Hello Autumn you beautiful harvest season of misty mornings, long nights and mellow fruitfulness.
We surrender to crisp leaves crackling underfoot, the zing of cold air sharp in our lungs and the soothing, cosseting bliss of wrapping ourselves in layers upon layers of natural, hand knitted wool, silk, cashmere, alpaca . . .
When you grow up in the Hebrides among your tough Harris Tweed-clad menfolk and the smell of wet tweed and feel of rough wool is as familiar to you as your own skin you have permission to mess with it. The ancient coming together of our island sheep wool in woven and knitted form is …
Short days, wild winds, stormy seas. The glory of winter darkness hibernation, wrapping ourselves in cosy woollens, swaddling our spirits in the gestation time, quietening our minds, listening with stillness to the sounds of nature. Here we are in the deep mid-Winter with arrows pointing back to Autumn and forwards to Spring in the eternal …
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes. Ah. The cooling wind makes the machair flowers dance in pretty pinks and bright yellow. Bumble bees buzz the red clover. Moths visit at night, painted ladies flutter from flower to flower drinking nectar their butterfly wings move like Geisha fans.
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Autumn feelings
Hello Autumn you beautiful harvest season of misty mornings, long nights and mellow fruitfulness.
We surrender to crisp leaves crackling underfoot, the zing of cold air sharp in our lungs and the soothing, cosseting bliss of wrapping ourselves in layers upon layers of natural, hand knitted wool, silk, cashmere, alpaca . . .
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As familiar as skin: Harris Tweed
When you grow up in the Hebrides among your tough Harris Tweed-clad menfolk and the smell of wet tweed and feel of rough wool is as familiar to you as your own skin you have permission to mess with it. The ancient coming together of our island sheep wool in woven and knitted form is …
Winter: potent hibernation
Short days, wild winds, stormy seas. The glory of winter darkness hibernation, wrapping ourselves in cosy woollens, swaddling our spirits in the gestation time, quietening our minds, listening with stillness to the sounds of nature. Here we are in the deep mid-Winter with arrows pointing back to Autumn and forwards to Spring in the eternal …
Summer: here comes the sun …the smiles returning to the faces
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes. Ah. The cooling wind makes the machair flowers dance in pretty pinks and bright yellow. Bumble bees buzz the red clover. Moths visit at night, painted ladies flutter from flower to flower drinking nectar their butterfly wings move like Geisha fans.