Over the hills and far away.

To clear heads and exercise legs, we took the boys for a walk a few days ago. We picked up Eldest's friend along the way and set off for the hills. There was a brisk breeze which slapped at our cheeks as we piled out of the car and layered our walking gear on. Giddy dog was excited, squeaking and pulling on her lead as we strode  along the lane to the gated access to the moorland.

We were the only ones out. Youngest and the friend chatted  incessantly about anything and everything related to boy-favoured subjects. Ranging from harpoons to ground to air missiles, from fireworks to fast cars and everything else in between. Eldest added a word or two but seemed content to allow his brother to monopolise his friend.

Despite a definite autumnal chill to the air and the waning warmth of the sun, grasshoppers sang their last songs of the summer. Eldest managed to catch one too busy singing to notice him stalking up. A quick photo, then it binging off his finger and disappeared into the grasslands.

We chanced upon this handsome fellow. He obligingly let me burrow my face into his neck and inhale deeply. I know there is always a risk when snorting sweaty horse scent that the sweaty horse in question will object and bite, but, it is a risk I am prepared to take. I guessed he was a Percheron and was probably  quite used to being petted as we were not too far from a horse trekking centre. The boys too thought he was beautiful and made plans how they could keep a horse in the back garden (yeah right) I suspect they don't realise that a horse this size would eat the entire contents of the garden in a day. (I was able to stand beneath the crook of his jaw bone without having to bend my neck....) 

The weather constantly changed from brooding rained filled clouds to light whispy clouds that filtered the sun, making it feel cooler. We found a sunny spot and hunkered down for lunch. The boys wolfed their food and cheerfully slurped their tea. Within moments of finishing, they were ready for more walking, while I, with tea half drunk and feet resting was quite comfortable and not quite prepared to yomp off just yet!

I love the relics of old time farming. The gentle rusting over years and years of abandonment adds to their charm. In the brief flashes of the sun, these degenerating lumps of retired metal glowed with a warm russet hue.

We came off the hills as the sun began to sink a bit low and the air definitely became chilly. Our walk took us through the village of Kettlewell. Today it gave off the air of quiet rural contentment but during summer it is heaving with walkers and tea-room hoggers. Day trippers clad in brightly coloured walking clothes that have only ever walked from the car to the shops fill the narrow streets. Gaudy tourist attracting clapper boards jostle for pavement space, all trying to entice the wallets inside. But, as we walked through, it was just us.

We reached the car as the sun sunk completely, leaving a brilliant orange glow. Three hungry boys, still nattering, muddy dog and a feeling of release. Himself and I exchanged a look and smiled. A good walk.

In the absence of a prosaic title - weekend walk....

Dearest Himself spent a very long and very mucky Saturday emptying all the soot and rubbish and dust and cobwebs that had accumulated over 150 years in our attic so that he could continue with the loft conversion. And he was totally fed up.

So, on Sunday we escaped and headed for the Dales for a lovely walk. (we did have a false start which involved going shopping for our picnic lunch and not having any way to pay for it and having to dash back home to get wallets..erhemm)

By the time we reached..........

 .........................it was lunch time and the 

the boys were faint with hunger (they did however make an awful amount of noise insisting that they were faint with hunger!)

We pulled up to the village pound - one of our favourite picnic spots - for lunch. Benches and a picnic table sit within the circular walls with a few native trees and the most stupendous view.  Having amended the lack of lunch for the boys with a picnic feast , we set off and had a most delicious afternoon autumnal walk.

the pound gate - the gateway to our picnic

 Top left - Settle village, top and middle right - locals.

Bottom left - make shift boardwalk and bottom right - limestone country

 Youngest and his favourite hat

Loving his shadow!

Eldest - away with his thoughts in wonderful surroundings

We returned through the village as dusk fell - ready to go home having had a cathartic walk. Bliss. And I managed to get some knitting down whilst out and about - double bliss :) Will show you shortly xx

Well, Monday seems to have returned with its usual speed. Hey ho - supposed it means one day nearer the next weekend :)

Stair rods, abomstrukkets, knitting and other oddities

The rain today, on the school run, was of biblical proportions. Now, sitting by the fire with the cats and my knitting (and a box of tissues) it is still raining - in stair rods.....

I only started using those words - stair rods - after I got to know Himself. I used them without realising their origin.  It was only after a few years of usage I actually investigated the meaning and discovered that stair rods are the little wooden or metal strips used to hold a carpet fast against the steps of a staircase. Today's rain is definitely stair-rodding it down - straight arrows of water directly downward.  (As an aside - I have just sneezed and startled the cat so much she went from a sleepy pile of fluff in to a rigid legged sharp backed hissing attack-cat, she has settled back down, albeit a little wary as she keeps one eye on me).

On the subjects of using words with out realising their true meanings - here is another one. As a child with an untidy room (still struggling with that demon) I would watch my mom stride in, despairing at the artfully arranged mess and say 'look at your room -'it looks like abomstrukket - tidy up now!'

I would dutifully shove all my toys and shoes and anything else on the floor under my bed or into my cupboards and my bedroom would look a little less like the fabled abomstrukket. For years and years I would accept and call any mess an abomstrukket without even questioning the meaning. Until when, as a teenager, my mom was still accusing my now even messier room as an abomstrukket, I actually registered what she was saying in her anguish at my 'nest', my 'den', my room. She was (and I am sure you will have already worked this out) she was saying.... 'your room looks like a-bomb-has-struck-it'......

My nose and throat are a little rough today, hence the tissue box and the cat-startling-sneeze. Definitely feeling sorry for myself. But, through the haze of coughing and nose blowing I actually heard Himself say to me, just take it easy today and knit with the cats by the fire - gasp - what a man! Who am I to refuse such a suggestion.

Playing (for medicinal purposes you understand) with a self striping ball of yarn. 

Making another (!) kerchief/shawlette.

Had fun making this lace pattern up - once you have the basics then it is just a matter of having a repeating pattern that fits in the number of stitches on your knitting pins. Easy! (said after several frogging sessions and a fair bit of knitting related cussing.....)

Before blocking.

Picture colour rather poor in this driech grey light and the flash just removes any last shreds of decent colour so just imagine the rich russetty hue of the shawlette and the vibrant cheer of the multicoloured ball of yarn.

Today day is tipping day - tipping us towards the weekend - enjoy your Wednesday and remember, when it rains - you can make your own sunshine :)

In which I dust myself down

October.

Already.

This year has flown by with out much fan fair or sunshine. I had earlier on lamented the swiftness of time gobbling up 2012, but, I have had a sort of a resigned revelation - I am glad that this year is almost to an end. It hasn't been a particularly good one - not entirely bad either, just not brilliant.

So October - welcome, may your gentle autumnal sunshine and your russet hues mark a more positive end to the seasons.

Our loft conversion continues in a storm of dust and mucky hand prints. It is one of those 'chain reaction' type situations. I'll explain.

1. To start the loft conversion - we had to enlargen the existing hatch to the attic
2. To enlargen the hatch - we had to remove the walk in cupboard
3. To remove the walk in cupboard, I had rescue tonnes of wool and yarn
4. To rescue my precious wool and yarn - I had create a new home
5. To create a new home - I...I....I had/have nowhere, so have stacked boxes shoulder height around our bedroom.
6. Back to conversion.
7. To remove the walk in cupboard - Himself and Youngest had to sledge hammer down two brick walls
8. To remove the walls meant lots of dust and rubble - so dust sheets were laid out and rubble bags assembles
9. To prevent my tearing my hair out - I removed myself outside and cleaned the greenhouse for winter
10. (Which in itself is a major chain of events type job)
11. To remove the rubble from the bottom of the stairs (where it should not have fallen) - bricks and plaster were carried out the front door
12. To remove the rubble from the hall way (where it should have fallen) it was put in the rubble bags and dragged out the front door over the pile of rubble at the bottom of the stairs
13. (Please visualise growing pile of rubble in my garden right outside the door)
14. To actually see 2 foot in front of your eyes through the dust - impossible
15. To vacuum up the mess without killing the vacuum cleaner - near impossible
16. To feel utter despair at the depth of the dust as it lands on everything upstairs (thank heavens I put down dust sheets in the boys room) however - WHO LEFT OUR BEDROOM DOOR OPEN!!??!!
17. To need a week at work to recover - that is saying something.......

Fast forward to the following weekend

Repeat points 7 - 16 then continue with.....

Frequent visits to the DIY store to pick up wall bolts, brackets, wood screws, masonry drill, timber, roofing/loft boards, cement, sharp sand, hooks, and, and and,and..the list goes on.

Watch husband turn into a workman, complete with blaring radio, huge and regular mugs of tea, mucky clothes, a pencil behind the ear and lots of sitting down and thinking/looking/tutting and scratching of head.......

Develop a close (bordering on obsessive) relationship with dying vacuum cleaner, damp cloths and a struggling feather duster.
Become a control freak about doors being shut and windows being open.
Despair over the layer of dust that has just appeared as by magic on a recently wiped surface.
Be close to tears coz you know that yet again your bedroom door is open and Youngest is frantically bashing at a brick to remove the cement bonding off it .... 2 foot away from your bed.

Then.

Then see the smiling face of Youngest as he knows his bedroom is being created and feel his infectious delight as he watches the stairs go up and the floor boards being put down.

There is so much more to do but Himself is quietly (if you don't count hammering and power saws) working his way through it and I make sure he gets a fresh hot mug of tea and a helping hand when he needs it.

I just have try harder not to let him see how wound up I am getting AT THAT DUST grrrrrrrrrrrr

Excuse me while I wash out the salt from my hair

For a few short blissful weeks I turned feral.

I lived alongside a rocky highland shore where there were more seals than sunbathers.
It was cathartic.
It was healing and it was wonderful.

I spent quality time with my boys - I watched two of them grow and mature into sun-kissed, tousle haired young men with freckles on their noses. Himself and I both calmed down and left our work-stresses behind, found time to talk and more importantly - time to just sit in companionable silence.

We both breathed.

Deeply.

Now we have returned. The holiday washing is - how can I put it...... bordering on solar eclipse level. Not that we were that grubby I hasten to add! No, it's salt crusty jeans and sandy socks. It is bracken scented jerseys and river wet towels and swimming costumes. Wet suits hang out dripping, bodyboards are stacked up waiting to be put away till next year (oh what a depressing thought) and beach-combed treasures lie in bags awaiting rediscovery and placing somewhere special.

Despite all our yearnings to return to our island feral dreams we have returned to normality and our cats. Who are delighted to see us and as I type, Pan is sitting on my knee and purring her little heart out and kneading with pinsharp claws - bless.

I am back.

I will return.

But I need to hang the washing out first............

knit-lit (chick - lit so so-oo last year) and knitting books

I love love love reading, not that I get much time to do a lot of it, but when I can snatch a few pages it ticks my happy boxes.

At the moment I am absorbed by 'proper' knitting books with grown up subjects such as patterns for socks or fairisle hats.

 I can be spotted with nose in book, hook or needles in hand and studious look on brow.

My knitting pattern book that inspired me to knit my FIRST MITTEN ON DPNs (yes - mitten as opposed to mittenS - am yet to start the next one....might be a problem here - want to try something else!!) (Kristin Knits - playing with colour)

The Knitting School book - with really good descriptions and instructions - ideal for me coz I still don't know my stockinette from my elbow and other bodily related comparisons.

However, I have a guilty pleasure - sshhhhhhh.


I  r-e-a-d  *said in hushed tones* knit-lit (ooh there I've said it).

My fav-sis-in-law and I year ago or so, bought a book each on a whim and really enjoyed it, now at knit and natter we bring and swap knit-lit with each other - it is definitely a guilty pleasure as the husbands raise their eyebrows and sigh in a sort-of-husbandly sort-of-way when we come out clutching books, hooks, wool and yarn and all have silly happy grins on our faces. 

But we don't mind...we don't care coz we are the knit-chicks!

(Mind you, my dear husband occasionally says knit-wits....)

Today is definitely a 'rest day'

I must have a very short memory or a very tolerant streak - I joined my laughing friend for another walk. She very kindly decided a slightly different route avoiding my demon in the woods and we went off through the fields.

Every field has sprouted lambs. Every where, of all shapes and colours. This means the dogs have to stay on leads much to their collective disgust but they soon forgot and enjoyed their time out. It was bliss, the feeling of being out and being active. Each walk I do gets easier on my knee.


Inspired by my walk-ability, I decided that when I finished work I would walk up to Himself's works and then come home with him. So, Giddy Dog and I set off in what I thought was plenty of time. I hadn't realised how tiring pavement-walking was and I found I was walking all jerkily - not good. I only just got to his works in time - I was ABSOLUTELY shattered!

Today I am walking rather tenderly.....hmmm - think I might tackle that stile first before I set off to meet Himself again!

the saga continues..... and its 4am

Unable to sleep due to my brain not powering down and switching off, I am downstairs - much to the surprise and delight of the catlings who think they can now have 4am firsts (breakfast firsts).

I am always amazed (in a cross sort of way) how noisy the house is through the night. The creaking and expanding of the pipes, the rumble of the fridge, the click of the walls, as well as the sighing and settling of the heating gives the house a heart beat, a rhythmic breathing - a life of its own - I just wish it didn't do it so loudly!

Any hoo, as I was saying -  seeing I am awake and trying not to toss and turn too much, disturbing Himself, I thought I would slink down quietly and try and calm my frazzled grey matter with a cup of tea and a tinkle on the keyboard (and feed the catlings).
The tea is delish, the cats are playing in the kitchen and the brain is still whizzing, so I shall continue to subject you to my wafflings..

After yesterday's tidal surge was temporarily contained by catching the drip...drip...drip in the spare kitty litter tray, Himself armed himself with some tools and unscrewed the incontinent cupboard off the wall.

Not as easy as it sounds as it suspended beneath the counter next to the sink making it awkward to reach. With a few choice words hissed under his breath he managed to wrestle the unit free by manhandling it out of position. The catlings decided to inspect his work by trying to shin up his legs. Not a popular move.

Once the cupboard was freed of it's moorings, we could see where the leak was emanating from. There, lurking behind the unit was a copper pipe which was shooting the finest shower of water straight up against the underside of the counter. It was such a fine jet of water that it seems disproportionate to the problems it had been causing. This stream was of great interest to the catlings, in particular Lily who sat beneath it with a quizzical stare. Himself, now seeing what was the cause of the leak set about fixing it.

Easy job he grinned, just off to get the 'thingamy watsit' (please insert correct terminology here - my brain although awake is not functioning).

I start to cook our evening meal.

Much clattering and muttering later, he stomps off the garage.... 'Need to get the doodad thingamajig' (insert as before but with a different tool)

Bit more DIY sounds are coming out from under the counter, the air is turning a delicate shade of blue.

...The **** thing won't fit...... need the other gizmo -  see if that makes a difference - if not its off to the local hardware store...mutter mutter mutter (insert necessary correct terminology and swear words at will).

By now food preparation is in full swing as I step over bits of copper piping, the offending cupboard, tools of various shapes and sizes and the husband. He is, I feel, getting a little cross that a simple job has turned out to be a major affair but then..... isn't that normal? It feels like it in our house.

He breaks off briefly to eat then disappears off to his garage again to retrieve the gubbins/whatchamacallit/doohicky-thingamajub that will just do the job and solve all the problems......but not just yet..... (once again, please feel free to replace the above words with plumbing related tools in any order you fancy - I thank you)

Eventually he emerges jubilant and I am ushered into the kitchen to bask in his victory. There - his nemesis - a small finger sized copper pipe, with a tiny split in it, lies vanquished on the floor surrounded by tools and mucky  water. He has manfully replaced the pipe with a special 'whatever' attachment thingy and most importantly - HE HAS STOPPED THE LEAK - he is without a doubt my hero.

However, the story does not end here - oh no, what happened afterwards included some of the following - moving the incontinent cupboard across to the other side of the kitchen and attaching it to another wall, which meant the fridge had to move out of its slot and into a new position, which entailed removing the obligatory grotty stuff that collects beneath the fridge and mopping the floor. The space where the fridge now resides needed another cupboard to be evicted (cue same grotty stuff lurking plus half a dozen cat toys, toy bullets, missing letters from school, elastic bands and marbles) and moved to it's new home.

This also meant the dog's bed (a hard plastic kidney bean shaped bed) was next to move. Only problem here was the bed now did'nt fit the remaining space....our kitchen is not big, it is bordering on bijou.
Not a problem says Himself - he is on a roll and I am going along for the ride. He returns waving a carpentry saw about in the air and promptly removes a corner off the dog's bed. She watched horrified from behind the desk. It now fits...........

While all this is happening, the boys have had their showers, sorted out their books for school and gone to bed.  The kitchen is still full of activity and a disgusting mess. I am now flagging....Himself too is getting bored with the whole thing so we stop for a brew. I try to wash up.....there~is~no~hot~water....

Oh yes Himself remembers, I switched off upstairs under the hot water tank.

Off he goes to turn the water back on. I think that I should also know where this tap is in case this ever happens again, so follow him.

I wish I hadn't....to get to the tap, he has pulled out half the bedding and towels from the airing cupboard and piled them up.....everywhere.

I walk away.

Back downstairs, kitchen just about acceptable, washing done, tea made and catlings fed (again) we sat down and contemplated what a 'productive' day it has been.

Thank goodness it was over - it was nearly midnight and we'd had had enough!

A hearty♥♥ surprise

Here follows a transcript of a conversation between myself and Himself from yesterday.

Let me set the scene first....I am hobbling about trying to get my right leg to move in sync with my left and feeling frustrated that I should still be using a crutch and steadfastly trying not to when.....

Love...I've got something here for you

I frown, still feeling grumpacious and irritable, to see him place two white tissue wrapped parcels.

They're for you

Really? wow, why? I am surprised, Not at his generosity, for he is, but am surprised at the timing.

He grins sheepishly

Open them 

I don't need prompting a second time, carefully (but not too carefully) tear open the first of the white tissue papers and am amazed and delighted (definitely delighted) to find a clutch of three heart hooks .♥♥ 

Wow! they are beautiful 

He grins sheepishly again and I am really touched at his thoughtfulness (as I type this he has just made be a mug of tea - lucky lucky me)

I reach for the second parcel and unwrap (rip open) the paper. To find this♥♥......

Again I am speechless at his perfect choice of gifts but am curious to know why I am being given such wonderful gifts now.

Umm..... well, I actually bought them for you for chrimbly and hid them........ then forgot where they were..... I've just kicked them - they were under the bed.....

Oh I do so love him♥♥♥♥♥, even if he has a memory like a sieve :)

I ♥ my husband and ♥♥♥ bath

Is it just me or has any one else noticed the number of words linked to outside advertising (credit bureaus or 'eye'pad competitions)? Your words gentlefolk are being hijacked by others to advertise their wares - I don't think it is right? Do you? Any ideas how to complain and stop them?? I was just reading a favourite blog of mine and in one paragraph there was about 12 words all hyper-linked and only one of them was an actual blog owned link, all the rest were sneak-adverts - that is cheating and not on!

Rant over (for now)

Today's heart is one for my dear husband, who has been looking after me so so wonderfully and unquestionably since I initially hurt my knee and latterly post surgically and with added crutches.

It's the little things he does that makes the difference, like setting up my crochet and computer corner with extra cushions, cats (they come and go as they please) and brings me home yarns (by the bag load) to play with. Sigh, what a happy crochet with crutches girly I am.

Today was no exception - only this time the tail (yes tail not tale) needs a little introduction.

As I was being wheeled out of the hospital the nurse gave me dire warnings about not removing the bandaging, not getting it wet, not fiddling with the dressings etc etc etc until I was seen by my surgeon at a post operative appointment. In my slightly groggy state I readily agreed. (That was on Friday afternoon)

Friday evening I dozed and napped due to the anaesthetic effect until it was bed time where I then snoozed the remaining narcotic effect off.

Saturday I awoke, feeling a little sore (the painkillers had obviously worn off by now) and my bandage was a bit awry. Remembering the stark warnings by the nurse, I carefully (coz it hurt) repositioned the bandage which covered my leg from lower calf to above my knee.

By Saturday lunch it had slipped and I beginning to look like Nora Batty. This time gentle persuasion would not put the bandage in place. I was also beginning to feel the need for a shower or a bath and was wondering how to get around the 'do not under any circumstances get your bandage wet' threat.

Hmmm. Being an ex-veterinary nurse I thought I could wrap the bandage better than it's present condition. But still being a 'good girl' left it as I could still hear the nurse's strict words ringing in my ears about being in the surgeon's bad books.

