I'm totally jet-lagged. And I mean totally. My hair is jet-lagged. My toes are.
I have been literally falling asleep before my head hits the pillow (to the point I have no recollection of actually having even gone to bed) and then in the middle of the night, around 4am... PING... awake. But not fully awake, not alert, ready to hit the day running, productive-awake... oh noooo. That would be ok. No, we're talking zombie awake, 'light is on but nobody is home' awake, tossing and turning with heavy eyelids and stir crazy legs awake. It's very frustrating.
I have officially fallen in love with trees. I miss the old growth forest, untouched, eternal, mysterious of Vancouver Island. I miss the pines (firs?) of the Canadian Rockies... I miss them all.
I need to learn about trees, something that will make my dad very happy; he's been trying to teach me the difference between 'pine' and 'firs' since I can remember ... needless (ha ha joke, see what I've done here?) to say I still don't know. When we were admiring the trees in Cathedral Grove this kind lady gave me a crash course in telling the difference between a hemlock and a cedar... but it's gone. It stayed in my head for approximately five minutes. Also I always thought that hemlock was the herb that killed Socrates so I was really confused. (By the way... it is... just a different kind of hemlock. Whatever)
Thanks to the wonderful community of bloggers and instagrammers I was introduced to "The golden spruce" by John Valiant, a wonderful book that had me totally gripped. I kept quoting facts and line to Mr M which might have got a little fed up by the end.
I have reached the end of the holiday washing. Let's crack open a bottle of bubbly, shall we? I had all the clothes piled in the corridor as they wouldn't have fitted in the tiny laundry room: darks, whites, dark colours, light colours. Even No 2 was shocked and told me he felt sorry for me. Obviously not sorry enough to offer to help me... but at least he's showing some empathy, right?
I have no idea where this weird compulsion of taking pictures of one's feet has come from. Quite addictive.
(my feet are the same size as my 10yr old. Sigh.
And now, whilst the house is still quite, I'm going to knit the last two rows of my last sleeve of the jumper that should have been finished before the holidays. I'm in the mood to get rid of some whips... watch this space...
Have a good weekend.