The wind blew back in early this week and after a sunny, warm weekend I turned back inside. There was a huge floor cushion to be made for five year old grandson to accompany his curtains.
There was more to be done on the project of knitting a cushion to reflect our hillside.
The colours reflect the different greens of the fields and the open hills. The darker brown rows are the lines of hedges and bare trees and the gold is the bracken. I have spent an hour or two weaving in the ends, an oddly meditative kind of thing to do, before casting on the other side and seeing what comes.
Then there was bread to be made before turning from the practical to the numinous.
There was Alan Garner's last public lecture to go to. Alan Garner is a great writer and counts amongst his admirers the author Philip Pullman and Rowan Williams, the former archbishop of Canterbury. The picture shows Alan's house where he has lived and written all his adult life. He was lecturing at Jodrell Bank, which is an unsettling yet fitting neighbour to his medieval house on its ancient site. The lecture was accompanied by the release of this previously unpublished poem.