Kaya drew Batu, himself and his Daddy on the Father’s Day card. “I’m very sorry, Mama, but there is no space for you. Maybe you can be in the kitchen.”
Thanks so much.
Our Father’s Day started with bundling everyone up for a walk to the shops – we’d run out of coffee of all things. Only I had forgotten it was Sunday.. and no, supermarkets do not open at 7 on a Sunday.
Other than that, we had a nice and rainy weekend.
We’d made a plate for Daddy in a local pottery painting shop. I had grand plans for a tiny handprint inside a bigger one, but Kaya did not like the idea of having to paint on his hand. Instead he designed the plate’s background and painted Batu’s foot to make a print, and everyone was happy.

Now there is some yarn waiting to be wound, some thin cotton hats on the needles for this June that feels like April. Again.

Weekending with Amanda
How has yours been?

A bright and wonderful weekend to all of you..

* Making: there has been a lot of cutting and sewing in the few spare moments of my days.
Sewing on a machine requires quite a different sort of concentration than knitting, or hand sewing. The little people around me cope a lot better with me busying myself with a  needle (or two) in my hand, when I can look up, stop, help and play much more readily than when I’m sitting in front of the machine. Even if it is just for a few minutes at a time.
So the whole hat making process is taking a little longer than expected, but I am hoping to have a few new sun hats ready in the shop by this weekend.

* Listening: I had the rare pleasure of a solo car ride one evening this week, and got to turn my music up.
When my sister gave us her old car two years ago, it came with a bunch of her CDs in it. I don’t ever really get past the first few songs on the first CD, but those favourite hits of two summers ago remind me of a wonderful few weeks. They take me right back, like a proper mix tape. Ha, remember those? I don’t think I’ve had such an emotional mix tape session for at least ten years..

Playing along with Dawn

It happened. I ran out of yarn. Ten rows from finishing the yoke of this cardigan, and I still have both fronts to do as well. I must have gone seriously wrong with my maths somewhere.
It doesn’t help that I bought the yarn in Germany months ago.
I thought there must be a ball or two hiding somewhere, but with my recent clear-out and organisation I know all the yarn I own is in one box. I searched it twice. No more yarn.
Sigh.

Until I find somewhere to get more yarn, I shall be reading.
Mostly this. (Kaya won a drawing competition at our local bookshop and could pick a book for his prize. This is the one he chose, so very pleased with himself.)

Or -beginning, rather. How did Monday sneak up on me like this?
The weekend was a little manic with wonderful moments and not so pretty ones. This morning carried on just as Sunday had ended. Even though (or because?) Kaya was at kindergarten, there was a lot of rushing and too much to do. (It did involve the baby’s first train ride. He remains unimpressed.)
Around noon, I got back early and sat down on a bench in the yard, before any other parents arrived to wait for their children. A little pocket of time before I had to remember bus timetables and buying bananas and how to fit what I still had to do into an afternoon so full of other things.
I took out my knitting, ignoring the sneaky feeling that I am going to run out of yarn much too soon. I could see a bird sitting on the very top of a tall tree behind all the buildings. He started singing – since it was just the two of us I felt like I had my own private concert. I have no idea about birds, but whatever kind you were: thank you. Your song was much appreciated.

Belated weekending with Amanda.
Happy Monday!

A sunny, happy weekend to all of you..

“sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love

(all the merry little birds are
flying in the floating in the
very spirits singing in
are winging in the blossoming)

lovers go and lovers come
awandering awondering
but any two are perfectly
alone there’s nobody else alive

(such a sky and such a sun
i never knew and neither did you
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of yes)

not a tree can count his leaves
each herself by opening
but shining who by thousands mean
only one amazing thing

(secretly adoring shyly
tiny winging darting floating
merry in the blossoming
always joyful selves are singing)

sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love”
― E.E. Cummings

The other day Kaya was going around on his scooter here. He took a corner a bit too fast and fell, cutting his knee and landing his hand in the stinging nettles. That was the day he put the plasters on for the first time. Kaya has been having an aversion to plasters for as long as I can remember. The prospect of putting one on is more upsetting than comforting. But  that day, he asked for the children’s plasters. I had to rummage around a bit, because we hadn’t used any in such a long time. He inspected the different designs and proceeded to stick on three of them. On his stung hand mind, not his bleeding knee.

That’s what I was thinking of, sitting on that wall, listening to the birds singing and neighbours chatting, saying hello to Beetle, the enormous dog who lives next door and stuck his nose out the gate.
We are making new memories.
I guess we have just about arrived at home.