Monthly Archives: March 2013

Waking in a different place

I am waking in a different place this Easter morning. A different room, and different view from the window. Sunshine is at this moment streaming in on to the bed where I am writing this.
An Easter Service is playing on the radio and the Bishop of Liverpool is speaking of the the meaning of Easter. The resonance in his words for me is about waking with a new view, a new perspective, on a new shore where things are changed.

I am just on a short break away for a few days, but a change of scene, and a different “view from the window” can shift my perceptions on many levels. It is reminding me of the first Easter when the followers of Jesus had their perspectives shifted permanently when they met him, alive again, in the garden, on the road and on the beach.

The blessing given on the radio is that we may know the light of resurrection, and that the risen life of Christ may give us peace within. I ask that for myself today, and for who ever else is reading this.

20130331-103335.jpgA new view from the window

My metal work

Earlier this week it was interesting to discover ancestors of mine who worked crafting metal, and my sewing workshop was also using metal. Sewing with metal gilt wire, threads and beads was fiddly, and proved quite exacting and difficult. The magnifying glass came in very handy, definitely on a different scale from anvil and hammer!
The result…

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Flowery confidence

Primrose yellow faces,
Reaching upwards
In certain hope.
Milky grey clouds
Remain above
Obscuring the
Sunshine, but
Expectation persists

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A clear sky made the birds excited and noisy early this morning, and bathed the garden in sun for a while. Clouds have quickly bubbled up and chilled the air again, but the flowers are maintaining their trusting anticipation.

Metal thread work

The cold continues….
But our enforced hibernation has given me the opportunity to investigate some different threads from the fabric of my life. My family history on my father’s side is already quite well documented. But some detective work into my maternal grandfather’s family has revealed some interesting new threads. It has taken me back to my great-great-great grandfather Joses Weaver Downing. I have discovered he was a Victorian art metal worker, working in brass and iron. I found a lovely engraved advertisement for his company, and a design for some gates they made for Petworth house.

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Coincidently my sewing workshop this week we were using a mixture of gold and gilt metal wires and threads. Frustratingly fiddly work! Perhaps the forge, anvil and hammer would be a fun alternative. But there again perhaps some of those metal designs would make great embroidery….

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Under the clouds

Dark clouds heavy with rain, soggy patches on the lawn, and trees tossed by strong winds. That’s the view from my window this morning. I know others across Britain are contemplating (or travelling in) flood waters or snow.

I also watch where moss has been dug aggressively by crows searching for insects. Glimpses of pink buds swelling steadily on the tips of branches, and long red stalks shooting on the rose bush just outside my door. I am intrigued by these signs of energy, pushing towards spring regardless of the gloom and cold.

What do the trees know that I don’t? What gives the crows and the rose bushes the strength and vigour to keep going? What gives them the courage and the hope which I lack today? The crows, the trees, the rose bushes and me. We are all together, here, under the clouds. But they seem to know something I have forgotten.

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Sunny intervals

There were some moments today when the clouds parted, the rain and hail ceased and the sun appeared and brightened everything. Even in the sunshine our conservatory is still too chilly to sit in, but we can enjoy this beautifully bright and delicately scented pot of narcissi.
This afternoon we splashed our muddy way down to the allotment and enjoyed a few minutes of sunshine in spite of it being very waterlogged underfoot. Seize the sunny moments!

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White Monday

The view from my window as I drew back the curtains this morning suggests that my summerhouse will not be a sun sanctuary today.
Sea gulls circling over the last few days have hinted that wind and storms were coming this way from the English Channel. I think they have now arrived carrying snow with them.
The white is pretty, and the shapes of the paving and acer tree branches have a beauty I don’t see when all is green. But it is sad to see bravely trumpeting daffodils now with heads bowed, and stalks bent.
So I keep the heating on, and don my long boots and thick leggings for a little while longer. And I am thankful for such sources of warmth, while the sun is still hidden from my perception.

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