I’m roasting a chicken, and the scent of lemon and rosemary is filling the air. The sunlight is streaming through the living room window, low in the sky and warm on my face. Jessica is playing happily, and I am snatching a few moments to pin these beautiful days down, so I never forget them.
Simple days of rhythm and routine, meals and naps punctuated by stories and baths and simple games. Trips in the pushchair with Jessica waving and smiling at everyone she meets.
Yesterday I spent a happy hour cuddling the beautiful four week old baby of an old friend. While I was holding baby Charlotte, I could not believe that I looked after a baby so little…but I must have done. My baby is all of a sudden a little girl, testing her wobbly little legs, curious little fingers poking everything. Sudden smiles of delight lighting up everything. Sometimes pretend tears with a crafty look to check I am paying attention.
Many years ago now, when I was working at the big library, I was given a lovely card for no reason at all other than it made the person think of me. It was a vintage Winnie the Pooh illustration, of Piglet picking violets. We only had to say to each other that it was a violet picking day for us to know what the other meant. Hard to define, but a feeling that permeated the day. The kind of honey on toast or the first autumn or spring day kind of feeling.
I’ve long loved violets, I have memories of little glass bottles of Devon Violet perfume from when I was little. Anyway, I was very pleased to find a patch of violets growin in our back garden, and hoped they heralded a season of violet picking days.
Today one of my closest friends came to visit, and we definitely had a violet picking kind of day. She gave me my birthday gift, and she knows me so well it is always a delight to see what she has chosen for me. Everything is done up in tissue paper, and this time the bag was also filled with purpley pink shredded metallic tissue paper….which Jessica adored playing with. There was a beautiful fabric covered notebook, and a eon to match my changing bag. Violet bath bombs, and a little tin of solid violet perfume. I am so lucky…and until I roasted the chicken, there was the scent of violets in the air.
We had a lovely day, talking, talking, talking, finding treasure in the charity shops, enjoying a lovely lunch, and talking, talking, talking. We swap so many ideas and thoughts, and I have lots of things in mind to try out now.
But for now, there is the end of a violet scented day to come. A baby to feed, bathe and put to bed. A husband to welcome home and serve a roasted chicken to. A pot of tea to savour, a hot water bottle to snuggle against. Violet scented dreams to sink into…