The Secret Garden

Spindle, my spindle

"Spindle, my spindle, haste, haste thee away,

and here to my house bring the wooer, I pray."

I have a new spindle. She's made of beautiful rosewood and perfect in every way. And she demands a name. I tried on a few while spinning fine silk on the train, but every name I suggested made the spindle drop to the floor. I found myself talking to her, singing to her, smoothing away her scratches with my fingers. Making promises.

All of this has surprised me, because I started spinning with no clue how it would fit into my Craft. I don't know any people in my immediate circle who spin, so there was noone to ask. As time has worn on I have reached my own conclusions, and now doing some research (albeit mainly online) I have found some intriguing things.

Like this:

"A common theme of spinning tales is the breaking of magical boundaries. Spinning women attract all kinds of supernatural creatures and spirits. The tale of Frau Holda is a prime example where the act of spinning causes a link between worlds."

The plot thickens.

Meanwhile this month I have been getting in touch with my inner Celt. For Imbolc I made a special soap dedicated to Bridget, called "Brigid's Fire". As is the way with such things the soap really named itself, demanding fiery orange swirls of annatto to contrast against a soft yellow ground, where I had planned a soft green and white. Bríde is someone who has become close to my heart, with her themes of purification, healing and creativity. Today I discovered that she is also a goddess of spinning.

Yarn porn!

At last I have a camera again. It's great. I've been indulging in a frenzy of photography, making up for all the time I've lost over the last couple of months.

If pictures of handspun yarn can be called porn, then this is the money shot. It's yarn I spun myself and knitted into a handwarmer...

Knitting Nancy?

Some things are just destined to cheer me up. This book is no exception.

If you like that, you might also like this. Everyone should have a knitted M16 cozy. No, really, they should.

Conundrum

Riddle me this:

If a woman falls at a zebra crossing and nobody looks up, does it really happen?

It is raining this morning, and the road outside my office is wet. There is a step down to the crossing, and the woman's foot slipped and she fell heavily onto her knees, hands and then face, kissing the wet tarmac. She let out quite a loud shriek, but the people in the cars waiting impatiently at the crossing looked, if anything, mildly peeved that she was holding them up. She eyeballed them as she finished crossing the road, but not even a window was wound down to enquire or an eyebrow raised.

This begs the question: If a woman falls on her face in public, and nobody gives a shit, what is the world coming to?

The woman who fell was me, and I came within millimetres of breaking my nose again, or losing some teeth. In fact, if I hadn't crumpled on impact I'd probably have had a nice broken wrist to show off in H's wedding pictures in a couple of weeks' time.

I wonder if they had seen blood, if they would have been more concerned? Something tells me probably not.

Trouble in paradise

Well it had to happen at some point. My flatsharing bubble has been well and truly burst. Time taken - a hair shy of 6 weeks.

I got home from a really shitty day at work to find that one of my flatmates had painted the bathroom. Bright yellow. He chose a nice neutral "butter" colour. But this isn't a hint of a tint, this is Kerrygold. I also can't get into my room for all the painting paraphernalia scattered around my door.

Fine, so I'll relax in front of the TV I thought, but alas it was not to be so. Out of the blue two of my flatmates friends arrived - they were invited but someone neglected to tell me - and installed themselves in front of the TV to talk about wanky sigils and other Boys in Black bollocks and smoke weed. My flatmate then offered them a glass of my unopened bottle of wine! NOT COOL! I had ignored them drinking most of the last bottle I had, but then again it was a work freebie, so it probably wasn't that good. This stuff I bought specially for Yemaya.

Sigh.

Is it OK to want to kill the people you live with occasionally? I have a pre-menstrual dispensation.

To post or not to post?

Oh what the hell.

It is amazing what you can find on the Internet these days, and this is an absolute corker. The Velvet Vulva is a site selling....well, look for yourself at what they sell. I was particularly intrigued by the one with the brown "fur" trim and leopard print underside, although the hat is quite outstanding.

I do find the pictures of hands reaching into the purses mildly disturbing. Is that normal?