Time passes....

I've been hot - and busy - and, as a result of those things plus other stuff, not in the most benign of moods. And hence, not blogging. Cwic catchup, anyone?

It was, for a few days, hot, hot, hot. Woolfest had been hot and tiring, I needed to recover. So, I installed myself in the coolest place, just by the door into the cottage, where the sun doesn't quite reach.



Thus, I mostly remained comfortable and relaxed, surrounded by knitting, fizzy designer water, wonderful birdsong - the blackbird outdid himself - and peaceful sights and perfumes.



The blackbird likes to sing from this birch, and I love to see it moving gently in the breeze. One of my favourite trees, along with beech and the larch (which yes, I can indeed recognise from a long way away.)



Not a good photograph, but looking carefully you may see honeysuckle, blooming more prolifically this year than usual. One of the lovely smells drifting on the hot breeze.



And the source of another, Felicite perpetue. We bought original old roses for this garden, which may have been a mistake. They have lovely perfume, look fabulous, but are not repeat bloomers except for one. But great while they last.

It had thankfully cooled somewhat by Thursday, when I spent the day with my sister. She is in plaster, for foot surgery, and had to get to some appointments, so I got to play chauffeuse. I wish I knew why modern hospitals had such woefully inadequate parking. Sick people often can't deal with public transport, it is just so unrealistic to expect them to. I had to abandon her to the tender mercies of a security guard to wheel her to Outpatients, while it took me three quarters of an hour to grab an illegal parking place. By which time I was fit to be hospitalised myself!

Off to the annual Alston Hall weekend the next day. But not before discovering that the shower had broken. Before I had used it. I was not pleased, still in the pleasant state that I was from the day before. Didn't really get the thing off to what you might call a good start.



This is always in bloom whilst we are there. Magnolia grandiflora, I think. Fabulous, anyway.



I love these urns with the hostas in. They flank the steps leading to the croquet lawn, and yes, the DSM and I did play, and of course he won, he always does. But we have to do it - it is, after all, how we met. Not at Alston, but on a croquet lawn. Beyond the croquet lawn is a ha ha. You can't see it, of course, and I never did get around to taking another photo. But you've gotta have a ha ha at a country house, eh?

I'm probably putting in all these photographs in an attempt to disguise the complete lack of fibre work. Knitting has gone on - leetle bit more progress on the jacket, and the Noro shawl is on the needles. Spinning, too - more spindling, and I have finished the rather nasty lilac cashmere that I bought from a very reputable vendor a while back. That's twice that has happened, and it annoys me - you think you can trust these people, but somehow not where cashmere is concerned. Now that the weather is more reasonable, I hope to get the bit between my teeth again.

But one more photo - left over from the Woolfest weekend, but too lovely to leave out. This is Crummock Water, on a still, hot morning. Golly, I miss it!