I Wish for Spring

I don't like to wish my life away, but I wish for Spring.  I wish for warm air as I open my back door and step into a new morning.  I wish for a scent of promise and optimism in the morning breeze as I hang out my laundry, a wish for that feeling of contentment as the sun arcs the sky like a splendid white gold ball.  I wish to sit outside on my bench with a cup of tea and a magazine and close my eyes to feel that warmth on my face, and to open my eyes to a blue, cloudless sky.

I long for days when colourful flowers open their tender buds and share their colourful beauty, and I wish for the days that are cerulean blue and forever posted in my memory like hazy snapshots that makes me feel deeply happy whenever I remember them.

I look around my little home, my tiny, crochet strewn home and I feel grateful for it's warmth and cosy interior on this cold Winter day; the sky is the colour of dirty dishwater and even the skeletal trees that stand like sentinels on the riverbank seem sullen and miserable.  I buy a bunch of Spring flowers and they instantly cheer me, remind me that Spring is just a whisper away, that already we are flying into February at the speed of sound and the first month of our new year is almost over.

 

We take walks in our nearby countryside, the air is cold and bites your skin, and there are icy puddles for jumping in.  There is a weak sun, and at a lone farmhouse someone is burning wood; fingers of blue grey smoke curl up into the still air and hang like fine gauzy ribbons along the valley.

We wander through enchanted forests and hear birdsong from the treetops. Now and then something small and unseen flits between the branches, we sense movement and life, but see nothing.

 

We come across a gaggle of geese on one of our jaunts, their bright orange feet a cheery contrast to their snow white bodies and the hard white frosty ground.

 

We admire the frostbitten seedheads, wintery sculptures that line the side of the river before turning towards the cafe to warm our hands around fat mugs of hot tea.

Winter is making the most of the crisp outdoors, and cosying up indoors with gentle projects and crocheted blankets.

There are lots of things to cherish and enjoy in the Winter...but oh, I wish for Spring.

J x

Spring is Coming

I've started painting a new canvas...

At the moment I am trying to choose between a couple of names for it and I can't decide.  I'm going to wait until it's finished, sometimes a painting just names itself.

This work is very Spring themed, as I for one have had more than enough of winter - however, I have been inspired by tiny sightings of buds and little green shoots in the dark earth - and that is what originally inspired this particular piece - that and the odd longing to hang washing outdoors and to dry it with the fragrance of a fresh, cool breeze (or is that just me?? Ten years ago, that would never have been something to get excited about, must be a sign of heading towards 40 heehee!!).

Anyway, I can say at this stage in the proceedings that the painting isn't even half way there yet ~ I still need to add my clothes line full of billowing laundry, my wee lady hanging it out, and things happening in the garden allotment there...yes, that odd pale blue shape surrounded by those peaty brown shades will eventually be a greenhouse, perhaps with a bench, some tools and other gardening type paraphanalia.

There are plans for sheep beyond the cottage walls, maybe even some hens dotted about - it's going to be awash with snowdrops and crocus too...

Can you see it in your minds eye?

At the weekend, we had a little pootle over to Buxton.

This is St Ann's Well, where you will often see the local people filling up bottles with spring water.  The water comes from an underground spring and is geothermal - the water pouring out is very warm (which was a bit of a surprise) and a kind local chappie explained that it is heated deep down underground and forced upwards through layers of rock - or at least, something like that.  It also tastes very good, my Little Person told me this herself.

  

If you ever get a chance to visit Buxton, I can highly recommend the beautiful Pavillion Gardens and a couple of smashing little shops - The Pavillion Gift Boutique and Atticus Boo.

The drive home is pretty good too...

Mamtor - love how the land has been bleached by the cold, and that watery grey/blue sky above.

Driving through Winnat's Pass

Looking back across to Winn Hill and a beautiful sunset that suddenly appeared.

Before I go today, I would like to thank all of you for the generous and kind comments that you left me on my last post, about Home.  I've just been adding it as a print for sale in my online gallery shop, and for those of you who are signed up to my Mailing List, and may be interested in this, I will let you in on a little secret:  there is a special offer on open edition prints for my dear subscribers, so keep a look out later today for it arriving in your inbox (or junk.  I hear that sometimes the mail inadvertently ends up in junk boxes...do check yours if you haven't had it, as it will be winging it's way out to you shortly).

If you are not already signed up to receive my E-Letter and would like to be, just click the link above, or the one in the sidebar with the blue envelope.

Right - that's me done for now, thanks very much for coming by - always lovely to see you here - I'll be back soon, got something Woolly and Marvellous to share with you.

Sending love, arm~loads of narcissi and cups of sweet, chamomile tea to you

Julia x