Come into the garden Maud

While all you lovely desk hoppers were busy chatting, creating and having fun together I was up in Brighouse, Yorkshire doing the same.

I spent two days stitching, dyeing threads, chatting, laughing, exchanging ideas and being inspired with a group of lovely like minded ladies.

Anne Brooke, textile artist was a fantastic teacher and host,  keeping us supplied with tea and goodies  throughout the day.

I’ve come to realise how good it is for the soul and mind to be with people on your wavelength and to spend time in mindful occupation, whether it’s stitching, crafting, gardening or reading. My aim is to do more of it and to hopefully meet up with you all at next year’s crop.

Hope you all had a fabulous day.  I pretty much can guarantee that you did.

Lynn xx

Linking upto 

WHATS ON YOUR WORKDESK WEDNESDAY

Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, Night, has flown;
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone.
I am here at the gate alone.
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the musk of the roses blown,
For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves,
On a bed of daffodil sky,
To faint in the light of the sun she loves,
To faint in his light, and to die.
Come! come!