1. To cup the cup in my palm and appreciate the skill that made it.
2. To finish the tricky bit (and even better, the tedious bit) of the embroidery project: it’s just colouring in now.
3. The dog stares at my biscuit with a “please? thank you please?” expression on her face. She would like it known that she would help me eat it if I need her assistance.
1. When the frozen cylinder of ice finally slips down the tube into the dish.
2. It’s just starting to snow as we set off on our walk but it’s a lovely swirling dry snow. It looks almost grainy on the dark ground.
2b. The sheets of ice above mud in the field crack under foot.
3. To look out into the darkness at the still falling snow and see the warmth of the tiles and the kitchen reflected back at me instead.
1. Subtle attention to detail makes the cheap notebook all the more pleasurable.
2. Something inspired and delightful to finish an evening when nothing has gone to plan.
3. The dog runs around like a crazy puppy. She brings me shoe after shoe. I’ve only been gone a few hours!
1. The clouds turn the duck pond pink.
2. None of the recipes say to use ginger but I think it makes sense so throw it in anyway. The tiny pieces hide amongst the flakes of saltfish, adding a warm roundness to each mouthful.
3. To re-enter the fictional world and sand off the rough bits.
1. Wet white flecks on a chestnut brown head.
2. The warm golden clouds against the icy blue sky. In the foreground, the tree branches look almost black in contrast to their new white blankets.
3. The thick, almost purple liquid plops and swirls into the coconut milk.
1. The strips of colours – samples of fabric I dyed on my “natural dyeing” course on Saturday – look even more beautiful in daylight: a rainbow against the white tiles. The solid pieces are rich and alive compared to the flat consistency of synthetic dyes, and the patterns on some of the deliberately mottled ones are wonderfully organic.
2. Wild laughter from a simple game and later, complete concentration as they play the fool.
3. The warmth of the heavy dog against my body.
© 2024 Louisa Parry