the yellow pine and repainted it. The whole thing didn't even use up a tester pot's worth. Pricey paint but it cost less than £4 in such a small tin.

The curtains are from H&M and I do intend to line them for winter. As for the windows, if you look closely at the above collage (right hand image with the typewriter): well, it actually looks out onto a scruffy bit of next door's garden. So I tried this trick from Pinterest using a piece of old lace curtain and cornflour. And it really does work. Bargain! Much cheaper than window film.

The little table (above, left) was given to us by Jay's auntie. It houses some of my favourite cookbooks. And we'd planned to get rid of our tatty old Ikea sofa bed (right) and replace it. But I raided my stash of unused fabrics and made a throw from pieces of denim and cotton. Even the cushion cover and curtain across the bottom of the dresser are made from off-cuts, kept from when I've shortened curtains for the windows.

I'm such a skinflint.

Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying beautiful weather and the transition from summer to autumn. I'm already knitting and reading Agatha Christie books.

And going out early in the morning in wellies and pyjamas to photograph cobwebs. As you do.

Have a great week.

Winter scrapbook

Well, it seems like I was never going to write this post. Joe's been off preschool with some vomiting bug or other, which I've picked up but it's (thankfully) only a mild version. He's fine again now and the famously voracious appetite has returned.

Of course, a picture-heavy post means I always go a bit lighter on the words. Probably because I try to write the kind of blog I myself like reading. So lots of photos and a few little updates. I'm planning a wordier post for later in the week. Or perhaps the weekend.

It's bright here today. At last. The seemingly endless grey skies and rain can make you wonder if this is possibly the most depressing winter ever. Looking back through the camera though, I can recapture a little of the frost and snow-induced cheeriness.

The Flying Scotsman has now left these parts, but we saw it plenty.

It's still flipping cold. Not as much as a few weeks ago, but my fingers are a bit numb typing this.

I've booked in to do the Crafty Vintage handmade markets for 2016, held here and here. So I've been busy Making Art. Still much to do. And an eye-catching stand to design and build.

I just finished reading 'The Remains of the Day'. I loved it - it has now become one of my favourite novels ever. Jay treated me to the DVD so that's Saturday night sorted. I suspect I might cry.

Speaking of Jay (and I know he reads this): he's been baking a lot recently. Experimental stuff. Last weekend we had rhubarb and custard muffins and very tasty they were too. I also know he goes and bakes to escape to the kitchen when Joe is being a nuisance. I know this because I do it too.

I'm longing to get out into the garden. We need to do some heavy stuff first; a big pile of earth has to be moved to make way for a shed. Maybe a bit of poking and pottering first, just to ease us in. We have snowdrops and miniature daffs and hellebores. 

At the risk of sounding a bit odd, I really want to scrub the trunk on the birch tree.

Joe and I have joined another local library. I found a great book on printmaking, and we borrowed lots of train books for him. We did a story session ('I don't want to join in' - him, 'I'll give you a YoYo if you do' - me, 'Alright then' - him). The craft bit afterwards was more of a success. 

He's really enjoying the new preschool and sings as we walk there. But it's still a little bit heartbreaking to see his old one up for sale and all the little tables and climbing frames and things being sold on Facebook.

We did a walk on a very frosty day last month. Thick ice everywhere. But still evidence of the Boxing Day floods - even dry stone walls are scattered across the fields in some places.

The snow was short-lived but we made the most of it. Two snowmen, a snow bear and a three-year-old who refused to wear gloves. 

It was great to let Joe loose in the field behind the house and watch him run around. Much better than the ice - he insists on slithering across frozen puddles and I wait for him to slip and crack his head. Hence the woolly hat.

We've had a trip or two out - in late January we went to Cumbria and saw Furness Abbey and visited the South Lakes Zoo.

 A cockatoo fell in love with Jay. 

And although there were acrobatic monkeys making car-alarm noises, and wolves and tigers, and a kangaroo with a baby in its pouch, we all agreed on our favourite bits: the bird enclosure with parrots flying overhead, and the cafe with a woodburning stove. Because it was a bitterly, bitterly cold day.

We managed to get to the beach too. 

And although it looks like he's having a wonderful time in the pictures here, Joe's absolute favourite part of it: doing a wee outdoors for the first time ever. Standing up. Apparently that's what a three-year-old really enjoys about a day out.

I'll leave you with that delightful thought. Sorry.

I hope you're finding some brightness in these gloomy months. Speaking of which, I'm really thinking of repainting the downstairs of the house in white. Low ceilings and beams and small windows make cottages cute and cosy but also very dark in winter. I know Jay wants nothing to do with it, having just decorated. I totally understand. But come spring I'm happy to chip away at it myself. You know, with all the free time I have ;)

Have a good rest-of-the-week.

P.S. I've also discovered Aldi chocolate. Dark, with hazelnuts in. It's actually rather posh-looking and tasting. No this isn't a sponsored post - just passing on a tip to help keep the cold out.