Bimbles, bluebells and birthdays

It’s been a few weeks and there have been the usual little things going on around here…

Spring is gradually tipping over into summer but the bluebells are still out, transforming the woods into places of magical theatre. Valerian’s appearing everywhere too so between that and the bluebells I keep thinking of A Midsummer Night’s Dream - Joe and I were discussing it the other morning, as they studied an abridged version back at his old school on Skye. I don’t think he remembers too much about it to be honest.

This is such a perfect time of year. I love the smell of hawthorn blossom and seeing the cow parsley blurring the verges - my local wanderings have presented me with a few seasonal surprises too: carpets of forget-me-nots under the trees, a gooseberry bush hiding near a footpath and already covered in fruit. The blackbirds are still nesting in the ivy-covered wall in the back garden.

I’ve been ambling around Heptonstall. Still waiting for that elusive exchange of contracts, completion and then collection of the house keys. It’s frustrating. But I’m not getting stuck in that rut of irritation right now - the sun’s shining and the wind’s blowing and I’m heading out to school soon. No point getting stressed so early in the afternoon.

I did meet a friendly cat the other day. It accompanied me around the churchyard then got distracted by a leaf. We all three of us miss having a cat.

Wednesday was my birthday. I went back home and had brunch with my friend, then took a walk back to one of my childhood haunts. It was warm and breezy and I lost myself for a little while, following the stream and sitting in the grass.

There’s something about going there which always seems to recalibrate me somehow.

I studied the old trees and twisted hawthorns and wonder if they recognised me, from my five-year-old self to now. Back in the early 1980s, a ragtag procession of children - neighbours, friends, siblings - paddling and picnicking, and again and again over the years. Me as a teenager, wandering alone with my sketchbook and climbing to the top of the Tor to sit in the little cave and draw the fields below.

It seemed right for a birthday. I saw a jay and lots of cabbage white butterflies, and savoured the very specific aroma of nettle patches warmed in the sun. I could hear the distant sound of children playing in the field of my old primary school. One of those voices would belong to my younger niece, Poppy.

I could have stayed for hours but it being a Wednesday, time was limited. I had a different school to get back to - but managed a visit to the antiques centre first.

The jug seemed apt for my little trip back to the valley - and Musbury, the valley within a valley, backdrop for all those memories.

I spotted this lamp. I think it had something to do with Heal’s, but represents everything I want to do with the new (well, circa 1938) house. I’m thinking eclectic but with a definite 1930s creative influence; I love artists like Ravilious and Nash, but also their modern day contemporaries - Emily Sutton, Angie Lewin, Neil Bousfield. I like looking at old endpapers from books and fabric designs from that era. Decorative print and pattern. But not creating some sort of museum. A man at a different antiques place here in West Yorkshire recently offered me an original 1940s washing machine.

I think inspired by and living the ‘30s/’40s are two very different things.

Obviously, the lamp needed a nicer shade. But it was also priced at £450. So that abruptly killed my rosy-tinted vision: me sitting beneath it with a copy of something riveting from Persephone Books.

A day or two earlier, I went out with my camera on a bluebell hunt. I didn’t have to look very far.

A new little path, not too far from Joe’s school, took me up through the woods into a sea of emerald, azure and amethyst. The perfume drifted about on the breeze. It was just me, bluebells, ferns, trees and birdsong.

In other news: we had a bit of a trip out last weekend. Nowhere far, just to Cullingworth, to do a bit of antiques and salvage rummaging. It was lovely; we’ve never been there before but we found a couple of great places with some covetable treasures - I was taken with a little Edwardian side table, Jay with a Victorian corner cupboard for the kitchen.

We left (sensibly) empty-handed.

On the way back we called in at a small garden centre. Joe was staaaarving so we watched him eat a buttered cheese scone then had a browse. And then stopped off at B&Q to get a firepit. Obviously, it’s coming to the new place but we got it going and toasted marshmallows, then my friend came over with her mum and we drank and watched the moonrise.

You can hear the peacocks across the valley, and bats flit about in our garden once the sun goes down. Evenings are one of the best things about the warmer months.

I also spotted something left outside to rust at the salvage place. I’d recognise that wheel anywhere! And yes, the little lamb’s face on the seat.

Here are me (on the right, green hat) and my neighbour Vicky Smith on our matching Raleigh trikes, sometime in the very late 1970s. Mine had a red seat, hers blue. I don’t remember too much about her other than she cried a lot, enrolled in a different primary school to me, had a little brother called Robin, and her dad was a policeman.

Also: I got in trouble for saying her mum looked like Meatloaf. But she did.

And when I say ‘trouble’, I mean that my mum did that whole fake horrified, laugh-stifling thing and said never to repeat that outside the house.

Joe’s busy next week. He’s got Jubilee events at school (as usual, we’re in a spin trying to get outfits together). We’re off to the cricket club later for food and drinks with friends. There’s a street party coming up and a local music festival too.

I might take myself to the cinema on Thursday. Jay’s going to a gig in Manchester tomorrow night.

Lastly: an update on plans for Frond & Feather.

Basically, I’ve decided to produce a digital magazine on a quarterly basis, to tie in with the seasons. Lots of new content and photographs. I’ve been scribbling down ideas like a woman possessed - they just keep on coming.

I’ve always wanted to produce a magazine so this is a true passion project. Obviously, a paper version would be my format of choice but I’ve worked with independent magazines in the past and it’s very difficult to survive beyond the first few issues - particularly if you want quality. So I’m going to try digital to begin with and see how it goes. That keeps costs down (for me and anyone wishing to buy) and means I won’t be left with stacks of unsold copies.

Having said that, I am considering putting together a calendar and possibly some boxed (blank) cards.

I’ve already put a lot of work into it: ideas for content, structure, photography… research… the technicalities of actually putting it all together. This is very much a cottage industry; I’ve reacquainted myself with Publisher after well over a decade and will convert everything into a PDF before putting it into a page-flipping format (using a new programme I’ve yet to purchase).

Things are falling into place and who knows, maybe a book will come out of it eventually.

I’ve taken on board your helpful suggestions too so thank you for those. I plan to include how-tos and tutorials alongside regular columns, a few in-depth pieces and lots of other things in between. Above all, I want it to look beautiful. No adverts or shameless plugging of ‘featured' businesses.

So that’s where I’m up to. Planned first issue: Autumn (launching mid August). Lots to do between now and then.

And now, I’m off outside to admire the peonies and check on my pots. Current situation: pumpkins are doing OK but not great, squash slightly less than OK, gourds are going from strength to strength. All need planting into the ground. We need to move house!

I hope you have a great weekend.