Last weekend suddenly had nothing in it after plans changed at the last minute and for the first time in ages we had time to spend together, maybe even to go away. The outrageously unseasonal weather had been set fair for days and days and I'd met all my deadlines, delivering and collecting work at various galleries ( I made it to Lancaster despite Google maps directing me via Iceland); everything seemed perfect... yet I woke up on Saturday morning with the weight of the world on my shoulders. Sometimes it really feels as though these attacks of gloom and depression come from nowhere, that they're somehow imagined or self inflicted, certainly not justified but there's no doubt that the feeling of heaviness and inertia is real. It took a huge effort to get out of the house and into the van, I felt like a winkle being prised out of its shell and yet, as a pile of different books will tell you, nothing is better for a heavy heart than a good dose of the outdoors- if only you can get yourself out there. When I look at the picture above (of Coniston in October, not Lake Garda in August!) I get a tiny flashback to the utter bliss of being there and the way the water was so clear you almost wanted to breath it, autumn leaves and acorns bobbing about on the surface and the sun's warmth on my face. Hydrotherapy.
"Everything on the earth bristled, the bramblepricked and the green threadnibbled away, the petal fell, fallinguntil the only flower was the falling itself.Water is another matter,has no direction but its own bright grace,runs through all imaginable colors,takes limpid lessonsfrom stone,and in those functionings plays outthe unrealized ambitions of the foam. " - Pablo Neruda
I have almost finished reading Amy Liptrot's "The Outrun" which talks about overcoming addiction, partly by moving back to her childhood home on Orkney, and her descriptions of swimming as well as the chapter about her online life really felt familiar. I was sad to be reaching the end of a good read but excited that this coincided with Bookshop Day and an excuse to visit one of my favourite bookshops Sam Read's in Grasmere. We had an indulgent morning treating ourselves to new books, drinking coffee and eating delicious creamy gingerbread from Lucia's and visiting Allan Bank to try and see squirrels. I've been to Allan Bank with various friends and family about 6 times this year and its always good to sit in the art room and do a quick sketch of the view through the window.
Its such a wonderful place to just sit and be. I really should make a habit of going regularly with a sketchbook because its sometimes much easier to be motivated when you're out of your cozy rut and the light is coming from a different angle. Also there are squirrels.
By the end of the day we we had visited all my favourite places and clambered up some grippy,(mostly) friendly rocks to the top of a hill (whose name I've forgotten, sorry) with views for miles. I was a new person, trotting along in the fading light, back to the van to light the Kelly Kettle and eat cup-a-soup with peanut butter sandwiches before snuggling up to watch "Bake Off" while acorns ( I hope) thudded on the roof making us jump. I have heard that elsewhere in the world there was music and dancing, bright lights and fancy shoes but for once it just felt good to be tired for a reason and having a real holiday just 20 or 30 miles from home.
Finally, as this week see's the opening of Arteria's "Hygge" exhibition, I'm reading a book about the concept by Louisa Thompsen Brits which states that "Hygge is a feeling of belonging and warmth, a moment of comfort and contentment" and also mentions the importance of "Shelter" ... this is the idea I have tried to express in some of my work ...or at least it is what I feel and yearn for in my own life. Part of the sadness that overwhelmed me on Saturday morning was the recent news from Haiti and around the world, of displaced people and divisive political rhetoric. I want to help but feel powerless. Back in 2010 I wrote this post about a fundraiser called "Hearts for Haiti" and I'm wondering about doing something similar... but for now here is a link to Shelterbox who I think offer really practical help, quickly, in disaster areas and places of conflict.
