RSS

Tag Archives: RCHT

Delivery Day, Angels and Snoods

Today I took all the baby hats to the wool shop and was delighted to hear that the Midwife from Treliske Hospital will be collecting all the little hats at the end of the week. We also delivered our two goody packed boxes to one of the Cornwall Christmas box collection points. The idea is to fill them with food for a family for Christmas dinner plus some treats.

Ready for delivery

I hung some angels today and loved that they seem to be flying. Thanks, A!

Paper angels

When we were in Truro on Saturday, I took two snoods hoping to find the two Big Issue people that we buy from and talk to. They were both delighted to be given a Christmas present – one will be kept by S; the other is to be passed on to someone who needs it more………..

Warm hand-made snoods

 

Tags: , , ,

Baby Beanie Hats, Crochet and A Poem

Our local hospital, The Royal Cornwall Hospital at Treliske,  has put out a call for Baby Beanie hats in red, amber and green for the newborns to wear, the colour indicating the level of care and feeding support required for the baby. I have put Snow Dog to one side and made my first three little hats ready for delivery.

Green, red and amber Baby Beanie Hats

When we were in Portugal, we called in at a most attractive little shop selling the kind of clothes that I like. While we were browsing, the young woman behind the counter was crocheting a flower in a natural cotton. She was delighted by my interest, told me that she attaches one to the brown paper bag she puts clothes in and then presented me with a flower!  I came across it again today as I was about to hand wash my linen trousers. Yes, I did buy something!

Beautiful crochet flower

Autumn is upon us.  I have spent the afternoon collecting up leaves in the front garden to make leaf mould and the clocks go back tonight. Here is an Autumny  poem for you – from Incantation by George Parsons Lathrop.

When the leaves, by thousands thinned,
A thousand times have whirled in the wind,
And the moon, with hollow cheek,
Staring from her hollow height,
Consolation seems to seek
From the dim, reechoing night;
And the fog-streaks dead and white
Lie like ghosts of lost delight
O’er highest earth and lowest sky;
Then, Autumn, work thy witchery!

 

Tags: , ,

 
%d bloggers like this: