Settling down to write seems to be getting harder and harder and I wonder why; is it the endless lure and distraction of social media, a shortening of attention span or maybe a fear that I have nothing worth saying in these serious times. More often than not, when the short days are iron grey and heavy with damp, it's because I have no new images to share and maybe you're as guilty as I am of looking mainly at the pictures and skim reading the text!
Tonight I've completed some Christmassy tasks, the last posting day has been and gone, so I've lit candles, loaded up the wood stove and built a midwinter writing nest.
This month I have been escaping the gloom ( literally and metaphorically) by retreating into the world of familiar wintery books from my childhood and also enjoying some magical "children's" books, which I often start reading when I'm working in the bookshop and then, becoming lost in the story, have to bring home to finish. Last night snuggling in bed to read Snowglobe by Amy Wilson I was so aware that this "comfort reading" is vital to my mental health (and well earned after a month of Haruki Murakami's giant brick of a book!). Re-visiting these stories is pure escapism and while I'm reading I can feel connected to the younger me, when I still hoped to become a pony or Sherlock Holmes or to find other worlds in the back of wardrobes (Ok I know, you know I still do hope these things but Im 51 now so shhhh, don't tell). It has become a winter ritual for me, ever since a weird, sad winter when I discovered the Moomins, drank a lot of Whisky and listened to a lot of Vic Chesnutt and was held together somehow (see posts from December 2009 for reference). So, am I the only one? What is your comfort read?
The reason these posts take so long and are rarer than red squirrels is that I keep looking back to check stuff and then go off in a daydream, "off on a tandem" as a colleague of Rupert's once said in all seriousness. So I just looked back at that winter of 2009/10 and all that sparkling snow, a twist inside of homesickness and loss. Something I miss about "home" in Yorkshire is the quality of the light and the big skies... But it's crazy to say that when I see pictures like the one above; Borrowdale a week or two ago, a day for soaking up the winter sun, hugging mossy trees and thinking about all the amazing and wonderful things living here has brought - new people, new places and loads of artistic opportunities which, if I'm honest, just weren't happening back home.
Last weekend I did a small event in Cockermouth with a group of women who run a plastic free market - dried goods, baking, floristry and eco cleaning products. As a final event of the year it was heart warming and encouraging; vitally for me it was about connections, I feel as though I am starting to know more people. Today I got a lovely email from someone I'd only met twice (once by the lake and once at the market) just saying how much she liked the lantern she'd bought and hoping my cold was better, it seems an exaggeration to say so but it brightened my day beyond belief. If you make any resolutions for 2019 let it be to reach out more and keep in touch with people, write more letters and make more coffee dates!
As well as losing myself in "childish" books I've been doing something else I loved to do as a child; making up imaginary scenes and drawing stories. These watercolour doodles are such a nice antidote to cyanotype and probably fit into all that "mindfulness" thing as I can feel myself relaxing as I paint. I'm not a painter though, there's already one of those in our family, but I'm starting to feel the same enjoyment I've felt in the past, just doing it for fun, for me. Anyway, if I can't ever afford a real little golden house with a fairytale garden I can at least pretend one...
Now it seems that I've forgotten to put the kettle back on the stove and I really do need a pot of tea. I've missed loads out, I've waffled and not even mentioned the exhibitions and the stuff I want you to buy from my shop and the stoat that has turned into an ermine and the window of the bookshop and the kitten turning out to be a boy and ... my New Year thing should be to write more but for now, where ever you are Happy Midwinter, enjoy the pause, look after yourself. The light will soon be returning and we need to make some magic spells I think because there's some worrying stuff going on out there.
Reading: The Clockwork Crow - Catherine Fisher
Prairie Fires- Caroline Fraser
Snowglobe - Amy Wilson