Life, crafty stuff, long walks, thoughts, and little oddities.


Reflections on the harvest

With traveling, retreat leading and job-hunting, the last few weeks seem to have flown past. In fact, the last year has flown past! A year since my unpaid sabbatical year began. While leading a retreat down at Lee Abbey a week or so ago, I found myself mulling over what has been achieved and what has not been achieved. Although that might be the wrong way to express it. One of my strengths and one of my failings is that I’m good at planning and programming my life, and most of the time, I stick to the plan. I was determined not to plan the year away!  So I had vague plans for this year out – nothing definite. I was going to finish at least one of the books that I’ve been planning and writing for the last few years. Preferably two of them. I was going to do some other writing, do lots of walking, train for a 10K run, maybe look at composing some songs, practice my violin, spend time on my artwork, learn to make bobbin-lace, visit some of the places I’d always wanted to go…. the list continued!

I haven’t finished any of the books I’d started writing. I have written some other things instead, things that at the start of the year would have been completely alien to me. I have spent some time walking. I have learnt to make bobbin lace, and how to bead a bauble. I have sewn and embroidered. I have knitted a Shetland lace shawl. I can now spin wool on a spindle and a spinning wheel. The violin has spent most of its year in the case. I have been to some of the places I’d heard about. I have laughed and cried and had the space to do it in, discovering yet again who I am, and starting to discern what God is calling me to at this stage in my life. It has at time felt like being put through a wringer.

My life has lain fallow this year. Most of what I have seen, photographed, written about, has been influenced by factors outside my own life. Events happening in other people’s lives. Nature in all her many moods. The harvest that has emerged has been not of my planting, but of God’s. Some of it is barely discernible to me. At times I question if there has been a harvest at all! But some of those looking on assure me there is one. There is certainly a feeling that seeds have been planted, and will spring into life when the climate is right. In the meantime I must wait, and make sure the fields are nourished, protected and prepared.

The writing continues, the blogging will continue, as will the various bits of sewing, knitting, etc. I have Christmas presents to make. The job-hunting continues, the grind of filling in application forms, phone-calls, searching, looking. Not an entirely positive experience. The being with God continues. In all of this, I hold on to the fact that God has a plan for me, and where I eventually end up will be his plan for my life, not mine. I wait for the future.

In the quietness of the old church

Propped in the corner

Stands the sheaf of corn

Pale gold, gleaming in the light

Stirred by the breeze, it rustles slightly

The seeds are  ripe,

Ready for the harvest

For the planting

For the coming year


For future to be decided.

sheaf of corn


Aeroplanes and angels


The Great Orme lies basking in the sunshine today. Blue skies reach far into the heavens. We sit overlooking the bay, perched on a convenient rock. A perfect vantage point for the airshow. The lifeboat chugs out into the sea below. A dull throbbing gets louder and louder until, round the Orme’s head, the rescue helicopter appears. Circling,  retrieving, lowering, circling again. Under the hovering vanes, the water ripples outwards, driven by the downdraft. Practice. Perfect. A break now. We lean back against sun-warmed stones, feel the heat on our faces, munch on the sandwiches, and switch off. A Spitfire and Hurrricane perform acrobatics above, dizzying loops, spins and flips. Then the finale. Out they jump, in strict formation. Canopies open, red, white, blue, against the sky. Spiraling down and round, patterns in the air. Perfectly  timed, they come to land on the beach. A round of applause. Then homeward bound. An evening spent on the patio. Laughter. Joy. Memories. Photos. An angel appears – can you see it?


NB: A wonderful day watching the air display, the highlight of which was the display by the Falcons, the RAF parachute display team


Rainbow bolts

Driven along ribbons of grey, slate roofs of houses flashing by. Spring green paints the fields, sunshine yellow in full bloom by the roadside. In the distance, between the layered hills, cerulean sky is reflected in sea. Here by the coast lies the rainbow land. Bolts of brightness in serried ranks, waiting to be caressed by tired winter eyes. Glowing satins and silks, matt cottons and linen. I drink in the feast of colour, and plot and plan, and dream.


Back in Wales for a week or so… this was taken at a wonderful fabric shop called Abakhan, at it’s North Wales branch.


Beach art

Towered rocks precariously balanced one of top of the other. Layer upon layer. Granite with mica flecks, sandstone, mudstone. Myriad shades of greens and greys, colours enhanced by rain and light. A band of quartz glints in the struggling sun, a lighthouse on the shore.

beach sculpture

Not my sculpture – I came across it on this morning’s walk… thank you, whoever made it for me to enjoy 🙂

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Stars and lights

Outside the darkness has closed in. The stars arc above us, shining out in the bowl of the sky. Bright lights in the black. Inside the preparations for the feast are underway. Christmas decorations nestle down in their box, tucked up for another year. The crib sits in centre place, the wise men moving closer with each day. Tomorrow they will arrive, ready to worship. A pleasant hour spent painting a new mug for Epiphany. It sits, pride of place, on the kitchen worktop, ready for the Christening. The chalk is ready and waiting to bless the house, and the star-lights are strung out. Tomorrow, all shall be revealed.

epiphany mug

Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord from the heavens; praise him in the heights! Praise him, all his angels; praise him, all his host! Praise him, sun and moon; praise him, all you shining stars! Psalm 148:3

If you want to know more about celebrating Epiphany, please see my other blog here.