By Sunday - the bandage was lingering like shed snake's skin around my right ankle exposing the gross yellow iodine my leg was sporting along with a crudely drawn black arrow in marker pen. I was definitely feeling grubby and in a fit of defiance I removed the bandage (carefully so not to give it away!) leaving the blue iodine stained dressing the size of a baby's nappy still stuck to my knee. I hobbled to the bathroom and had a glorious granny bath (insert image here: standing on one leg, waving other around carefully, whilst slathering a carefully soaped up sponge on bits that needed slathering!)
Bliss.
So feeling a little cleaner, I re-wrapped the bandage and confident in the knowledge I would be able to replace it and no one would be the any wiser (I'd even left the graffiti arrow and fetching yellow leg to help with the deception) It fell down.
I re-wound it, a little tighter, a different method and hardly moved my leg. Yup - got it done.
It fell down.
By Monday, I wanted to wash my hair so hung upside down in the bath using the shower head - not good, my knee let me know that this was NOT TO HAPPEN AGAIN, so flummoxed, in pain and dripping (with smug bandage draped around my ankle) I went downstairs and bemoaned my fate to my dear man.

After lots of laughing at me (although he insists he was laughing with me) he suggested that he put a small seat in the bath and I get in and wash that way. Brilliant I cried, but that didn't solve the gravitational attraction the bandage had with my foot.

Take it off he offered and just replace it the day we have to go back to the surgeon. I liked this rather naughty idea and quickly removed the offending piece of medical cloth. My knee hurt. It needed the swaddling pressure a bandage gives so I had to think again.
Tuesday was a pretty 'static' day with only the hook and the key board doing any exercise so the bandage reluctantly stayed put, only threatening to slip when ever I hobbled off to the loo (that in itself is another story but not one here I wish to share but it involves a chemical loo, a pile of bricks and the front door!!)

When my dear H came home I once again bemoaned my lack of bathing, feeling the need for more than a casual flick of a moist flannel. So he collected up a stool and a non-slip mat and took them to the bathroom for me - ooooh!!

This morning, after getting all the boys out of the house, I went up to the bathroom (well, I tripodded it up - me and one crutch - deep joy) put the non-slip mat in with the stool on it and turned on the taps. The steam curled up and the sound of the splashing water was absolutely devine. I squished in copious quantities of a chrimbly present of mango bath creme - I WAS GOING TO ENJOY THIS!!

I went in to the bedroom to remove the bandage (now sporting the original hospital applied tape as well as yards of masking tape to help maintain a hoisted up position) and when I returned to the bathroom - I found this.......

Seems I'm not the only one looking forward to bubbles and hot water!

Oops - nearly not COUNTING AGAIN - 26 (yes 26)❤

Last night, just as we were winding down, the boys were asleep, the fire gently crackling away, Himself asked if I was organised for a number for today. 
Yeah I yawned, trying to remember which photo it was, I have some that I have collected through out the year and saved in my 'December numbers count down' file and I have some that I found this last weekend. I couldn't quite bring the image to mind.


I thought I would just check before turning the laptop off.....good thing I did coz there was no photo for 25!


Good grief - Himself and I rattled around the images for a while trying to see if I had taken one and not saved it in the numbers file but he soon got bored and went for a shower. I continued. I searched and searched, even to the point of getting out the external hard drive that holds our previous years and years of photos and trawled through those. Himself returned from his shower, pronounced himself clean and tired and said he was off to bed.


I decided to check though the cupboards to see if anything had a 25 gm or 25ml on it....no, I looked at the boys Tshirts for a 25, nope......I decided against using a page number - too easy too boring,  I discovered that nail varnish is only 6mls in size (too small) and the bread had a 35% discount voucher on it (too big)...I was almost on the point of giving up when I remembered that last December I had the flu and was unable to complete the counting - may be I didn't get round to using the 25.


That took a bit of sorting out - it entailed setting up the external hard drive again - but voilà - saved - I found an image for 25.
Good - I can go to bed now, it was after midnight and I was tired.


Fast forward to today. 

• Start writing the post (get it done nice and early as I have a fair bit to do) 
• Get the 'new post' page up on blogger............
• Notice the date
• Notice that I need a 26 and not a 25
• Sit dumbfound for approximately 10 seconds then grind my back teeth and start again......   

I have a flash of inspiration and check Himself's maps - surely one will have a reference number or similar for 26. I go through his rather large collection of maps, some dating from the 1940s, and eventually find this.........

