Notes from the week

Edition 10

As I write this, I’m sitting in my new lounge with a snoring Labrador beside me and a cosy (virtual) fireplace on the TV. There’s quiet classical music playing and I’m enjoying this moment of peace and contemplation. What a whirlwind of a few weeks it’s been, both for me personally moving house, and for the world at large. I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling a lot of existential dread and anxiety at the moment, so I’m focusing on small, manageable projects, and trying to practice all the mindfulness exercises I’ve learned in counselling. Thank the gods for the Headspace app is all I can say. I’m not very good at remembering to do meditation exercises, but when I do I can feel the difference. If anyone wants a free 30 day trial, hit me up in the comments and I’ll send you a link.

It’s in times of stress and anxiety that I am very thankful to be a person with multiple hobbies. To be able to lose yourself in the moment, focusing on a knitting project or digging in your garden, is a joy and a privilege. This is the first time in my life I’ve been able to write ‘digging in your garden’ about my own personal green space, and I’m soaking up every second. The experts say not to move or plant anything until you’ve observed the land through a full year, but I’m impatient and learn by making mistakes, so I’m cracking on. I’m trying to be sensible, and only move things that are definitely in the way; shrubs blocking paths, plants where raised beds will go, but I’ve also made my peace with blunders. My excitement to finally have a herb border beside my back door, is overwhelming. I had to move a giant rosemary and sage, when we turfed the lawn, but to that area I’ve transplanted two types of mint, tarragon, and chives. These were all growing in an area I’m needing to put raised beds, to keep the dogs from running through (and in Badger’s case, shitting on, eyeroll) my vegetables. I’ve taken a punt and planted the mint directly into the ground. Again, the experts say to plant it in pots, to keep it from growing rampantly through your borders, but I love the smell and taste of mint, the bees love the flowers, and it’s easy enough to pull out if needed. I also don’t currently own any pots. I’m OK with letting the mint spread and cover the soil, though I’ll maybe rue this decision in years to come.

I’ve been anxiety-knitting the Sophie Shawl by PetiteKnit, which is funny because last year I anxiety-knitted the Sophie Scarf. Clearly this is a pattern that speaks to the anxious part of my brain. It’s an easy, mindless knit, which is exactly what I need right now. I love my Sophie scarf, but it’s not really warm enough for the winter, hence the Sophie shawl. I’m knitting it holding double some vintage Japanese silk yarn and my tried-n-true Drops Kidsilk mohair from KnittedHome. I’m more than halfway through, so if I apply myself I can have this shawl done before the temperature really plummets.

I find exercise to be really therapeutic in times of stress, though ironically when I’m anxious tends to be the time that physical activity drops off my radar. The time I need it most, is the time I don’t prioritise it. I made a point last weekend, to get out and explore my new area. The weather was perfect, crisp and clear, with all the lovely autumn leaves to observe as I ran. I can run from my house to the river, and then onto the canal, in about 10 minutes, which is amazing. I’m very much looking forward to exploring these routes, and maybe planning some longer runs over the autumn and winter. It’s about 8 miles from my house to the start of Loch Ness along the canal, and I’d love to run there and then bus back. Autumn is my favourite time of year to be outside, so I want to prioritise more running before the end of the month.

On that note, I took Badger on a solo date to Munlochy Clootie Well, another beautiful autumnal day. Hot take but I’ve always found clootie wells to be simultaneously ugly and eerie. All the decaying pieces of fabric, often in damp, dank part of the woodland, means I’m not going out of my way to look at a clootie well. I understand the folklore (they were historically holy wells or springs with a tree beside them, often sites of pilgrimage in Celtic areas, where people would tie pieces of cloth to the tree as part of a healing ritual) and the picture on the Wikipedia page is actually of Munlochy clootie well. But in my honest opinion, they look unattractive, with a day-after-a-festival vibe. Maybe in the past, when cloth would have been natural fibres and gently rotted away it would have been different, but these days people leave polyester and other man-made fibres and I can’t help but think of them as essentially pieces of plastic litter tied to the tree. Anyway, Badger and I skirted the clootie well and paused for some selfies, which ended in this hilarious accidental picture that looks like we’re kissing. I was trying to get him to look at the camera by tempting with treats, and I moved my hand to my face at the exact same moment he tried to help himself to the food. Definitely a keeper for the fridge!

Hopefully by the next time we speak, I’ll have a sewing station set up. My craft room is currently a disorganised pile of boxes and bags, but I’m very excited to finally have my own space to dedicate to my hobbies. A huge privilege and one for which I am very grateful. I’ve got two bestie bags half finished from before we moved, so I want to get them completed and off to their recipients. We need some new napkins, and I’m sure I have cotton in my stash that will do the job. I’ve been watching a lot of Kris Atomic on YouTube (quality chill content about living on a narrowboat) and she frequently wears a neckerchief I want to emulate. I reckon some of my vintage kimono silk would be perfect for this task. Maybe my next outfit of the day, I’ll be sporting my very own neckerchief, who knows.