hand crafted

Woke early, for a Sunday, had a shave and shower, and drove into the city with my youngest child. She chose her ideal outfit for a day visiting two markets and a quilting exhibition. We talked as we drove.

She said she loved autumn for its warm days and cool nights; summer for the heat; and spring for the fresh new leaves and flowers. I thought about it and decided that I liked this time of winter because just when everything seems so barren the new buds are already swelling on the branches and early flowers have begun to bloom.

Conversely, this reminded me of the principle that I first encountered in The History of The Decline and Fall of The Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon (a book which opens with beautiful prose unmatched in modern writing): the idea that the seeds of decay are already growing at the height of success. This is often referred to by the coaches of champion sports teams. It requires greater effort to keep succeeding than it did to get there originally. My daughter surprised me by saying that this is also true of relationships. They need continuing work - especially when everything seems to be going at its best. So true in theory, but aren't we all inclined to be a little lazy after reaching our goals? So few relationships flourish after the exciting early days.

We arrived at the first market, large and rural, with many produce stalls, as well as the usual art, craft, clothing and jewellery.

Then we moved further into the heart of the city. The next market had more art and higher prices but better quality too.

We ate, then walked along the river to a quilting and craft exhibition. No photography allowed. There were many beautiful handmade works of art, many of which could be reproduced using a kit but it seems that only my wife, who is an avid and skillful knitter, has the patience for such activities. We bought some ribbons for my daughter's hair, then left, crossing over to walk back along the strangely deserted opposite side of the  river with its unappreciated public artworks,

and old bridges.

As we walked, an old couple passed us - still holding hands after all those years.