I’ve always thought that blogs like this can be a little removed from the real world. We witter on about baking bread and taking walks, picking flowers and knitting blankets seemingly without a care in the world, while cataclysmic events rock the world.
I see no reason for that to change too much even though our lives have changed in ways we wouldn’t have considered possible a few weeks ago.
For many of us there are still plenty of reasons to be cheerful; here are a few of mine:
Spring is here and winter is over. The primroses, cowslips and violets are in flower, the fruit trees and blackthorn bushes are frothing with blossom and the birds are singing. The hens are laying, the herbs in the garden are bright and fresh.
My calendar is empty for the next few weeks. No appointments, no obligations, no boring meetings. I can do whatever I like. So long as I don’t leave home.
I have more time to do the things I want to do. All Ruth’s printmaking classes in The Barley Barn have been cancelled, which is not something to be cheerful about, but instead we’re trying out printing projects and other creative things to share on Slamseys Journal. The first post about creative craft distractions if you’re stuck at home is already up and there’ll be more to follow. Also, instead of baking cakes and biscuits for the classes, I can fill my own cake tins.
It’s not raining and the sun is shining. The washing can be hung outside to dry, it’s a joy to get into the garden to sow some seeds and I no longer have to squelch along wet, muddy paths in wellies. Best of all, after a dismal autumn and spring sowing season, it’s finally just about dry out enough for the tractors to get onto the land in a last ditch attempt to drill some spring barley.
I have a knitting project that will last for ages. Last month, I knitted a Gamaldags sweater from Icelandic Knitter, which was incredibly quick to knit and I’ve worn it almost non-stop. I then had a fancy to knit a gansey or guernsey, whichever you like to call it. I have no idea why it seemed a good idea to knit something on tiny 2.25mm needles, which is taking an age to knit. There seems barely any noticeable progress after an hour of knitting each evening and though that seemed a bit of a drawback at first, it now seems a positive thing.
People have started to blog again. We may have to socially distance ourselves in real life, but on the web, we can drop in or open our doors to people all over the world. A virtual seat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a biscuit.
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Stay safe.
LIFE IN MUD SPATTERED BOOTS 
Cheerful news, first two lambs of the season arrived today, and a hare jumped out as I passed by.
Thank you for the pictures of Spring. It is only just starting to melt here in Quebec. Who knows with all this time on my hands now maybe I’ll finish a couple of knitting projects. Stay safe.
I still can’t get used to the fact that primroses are wildflowers in the UK. It pleases me no end when I see pictures like yours. My rosemary bush is blooming, too and I’m really not minding the fact that there’s nowhere to go. Enjoy your occupations and stay safe.
We’re so lucky that the primroses grow wild. Walking past them with skylarks singing ahead lifts my spirits.
Yes.
I’m swinging between worry and enjoyment of the solitude and slower pace. These feelings of calm enjoyment are becoming the dominant ones. I’ve got several art projects, including collaborations, on the go and am just enjoying having TIME. I know I am in a lucky position of not having to worry about work, and I know how to cook, and to entertain myself. Your primrose photos always make me nostalgic for an English spring – I can just smell them!
I hope the calm and enjoyment remain dominant.
There’s so much we can’t do – but there’s also so much we can do now … Off to look for primroses in our garden – thanks for the inspiration 🙂
We are lucky to have the space to go outside. It is a joy on these sunny days to hear the birds sing and the lambs from the nearby farm.
Always good to hear birds and lambs in the spring.