A little festive fun. Red winter berries seem more vibrant this year. Green leaves quiver in the wind. We walk amongst the spruce and pine, sighing with their creaky bough songs, listening to green needles tingle.
There may be snow for Christmas. Candles bright in windows. The sky darkens quickly in the afternoon. Stars visit twinkling early in the winter night.
Are the bees warm in the bamboo, wire and pine cone insect hotel? The birds have removed the sheep’s wool from the fences to line their nests.
We are wrapped up in our own soft wool. We smile. With the other animals we slow down, later we may hibernate.
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 …
Summer feels on the wane and it has been beautiful. Still the sun shines bright and warm and the clover keeps on blooming. Skylarks tumble and dive, collared doves coo to one another, the calves are frisking about and the lambs are getting big. Sunshiney days of relishing the warm breeze and the salt air, …
Nights of clear starry skies and watery transparency. Warm woollens and sparkling sequins, layers of silk and light-catching shimmering yarn. Winter this year has been a natural wonderland. Bright moonlit nights. Glittering snow, sparkling ice and translucent hail. We revel in the change of seasons, the contrast of dark and light, warmth and cold, the …
Winter: woolly berry, spruce and ice festive holidays
A little festive fun. Red winter berries seem more vibrant this year. Green leaves quiver in the wind. We walk amongst the spruce and pine, sighing with their creaky bough songs, listening to green needles tingle.
There may be snow for Christmas. Candles bright in windows. The sky darkens quickly in the afternoon. Stars visit twinkling early in the winter night.
Are the bees warm in the bamboo, wire and pine cone insect hotel? The birds have removed the sheep’s wool from the fences to line their nests.
We are wrapped up in our own soft wool. We smile. With the other animals we slow down, later we may hibernate.
Related Posts
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 …
Summer: dreams of vibrant wildflowers and handknit woollens
Summer feels on the wane and it has been beautiful. Still the sun shines bright and warm and the clover keeps on blooming. Skylarks tumble and dive, collared doves coo to one another, the calves are frisking about and the lambs are getting big. Sunshiney days of relishing the warm breeze and the salt air, …
Winter: a quiet wonderland of natural sparkle
Nights of clear starry skies and watery transparency. Warm woollens and sparkling sequins, layers of silk and light-catching shimmering yarn. Winter this year has been a natural wonderland. Bright moonlit nights. Glittering snow, sparkling ice and translucent hail. We revel in the change of seasons, the contrast of dark and light, warmth and cold, the …