THAT’S NOT MINE, MINE'S CRISPY Listening Link This morning the wind is moving things in gentle swirls and beckoning in the drizzle; it brings the scent of rosemary and grass as the birds chatter unseen in the hedges. Alt text says this week’s photo is a selfie of two people. I say it is me and my sister walking under a storm cloud. We are decorated by ‘thunder bugs’, and both wearing black hoodies. She kindly washed mine for me after the walk and when she handed it back to me later on, I declared, “That’s not mine, mine’s crispy.” And that’s when I learned the difference fabric softener makes to one’s washing! (And a little google of thunder bugs tells me that another name for them is ‘thrips’ and I rather like that so will be adopting that into my language.) No blog writing took place on Bank Holiday Monday, but as a gentle nod to Singing As The Darkness Lifts , my sister and I went out to smell the a...
THREE TIMES A YARN SHOW This morning the air at home does not smell of sheep. My eyes are bleary and perhaps this means my sense of smell has not yet awakened, but the first thing I am noticing is what’s not there. And that is the scent of sheep in fields on a farm. Having spent the weekend at a lovely B and B just outside Builth Wells in the beautiful countryside maybe it is just my brain reminding me that I am now back home with a new set of memories made. Alt text says this week’s photo is “two women smiling at the...” and I am guessing it was going to say camera but instead there are those three little dots. So perhaps it is waiting for me to say: the joy of readying for a yarn show, or the thought that this year while Wonderwool Wales celebrated its twentieth anniversary I was celebrating the fact that this was my third time there being with Kath on her stand, or the way you know you are going to find conversations that make you smile wh...