A deux .....

Well, my dears, the male guardian and I did enjoy lunch a deux today in a charming little bistro amongst the glorious architectural city of Bath. You may ask yourself for why, and I will, of course tell, for 'tis our 35th, yes 35th, Wedding Anniversary. Pon my soul, it really does beggar belief where those years have gone; it does feel but the blink of an eye since our wedding day. We wandered at will, after our most enjoyable lunch, amongst the hustle and bustle of this delightful city, full of Christmas cheer. The Christmas market was quite the largest we have seen it, with many artisans showcasing their wares. The large bedecked Christmas tree glistened decorously, sat as it was in front the cathedral. One felt quite giddy with the thought of playing hooky on a 'school night' as such, for we had both taken a days leave from our toil to celebrate our milestone and enjoy time together. 

On our return from our travels, we lit the fire to warm our home, drew the curtains against the darkening sky and settled down to an evening of peace and quiet contentment. We have revisited the images of our wedding day kept in a beautifully bound album. There in the album are memories of the day, of our parents now no longer with us, of moments captured for posterity, of joy and celebration in our union, of hopes for the future. We are most fortunate to have stayed the path thus far, with a degree of perseverance and a heap of shared experiences from which to learn. More importantly, our shared values but greatest of all the laughter and warmth of a loving home in which to be happy, for we are simple souls in our little simple country home.

A crafty time...

Well, dear souls, it has been a busy making weekend. My seamstress friend was due to spend the day with me this very day and I was determined to complete the woollen garment I had been making for her. Last evening saw me tweaking and reviewing the garment with a critical eye to ensure the standard one desired had been reached. This very morn saw me sewing in a small "handmade" tag before my friend arrived in preparation for the reveal. Once this small task was completed, a batch of luscious cheese scones were prepared, the fire lit and, the room we intended to use, made ready. My dears, what a joyous fun day has been had; my dear friend was clearly delighted with my offering, putting it on immediately. Personally, I was delighted and somewhat relieved that it fitted and, importantly, that she was clearly most pleased with my offering. There is nought so anxst making as undertaking something for someone else. Thereafter, my dear friend once again tutored me in the art of the seamstress and oh, how we chattered and laughed as we worked. It was a truly fun and practical day, and lo, I have very little left to complete on the garment chosen for today's session. My friend really is an excellent and, it has to be said, most patient tutor.

The joy in being able to reciprocate is a most satisfactory feeling. Thus, this very evening has seen me commence the beginnings of another woollen garment for my friend, for I am much in her debt. 
"For it is in giving that we receive" (Francis of Assisi) , a maxim of great truth, do you not agree. 

Oh glorious day.....

My dears, what a glorious day t'as been. Why, the weather was crisp and cold with big blue skies. The landscape was at its autumn best, green and brown fields demarcated by dark, smudgy bare hedges, clipped into a semblance of tidy by the farmer and his trusty tractor. The leaves left on the trees creating a dappled but sparce canopy of autumn splendour, dotted through with evergreens, heavy with winter berries. As the sun crept high in the sky, before dipping low again, the pheasants were abound in the lanes, dashing hither and thither as their glorious plummed finery glowed in the caress of the sun's rays; carriages made their way carefully past females, less vivid but so becoming in their creamy brown camouflage. 

I took the opportunity, whilst the male guardian was once more at his professional toil, to visit a fine little town, renowned for its stunning location on Exmoor, as well as the delightful nature of its small but select shops in which to purchase one's desires. And, oh, dear reader, what choice, what temptation. One is always tempted by the wares on show but, with the festive season approaching, one must be prudent. I am uncertain to what caused me more joy, the small but select items purchased  or the stunningly beautiful scenery, coupled, of course, with my favourite crisp and cold weather. A day to dress warmly when one is out and about and to have the home fires burning early, with glowing lamplight to welcome the male guardian home. Nought is so welcome as a glowing home, the chimney gently smoking and the waft of something hearty and warming to greet the traveller. 

I do so love the autumn and winter months as we hunker down on our small estate. The fieldfares and blackbirds are making good progress through the windfalls left for their delectation and to help them through these spare months. The delightful Robin has kept me company as I go about my chores and stayed a bright beady eye upon me as I filled the bird feeders with fattening morsels for his supper. No sooner was my back turned and he was enjoying a snack of sunflower seeds, his red breast puffed and glowing as he did so; such a cheery sight, my dears.

Mice and men..

What a glorious day it has been, my dears, with the sun caressing the autumn leaves creating a blaze of fiery oranges, yellows, reds and green to light up the countryside; what a spectacular sight. The male guardian and I took the carriage and rode out early to ensure we made the most of the weather. We alighted on the moor and walked up to a high point above a local reservoir and beyond, all the more to enjoy the spectacle, whilst the wild ponies milled about us. Dear souls, what a way to start the day, the coldness of the wind was bracing and we gulped large lungfuls as the eyes roved across the scene laid out before us, attempting to imprint it on our minds eye, whilst the sun glinted on the reservoir. Oh, England, my England indeed. 

