The lost summer

My little chap has only one week of the summer holidays left. Where has the time gone?

When the summer began, I knew it would be difficult to post during July, and August, but I did not know how difficult it would become. This blog came very close to being a victim of the delete button, but kind comments and encouragement from family and friends near, far, and Internet enabled have meant that I have managed to find an ounce of resolve, and want to keep posting, sharing, and learning from others through the blogging channel.

There has been little craft done this summer, but this week I have progressed things a little, and hope to use these small accomplishments as a springboard to return to chronicling my dabblings and the wonderful talents of other people I happen across. So the latest FOs and UFOs and new projects include:

- 3 more little woolly hats for the Big Knit challenge;
- a length of rich felted "fabric" made from a previous knit that I had grown tired of and destined to become my autumn everyday bag;
- a promise to knit a bag for one of my Irish cousins-in-law who was kind enough to take me under her wing for a day on our recent holiday while the boys cooed over tractors and heavy plant and also went fishing;
- a very exciting project for winter scarf exchange with Katie from l'aubergine joyeuse.

No pictures as yet... but soon.

I think of Alice at every turn. She'd be smiling and would have lots of news to share. Little chap and I played with her lovely children in the park today.

For Alice

This week has been very difficult. Coming to terms with the loss of someone dear is not easy, and accepting the entirety of the situation cannot be done all at once.

I have begun to be able to draw comfort from the many happy times I shared with Alice, and last night I remembered this poem which I read at a school carol service about 25 years ago. This too has given me great comfort, and is my chosen way to think about Alice's passing.

The angel and the girl are met.
Earth was the only meeting place.
For the embodied never yet
Travelled beyond the shore of space.
The eternal spirits in freedom go.

See, they have come together, see,
While the destroying minutes flow,
Each reflects the other’s face
Till heaven in hers and earth in his
Shine steady there. He’s come to her
From far beyond the farthest star,
Feathered through time. Immediacy
Of strangest strangeness is the bliss
That from their limbs all movement takes.
Yet the increasing rapture brings
So great a wonder that it makes
Each feather tremble on his wings.

Outside the window footsteps fall
Into the ordinary day
And with the sun along the wall
Pursue their unreturning way.
Sound’s perpetual roundabout
Rolls its numbered octaves out
And hoarsely grinds its battered tune.

But through the endless afternoon
These neither speak nor movement make,
But stare into their deepening trance
As if their gaze would never break.

(Edwin Muir: The Annunciation)