Some days are better than others

There are days when I'm jumping out of bed, refreshed and impatient for the day to begin, mentally ticking things off my to-do list even before breakfast.

They come in leaps and bounds, these days, even in this strange time when I'm constantly teetering on the edge, my nerve ends frayed almost beyond repair.

Such days tend to be more frequent when the sun is there to greet me, so that I can join nature in pretending nothing's wrong among the fresh green foliage of our garden.

But there are days when even the fact that the sun is shining cannot get me going and a dark mood is threatening to descend any minute.

Still, I manage to get dressed and even find pleasure in choosing my outfit, piling on colour as if there's no tomorrow.

That almost forgotten midi skirt with its green plaid pattern is soon joined by a blue long-sleeved blouse, its colourful print of circles and flowers vying for attention. A navy leather belt is added, as well as a pair of fuchsia opaques. The final touches are provided by a pink beaded necklace and a brooch with a bouquet of blowsy flowers.

The bathroom awaits with its lotions and potions which promise to banish the bags under your eyes and wake up tired looking skin.

And hubby has made the usual Saturday breakfast of eggs, bacon and cherry tomatoes, accompanied by cups of strong of coffee to get the juices flowing.

There, that's better!

Wandering upstairs after breakfast, I started folding some woolly Winter skirts, ready for their annual sojourn in the linen chest, and tidied away a couple of books on the shelves in the spare room.

There, my eye was drawn by a sumptuous piece of pink and gold ribbon peeking out from a basket on the desk. Seeing this made me a bit teary-eyed again, as in its former life the ribbon was tied around a parcel of joy I got from Vix last June. Not being able to make holiday plans and arrange our yearly meet-up is one of the hardest things for me.

The basket also contained several notes and postcards from blogging friends, so then I had the brainwave of creating a memento by pinning the ribbon to the bookshelf and adding the notes and postcards with some tiny wooded clothes pegs I found lying around.

From top to bottom, there's a card from Vix, a photograph of Lynn, a postcard  Kezzie sent me when she was staying in Gent, a little note from Tina which accompanied a bar of soap I'd won on her blog, one of the cat brooches Goody sent me, and one of Lynn's delightful Doodly Birds.

With the weather too good to be wasted inside, we decided some exercise wouldn't go amiss so, closing the door behind us for the first time in days, we went for a little neighbourhood walk.

This took us to a park which is almost literally on our doorstep but which we hadn't visited in a long time.

The park is part of a domain which used to belong to an order of nuns, but which was taken over by the local council in the 1980s.

I grew up in the village we are now living in and, while the park itself was private property during my childhood, the adjacent large playground, opened in 1961, and run by the nuns, was a major attraction which put our drowsy village on the tourist map during the Summer months.

Nothing is left of the playground nowadays. It closed in 1986 and where once the cafeteria stood, where we were lured by ice cream and lemonade, an ugly concrete building  was erected to house the few remaining nuns.

Apart from a couple of joggers and one or two families and individuals out for a walk, the park was reasonably quiet, making social distancing relatively easy, the only problem being that some of the paths are quite narrow and required a bit of maneuvering.

But it was all worth it, even if only for the daintily nodding wood anemones which was carpeting the park. 

And true to ourselves, we even managed to get lost!

My spirits properly restored, I was feeling happier on Sunday. The weather did its best to cooperate, nudging the temperature towards a balmy 20° Celsius.

Time to ditch the long sleeves and bring out the first of the short-sleeved frocks! 

That day, the honour fell to this red vintage dress, its white polka dots joined by blue, red and white stripes at its hem, collar and cuffs.

I wore my Mum's navy, white buckled belt with it, and a turquoise necklace and ring. And look, the lady on my brooch is wearing white on red polka dots too!

And short sleeves just beg for bangles and bracelets, don't they?

Feeling more energetic, I tackled a kitchen drawer and cupboard for starters, then cleaned up the area just outside our back door, getting rid of a small mountain of dry leaves and other garden waste which had accumulated between the pots and underneath our cast iron boot scraper.

Here and there, the fuzzy little flowers of yellow dead-nettle were rearing their heads. They were inherited with the garden and, with their silver spotted leaves, they are always a welcome sight in Spring.

Another regular is Honesty, with its profusion of purple flowers, giving way to papery seed-heads looking like silver coins, and thus providing interest for several months.

It self-seeds freely around the garden, always turning up in the most unexpected of places, but welcome wherever it decides to grow.

I'll be returning with further home and garden adventures in my next post.

Until then, take care and stay safe!