Across the river and into the trees

Upfront: precious little of a fibery nature going on around here the last couple of days. Yesterday was guild, and a slightly strange, mixed sort of a meeting. A workshop that did not grab me, for many reasons that I will not go in to here, so, feeling considerably guilty, I took my wheel and spun me some pretty colours. In the event, plenty of people did do the activity, all was respectable, all was ok, in that wise. However, it was one of those days when several people seemed to have cares and woes spilling out all over the place, and I picked up the vibes, as I do, all too easily. Some should grow up, some should tell their significant others to grow up, for some there is nothing to do but offer quiet sympathy, and that is fine. No, I'm not grousing, it is all part of life's rich pattern, to coin a cliche.

Today, today, Sunday, Sunday. Out to lunch again. But first - we woke up to a very pretty golden morning, and considerably warmer than the night had been. I was looking out of the window watching the sheep and lambs. I do this a lot during the spring season that they are in the meadow opposite the house. Two lambs (said my eyes) were racing down the meadow to join the others at this end. No, no (said my brain) not lambs, too fast, wrong jiz...finally eyes and brain got themselves working together (it was an interesting example of how the brain first interprets incoming information from previously received data, and then adjusts to actual input) and I realised that what I was watching was two roe deer tearing towards me, veering right and fording the river, then disappearing into the wood n the other side. It was a lovely sight.

So, after coffee with H (ain't we the social animals) we put on our finery, ie wellies and Barbours, and trudged over the bridge and up the river path to a very overindulgent and lengthy lunch with other friends. It was very civilised, plenty of good food and alcohol (although I am not totally convinced about Watermelon Bacardi Breezers....) and plenty to talk about, including discovering a shared passion for children's literature of the 60's and 70's. We tottered home bearing a large carrier bag of snowdrops in the green and another of K. M. Peyton novels.

Now, not having to even consider cooking this evening, I can devote myself to finishing the colourful spinning and doing a little more on the shawl, which is progressing but slowly because of the circ I am having to use. I need an Addi turbo!

gw