It’s a wonderful feeling to be able to fling open the windows, breathe in the crisp air and hear the world again. We never realised how isolated we’d feel during the long UK winter. It’s difficult to describe the complete silence that double glazing affords to those who’ve never experienced it for themselves. The eternal silence – and the need to pile on layers of clothing before heading outside – has driven us a little moggy. Suffice to say our first British winter has made me long for spring like I’ve never longed for a season before.
But these grey, drawn out months have also made me appreciate all the more the glorious weather and al fresco lifestyle we grew up with in South Africa. The silver lining of this wintry cloud, then, is an increased awareness of just how weather can influence your mood, your perspective, your life.
The onset of sporadic, but dazzling, sunshine and gusts of wind that clear the city air (and cobwebs from my head) has had me hauling out half-made and long forgotten projects that are suddenly infused with possibility. An abandoned bit of crochet, still dangling forlornly from the hook, became the starting point for a cushion. The rich red triggered a mental leap to the piece of 1930s reproduction fabric that MTM gave me not long ago. But its white background needed lifting. The experimental crocheted flower shapes lurking among the skeins in my wool box took care of that, and blue buttons destined for a shirt that never was found new purpose nestled in their centres.
Alongside the flowery shapes in my wool box, I rediscovered three rolled up strips of white crocheting – an extremely mini version of an Erika Knight project. They just needed to be joined and attached to a cushion front. Instant gratification doesn’t come easier.
Two days, two new pieces of eye candy. And time enough over to wander around a park or two and soak in the sunshine. Sounds like the start of spring to me.