A Maker's Morning

A morning after our first winter in Sweden, THE morning. A Scandinavian morning in spring, any morning, every morning, feels like a deep and invigorating breath.

For months I have felt like a mole. Blind, snuffling, disoriented by the lack of color and nuance in the world. Color... As a crochetwear designer colour is my caffeine, really, and my daily fuel consists of the textures I find outside.

But what do to when there is so little light that seeing true hues is impossible? We tried, of course, to give the darkness short shrift with cosy blankets, bright cushions and twinkly lights. Still, there are only so many candle-lit breakfasts at 9 AM (nine!) one can endure before “hygge” can hop it.

No matter though, spring is here, the light is back, and I wake up to the sun’s delightful trickery. 

Once the boys have been dispatched to school and work respectively and the breakfast table cleared of detritus, my dance with the morning light begins.

The treasures collected the day before come out (I’m one of those people with perpetually crumby pockets, and it’s not due to my three-year-old’s snacks hiding in there), projects are piled on every surface. Yarn is squeezed, textures are tested, everything is arranged and rearranged. 

The big camera comes out. Sometimes the results are good and sometimes (more times), the results are rubbish. It doesn’t matter though; this is a Scandinavian Spring Morning. A breath… it’s all in the process.  

As I take pictures my mind stills. It clears: Winter’s dark cloak has been shaken off and with the light the ideas decide to wake up as well. I have to grab a notebook, quick. 

Now the day’s work can really start. See? I told you colour was my caffeine. Well. That and real tea.