 |
| .....say it with flowers...Happy Mother's Day! |
18.3.12
16.3.12
Day 117 - Why wouldn't you crochet a shamrock?
Is it my imagination, or are there a lot of Irish bloggers out there? Maybe it's just because I'm thinking about it - a bit like when you're pregnant and suddenly start seeing other pregnant women everywhere...do you know what I mean? Anyway, happy St Patrick's Day! - and I've made some little crocheted shamrocks to celebrate. Hope you like them.
They are very quick and easy to make. I fiddled about with my granny square stitches until I had something that looked the right shape! So thought I'd have a go at posting my first crochet pattern.
I used a 3.5 hook and double knitting wool
First make four chains (ch) and join with a slip stitch (ss) to make a ring.
*3ch followed by two treble crochets (trc)
Then one ss half way down the last trc and another ss back into the ring* to form the first leaf.
Repeat ** two more times.
For the stalk - ch4, double crochet (dc) into first chain and ss into remaining two.
Fasten off and leave yourself enough wool to close the ring (think it looks better) and sew on a small safety pin. Weave in ends.
My sister's coming over from Ireland to stay for a few days - so guess what she's getting? Plus a large handful of wee woolly shamrocks to take home.
I used a 3.5 hook and double knitting wool
First make four chains (ch) and join with a slip stitch (ss) to make a ring.
*3ch followed by two treble crochets (trc)
Then one ss half way down the last trc and another ss back into the ring* to form the first leaf.
Repeat ** two more times.
For the stalk - ch4, double crochet (dc) into first chain and ss into remaining two.
Fasten off and leave yourself enough wool to close the ring (think it looks better) and sew on a small safety pin. Weave in ends.
My sister's coming over from Ireland to stay for a few days - so guess what she's getting? Plus a large handful of wee woolly shamrocks to take home.
14.3.12
Day 115 - 2 minute silence
We join a line at a bus stop
No ordinary queue.
A small gathering of strangers,
all here for the same reason;
to remember six young men
none of us knew,
killed in a place we can't imagine.
Their pictures pinned to the shelter wall;
smiling, confident, brave.
A quick snapshot
that every soldier knows
might be his last.
The one we see when they are gone.
Two minutes of silence,
Two minutes for them.
I steal a glance at my eldest,
head bowed, just nine;
Half the life
of the youngest soldier.
I think of the family's grief and pain,
the sadness that must weigh them down
and engulf everything.
I think of the hard road ahead;
the gaps that will never close.
And I pray in these darkest hours
there's some comfort in knowing
they died with friends,
doing a job they loved.
However hard to understand.
The church bell breaks the silence;
time moves on again.
The kids walk slowly to the car,
my thoughts caught in a distant place
my thoughts caught in a distant place
as they count the days till daddy's home.
12.3.12
Day 113 - Welsh cakes
Things went a bit downhill yesterday.
Writing about it helped I think - and my husband called when he read it. So I'm pushing up the other side.
Baking seems to give me a shove in the right direction. I've really noticed that recently. There is comfort to be found in my kitchen cupboard.
Also I've been on a bit of a muffin making mission since the charity challenge and think it's time for a change, before the kids go off them completely! It would appear you can have too much of a good thing.
I thought I'd try Welsh cakes because I had such a great afternoon helping out at the school when each class had a go at making them to raise money. They were quick and easy and the kids had a ball. Anyway St David's day wasn't all that long ago - and if I threw a stick from our front door it would almost land in Wales.
All you need is:
85g butter, plus extra for greasing
170g self-raising flour
55g sugar
55g currants
1 egg, beaten
A little milk to mix
Rub the butter into the flour - the finer you rub it in, the more melt-in-the-mouth they are.
Stir in the sugar and currants. Add the beaten egg and if you need it, a splash of milk, so you end up with a soft, but not too sticky dough. Roll it out to about 5mm thick and cut out the cakes.
Traditionally they're cooked on a bakestone or girdle - but a good heavy frying pan will do! Grease it lightly with butter and warm gently before adding the welsh cakes. Make sure it doesn't get too hot.
I love it when they start to rise in the pan, but you need to be patient and keep checking the bases. When they're golden, flip them over - and as soon as both sides are done, move them onto a wire rack.
They're good cold but you've GOT to try them hot - they are absolutely delicious. Quite a few didn't make it as far as the plate.
Welsh cakes mightn't be that blessed in the looks department, but I reckon they give muffins and cupcakes a run for their money.
There's a good reason why they're a national treasure.
Better stop now before I start belting out an old Tom Jones number.
Writing about it helped I think - and my husband called when he read it. So I'm pushing up the other side.
