There is knitting in this post I promise, but there’s also lots of winter colour because if you’re anything like me, you find the natural world and the landscape endlessly fascinating and inspiring. (And if you’re not anything like me, then congratulations on being such a well-adjusted member of society.)
Those eleventy hundred bulbs I planted in the autumn are beginning to reveal themselves and I can’t resist showing you a few:-
Judging by the green fronds poking up all over the place, in a month or two’s time the garden will be a riot of colour.
Quite a bit of snow has fallen on this post, too. It’s been rather beautiful. (The floral pictures were taken today, after the snow suddenly melted.)
In fact, let’s get the snowy stuff out of the way right now. Too many times, I’ve moaned here about the non-arrival of forecast snow with all the emotional maturity of a toddler whose promised chocolate ice cream failed to appear. In most areas of life I can muster a decent impression of adulthood, but when it comes to snow, my developmental progress stalled somewhere around the age of six.
When that little snowflake symbol appears on the weather map, I forget all about sensible stuff, and start obsessively pressing ‘refresh’ on the forecast. Then when, as mostly happens, the snowflake vanishes from the map mere hours before it’s due to fall, I react as though this is some callous breach of contract by the weather gods, and I sulk (because that’ll teach ’em).
But this time, the weather gods were true to their word. The day the snow fell, it was dim and fairly photo-unfriendly. Even the twinnage weren’t entirely impressed. (Hmmm, do you think I should request a maternity test?)
But next day the sun came out, and I headed out of the village and up the holloway. Holloways are ancient tracks, worn deep into the ground by the passage of feet and hooves over hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years. Here’s ours:-
It was a beautiful day, and the air was fresh and sharply cold. Look at all that virgin snow!
I didn’t have much time (the twinnage needed collecting from somewhere), so too soon I had to head back into the village. There were icicles hanging from the thatched roofs:-
Back at home, the pond was deeply frozen.
But then the snow melted last night, and the tiny, early, flowers could be seen again.
And away from the bulbs, I can’t stop photographing the beautiful hellebore:-
But I promised you knitting, and so knitting you shall have. I spent a few days helping a new-to-knitting friend finish her first project, but now I’m back to work on the underwater/underground scene. I haven’t quite got back up to where I stopped before frogging 14 000 stitches, but I’m nearly there. Soon, I’ll be at the surface of the water, and from there upwards the knitting will be fast. The water is looking better than it did pre-frog, I think:-
So if you’ll excuse me, now that the snow has gone I might be able to concentrate on some knitting again.