I cannot even admit how depleted I felt by yesterday (Friday) afternoon — last week’s sleepless night at my Mom’s, the emotions rolling around her condition, the demands of teaching, and the fatigue that ensued from running Sunday’s race so soon after my recent illness. . . .
So I went to bed before 9 and slept ’til 6:30 this (Saturday) morning, and I slogged through enough kilometres to keep my marathon training on track. Then I began working my way through a list of spirit-replenishers:
I downloaded Alan Bradley’s Red Herring Without Mustard — do you know this series, with its delightful young heroine Flavia de Luce?
I began an exciting new knitting project which I’ll post about a bit later (acknowledging that for some of you “exciting” and “knitting” may constitute an oxymoron when juxtaposed!).
For this reading and knitting, I ensconced myself in my deep burgundy leather club chair. Was ever furniture better designed for comfort?
Said armchair was near the woodstove which hosted a roaring fire. And regularly, lovely draughts of freesia wafted their way to me from the bouquet Paul brought home on Friday — even just that he remembered how much I love freesia, in winter, for its scent made me happy. . . .
And then the sun came out . . . and I went walkabout with my camera in the garden . . . so much new life!
I was especially thrilled to discover this little arrangement, which I’d hoped for a few years ago, noticing moss settling onto the rocks underneath a tangle of roses and so tucking a few crocus bulbs there. Then I suppose I forgot about them. But when Pater undertook some serious rose pruning last year, he cleared out the underbrush and gave these little guys a chance to catch my eye. . . .Rather than risk the overly sentimental, I’ll leave you to draw your own analogies. I’m just happy that beauty is there to cheer, sometimes in the quietest or darkest corners. . . .
And what about you? Have you been finding beauty or cheer? Or do you need encouragement in its direction, stuck as you might be in one of those darker corners? Feel free to share here — it’s surprising how helpful these blogging conversations can be!
If you saw what a winter mess it is here, you would be even more grateful for your beautiful spring moment. No sun. Cold. Damp. Snow. So depressing. (Sorry, this is not a very cheerful comment.)
Aw, sweetie, hop on a plane, and come sit on my deck. It's still a bit cool, but we can wrap some blankets around us, and spike some tea with Amarula and stare at the horizon. . . .(of course, truth be told, it may be too foggy to see anything and/or it may be pouring down rain, but still . . . )
đ I do want to hear about your knitting project. Those are always uplifting. And exciting indeed!
Oh, I love those perky little crocuses! The flowering plum trees (neighbors', not ours) are blooming and we just had a short warm spell that put me right into a Spring mood. I'm sorry that life is throwing so much at you right now, and admire your determination to keep the good stuff in the picture too.
We do Spring really well here, although the temperature's at zero today. Good weather and a bloom or two can really lift the spirits — maybe even as much as those ski slopes lifted yours! đ
I'm on the Spring train too! The mourning doves are cooing in the morning, and I grilled some meat outside tonight. I love the warmer weather. And your crocus, BTW.
We don't have warmth yet, nor mourning doves, but the flickers have been hammering out their courting-territorial notes on the metal transformers overhead, definitely a sign of spring!
I noticed crocuses here just yesterday – a lovely shot of purple in the moss. It's hard not to feel hopeful when the sun shines, as it did today.
Indeed!
Crocuses – how gorgeous! And really, sitting in a burgundy leather club chair near a roaring fire, knitting and reading, that sounds like something I could manage quite well.
I spent most of today on a boat on Sydney Harbour – not sailing, but doing 'duty' for the kids' sailing club. Still, I did remember to think 'here I am, out on the water, the sun is shining and this is a beautiful city' instead of focusing on the fact that my Sunday was not mine …
I'm off to look up that series đ
Sorry, not spamming, honest, but when I went to look up that series, I realised that the first book is the book that Kid 2 (now 12) is currently (as in right this second, curled up in an armchair) devouring. That's really rather a fine coincidence, don't you think!?
That's a very pretty picture you paint, on the water, the city behind you shining in the sun . . . although I can imagine it was hardly as leisurely as that, given the "duty"
As for the book, what are the chances?! I suspect you'll find the series great for sharing with Kid 2 — she's obviously quite a reader already!
Saw some early crocus blooms I think they were meant for you.
Harriet from that earlier post is gorgeous!
I do love crocuses . . . and I see the mini iris is not far behind bloom-wise. . . .
Flavia is one of my newer heroines – I am so pleased that you also admire her.
Isn't she fun?
I saw some mini irises blooming and grape hyacinths should be soon. I do love those little flowers.
February is the month that is most alive with changes on the West Coast. Redwing blackbirds are back.
I can't wait 'til my (very few) mini irises bloom — last year the deer ate them before they had a chance, but I have them protected now and have high hopes.
I haven't heard or seen a redwing blackbird yet (my favourite!), but the flickers are drumming out their territory. I do think February is a fabulous time on the Coast, rather like time-lapse photography . . .
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