I really shouldn't be writing this post, there's packing to do (we are moving house lord help me), and lessons to plan, and children to feed, and a sauce that is most likely burning on the stove.
But. I was sorting through some shelves, and found some boxes, and it was like slipping on an old favourite jacket. One I used to wear back when Lucy and I used to make this kind of thing.
A box full of things like this:
It was too tempting to just stop and play. So I did. I remembered the days before I was a qualified teacher, and life felt quite different.
A couple of bell jars had been sitting around on my workbench ever since I had been to this amazing place in Antwerp this summer.
I don't really know how to describe it. It was a floating vessel but I couldn't truthfully call it a boat. It had a cafe, and pigs, and chickens and a tiny farm. There was clearly a strong upcycling/recycling thing going on, and a corner that sold homemade bell jars. It was very steampunk: futuristic sustainable technology but everything felt old.
I could never resist a bell jar. I bought one of their homemade ones and a tiny, dolls house scale for myself. Which has sat on my work bench. Until I opened the boxes.
And did this. In a corner of a room which is about to be packed up when we move in a few days. When I had so much other stuff to do. But you know, sod the to do list I say: sometimes you have to stop and put leaves chipped from plates into bell jars instead.
Time well spent.