So, today's number is brought to you by a combination of teeth grinding, stupidity and sheer luck!

26❤

 •Ps - don't you love my screen saver? I do - it was a gift from a rather Lovely Lady who sent me a Jacquie Lawson Advent Calendar, and the boys and I are delighting in opening it each day - so thank you dear LL xx 

•Pps - I have tomorrow's date sorted - err it's 25 and ummm, I don't need to worry trying to find it again..... erhem.

Follow this link to see what we got up to last year xx

ღ °•.ღ °•.ღ °•.☼.•°ღ  °•.ღ °•.ღ 

Galloway birthday gettaway!

A secret weekend getaway was planned......bags were packed.....boys were excited (all 3)......maps, camera and crochet organised....hen sitter sorted......hotel not booked (what? Not booked??) weather atrocious...(aah that's why)

I'd arranged everything I could except the weather. Eventually I had to confess my plans to Himself - this weekend was for him - to celebrate his birthday and it looked like it was going to fall through. Finally late on Friday evening I decided that we would go grotty weather or not. It was forecast to rain pretty much everywhere so we might as well get wet out and about and have fun doing it rather than stay home and sulk. Woo hoo!

Clockwise from top left : Collecting shells for Bumpa's secret project..... Welcome sign through rain streaked windscreen.... Red squirrel! - albeit a bit wooden...... how could I resist a sign with a name like that? It has a beautiful loving reason behind it's name.

Clockwise from top left : The lobby of our hotel.... view from the rather grand staircase....look at the Victorian tiles and stained glass windows..... The books and candlestick in our room.......The view of the house hotel -{our room was on the second floor and took the two windows on the right}.....Our rather wonderfully huge four poster bed!

Clockwise from top left : We saw cliffs (!) and wildlife (!!).... beautiful lochen scenery in Dalbeattie Forest......totem pole - carved by Canadian First Nation artists....... Huge granite sculpture by a French artist {forgot to note his name}.......The coast {it is there - promise. No we couldn't see it either!}.. 

Clockwise from top left : Giddy dog insists on walking between himself and I.... 'walking' in Knowetop Loch reserve {well I hobbled and was carried!!)....Scottish Wildlife Trust board down to a natural arch.........beech leaves......board walking/puddling at Knowetop.




Considering we only had one night up there we packed in so so much. The boys were absolutely delighted and took every advantage of the meals on offer - I have not seen so much food consumed by two boys on holiday before. Sadly I have no photos to prove we had such delicious delicacies - the eating and quaffing and enjoying took precedence.  - It was a brilliant weekend.

I do have some other stories to share....like the missing pajamas and the Mu-u-u-um there's NO toilet paper in here! and the no-money-after-you've-eaten-in-a-cafe situation....normal every day things like that :)

The only damper (pun fully intended) was when we returned, our bathroom roof decided to sulk while we were away and sprung a leak. We now have to do a slalom between several buckets to get to the loo and back! Ho hum - never mind, poor old Himself will have to get back up on the roof as soon as it stops raining long enough to get the ladders out.



Well, better stop here, got to get on with mundane domesticity - I have decided that I am the most undomesticated goddess around here but I do still make some sort of an attempt.

Have a lovely and Happy Monday!❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Harvesting

It's been a good weekend - we've been harvesting - both from our garden and greenhouse and wild harvesting from the hedgerows.

The last couple of weeks have yielded tomatoes a plenty! The courgettes are finishing and we took off the last few little 'uns so that we could clear away the fading plants. The onions are looking good and tasting even better.
Unusually this year, potatoes haven't done as well, but the ones we have eaten are delish!!  Our garlic have garlicked very nicely and the grapes are just beginning to be ripe enough to eat without making us screw our faces up when we pop a sour green fruit in our mouths.

I am finding my restricted mobility (my *!//* knee) really depressing. The boys all went out for a walk on Saturday and I felt bereft, I kept busy by baking a cake and cooking a lasagne but it certainly didn't feel right. Himself knew how I felt and today organised a wild fruit hunt.

We packed a car-nic, camera, crochet (of course!) and set off over the hills to find some blackberries. What a wonderful autumnal day, all the fresh air I could breathe (and breathe it in I did!) We parked and I pottered like a peg-legged pirate while Himself, the boys and the dog bumbled about picking brambles and sniffing out rabbits (boys - brambles, dog - rabbits in case you were confused......)