Baking seems to give me a shove in the right direction. I've really noticed that recently. There is comfort to be found in my kitchen cupboard.
Also I've been on a bit of a muffin making mission since the charity challenge and think it's time for a change, before the kids go off them completely! It would appear you can have too much of a good thing.
I thought I'd try Welsh cakes because I had such a great afternoon helping out at the school when each class had a go at making them to raise money. They were quick and easy and the kids had a ball. Anyway St David's day wasn't all that long ago - and if I threw a stick from our front door it would almost land in Wales.
All you need is:
85g butter, plus extra for greasing
170g self-raising flour
55g sugar
55g currants
1 egg, beaten
A little milk to mix
Rub the butter into the flour - the finer you rub it in, the more melt-in-the-mouth they are.
Stir in the sugar and currants. Add the beaten egg and if you need it, a splash of milk, so you end up with a soft, but not too sticky dough. Roll it out to about 5mm thick and cut out the cakes.
Traditionally they're cooked on a bakestone or girdle - but a good heavy frying pan will do! Grease it lightly with butter and warm gently before adding the welsh cakes. Make sure it doesn't get too hot.
I love it when they start to rise in the pan, but you need to be patient and keep checking the bases. When they're golden, flip them over - and as soon as both sides are done, move them onto a wire rack.
Welsh cakes mightn't be that blessed in the looks department, but I reckon they give muffins and cupcakes a run for their money.
There's a good reason why they're a national treasure.
Better stop now before I start belting out an old Tom Jones number.
11.3.12
Day 112 - Letting off steam
I know it's been a glorious, sunny, hopeful day - but I'm not feeling it. I feel rubbish. It just happens sometimes. Afghanistan is back in the headlines, my husband's been away for nearly 4 months and my dad is still in hospital. I can't call or see either of them.
I probably need a break from the kids and I'm quite sure they need a break from me. How do you 'let it all out' when you're on your own? Every so often things bubble up inside and make me anxious. Trying to deal with this alone can be so bloody tiring.
I thought having a good old private yell might help? A quick fix. So I stepped over the piles of toys, shoes and children and walked outside into the sunshine.
I didn't scream. It didn't feel right. A silent one instead and some slow, deep breaths. It doesn't make my worries go away, but there's more room for them outside, more chance of diluting them maybe?
No gardening today, I wasn't in the mood - I decided to burn things instead. There is something deeply satisfying about a fire. Watching a haystack of garden debris turn into a small pile of ash.
Looking around, I could see the bright green buds on the trees, starting to open and unfurl a perfect, unspoilt leaf.
Little buds of optimism.
But today I was with the old, brittle brown, crispy leaves on the hornbeam hedge; the ones that have hung on in there through the winter. They've seen it all and done it all - they know what the shiny new leaves are in for.
Honestly, I'm not normally this gloomy. I promise I won't make a habit of it. I am a glass half full person - just seem to have knocked it over today.
I probably need a break from the kids and I'm quite sure they need a break from me. How do you 'let it all out' when you're on your own? Every so often things bubble up inside and make me anxious. Trying to deal with this alone can be so bloody tiring.
I thought having a good old private yell might help? A quick fix. So I stepped over the piles of toys, shoes and children and walked outside into the sunshine.
I didn't scream. It didn't feel right. A silent one instead and some slow, deep breaths. It doesn't make my worries go away, but there's more room for them outside, more chance of diluting them maybe?
No gardening today, I wasn't in the mood - I decided to burn things instead. There is something deeply satisfying about a fire. Watching a haystack of garden debris turn into a small pile of ash.
Little buds of optimism.
But today I was with the old, brittle brown, crispy leaves on the hornbeam hedge; the ones that have hung on in there through the winter. They've seen it all and done it all - they know what the shiny new leaves are in for.
Honestly, I'm not normally this gloomy. I promise I won't make a habit of it. I am a glass half full person - just seem to have knocked it over today.
7.3.12
Day 108 - Afghanistan
My heart goes out to the families of the six soldiers who died yesterday. It is the most desperately sad news and a cruel reminder of the sacrifices our forces continue to make in Afghanistan. Such a tragic lose of life brings all of this back into sharp focus. And while our resolve might waver again back home, I know, from many conversations with my husband, that this isn't an option for the troops out there. They have to pick up and keep going. Often losing friends makes them more determined to do the job. How they deal with the grief is beyond me.
I keep thinking about the wives, partners and parents getting that knock on the door that makes their world fall apart. And telling the children. I can't imagine.
They are in my thoughts and prayers.
I keep thinking about the wives, partners and parents getting that knock on the door that makes their world fall apart. And telling the children. I can't imagine.
They are in my thoughts and prayers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)