On our return, once our morning repast and a brief glimpse of the periodicals had been enjoyed, we set about rehoming a visitor who had decided to partake of our hospitality in hope of a warm and plentiful Christmas. Alas for Mr Mouse, our larder is not the home that he had hoped to establish himself in. He has been cruelly ejected and measures undertaken to ensure he does not return for, sweet as they appear, they really are a tad destructive for our liking. I am sure that Mr Mouse would not have had the temerity to try should our dear Maine Coons still be with us. The male guardian has, however, taken steps to ensure we do not receive a similar calling card in the future. As with most country dwellings, there is always the potential for sharing ones home with the local wildlife, be it the small four legged variety, the winged feather clad or, indeed, those of the flamboyant tail variety and one must ensure, each year, measures are undertaken to avoid non paying guests of the fur/feather variety. Part of the joys of County living, my dears.

Hookey

Dear souls, whilst I have become inordinately fond of the craft of knitting, I do also enjoy a spot of crochet. There are times when a soothing repetitive small garment is useful to have at hand should the need arise, thus I found myself awaiting a delivery of yarn, with idle hands. Now, my dears, my seamstress friend is of a petite stature and has noted on many occasions the difficulties of obtaining the simplest of garments, the woollen hat, correctly sized for one so petite. Whilst surveying my stash of wool I did realise that I had some perfect yarns of which to create my friend some correctly sized garments in a variety of colour ways. My dears, the excitement and joy at the very thought, really was quite palpable. Straight away I sought a simple but effective pattern and began; why, dear friends, 13 simple rows later, a woollen garment lay upon my lap. I cannot tell the delight and the very next day I did present my friend with said garment. She was, it has to be said, most taken and therefore I find myself utilising any spare moments creating garments to keep my friend snug and warm as she walks to her professional toil each morning. Oh, the joy of being able to return her most generous abilities in the art of the seamstress. This arrangement affords us great enjoyment, along with our other friend and colleague, and further "making" days are in the offing in the run up to the festive season before it gets too busy.

Whilst the male guardian is once again at his professional toil,  I have ensured sufficient foodstuffs are stocked in the larder, delivered items to some charitable establishments, visited a most tempting hardware store, and undertaken the necessary housekeeping chores. I do so enjoy a clean and freshly aired home as you know, with beautifully fresh linen, glowing surfaces and a semblance of order. The fire is lit ready to welcome the male guardian home and lamps are ablaze to ensure an ambient atmosphere it which to relax after toiling the day. As I survey our little estate from the parlour, I am reminded of the beautiful poem by Keats, so perfectly atmospheric in its opening line when describing autumn as a "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness", a season of which I am inordinately fond. There have been a number of frosts in the mornings and glorious sunrises as I walk briskly to work, enjoying the farmland around me with the sound of the livestock abound. In the words of the song "Oh England, my lion heart"...

Oh my, my......

My dears, I really am beside myself with shock. You may indeed ask why and, dear souls, if you had not noted it yourself, I will tell. Yester morn, the male guardian and I spent some time talking to the darling twin sister and her male guardian via the electronic technology (a most ingenious device, but that is another subject) and a fly away comment did make me start for, dear souls, 'tis but six weeks this very day til Christmas Eve. Why, I felt quite a frission of shock for t'as fair crept up' on me, stealthily below my festive radar and, one has to admit, momentarily, put me in a spin. Thankfully, dear souls, one is not apt to allow such a state to linger being more of a practical soul. Now that my dear parents are no longer here, and the family range far and wide, ''tis more a time to enjoy one's own traditions, give thanks for health and peace, giving to those less fortunate and enjoy some local celebratory rituals. I am a firm believer in the handwriting of festive cards, chosen for the recipients and sent in good time. There is nought so delightful than receiving a handwritten missive to make one feel a warm glow, most welcome in some of the more draughty establishments of my country friends and relatives. 

Christmas is, as is today, a time for remembrance, today being Rememberance Sunday, of those loved ones no longer with us. A time to remember the joys and sadness but to remember those who have gone before us, for there, dear souls, by the grace of god go we when ''tis our time. Take a moment today, especially, to remember, for remembrance is what keeps them alive. 

