countryside · general stuff · in the woods · wildlife

September/early October: And the arrival of Autumn

 

Autumn is arriving here, with all of its mellow, golden beauty and the leaves are just beginning to change colour. It is one of my most favourite times of the year. Although walking in the woods is a beautiful and enriching experience whatever the season:

  • In winter they are cold, silent and skeletal, but oh so atmospheric, and the architectural shapes of the trees against the sky can be seen and admired;
  • The Spring they come alive with birdsong, the new leaves are a bright impossible green, and bluebells beautify the woodland floor and scent the air;
  • In summer they are a cool place to enjoy respite from the heat, and the woodland floor is dappled and pretty with a sprinkling of sunlight through the dense canopy of leaves overhead,

But it is in Autumn that I find the woods at their most magical and fascinating, and that is due to the beauty of the autumn leaf colours, the quality of the light and the profusion of wonderful fungi that emerge and fleetingly exist under the trees.

There’s not much fungi sprouting yet, just a few springing up here and there in the damper patches of the wood, but with rain forecast over the next week the majority should begin emerging soon.

September signals the start of spider season too and all along the hedgerows a host of big orb weaver spiders are sat fatly in the centre of their webs. They look like they are floating in mid air until the sunlight glints off of the silken strands and highlights the intricate pattern. And the hedgerows themselves are absolutely laden and bountiful. This year is a ‘mast year’ meaning that trees and shrubs are co-ordinating and producing an unusually large quantity of fruits, berries and nuts, possibly in response to weather conditions throughout spring and summer, or perhaps from a more mysterious connection between their root systems or pheromones, it is not fully scientifically understood yet, leaving us free to still believe in a little magic going on out there in the woods ๐Ÿ™‚

At home there is knitting, of course, but there is very little in the way of pattern writing going on here for me. Things have been a little difficult of late. I don’t often mention Amy here on the blog anymore, because although she is still living with us and our stories are still very much intertwined, it feels an invasion of her privacy to write about her. It is after all her privilege to share her own story with those that she is personally comfortable with. But I am going to say that this has been such a tough month for her, she has had to contend with physical health issues, which have led to mental health issues too. It has been so hard to watch her struggle and be able to do little more than try to comfort her. I so hope that she can overcome her struggles and get back on an even keel again and continue her journey towards building an independent life for herself. The path from adolescence to adulthood is never an easy one, but it feels like it is harder than ever for our young people now.

After a few planned solo trips out to the woods with my camera I hope to be back with some toadstool pictures later in the month. I am craving the peace and comfort that being out there alone brings me, and look forward to having the space and time to calm my racing thoughts and concentrate only on what I see, hear and smell in my woodland sanctuary.

I hope you have a good couple of weeks and get some time to spend on the things that you love,

J x

countryside · crafts & knitting · garden stuff · general stuff

March: blossoming, birdsong and buds

 

Weโ€™re in that odd in-between time of year where one day it feels like Spring has arrived bringing sunshine, blue sky and warm breezes, and the next winter has reasserted dominance by sweeping back in with chilling frosts and squally sleet showers.

There are however signs that Spring is really just around the corner:

  • the treetops are a-twitter with small bird song, not yet at the full glory of a May dawn chorus, but certainly building towards it,
  • the plum tree in our garden is in full blossom, drawing in the first bumble bees and a few butterflies emerging from their hibernation in the woodpile,
  • the days are often warm enough to hang out washing on the line again, I do love gathering in line-dried washing, it smells so fresh and clean,
  • blackthorn is just beginning to blossom out in the hedgerows, with the frothy white flowers so pretty against the bare branches
  • trees are starting to bud, not yet turning green but poised and ready to begin
  • and it looks as though Katsue the little fox is pregnant, sheโ€™s grown very rotund around the middle and Iโ€™m pretty sure it not just all of the cocktail sausages sheโ€™s been eliciting from me

Back inside Iโ€™m really excited to be working on a new 9 inch animal pattern again, but progress is unfortunately woefully slow. Having Toby here for most of the time means that Iโ€™ve had to adapt to a new way of working and basically snatch what time I can between taking care of him. It makes for very sporadic and haphazard progress, but Iโ€™m pleased if, at the end of each day, Iโ€™m able to say that Iโ€™ve moved forward a little. Itโ€™s too early in the process to show you anything just yet, but Iโ€™m really looking forward to reaching the point where I can share some progress pictures with you.

As an antidote to the brain taxing business of pattern writing Iโ€™ve been spending the bookends of each day knitting simple things, (that is to say the early mornings when Iโ€™m not fully awake, and the late evenings when Iโ€™m dozing off again). Iโ€™ve made a few of these small bandana type scarves now, itโ€™s a lovely easily remembered pattern, perfect when when youโ€™ve run out of concentration capacity. The pattern is called ‘Sorgenfri Torkle’ by Guri Pedersen and I’m knitting it in Cardiff Cashmere Classic yarn in shade 518 Piombo

Well that’s all of my news for this time, I hope to have some more details of the new animal pattern soon, thanks as always for visiting with me, see you in April, J x

countryside · crafts & knitting · general stuff

January frosts & home comforts

The days between Christmas and New Years Day are an annual gift I give myself, a peaceful pause in the march of days when no โ€˜to-do listsโ€™ are allowed to intrude. Instead there is just a gentle drifting, a pottering and flitting between things that feel right at the time. We walk with Toby every day out in the quietly dormant countryside, and then itโ€™s back home to warm up by the fire and put cosy indoor clothes on. Afternoons and evenings are spent reading or watching films and knitting, of course.

However, now that the year has got going I’m finding it hard to pick up the pace, so we’re still in hibernation mode here and gradually easing back into routines. Toby is back at his two activity days and I plan to start pattern writing again next week, hopefully picking up where I left off before Christmas if I can gather together all of my notes and remember where I got to.

As always, walking in the countryside remains a big part of our week. The woods in January are cold and still and quiet, shrouded in drifting mists and carpeted with mud and damp leaves and the overhead branches make filigree frames around patches of leaden sky. Thereโ€™s no birdsong, just the cawing of crows and chattering of magpies, all of the smaller birds have flown off towards back gardens where food is more plentiful. Mice, shrews and hedgehogs are all tucked up and hibernating and the squirrels spend weeks slumbering high up in their cosy dreys before rousing from their torpor on warmer days and coming out to forage. 

Not that there have been many warmer days of late. Last week was bitterly cold here, with deep frosts so we were bundled up in extra layers and our walks were brisk affairs, rather than the leisurely strolls of summer. It was so beautiful out there though, every surface shimmering with a diamond dusting of tiny ice crystals.

Back home I curl myself around a cosy hot water bottle and nestle down under a warm blanket and knit socks. There is peace and quiet and comfort and I feel immensely grateful to be right here, right now.

I hope that there is cause for a little gratefulness in your January days too, J x