Springtime (and I feel human again)

I wasn't ever going to blog about how the last post on here was about Christmas, or the fact I've felt like a little shell of myself, the last few months but I've realised I don't care to post content that everyone else wants to see... 

It's funny how winter affects me so much; after the rush towards Christmas, I feel like I just slip further into a hole that is hard to climb back out of. It's not every year it happens, but when it does it catches me so by surprise it knocks the wind out of me - in January I kept thinking I was fighting it off, that I was getting to the gym and being sociable and doing all those things I was taught to do to keep me going, before realising I was finding no joy in them and I ground to a halt.

It's not until the first warm day of spring that I start to feel like me again. Only when the sunlight begins to feel warm again, and I roll my window down on the drive home from work, and I sit outside in my garden on the weekends to eat my lunch and it's okay, cause everything starts to feel okay again. Today felt okay, for the first time in a while. I woke up this morning after a lovely evening with a new friend, I have some things to look forward to, I feel like I'm more solid in my skin and things feel good. This afternoon I sat and watched the blue tits in the garden, did some knitting and drank my coffee with full fat milk, to feel indulgent.

So I guess I'll just sit tight until summer...

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The Barbican Conservatory

The first time I visited the Barbican - it was on a sleety day in March, with my friend Tam to see an exhibition. I had seen pictures, and knew I would enjoy the architecture, the feel of the place, but didn't realise quite how much I would love it. I love the shapes, the styles, the plants and the water mixed with the harsh grey brick everywhere. 

At one point, I discovered that there was a conservatory there, and made it my mission to find it and visit it: a simple task, you might say. It only opens on Sunday's, and until very the end of 2014, I worked most Sundays. I think I made three attempts at visiting it, even getting as far as Waterloo once, before having to turn back. 

For my thoughts on the conservatory, keep reading..

cereal magazine + the joy of ruined photos

Generally, I can resist a pretty magazine. I am good at this because I'm a blogger, I think - I know that I can get better content on my favourite blogs, but then sometimes, I'm in a train station in Sheffield and the sun is shining and I'm enticed in by pretty pictures in pretty magazines. That's how I came to pick up Cereal. It's one of those magazine that it's in a similar vein to Kinfolk or Oh Comely - lifestyle centric and stunningly shot.  I devoured it on a hot train home, and I can't bare to part with it, the pictures are so pretty.

But when I did arrive home, my mother had been sorting through great crates of photographs and pictures and postcards and all sorts of wonderful little things from her youth, from my youth, from my grandmothers youth. Whilst I love beautifully shot magazines, my heart will have a soft spot for a bad photo.

Over exposed, underexposed, light leaked, or poorly framed - I love a ruined photo. There's something heartwarming about a half recognised face lit by angry red film. I also love just the weird photos that someone took, particularly in film, of a strange building, an odd bit of flooring: something someone chose to capture, because for that instant it was important, but the reasoning has been lost.

This might not make sense to some, but I'm a fan of the extremes of photos, from the beautifully, impeccably shot lifestyle editorials, to the snapshots of long gone family, ruined by a poor photographer. I can't bear to part with any of them; I'm a hoarder.

the snow day that never was

Last week (or the week before, time is running into one, apparently) I was off work, and had intended to go for an early morning run - however I opened my curtains and it was snowing. I hung about for a bit, but then the snow wasn't stopping, so decided to drag my mum out for a walk with my camera, instead. By the time we got to the lake, the snow had stopped and all but melted.
We walked around Virginia Water, up to the hill and the heather garden, then back around to the ruins of Leptis Magna, one of my favourite local ruins, haha. It was cold and brisk, and we made friends with a few puppies and some swans that tried to bite me, before having a cheeky hot dog and burger in the new cafe overlooking the water. It was really nice, but I miss how nice this place is in the spring and summer, I need some life in the trees and a bit more greenery about...

the sun through the trees - part two

There are some things that feel a little better though, like when the sun breaks from behind the grey clouds, you manage to catch the setting sun in the woods, there is a pinecone in your pocket and some twigs in your hair and everything feels alright again. Sometimes it's really good to get out and get dirty, to cake your boots in mood and run through the frozen over puddles on the ground, feeling the ice crack beneath your unsuitable trainers. You forget what date it is, when the sun gets in your eyes and you feel hot for the first time all day; and on the walk home, the bulbs your mother and father planted are poking out of the ground in the garden, there is a red kite crying, somewhere above your head; you can take a deep breath and say that you'll get through it, because you always do.

part one

the sun through the trees - part one

I find winter a hard time - despite my adoration for the all the things I dream of in a winter, like crisp frosty mornings and brisk weekend walks in the sunshine, it always turns out differently. The crisp frosty mornings are less beautiful when walking to work in the dark at 8AM or scraping the ice from your car until your fingers are blue. The sunny Saturday strolls are few and far between in January and you spend a lot more time indoors, looking out at the rain falling, with the wind trying to get in through the cracks in the house than I do out walking in the sunshine. At times like these it's hard to push through without the lure of Christmas to cheer you on, your only hope is that the solstice has passed and that the days are getting longer again, the sun is lingering that little bit more and that soon it will be spring.

part two tomorrow...

on learning how to make jam, or, post-harvest musings

Now that we've had the first frost (why did it have to be a Sunday morning when I leave for work at 8AM, though?!), I feel like summer and, subsequently, harvest-time have finally drawn to a close, and we're officially into the colder months. This weekend I was walking along the hill at Alexandra Palace and enjoying the very fresh wind - as I regretted my decision to not bring a coat, I realised that meant summer was over. I know that Halloween is officially yet to come, and the pagan in me feels like that is the real end of the summer, but the frost, dark and misty mornings, low sun when driving home and orange crescent moons are telling me it's come already.

