Sweet little ladies in old-fashioned dresses. Costumes to suit our new-old home. The yellow one came from Etsy. The red, blue and white I found at an op shop. Two bucks, baby, two bucks.
From the photos, it's clear all this fresh country air hasn't yet turned me into "one who irons". Thank you to whoever arranged that brief spell of sunny weather over Christmas so my girls could frolic and flounce with bare limbs.
I'm optimistically joining in the Yarn Along today, despite a profound lack of knitting and only scanty reading around these parts this past fortnight. Not that I haven't been inspired to knit, weather-wise. This summer is a doozy, damp and cold, and here in the Highlands it's damper and colder*. I wore my winter coat to the Christmas fair last Sunday. December!!!
Anyway, at least all this damp and cold is inspiring lots of winter knitting fantasies. I'm putting aside any sweet summer cardigan aspirations and rolling unabashedly towards wool jumpers and hats. If we're to get through the days and evenings in this house without resorting to the heater or fire, we'll be needing those winter woolies before long.
The book of the moment is 'Waterlemon', a memoir by Ruth Ritchie about her husband's near-death accident. The GM picked this up for me at a book fair recently because he knows I enjoy Ruth Ritchie's column in the Saturday paper. I'm reading it now because it was on top of one of the boxes I opened the other night in search of a bedtime story.
And I'm quietly and only-just-a-bit knitting a little gift for a little friend. A familiar pattern, familiar yarn, easy mindless clickety-clicking during this busy time. And no, it won't be finished in time for Christmas.
I'm off to check out what will probably be an array of finished and wrapped Chrissy gift knitting over at Small Things. These women, they put me to shame!
* A local or two have assured me this isn't a normal summer for these parts. Relief.
Well, we're here. We've been tripping over boxes and piles of assorted stuff for days, but the bulk of the work is done, and we're starting to stretch out and ease into this new place. Now, after all those years of dreaming, months of planning, and weeks of waiting and crossing fingers and hoping it would be right, we're here and it is right. Oh, so right.
Out every window it's green. When I get a chance to sit, I'll be spoilt for choice about which room to relax in. And that yard. It's enormous. I open the door, and the girls tumble past me, running the length of it, down and back. They've never known such space.
It sounds different. I'd become so used to living under a flight path, roaring jet engines punctuating my evenings. Here, occasionally a freight train rumbles in the distance. Birds twitter and chime. Insects chirrup.
Our next-door neighbours popped in the other day with a bucket of fresh eggs from their hens. It's my chicken fantasy, once removed, come true.
What's that funny sound? That's me squeaking and grunting from beneath a massive pile of boxes. The truck comes tomorrow. The big country move is finally happening.
Things might be quiet here for a few days till the dust settles. But I'll be back with a bang. Typically Red goes 'village'. There's lots to talk about from the past weekend, including the wedding of the year. I've even got a crazy wedding cake tutorial for you. Some pretty vintage stuff to show off. New books and old. Not much knitting, but just you wait.
Wish us luck! (Go on, I'm a bit anxious...)
Oh, and for those who asked, that last photo was of one of the local kangaroos that frequent the caravan park where we stayed on our holiday. It must look quite amusing for you Northern Hemisphere dwellers.
All around blogland, it seems, people are slowing down, settling in and readying their homes for the festive season. Everywhere I look I see beautifully decorated trees and homemade hearths and ornament-annointed mantels. I look around my own home and see empty bookshelves, piles of uncategorised 'stuff' and boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling. Ah, moving house - the most heart-warming of Christmas time pursuits.
I've been knitting a little here and a little there this past couple of weeks. I set out on our big beach holiday with enough yarn to knit at least six cardigans and jumpers. Optimistic? Hmm. Half an hour into the journey, I realised I'd left my knitting needles at home, and with the three in the back seat already whining "Are we there yet?" (only four hours to go...), there was no way we were turning back. Of course, I had no need for the needles. The knitting I accomplished, mostly over glasses of wine after our communal dinners each evening, was scarce. Optimistic? Yes.
But now it's back to packing and sorting and packing and sorting. And throwing and chucking. I have lost count of the bags of stuff that have gone to the charity bins, and despite that and endless full garbage bins, I still have several boxes labelled 'crap' and 'junk'. I'm guessing I won't be unpacking those ones in a hurry.
The packing and sorting did unearth a large plastic box, long forgotten, filled to the brim with unfinished knitting projects. Holy smokes, what was I thinking buying that yarn? Those patterns? Some of these things have been in the works since I took up knitting again back in the early noughts. Is that 100% acrylic? Hot pink and lime green stripes? Yikes.
Amongst it all is a finished jumper (sweater) in lovely Debbie Bliss cotton that someone could be wearing now but for the wonky collar. And a quite nice Jo Sharp jumper in orange that would fit one of my girls, except the sleeves turned out quite long and thin. I could be all brash and make these my new year's knitting resolutions...or just quietly put the lid back on and add it to the tower of boxes in the garage. And tiptoe away. Shhh...
Perhaps I could stick a star on top of it all and call it the Christmas tree.