"What excitement we feel on looking out on to the garden in the snow. It is one of the only sensations of our childhood that is not blunted by maturity. Still we want to leave our mark on any smooth expanse of snow, to ruffle it, to jump about on it. However sedate we may grow, we never emerge from the childish longing to write our names on the whitened lawn."
Clare Leighton, Four Hedges
My wish has come true this week after a beautifully peaceful birthday weekend for Angélique made all the more special thanks to your wonderfully kind messages. Following a powdering of snow, icy temperatures and brilliant blue skies this week the absolute silence without this morning heralded the bliss of a whitened world.
Like the vast majority of people we have problems which reside uncomfortably side by side with us day in day out. Some moments, when spooning tea leaves into the pot for instance, I feel their weight. Most days however I am determined to stop and smell the roses. Life is amazing and this week I revel in the juxtaposition of present reality and dreams of spring vegetation.
Pastel colours against winter snow.
They are the beginning of a sweet and exiting project which has generously been sent my way. More on that at a later date.
The uneven stitches on these doll-sized jackets bring me joy for they eloquently relate my everyday existence. Knitting needles are picked up and rows grow in snatched moments between the organised chaos in our collective lives. They are a reminder that despite it ALL projects are conjured up and completed. What a comforting message that is.
The white on black of gnarled vine stumps blanketed today with snow will burst forth fronds and unfurling bright green leaves in March.
Smelling the roses in the snow? Almost everything is possible!
My week has been filled with administering dozens of homeopathic granules, wiping noses, keeping it together, letting it out. Yes indeed; our little Angélique, an angel in name and mostly in reality, metamorphoses into a demon when very poorly. I am thankful she is not ill too often!
Great comfort has been found in books. This one has found favour with Angélique and myself. Mother Earth And Her Children: A Quilted Fairy Tale is a remarkable interpretation of Sibylle Von Olfers orignal tale published in 1906: the whole story has been sewn into an enormous quilt by Sieglinde Schoen Smith. Every stitch speaks of the love for her son who tragically passed away in 2002.
By keeping her hands and mind busy this artist has created great beauty.
And the greatest joy of our week? The arrival of our very own magus.
This is Gaspard (silent 'd' en français). Our wise man, our sweet puppy, our Cavalier King Charles. Black on white: the most beautiful juxtaposition of our week. Please note dear dog lovers Gaspard is only allowed out for a minute or two every hour in the snow. We are very protective of him.
I hope you find plenty of pockets of joy this week.
With warmest wishes,
Stephanie
ps I'm just wondering whether anyone has read Beverly Nichols Down The Garden Path?
