A pretty dull weekend, full of chores and dust and cold winds, was completely redeemed by a walk in the woods this afternoon. I wanted to see the bluebells, and oh my goodness, did we see some bluebells.They were magnificent, even better than last year. It did actually take my breath away a little bit when we turned off the path and came upon them in the woods, and all the niggles and stresses of life lifted a little.
But even on such a flat grey day, with no sunlight filtering through the trees, they were luminous and vivid and completely magical in the still, silent woodland.
Bluebells aside, normal life continues. I've discovered that I like having all these houseplants on the living room windowsill. I can hide behind them when I'm eating breakfast in my dressing gown. The neighbours all look into our living room as they walk by (I'm not judging, I would totally do the same) and I feel like they give me a bit of protection.
We've been trying to choose the perfect shade of grey. We've narrowed it down to three.
This print, a Christmas present from my dear friend Abigail, didn't quite fit the IKEA frame I had so I ordered a mount online. I chose black which was a bit of a risk but I think it looks fantastic, and it might even get hung in the new kitchen. John and I honeymooned in San Francisco and it's a city we love and dream of returning to one day.
Our temporary lack of kitchen is bothering me much more than I thought I would. Not just the irritations of reduced space to prepare food, the dust, the fact that the garage is freezing cold (the butter is always rock solid), eating rubbish food and having to boil the kettle to wash up. No, it's more than that. It's such an overused cliche, but the kitchen really is the heart of my home. It's the room I gravitate towards and spend as much time in as I can. Even if I'm not cooking it's where I want to be with a cup of tea and doors open onto the garden. Our evenings and weekends are different without this space. I'll be the first to admit that the kitchen is where I retreat to when I just want a little space on my own with just the radio for company, but John and I miss chatting in the kitchen while we cook together. And I have realised just how important cooking and eating - and in particular talking about cooking and eating - is to us as a couple, how it's something we share. On Saturday mornings we drink coffee and browse through cookery books, we plan meals for the weekend ahead, write a list and go shopping, and a large part of our conversation revolves around this. I think we're both surprised by how much we miss it. I am not moaning (ok, I am a bit) and I realise that this is a first world problem, it could be so much worse, etc etc, but gosh I miss cooking.