Red skies and prayer

Red sky at night, shepherds delight …. red sky at dawn, shepherds mourn. The dawn predicted the day. A glorious pink glow lighting the massing clouds. Wild, wet weather descends. Waves roll relentlessly towards the shore. A quick scurry to the shop, past fields sodden with rain. The wind gusts. Then home to the warm cosy fire to toast my toes. Hot spiced fruit juice to warm my hands. Advent candles counting down the days. The windowsill nativity grows apace – a new character for each day. Nimble fingers work at gifts, each stitch a prayer. The words of Isaiah ring through my mind: prepare the way of the Lord… a day for pondering, today.



A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Isaiah 40:3


Usefulness and wooden pigs

I’ve just finished doing the last two things in my diary – leading a couple of retreats. There is nothing else written in it. It is a complete blank. Nothing I have to do for anyone else. In some ways that is a wonderful freedom. In other ways it raises questions in my mind. One thing I’ve been reflecting on recently is how my sense of worth, of being valuable, is connected to being useful, to doing things for others. At the moment, on this year out, I don’t feel particularly useful. I’m not doing any pastoral work, or preparing services, or teaching about creative worship, or any of the hundred other things I used to do. There is a guilt factor in not being involved.

We’re very much taught by this world in which we live that our value is judged by our usefulness, by our productivity, by what we contribute to society. And my year out to reconnect with God is counter-cultural. Most people initially assume I’m going to go and do some charity work, overseas somewhere. Or that I have a great agenda of things to achieve. This would be normal. Targets and deadlines, doing good. Yet while I’m hoping to do some writing ( I have a couple of books underway), and some more artwork, they will be an added bonus. I’m trying to be, not to do. Trying to conquer my self-induced guilt when I sit and watch the tide come in and tide go out again. Allowing myself to appreciate the wind in my hair, the warmth of the sun on my face. Toasting bread on an open fire. I’ve been spending some of my time crocheting a nativity set. I could say that it’s good as it keeps my hands occupied while I think. But I’ve just been enjoying doing it. They’re fun. I was giggling at one of my shepherds who keeps falling over (I think he’s been at the whisky), and found myself apologising for it. One of my parents came out with a revealing comment ‘you are allowed to enjoy yourself’.

shepherd and sheep

It was an important lesson. I am allowed to enjoy myself. I do not have to be useful to someone at the same time. I do not have to be earnest and productive. I can just be and rejoice in just being. On a walk earlier today I passed one of the older buildings in Port William. It used to be the old slaughterhouse, and the owners have been gradually renovating it over the last year or so. In the garden, there is a herd of wooden pigs (ok, that’s slightly gruesome. A warped sense of humour at work). Just for fun. No other reason. Something that has no monetary purpose, no great artistic message, nothing useful. Yet it makes you smile as you pass by.

Sometimes, God just wants you to enjoy life. He wants you to enjoy being in his company, and he wants to enjoy your company. When you are not rushing around, or busy with other things. He doesn’t want you to earn his love, for he loves you anyway. No matter whether you are doing something ‘useful’ in the eyes of society or not,  you are beloved and wanted and adored by him. Full stop.

A herd of wooden pigs

Watches me as I pass by

Eyes seeming to follow me.

I wonder,

Do they come alive at night?

Under the sound of the waves,

Do they grunt and snore?

Do they trot about,

Looking for food?

Or for someone to scratch their backs?

Or are they just content where they are?

Watching the tide

Listening to the wind

Enjoying life,

By the sea

Contented pigs.

wooden pigs, port william

The pattern for the shepherds can be found on : 6icthusfish.typepad.com . The sheep is my own design and when I get round to it I’ll type up the pattern! NB 5  Dec 12 done it!  https://iggandfriends.wordpress.com/crochet-patterns/

More information on the wooden pigs can be found here: http://www.rtby.com/project.asp?7

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Opposites attract

The weather this  morning was appalling. Gone were the plans to go for a stroll. Instead we stayed inside, all occupied with our own pursuits. It made me ponder on how we react to situations, dependent on our mood and situation. So here is a parallel text.

Rain lashes at the window

Sun peeps from behind the clouds      /         The sun is in hiding

Somewhere there must be a rainbow        /        Struggling to fight through

             I huddle inside         /       I hide inside

                    Protected from the weather       /      Retreating from the weather

              Warm and cosy     /     Feeling trapped

           Listening to the wind       /      Listening to the wind

                Chime music in my ear        /       Howl around the building

Absorbed in my crochet      /       Busying my hands

                The time passes        /        The time crawls by

Until at last I stir and stretch   /    Until at last I rise

Having weathered the storm

The weather cheered up after lunch. We went ten-pin bowling. Admired the rainbow over the estuary. And this evening I played with some crochet, completing yet another angel, plus a star and a bauble. The day was completed with homemade damson gin and some chocolate. A good time.


Cobwebs and peace

Wandering aimlessly, I turn down a quiet side street. Halfway down, a door stands open to welcome the world. I stroll past and glance in. Perched on a hard wooden chair, an elderly lady sits. Headscarf firmly tied, wrapped up against the breeze, enjoying the bright sun. Her eyes smile at me; I pause to greet her. Balanced on her knees lies a cushion with delicate white lace. Fine as cobweb, pinned down with carved wooden bobbins, spangled with glass beads. Her fingers nimbly twist and plait, creating beauty. Calm and peace and tranquility. It seems such a wonderful thing, to sit and breathe and be.

Three years ago or more, that was. Home from my journeying I vow to create such things. One day. Two years ago or so they were bought, the lace-making tools. They laid in the box, waiting for one day. Today, while the sun gleams silver on the sea, and the tide rolls the stones, one day finally arrives. I sit and create – not yet a work of art, of cobweb lace, glinting in the light – but a beginning of a journey. Calm and peace and tranquility – and a small piece of bobbin lace to remind me – to sit and breathe and be.