A PhD

Now, dear friends, one could be led to believe by the title of this missive, that one alludes to one's educational achievements but no, dear friends, 'tis reference to that which all crafters, be they a knitter or seamstress, are familiar. Such is the excitement for a crafter on espying a sumptuously spun fibre in the most becoming shade or a material of delectable weight and drape, that the current project can be cast asunder or momentarily aside, thus a PhD is achieved. A PhD in crafting circles is of course a "Project half done", of which I am sure, there are many across the continents. One can barely complete the first project before the next is being considered. Why, my dear colleagues and friends and I are in just such a position, for we do spend many an hour contemplating the next project and oh, what fun we do have. It does, however, add to the problem of the "stash". The stash is the squirrelling away of those desirable accoutrements for "the next project" be it yarn, fabric, haberdashery and so much more to be admired and considered at will. Enquire of any crafter and one would be suprised at the treasures this simple enquiry elicits, "stashed" away for the right project.  Now, one does where possible, try to keep oneself to a minimum, as for some, it can become an increasing problem with storage, thus, one attempts to be sensible. I do however, dear souls, have to confess to two such temptations recently of both yarn and fabric; the yarn being a delectable shade for my friend and colleague, and the fabric a very reasonable meterage which will be made into a little practical something to add to my wardrobe. One really cannot resist a bargain, my dears, and I am very fortunate indeed for the male guardian is most understanding of this habit, having one or two "hobbies" of his own. Therein lies the secret of a match made in heaven, do you not agree?

Restoring Autumn order

Whilst the male guardian goes about his professional toil, I have taken the opportunity to gather up the apple harvest once again. This, my dears is not the first time since our return from the Antipodes. This collection alone resulted in some seven garden tubs and at least eight sturdy sacks; dear reader this was a small collection compared to those previously undertaken but one that allowed some produce to be left for the wildlife as the weather continues to cool, much to my delight. The harvest will be utilised by the local recycling centre in their garden compost/mulch, completing the cycle and reinforcing one's motto of "waste not want not".

Once this task had been undertaken, the boundaries of our little estate were reviewed. They required their autumn tidy and therefore this very afternoon saw me wielding a favourite piece of garden machinery to bring them back to their crisp, clean lines. Oh, I do so love a crisp, clean hedging line and one that forms uninterrupted views of the surrounding countryside in its autumn finery of fiery golds, reds, greens and oranges. Such a beautiful site to behold. In return for trimming both our own and our neighbours sides of the hedge, the resulting debris will be placed upon our neighbours bonfire to be lit at their leisure,  for which I am most grateful and indeed suitably fitting for a believer in the motto "quid pro quo", do you not agree? The added bonus, of course, dear souls, is the gloriously evocative aroma of an autumn bonfire - what is not to like one asks oneself.

What satisfyingingly tiring work this is, one that creates a rosy glow upon the cheeks and ensures a good nights sleep will be had. I am most fond of work like this for I firmly believe it to be wonderful for the constitution and a happy, healthy mind.

Thus, the autumn tidy has begun and for many a weekend ahead, weather permitting, we will continue to cut, trim, rake and more, preparing the garden once more for the eternal cycle of renewal. I have, however, dear reader, ensured that the finest selection of ivy, holly and greenery remains in situ for the festive season for what else would one use to decorate one's small country home in suitably traditional finery; a must my dears, for any country dweller.

Fine blends and Russian Caravan

How could I forget, dear souls, to tell you about a most delightful establishment that my dear friends and colleagues and I did espy during our trip to Bath last weekend; so very tardy and for which I apologise. Now, as you may well remember, I am oft to comment on a fine blend of tea or indeed fresh coffee, both of which I am inordinately fond. It was whilst we were in the Antipodes recently that I was fortunate to be introduced to, sample and, greatly enjoy, a fine blend of tea called Russian Caravan. It is, one must comment, not everyone's cup of tea, for it has a smokey flavour that some literally cast asunder; dear reader, what is not to like. So taken was I with this fine blend that I looked to purchase some whilst there to bring home. Alas, a national shortage thwarted these attempts and I came away empty handed and bereft of said tea. My dear Antipodean relatives did, however, most generously send me home with the most exquisite receptacle for brewing my own restorative cup of tea, with two of the most beautiful fine china cups from which to enjoy it - they really are things of beauty and, if I say so myself, quite something to behold.

Home once more and intent upon purchasing my necessary haberdashery, I fair walked straight past this fine purveyors of tea and coffee, only to double back with alacrity as I caught sight of the many caddies of tea, and coffee, advertising all manner of flavour. Well, when my eyes alighted on this gloriously named blend, my heart fair skipped a beat. Dear reader, before one could say 
"Mr Robinson" I had purchased two tidily wrapped packages of Russian Caravan tea; one for me and one to wing its way across the water for the Antipodeans whilst they experience their national shortage and to go some way t'ward replenishing their badly dented supply of which I readily partook. Gillards of Bath reside in the covered market and really are worth a look. I found the lady there most charming, knowledgeable and helpful; they are certainly to be marked on the map for a return visit, dear friends.