Anyway, I digress - this year my mum has taken it upon herself to unofficially teach me how to make jam, jelly, chutney, curd and other preserves, so thought I'd show you a few photos I snapped of all the preserving-work we've been upto this year whilst I sat and labelled all our jars the other day.

• It is hot work; I didn't really think about how warm it gets standing over a hot pan of sticky, sugary juice and fruit. 
• Chutney makes your house stink like vinegar, no-matter how many windows you open - but making it on the most humid day of the year before a giant thunderstorm probably didn't help, either.
• I miss the allotment, and the excitement of bringing home whatever was ready to eat. Although we didn't exactly make jam from the potatoes, it just makes me miss everything. Now the only place I'll be harvesting, for the foreseeable future, is the reduced soft-fruit section at Waitrose..
• I enjoy quince jelly more than I thought I would - I had no idea it would smell so good cooking. It's weirdly floral, but yeah.
• I also really enjoy eating jam straight from the jar, and that is generally how I consume it most. I feel like Joey in the one with the jam....
• There is nothing greater than a jar of home-made lemon curd.
• I want to try out some more adventurous things now that I've realised it's really not that hard. I still think it's stupid that they make them make their own jam for a victoria sponge on Great British Bake-Off, but it's really not that hard. 
• Jam/sugar thermometers are really irritating. The jam gets caught underneath + behind them and then catches and burns and you end up with burnt jam bits in your lovely pear-jelly.
• Licking the spoon until I feel sick makes me think I can never eat jam again. I always manage to eat some more the next day.
• Bulk buying 50 jam-jars from Amazon may seem absurd when you receive that giant box one morning, but you'll be surprised and how many you've used. I think we have about twenty left?
• People legitimately enjoy receiving it as presents, I've discovered, and even given the jars back for more, which is even more pleasing to know as it gives me an excuse to make more lemon curd. 
• You'll find yourself rearranging your cupboards or fridge to make space for the jars.

I might joke about how it's dirty work, but I love it. I'm weirdly sentimental, but both my grandmothers made jam and jelly and stuff, and it's something I associate so inherently with my mum - I think she's made some form of blackberry jam every year of my life since I can remember, and probably longer than that. It makes me smile to know that I'm learning too, and now I can scoff at those pretty jars of Bonne Maman jam when they're on offer in the shops, as I know I've got something nicer and tastier at home.

Have you tried making jam yet? I promise you, it's insanely satisfying to see those colourful jars all laid out on the work-top and neatly labelled. Almost as satisfying as not knowing what kind of jam to have on my toast - do I go for the pear, plum, quince, damson, blackberry, apple, raspberry, strawberry...

For more inspiration, check out my previous posts about jam and preserves, here.

common people

The common near where I live feels so perfect at the moment - it's getting all crisp in the mornings and the evenings, but warms up quite a lot during the day. I've gone up a few times, coming back with either a selection of blackberries and other fruit, or some photos of the heather and hawthorn berries. 

Recently we discovered there are a pair of red kites that live near there, so I'm always distracted by them, they're one of my favourite birds of prey, and I'm hoping if I keep frequenting the common, I'll be able to get a photo of them.

Anyway, I took these photos the other week when I had just got my fancy new camera, and thought I'd go try out taking some photos. I've been using my little point-and-shoot for a while now, and it's lovely, but I used to have an DSLR and it recently broke. I looked into getting it fixed, but I found that it would be more expensive to fix than the camera is worth. I decided to get a new one, I invested in a Nikon D3200. I say invested, because whilst I'm currently only working part-time, I have a lot of savings and it felt like a good thing to spend my money on, particularly with an combined 5-year guarantee, it should last me for a good while! I'm loving the upgrade from my D50 and it takes such lovelyyy photos - I'm still working on it and messing about a bit with it, but hopefully you'll see a bit of an upgrade over the coming weeks! 

the secret allotment

my dad watering in the distance

the raspberries that are hidden in the brambles at the end of the plot

sun setting on the wall with the manor just in sight

the flowers on the potato plants

It's not a secret, really, but it makes me feel like I'm in The Secret Garden, which you might know is my absolute favourite film, and my favourite book as a child. The last time I went, I was sat in the long-grass by the side of my dad's plots and there was a deer, just casually eating someones old plants that have been long forgotten, and there are rabbits everywhere and it's in the old, walled, kitchen-garden of a beautiful Victorian chateau-stye manor in the Surrey countryside. It's beyond lovely. Sadly, though, it's old army-land, and the army are trying to sell it on, so we won't have the allotment after the 31st August, which makes me so sad. However, I've been trying to make the most of it this last summer, and if you follow me on Instagram, you'll see so many photos of the things I happen upon, like the abandoned greenhouses and the overgrown walk-way down to the orchard..
I could talk about it for hours, but with a warm week coming up, I know I will be there quite a bit..
Have you tried growing any of your own food? As well as it being really rewarding, I find it it pretty relaxing, too. Also, you know exactly how good your food is, exactly where its been and that it's only travelled the 2 miles from the allotment to my dinner plate.