Little things

Thank you for your kind comments on my posts!

As my working days have continued to be long and tiring, I've had little energy for new projects at home, but have savoured all the more the elements of a simple life which are already built into my surroundings.

The flower seeds I sowed last week have germinated with a much higher success rate than the herbs earlier this month - the sunflowers in particular are racing upwards and will very soon need planting up. The herbs are just about showing their first pair of true leaves - although several oregano seedlings feel afoul of a pest I identified thanks to t'internet as fungus gnat larvae, which I suspect are due to overwatering. (When I noticed the dead seedlings and the transparent wormy-thinks, and then found out what they were, I became a bit paranoid and spent longer than is healthy stooped over my seedlings with a tissue in one hand and a wooden toothpick in the other, removing and squishing all the larvae I could see.)

Though the days are warming up, the evenings are still cool. Most of the blankets are now in the linen cupboard but this one is draped over the back of the sofa. It makes me smile everytime I see it. This is the first blanket I ever made. There is a bit of a story - when my mother was little, she started making a crochet blanket to give to her grandmother. She never finished it - she gave her grannie a bag of squares, the rest of the yarn and the pattern - so making up a whole blanket with the pattern felt like finishing something inherited. It's mostly made from scraps from never-finished projects which I carried up to uni with me, all different weights of wool and totally different colours, but I love it.

My knitting and cross-stich tablecloth embroidery sit by the sofa in their new basket, which means they are tidily collected together but easily to hand if I feel up to a bit of crafting in the evenings. Somehow, I've still been able to put aside a few bits and bobs (spare coffee mugs we never use etc) for decluttering, and every day I am grateful for Project 333, as staying on top of the laundry and ironing, as well as getting dressed every morning, is kept manageable.

Finally, the daily tasks of doing the washing up and making the bed keep me grounded, reminding me that the stress at work is (hopefully) transient while the rhythms of home and family go on. (Don't ask that me about the rest of the housework.) 

How about you? What is making you smile today?

Washing up: A philosophical meander

Today I was going to share a bit of a rant, as the demands of my job have been rather high recently, but I decided that was too negative and I'd rather focus on a slightly more positive aspect.

Do you have a focal point, a part of your life or home where you see the progress you have made and (in your mind's eye) the changes you still want to make? This is mine:

It's the window to the balcony, next to the kitchen sink. This is the window I gaze through as I dry the washing up every day. In the mornings, I get my first glimpse of the sun welcoming me to the tasks of my day. On clear evenings, I watch the full moon loom large, asking silent questions without answers and keeping watch over the sleeping rooftops.

In the summer, the clotheshorse sits just outside this window and I can see the clothes moving in the breeze. In the winter, we use this space as extra cold storage and you can probably find the beer for the next rugby match out there.

Just in front of the window is a row of jars reminding me that that we now cook so much from scratch that we need to keep the flour, sugar and oats within easy reach, that I make my own breakfast cereal, and the shopping list reminds me that we plan our meals and weekly shops with care. The empty dishrack and shiny clean draining board make me smile.

I can mentally see the changes I have yet to make. The first potted plants of my urban veg patch will be here - herbs and salad leaves, within easy reach of the kitchen. I've been thinking about making some bunting from some of the fabric offcuts and old clothes in my ragbag. The window is rather dirty and I hope to try cleaning it with homemade cleaners soon, so the light can stream in even more. There may also one day be curtains here - perhaps lace or net to let the light in, or red check gingham because sod it, tradition is underrated.

This is a space I come back to several times a day and each time, I slow down and I think about how after every meal ever cooked, someone had to do the washing up. After they signed the Versailles treaty in 1919. At the height of the Cuban missile crisis. At the battle of Waterloo. At every moment in history, people still need to eat and someone still has to scrub the pots and pans. I wonder what they thought as they did it? Did they feel the weight of history hanging around them like a cloak, or were they grumbling about some dried-on food?

It makes me feel connected to everyone who ever washed a plate, it starts me thinking about the unobtrusive rhythms that shape the lives of everyone, from a President to the UN Secretary General to seemingly insignificant employees and people at home, little cogs in big wheels making society work. 

So today I'm consciously revisiting this space to give myself a bit of a hug and remind myself that simple living isn't so much about what you do or have or make, but how you approach the tasks and rhythms of your life - slowing down to savour them, thinking about the meaning behind them, and taking pride in a task well done - even if it is only the washing up.