Sunday Sunshine

Yarn Bomb

When we were staying near to Ludlow we took the short-ish drive to Leominster, unsure if we had been there before on our travels. Once there, we spent a happy hour or so disagreeing about it. Although in hindsight I'm wondering if Pete was possibly just winding me up. I know for sure that we had been, and I can remember when, down to the month and year. Pete swears he had never been. It's usually a bad sign when this happens. We visited Evesham three times, each more depressing than the last, before we learnt not to do so again. At least not until it became our handy, functional town with an efficient launderette and a lovely vet for the bunnies.

Back to Leominster though, it had a wonderful fromagerie where we stocked up on a scrummy trio of local cheeses. And there was this little 'yarn bomb' event in the street, knitted coverings on trees and street furniture. A sign said it was there to make us smile. Mission accomplished

No Rain

Sometimes the sound of raindrops on the Airstream roof can make you feel lucky to be indoors, cocooned. If you have nothing more pressing to do, those are the perfect days for a favourite film (I like something old and from a less complicated era for these occasions), gallons of tea, possibly some baking, and definitely some knitting or crochet. But if it's not Sunday, New Year's Day, or you're not on holiday it can be a smidgen inconvenient.

And after the soggy seasons we have all been dripping our way through, it can start to feel relentless, and like a bit of a trap. You can be all Cumbrian about it and just get out there in your appropriate clothing, but then you get back and steam up the place with the drying out process.

Anyway, when there's a gap of an hour or even a whole day, it's a relief to get out there and inhale the fragrance of damp soil and let the retinas rejoice in some autumnal jewel colours. I particularly like it when the sky is heavy and grey, but the sun has decided to come out in the afternoon and splash golden light on the yellowing foliage. If I look down, I love to see a tapestry of russet and gold leaves on glistening, black tarmac.