We did really well, not only finding just under 4 lbs of brambles but we found an old apple tree with small but delicious apples and elder trees covered in delightful small fruits.

Once we were home, the boys carefully washed and picked clean all the fruit ready for freezing then Himself made two wonderful bramble and apple pies - yum yum :)

I feel better for my airing.......... Much happier than I have been for a few days. I also have some crochet ta daa news soon - can't wait to show you all my blanket - it is about 20 stitches off finished Woo hoo!!

All for now, off to finish my blankie, hope you have a wonderful start to your week and have a marvelous Monday - love and happy wishes

hawthorn xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ooh argh - limping like a pirate.....

Fed up with limping like a pirate and missing my usual weekend walking, I thought I would share a most wonderful walk we did while on holiday.

My Mom and Dad gave Himself an early birthday pressie of an excellent little walking book written by the Berwick Ramblers, describing in detail several walks through the Cheviot Hills. Each walk includes a bit of historical reference, points out some interesting views, notes geographical information as well as giving a really good walk.

We had intended to do a few before the holiday was out, but things being what they were, we managed one.................




The first walk was impressively titled :
Humbleton Common Road, Gainslaw Road and a bit of Shakespeare.

I decided I would photo the views as sketched in the book for a bit of fun.

Above - the book - the style and layout surely a homage to the wonderful A Wainwright, who wrote so many beautiful books in around the Lakeland Fells

Below - my photo-homage to the above sketches

We were amused by the postal van parked at the top of the hill. How long had it been there? Encouraged by the views and the massive sky, we continued along. Our path took us through swathes of sun-ripened grasses. Their heads swaying in the breeze in huge swells.

 Fields of moorland grasses rippling like waves in the breeze

As we rounded another rolling hill we were hit by the most amazing scene - acres and acres of honey scented-heathers - gorgeous. I kept wondering if this is how if feels to walk through the lavender fields in France, mile after mile of heavenly shades of blues and purples.

The scent was glorious - a rich honey smell 

There was barely a soul up there, the odd walker (and believe me some walkers are quite odd!) but mostly just us and the hills. We came across 50 or so apiaries, we were not surprised, with all that heather there oozing with pollen and smelling of honey. We quietly walked through clouds of busy bees, halting briefly to watch (at a distance as I am allergic to bee stings) and to count the boxes.

The apiaries, nestled against a windbreak of trees, 

not that the photograph shows 

but the air was filled with the buzz of thousands and thousands of bees

It was at this point that the book chatted about turning down the lane and continuing into the valley, when Himself got a glint in his eye...yes that  'I-want-to-walk-up-that-BIG-hill' glint in his eye. His grin and his persuasive charm (and the fact he had been wanting to go up that BIG hill for some time)  meant that we turned off the book's chosen path and broke out towards Yeavering Bell . Initially I was a bit put out that we were deviating from the original route as I had been really really enjoying but Yeavering Bell soon helped redeem the walk.

Yeavering Bell, looming ahead

We strode through the knee high heathers, down the valley and then wheezed up again - and it was worth every gasping breath - the view was fantastic!

The boys disappear down the track towards the hill

We sheltered against the nippy breeze in one of the old defense ditches, our backs against the banking and just took in the glorious glorious view.

Time to set off, it was getting late and we still had to rejoin the original walk and return to our starting point.

A quick look at the book for the return journey

and my attempt to recreate - we suspect that the trees have grown since the sketch 

as we had to go very high up to see the house over the trees

We finished our walk in fading evening sunlight having loved the wonderful airy feel it left us with.

As we drove back to the carry-van I looked back and saw the hills bathed in glowing evening sunlight, Himself pulled over so I could take a picture.......

.......And we all agreed -It had been a very good walk! 

*****************************

Well, that briefly took my mind off my knee - So it worked! 

Any hoo all for now, it's Sunday evening and as far as weekends go,this one has been very quiet. We've been harvesting and gardening or rather, the boys have been working and I have been directing (don't worry Mum - I'm taking it easy!!) 

Have yourselves a lovely Monday and may you have sunshine and smiles all day :)

with love (and still dodgy knee) hawthorn xxxxxxxxxxxxxx