spring snow

I wake to a gentle pitter-patter on the rooftop, almost inaudible. I go out onto the balcony to inspect. The rain that was supposed to come today arrived this morning instead as snow. Not a raging snow-storm nor a heavy dump. Spring snow, snow without purpose, not driven, not sticking, just dancing in the air.

In the neighbours garden below, the daffodils hang their heads forlornly. "Too early," they must be thinking. "We emerged from our winter slumber far too early this year."

At first glance, winter seems to be hanging on longer than usual this year. But then I look more closely. This isn't serious mid-winter snow, but rather ephemeral spring snow. As we watch the great fat flakes tumble from the slate grey sky, they settle only momentarily on the green boughs and yellow flowers before dissolving into nothingnesses. And I realise the reason for our delight. Spring snow is just as beguiling as the snow of the bleak mid-winter, except now we have only the beauty and none of it's sting.

For me, the flurries outside my window are also welcome this weekend. I embrace the excuse to stay inside, with an internal focus. I've got no good reason to go out into the cold, and instead can stay in to rest and recharge. I've got a good book on the go, a knitting project to begin and a roaring fire to keep me company.

snowing and sewing

It snowed all day. We sewed all day, side by side.
The next morning, there was half a centimetre of fresh snow on the rooftops. And I have a half-finished skirt (with pleats and gathers!)

surprise birthday

A very good friend turned forty this week. Her husband is standing as the opposition in the local council elections which will take place this Sunday. We were worried her birthday might get forgotten in all the hustle and bustle of politicking. So we organised a surprise birthday elevenses for her. Nico made a quatre quarts cake, oozing with salty butter. It was delicious.

out on the balcony

The narrow wooden walkway that is our balcony has become one of my favourite spots during these early spring, sun-drenched days. The sun's rays are arriving earlier and earlier every morning. Which is a welcomed change after the long winter months  spent deep in the bowels of the valley.

From my vantage points, I can see cats frolicking in the surrounding gardens.  I've observed the neighbour's pear-tree come into bud, then blossom then bloom. Amourous kestrels chase one another overhead, shrieking as they dash and dive through the cloudless sky.

I love it out here, wrapped up in the warm breeze and sunshine, a knitting project on my needles, and my eyes and ears open wide.

solace

Somehow, spring seems such a hopeful time of year.

Somehow, against all the odds, we have made it through the winter.
Perhaps we'll make it through this blip after all?

As the days lengthen once more, the buds turn to blossom then leaves and the song thrush sings late into the dusk, I find solace in nature, in this season of renewal.

baby steps

It was very difficult at first, getting to know the wheel, how to turn the peddle, adjusting the tension. But one evening last week sat beside the fire, everything just seemed to click. I stopped thinking and let my fingers do the work, teasing out the fibres, twisting them with my fingers, guiding them onto the bobbin.

And all of a sudden I was spinning, actually making my own yarn!

Next step...plying - eek! 

stashing

Going for a rummage at the recyclerie naturally means I come back with a heap of useless junk treasures that need sorting and laundering and organising. 

Coming home with a crate of old sheets, curtains, bedspreads and pillowcases naturally means that I'm aching to get started on a heap of new projects right away. 

I started by doing the laundry....

19 mars

This is what an immigrant looks like, grinning from ear to ear and full of wide-eyed wonder and hope, having just set foot in the country she has longed for from afar for so very long.

That was me back in 2009, at the start of my year abroad. The 19th of March 2009 will forever be a day engraved in my memory.

It was the day I was first woken by the bells of L’Eglise des Templiers, the day I took my first steps as an English Language Assistant in Esquièze School, the day I began my life here in the Pyrenees.

We visited the school, we went to Lourdes, I drove in the gorges for the first time. My Pa was with me every step of the way, getting me ready for the inevitable separation, which at the time was heartbreaking.

Apart from the smiling face, I can hardly recognise myself in that photo above, hardly believe I had the courage, aged only 21, to take the plunge and start up life abroad. As I think back to my first few weeks out here, it is wonderful to realise just how far I have come, how much I have grown and learnt during my time here. And how attached I have become to this place.

little sheep

This is a gift for a good friend whose first baby is due mid-April. She is Scottish and the wee bairn's papa is French and a cheese seller. So I thought a little sheep was quite appropriate, and perfect for tiny hands to clutch at. 

The improvised pattern turned out better than expected, although I might make a few adjustments to the shaping. Once I've done some more fiddlying with it, I might put it up here. 

I suspect I'll be making plenty more of these little lambs as having a baby seems to be pretty contagious round these parts at the moment...

Pattern: My own improvisation

Needles: 4mm

Yarn: Unidentified recycled acrylic

doing the laundry

Of all the household tasks, washing and pegging out laundry has to be the least mundane for me. The washing, the pegs, the basket: it's timeless, homely and an oddly cheering sight.

If only I found ironing just as satisfying....