Reading: "The Book of Hygge" by Louisa Thompsen Brits and "The Sunlight Pilgrims" by Jenni Fagan
“I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” this quotation from "Anne of Green Gables seemed like the perfect opening line as I sit here musing about Autumn and October for the 9th year of writing this blog. The week began with the most perfect Autumn days, the kind that leave you with that chilly, fresh, energised feeling that I've only experienced before after emerging from a perfect swim in cold water... or a certain kind of bubbling, chemical induced excitement which I'll pretend I've only read about. The air feels and smells different and it's quieter here now that the summer is over; it's a golden time before the winter begins. I've been taking stock, looking back at 
The week was especially special because I had a pretty magical day out with my son. Normally whenever Jake visits me here in the Lakes it's raining but this time it was warm and fizzy with light and colour. We drove over to Ullswater and Aira Force which I'd never seen before; it was beautiful - beams of sunlight through amber ale coloured pools, diamond droplets caught on moss and shifting rainbows hovering above the falls. There were also lots of acorns which I find it hard to resist childishly stuffing my pockets with when I'm out walking, but Jake told me I had to leave them for the squirrels (who were sensibly hiding from the tourists).
Ae well as wandering about constantly marvelling at the wonder of this place I've found myself living in I've been busy preparing work for a couple of really lovely galleries and their winter exhibitions. A set of cyanotypes with embroidered details- including this owl- went of to 
Now, the cat is beaming messages at me about something ( probably biscuits) and Rupert has suggested I meet him from his cycle ride at Crummock Water with the wetsuits so I'll reluctantly leave you for now (and next time I'll let you know whether swimming in a northern lake after sunset in October was a good idea... it doesn't feel tempting from my cozy velvet cushioned nest just now). x
I'm back in my box room nest with a mug of freshly brewed coffee, while the autumn wind shakes the Sycamore tree outside the window. I've been in that edgy, change of seasons mood lately; not sleeping well, writing whole novels in my head in the small hours, only to forget that perfect opening sentence and the motivation to capture it, as soon as I'm properly awake. An owl has been calling in the branch right outside the bedroom and I imagine that it could look in through the arrow slit windows and see me, sleepless and lost in a world of memories, half baked plans and good intentions. I hear it screeching "terrrr-wit" and wait for the answering whispery "hoooo" that sounds as if it could be coming from right next to me, perched on the headboard like in Mr Magnolia by 
The fells seemed to turn burnt umber overnight, the air is spicy with autumn scents and my favourite time of year in the Lake District has begun. The only thing I'm missing is the long days that meant there was time to swim after work; as it is we are wondering how long we will be brave enough to brave the cold water (or more importantly the cold wind on the shore as you try to struggle out of your wetsuit in a polite but speedy manner, stumbling about, bent double,often hobbled at the ankles by skin tight neoprene.) It's ok once you're in though and I've become a big fan of swimming in the rain when the water becomes spiky and textured like sparkling Artex and the raindrops momentarily stay on the surface like little pearls. I want to be able to paint it, or film it or capture it somehow so I can show you.
Back in the "studio" I've been busy getting things ready for a couple of exhibitions. Unsold work has been returned safely and sold work has been invoiced, allowing me to realise that I have made the basic error of royally ripping myself off by paying too much for framing and not charging enough to allow for gallery commission - which in some cases is over 50%. One piece which sold for £175 actually earned me £6 after all expenses! I am not a businesswoman obsessed with making a fortune but I'm learning the hard way and after discussing this over and over again with other artists and makers the conclusion is always the same... just because 
Well I do apologise for getting on my soap box as usual, I could tie myself in knots and, being over sensitive and ridiculously passionate I'm likely to slip on the soap and fall flat on my face. Better to keep stitching and muddling through.
Well, its almost time to go hunting in the kitchen for supper and in the hope that Rupert has decided to bake something fabulous to fatten us up for winter. The oven fused all the house electrics last week so we spent last night on the floor with our heads in the oven, fitting a new element and feeling pretty smug about being able to mend stuff. It took two people though, not like the instruction video on Youtube and I felt as though I was channeling Sylvia Plath at one point but honestly, how did people ever know how to do anything before the internet?
I've just found out about an 