Itchenor Again

I really like Itchenor, it's a very picturesque little harbour village: one pub, one road leading down to the quay and the harbour master's house instead of a shop. In the summer it becomes very popular, it's the perfect place to launch from into the harbour and so of course everybody does. I don't mind this, my family are boaty people and in general boaty people get along with other boaty people no matter what the difference in boats may be. But this does mean that its easy to forget that this is a village in its own right, with people who live here all year round.  Visiting in that after Christmas slumber period completely reawakened me to see it this - only the fisherman were still out on the water and the church suddenly had context. I'd never really noticed the church as part of the village. I knew it was there, I passed it and I looked at it but I'd never been in and never really seen. The winter light was illuminating it in such a way that it did draw me in for a nose about and all of a sudden you could see that where the pub was the focal point of the village in the summer, at this time of year it was here.

The Boxing Day Walk

After the cooping up Christmas Day induced there was a real longing from all of us to go out and get some air and feel some space. We went to the beach, normally it's so special and huge and calming, but on Boxing Day it was just missing something. There were too many people. Far too many, nothing felt private or intimate any more, it's just impossible to convene with nature when brawling laughter meets you. I don't know why they bothered me when everyone was so happy. It was a beach full of love but I guess I was just craving peace. Even the beauty of the environment was lost in the grey of the sky reflected in the grey of the water. It could have felt like an incredible wilderness but with so many people, other than the beautiful clear air, there was nothing to stop it from feeling like another grey city centre full of rushing last minute shoppers. I did get some nice pictures though but in future if I want peace I think I'll head for the hills.

Christmas Baking

To me that raw gingersnaps dough is the taste of Christmas.

How to Make A Christmas Wreath

1. Go for a wintry walk in some frosty woods:

 2. Snip a small amount of whatever evergreen foliage takes your fancy but try to get plenty of variety and definitely some conifer branches, holly and ivy. Also grab any berries or little fruits that you can and any small pine cones, nuts or similar.

 3. Don't get stuck in a prickly bush whilst trying to access some particularly good ivy.

  4. Arrange you gatherings by species on the table. Beer and wine - optional. Find wreath ring, these are metal wire rings with green felt in them, you can get them from garden centres or florists.

5. Start by filling the backing of the ring with the conifer, they provide a solid green backing but are too boring to be put at the front.

6. Add some silver sparkle to your pine cones or any other little decorations that you feel would benefit from some sparkle. I used silver nail varnish but alternatively you could use regular paint or glue and glitter. Also feel free to adapt it, maybe add some red glitter to your berries, go wild with some spray paint or go for a festive colour scheme, either way - don't mark the kitchen table!!

 6. Keep adding layers to your wreath. Make sure you keep the foliage all pointing in the same direction, I favour clockwise. Work on adding the bulkier, plainer stuff as a backing, we did the bay leaves next, then the ivy intermingled with the holly and then the pine.

 7. Finally make sure you now exactly what way up it'll be handing and then add the berries, pine cones, ribbons etc accordingly. Ta da! A finished wreath, hang it up in pride of place and beam with pride!

Today

Sarah 1: Lab report 0.

Ha!

Beach Walks

I've just spent a weekend being pampered at home with hot meals and a tidy house. The beach beckoned, as always, and our walk reminded me just how fabulous the beach can look in any season.

Sweet Peas

One of my favourite things about summer evenings is the Sweet Peas. Picking a bunch, arranging them in a vase oon my bedside table and waking up to thioer intoxicatingly sweet scent the next day is a pleasure like no other.

''Here are sweet-peas, on tip-toe for a flight:

with wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white,

and taper fingers catching all things,

to bind them all about with tiny rings.''

John Keats

(no one quite intimates summer like Keats, one of my favourite poets)

Gambolling

 Winding up the day with a bike ride and we discover this:

The day before one of them turns 16, it's a wonderful thought that we're still as free to gambol through the corn fields as we were when we were children.
Maybe growing up isn't so hard.

Boating

The air was heavy, the sky was atmospheric, yet the lure of the water is too much to take after such a slow transition to summer. 

p.s. spot the name of the ferry?

Home . .

This is my last night for a while, I've been cooked the last supper (roast pork chops, roast parsnips, roast potatoes, peas, brocolli, peas, sprouts and allotment rhubarb creme brule) but there are so many things that I'm going to miss about home:

1. Waking up in the morning

My eyes gently flicker open to the sun tiger striping my room as it penetrates the blinds. Outside on the pagoda below, the birds are flitting through the rose bushes chittering the morning gossip to each other as they work. Over the fence the neighbours hens are clucking contentedly in the weak morning sun, a sound as soothing as bubbling porridge. A sheep might bleat in the distance. If I am lucky and the time is right, or if it's Sunday morning bell practice, then the cathedral bells will start to add thier tinkling to the cacophany of the world waking up as the distance mellows thier imperious resonance as time would mellow a wine.

2. The weather.

It is always properly sunny. The sky is always fully blue. There is never a haze of pollution. There is always a breeze, sometimes tickling playfully at your skin, sometimes gusting and tugging at the washing on the line, but always there to ensure that it's never uncomfortably hot.

3. The locotion.

Few places are as fortunate to have such a compilation of extravagantly beautiful locations within such an easy distance. Even the city centre, so commonly a decay of weary concecrete, is a jumbled mismatch of unique coloured facades, bleached to milky colours by the sun. You can spend an entire afternoon looking up and never be bored.

4. Going to sleep in the evening

The blossom on the cherry tree in the neighbours garden begins to fluoresce as the sun goes down. The smell of the jasmine and roses that drape the pagoda below my window become intoxicating. I lie in bed drowsy under thier heavy scent listening to the ornamental waterfall tinkling into pond. The occassional plop of a frog into the pond and thier accompanying deep bull frog croaks. The feeling of complete and utter safety.