Family fun

Fun in the park after Hebden Bridge's Handmade Parade. I'm posting some photos of the parade itself on my main blog. These pictures were taken in Calder Holmes Park at the end of the parade, when we met up with family and friends. There were some food stalls and the music/rhythm carried on, with a performance by the Drum Machine collective. Down in the park it was actually quite chilly, with a keen wind, but the children were racing around with their friends and seemed mostly oblivious to the cold. 

When I see how settled and happy they are in Hebden Bridge, I am so thankful that they made the move up from London a few years ago. It's a compact town in a narrow valley and they are surrounded by a close and creative community. The girls go to a small primary school, literally just across the road from where they live. With many of their close friends living within walking distance of their house, it's a supportive and close-knit neighbourhood. They have chance to get involved in activities that are happening in the town, where there is plenty going on. I'm really grateful they have such good friends, with all the enjoyment and support that that provides.  

Cut flowers

As everything increases in price, it feels rather an indulgence to buy myself cut flowers. They feel like a real luxury and hardly something that can be justified. I was, therefore, delighted to receive a large bouquet of alstroemerias the other day from a thoughtful friend. They arrived in bud and looked quite a dark red but with water, light and warmth (not that my sitting room is that warm, it has to be said!) the blooms have unfurled and in the light they are the most vibrant, rich purple. I love how the individual flowers always have a pattern of spots inside, making them look rather exotic. Quite honestly, I think these are one of my favourite cut flowers and, with luck, they should last a decent while, to be enjoyed. Perhaps the pleasure I get from such small, unnecessary purchases justifies the expense? Good coffee, good chocolate, cut flowers and perfume are my cheer-me up extravagances. Oh - and books! 😉😂

Cloud Inversion

I'm thrilled to have this hanging on the wall in my kitchen-diner. It's a hand-finished, limited edition print: 'Cloud Inversion', by the Hebden Bridge-based artist, Kate Lycett. I've admired her work for a long time, and have enjoyed seeing her finding her style over the years and creating work with an increasingly sure touch. She originally trained as a textile designer and you can still see that influence in her work, with soft inks and gouache overlaid by characteristic embellishments and the use of gold thread and gold leaf. You can just about see from my photo how the patches of gold leaf catch the light so that the print shimmers and changes as you move around it. I absolutely love it! I never thought I'd be lucky enough to own one of her larger prints, though I have cards and a beautiful book already. This was a gift for my 70th birthday - print edition 70/150. I am delighted with it.  

On the back it has this note from the artist:

That makes the scene even more special as this place is just across the valley from where my daughter lives. 

In memoriam

I came across this beautiful bouquet of roses on a bench on Shipley Glen, no doubt intended as a memorial to one of the people named on the bench. It struck me as an extravagant gesture and made me wonder about the nature of love and loss. 

One of my early memories is visiting the town's cemetery with my mother, to lay flowers at the grave of her mother, who died just before I was born. I know it was a heart-breaking and life-changing loss for my mother. I don't think she ever really got over it. It may even have been a factor in my parents buying a plot of land right beside the cemetery, where they built their home. The flower-leaving habit gradually diminished and, as far as I recall, other members of the family (including my mother's father) were cremated, though my grandad's name was added to the gravestone where his wife was buried. 

Then my parents were both cremated and the only tangible memorial to them is entries in the Book of Remembrance at the local crematorium. My mother wished to scatter my father's ashes in the crematorium grounds, within sight of our family home - and, out of respect, my sister and I took my mother's ashes to the same spot. My sister then went up there every year for a few years, to mark the anniversary. I (emphatically) did not. To be honest, it wasn't something that really meant anything to me and I sometimes wonder why not? Am I odd or unfeeling? I'm pretty sure I'm not but, despite (or perhaps because of?) professing to be a Christian, I feel sure that after death a person's body doesn't have any meaning. My memories are there in my mind and places are not that significant. 

That doesn't stop me being curious to (re)visit 'family places' or to photograph significant things, and I am hugely enjoying researching our family tree, which activity in itself feels often like honouring those who went before and to whom, collectively, I owe my existence. But I don't feel any sense of loss or of trying consciously to illuminate or heal anything, in doing so. 

Perhaps the greatest loss I feel I've suffered - thus far, and thankfully - was my marriage break-up, a long time ago now. I once read a quote from Madeleine Albright, former US Secretary of State in Clinton's administration. She said: 'Divorce has been catastrophic in my life. It would have been easier if he'd died.' That so sums up my own feelings, though I have largely and successfully worked this through to a place where I am at mostly ease with myself and don't really think a great deal about it (or him) any more. Perhaps if he had died, almost certainly if my child had died, I'd want rituals and flower-leaving to help deal with the loss. I can only hope that whoever left the beautiful yellow roses did feel it helped.