Knitting progress has been slow recently – and spinning and weaving practically nonexistent – but I recently finished one vest (Honeycomb, which I don’t think has made it to the blog at all so far), so it’s clearly time for a new sweater on the needles.
I found the summer solstice pattern a few weeks ago, and thought it might be a good match for some soft grey yarn (colourway: Foggy) that’s been in my stash since sometime towards the end of last year. So it’s a complete coincidence that today – the day of the summer solstice – dawned soft and dull.
After Honeycomb – which required every stitch to be cabled on every sixth round – I’m looking forwards to some plain-and-simple stockinette knitting, even if the construction is a little on the complicated side.
In other news, my life is still in a state of upheaval/limbo. The new job is going great, but I’m in the throes of buying a new house as J buys me out of my share of our current place. There are no obvious pitfalls (touch wood), but nothing’s ever certain in the UK house buying process until contracts have been exchanged, and I’m a long way from that yet.
In the meantime, the hounds and I are still living, with J, in the old house. In some ways, it’s really nice, because we are still friends and it’s great to have company around for most of the time. In other ways, it’s not so great. Apart from anything else, J started making the place his while I was up North, so a lot of my furniture and other possessions are in storage. Almost everything I’ve brought with me (with the exception of my spinning wheel and a few kitchen-y bits and pieces) is in my current bedroom. I no longer feel like the space is ‘mine’, so I’m sort of shrinking my life, trying not to intrude or make a mess, and the end result is that so much I want to do is ‘on hold’.
So I suppose it is fitting that the solstice – usually a time of vibrant, pulsing energy – feels cloudy and pensive.
These photos were all taken this morning as I was out walking the hounds. The day is not cold, but it is overcast and humid. It almost feels like we are due a thunderstorm to clear out the air – but without the usual oppressive feel you get before thunder.
It might not be the most photogenic weather you can imagine, but it has an odd, meditative tranquility that is not unpleasant. And after all, the solstices are the points on the wheel where change is slowest. For the briefest of moments, the world pauses, and catches its breath ready for the return swing. And even in the greyness of the day, there are unexpected moments of vivid colour. This last flowering grass amazed me with its deep, purple flowers, set amongst the intense green… If you only click on one photograph in this post, make it this one.