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
Let me begin by apologising to all you lovely, loyal blog subscribers who got a wordless, randomly titled version last time ( I panicked and pressed the wrong button which is why I'm not in charge of anything important) . Anyway some recent events made me think wordless was the way forward ...but maybe more of that later.I uploaded the images for this post last Thursday just after I had been to vote in the most scenic polling station in the country; the sun was shining and it felt exciting and optimistic. The fact that it's rained ever since says it all really but I'm not going to rant on about politics because last week some lovely things happened too and they are things which make the world seem a kinder, more generous and caring place than the cold hearted, money orientated one we seem to be living in day to day.
The first thing was a surprise parcel from my virtual friends in the
So after work and voting we skipped off up the hill to look at the view and chat to the sheep about EU farming policies and the joys of mountain landscapes. I'm not sure but I think the sheep was hoping for a different election result too.
So the other good thing that happened was that the divine trinity of Facebook-Etsy-Twitter actually worked for me for the first time ever and a polar bear I'd been struggling to finish ( his feet just wouldn't behave) and eventually managed to list in my shop, sold before I could even close the page! I wish everything would work so smoothly as it would make the whole process of making so much more satisfying and meaningful...I mean, I love making things but when you have a cupboard full of unsold sheep and bears shouting to get out it can make you think it might be better and more useful to do the hoovering instead.
Well its nearly time to go, I am preparing things for 
I recently found out that my totally unfair eviction and my writing a blog post about it, had directly lead to a close family member being refused a tenancy by another landowner in the North York Moors ... because they didn't want "that type of person" living there. Excuse me? What type of person? A family who lived, worked and loved their home and did nothing wrong?At first I felt devastated by the news, delivered rather tactlessly, and questioned whether I should ever write from the heart again. I felt guilty and dismayed by the way my plight and my words about it had been misrepresented. After much soul searching my fury at fat cat landlords and bigotted cronyism amongst some very unpleasant people, won over and I will not be silenced like a guilty secret.I told this crowd and they totally agreed...never be afraid to speak out against meanness and unfairness wherever you find it.
(These alpacas are part of Alpacaly ever after's "woolly army" and they are celebrating because they got their 
Goodness, I nearly sent this post off to you with no words. I pressed the publish button instead of preview because I've been on so many adventures since I last wrote that I was struggling to put them in order. Perhaps the pictures don't need words... maybe you can imagine how it feels to be on top of a mountain watching a snow shower sneak around the corner like a curtain being drawn across a sunlit window? It was my birthday last week and the weather was so hot we began to think about shorts and ice creams and passed people heading back from Buttermere wearing swimming costumes, but by Sunday it was back to winter again. Twenty minutes after the first photograph was taken I was standing on top of the world (Dale Head) at this cloud factory having walked through a shower of the most perfect star shaped snow flakes ( like the bits in Lucky Charms breakfast cereal).
So I sit here writing with a head full of images and ideas and wishing I could be settle to something meaningful instead of making smiley sheep from the wool I find on fence posts!. Yesterday I visited the 
I will never be a painter but I do look and notice and want so badly to be able to express it all somehow. I've spent plenty of time wondering exactly what colour those purple-grey- brown mountain tops are, so it was rather wonderful when my dad ( a real painter ) wondered the same thing as we walked up the valley in blazing sunshine, last week. Apparently 
And so, with many adventures untold and being a whole year older ( nearly eligible for a whole new category of vitamin supplements ) I will leave you with this small white cottage ... a digitally manipulated drawing that I made last week. I'm going to try and do some more drawing and get some stuff together for this years Art in the Shed in Osmotherley on the second Bank Holiday in May. As usual Jane Thorniley-Walker is hosting this charity exhibition (and excuse to eat a lot of cake) in aid of Street Child Africa.
Which do you prefer?