We're having a very green early autumn this year and I'm wondering if it will turn golden later or not - there have certainly been other autumns I can remember when the whole orange and red tapestry failed to materialise - or am I just being impatient?
The colours are the only thing missing, apart from that there's no doubt which season we're in. As I walk along the lane each morning I can smell the crab apples crushed in the road, it's a faintly boozey scent, that ancient aroma you used to have in the barns and sheds where the apples were stored.
Our path through the wood is slightly more fraught as we try to dodge the spider's webs strung between bracken fronds and hogweed skeletons. But I'm not so scared of these outdoor spiders, their weavings are exquisite especially with a string of dew diamonds twinkling in the early light. It's their indoor cousins that send me screaming across the room.
There's been a wonderful amount of hedgerow fruit this autumn, I have sloe gin slowly turning a ruby red in a cupboard and I've breakfasted on blackberries several times. The hips and haws pepper the hedgerow with their splatter of crimson and scarlet. In one sunny spot in the hedge a bramble has decided to flower again, blossom in October...
These mornings are still warm enough to stand at the Thinking Gate and pause. Everyone should have their place for a moment of calm, somewhere to just be.
My stitchiness has been of the meditative kind this week. I've been playing with colours, thinking about texture. Taking the recycled sari silks and wondering about what to do with them. Part of me I think is hankering after doing another needlepoint so I begin stitching one evening and the familiar repetition feels natural, but I don't know where it wants to go and I abandon it to the side of the sofa. Mind and fingers are not entirely in harmony just at the moment.
In the way that somethings work, I ended up driving to Worcestershire twice last week. This is the county of my birth and the earth that made me. I visited the country churchyard where generations of my family are resting for eternity. It's a lovely place, tucked into the folds of a hillside and visiting although a little melancholy is also strangely soothing. I have a chat with the old lot and it feels perfectly natural. I put chrysanthemums on the graves because that's what my mum did, a tradition I suppose.
This is not a very old churchyard, only just over 100 years since the church was built and I get the distinct feeling that it won't be so long before it returns to nature. I find this doesn't worry me, in fact it feels right in some way. There are other ways of remembering.
And later in the week we made a trip to Worcester with our youngest daughter who's thinking of studying there. She hadn't realised that this is the city I know best, hadn't realised its significance to me, she just liked the feel of the place. Inside the cathedral an orchestra and choir were rehearsing a performance of Karl Jenkins' The Armed Man and it was simply sublime, the acoustics were just marvellous, it was almost too moving.
I sloped off to say hello to King John before we left, another tradition but this one is just mine.
On our way back we passed my second-favourite building in Worcester - The Guildhall. A perfect counterfoil to the gothic splendour and elegance of the cathedral. The Guildhall is all gold and shiny and a bit over the top - I wonder if that's part of it's appeal, and if subliminally it feeds my metallic habit?
This week I'm off to The Workhouse, Dunstable for it's opening exhibition where I'm showing some work. We set up mid-week and welcome people in at the weekend. I may surprise everyone and wear a dress...
Have a wonderful week whatever you're doing. Anyone in the Bedfordshire area do come along to Dunstable and find us, we'll be so pleased to see you and there's the possibility of cake.
- Just to say in case you didn't know, I post daily on Instagram mostly with photos from the lane, occasionally old places I've visited and sometimes little snippets of stitchiness in progress. Do follow me there if it's your thing.
- Occasionally I put together some extra snippets and send out a copy of 'Loose Threads' to anyone who'd like to receive it - the subscription box is over on the right or in the menu.
- I've been so tired my bedtime reading hasn't gone far this week, but I'm really enjoying Max Adams' - The King In The North (all about Oswald of Northumbria).