The lawn is already growing like crazy, even though we’re barely into May. Some years I’ve been able to put off the first mowing until June.

This early, the lawn is dotted with cowslips and the main challenge in mowing it is not running them over. Some patches I just leave be completely. In others, I trim around and between the clumps of flowers. Many are just far enough apart that the mower just fits between them. Which could be a happy coincidence, but could also be because any new plants that have tried to establish themselves between them have been mowed down before they got large enough to survive. Who knows.

Reality looked a lot better than the photo.

The same design, three different ways of expressing it. The original sketch is from an online embroidery workshop. I liked it, but it didn’t quite fulfil the criteria, so I put it aside and came back to it later. I finished the embroideries themselves a while ago but now finally got them mounted.

1: Oriental stitch for the rectangles. Couching for the circles, using hemp string and strips of paper. Applique for the filled circle.

2: Tulle and running stitch for the rectangles. Feather stitch for the circles. Weaving for the filled circle.

3: Lattice work for the rectangles. Chain stitch and threaded running stitch for the circles. Bayeux stitch for the filled circle.

Ingrid is home for this weekend, after a multi-day field exercise focused on winter survival. Very tired and worn out.

No mobile phones are allowed on any field exercises, and mostly not otherwise either, but she took an old camera with her, with no connectivity features whatsoever. The camera got passed around among her group members, the photos got reviewed and approved by her commanders, and now we have some photos of Ingrid in the field.

Full of energy and good cheer at the start of the exercise:

In a defensive position:

The group on a meal break, all under trees so as to be less visible from above:

Shooting flares:

Eating freshly field-butchered reindeer after three days of wilderness survival with no food:

Worn out after surviving out in the snow with no food, no tents, and no sleeping bags:

I tried to figure out when we added this particular feeder to our setup, but couldn’t find any old photos of it. What surprised me was the number of different feeders we’ve gone through throughout the years. Generally upgrading towards larger, sturdier ones.

This one is far from pristine but still good enough, after a bit of freshening up. I re-glued the stabilizing block inside the ridge of the roof, glued and re-stapled it at the old break, and repainted all of it.

My go-to paint for small random jobs where the quality of the paint doesn’t matter much is Panduro’s “hobby paint”. It comes in conveniently small jars, is easy to use, and works on most surfaces. Technically for indoor use, but eh, I won’t be sad if the paint doesn’t last me ten years due to weather.

Blossoming cherry trees in evening light.

I finished the purple shawl yesterday and blocked it overnight. All done now.

Pattern: De nada. Yarn: a random find from Tradera.

There’s a lacy section and a section with a kind of broken ribbing.

The lacy section is more striking, but the ribbing has its place. Without it, the whole thing would look more boring.

The pattern photos showed the shawl blocked into a triangle shape, but mine would not stretch into a triangle even if I tried. I did block and pin it more forcefully than I usually do, because it was so shapeless otherwise, but there is no way that edge can be straightened.

The curve is a good thing. A straight-edged triangle might look better when the shawl is lying flat, but a curved shawl fits much better over my shoulders. If it was a triangle, there would be a lot more bunching at the neck.

Things are flowering everywhere, and it so lovely to see.

Ingrid’s weekends at home are busy, busy, busy. Spend time with me, Eric, Adrian, her boyfriend, her friends. Run errands. Rest and recuperate.

We squeezed in a quick round of Robo Rally this weekend. Ingrid won by a comfortable margin. Adrian and I kept going, and he was seconds away from getting to the goal when I more or less accidentally stepped in his way. At which point I hadn’t even reached the first of the three checkpoints.

It’s that time of the year! The garden is dominated by huge fluffy clouds of white cherry blossoms.

If there are anemones flowering in the garden, there should also be anemones elsewhere. I went for a walk through the anemone fields of Hansta.

The downside of going out walking on a beautiful, sunny spring day, on a public holiday to boot, is that a lot of other people will have had the same idea. When I first got to the path, it felt almost crowded. There were two groups just ahead of me, one behind me, and a fourth one came towards us in the other direction, all talking loudly. Not, like, large groups, just couples or families, but still – I felt surrounded by crowds. I got off the path and found a nice log to sit on for a time, while the others walked further away and the mood was more like what I had come for.

Finding a usable sitting log was a challenge of its own. There were a lot of ants everywhere.

The groups were soon out of earshot and forest was quiet again. This is one of Stockholm’s designated “quiet places”.

Ever since I read about how the number of tepals on anemones varies, I can’t help paying attention to them. I don’t know where Wikipedia’s sources observed their anemones: not here at least. Flowers with eight and nine tepals are not a majority here, but very much not rare.

There are small clumps of liverwort mixed up with the anemones here and there. Their flowers look so similar, while the rest of the plants are nothing like each other at all.

The main trail through the anemone forest isn’t long, maybe a kilometre, so I took a few meanders around it.

When I had zig-zagged there and walked all the way back, I realized that I had forgotten my sit pad at the far end, where I had paused for a drink of water. Walked all the way there again, and then of course back once more. I got more of a walk out of this small forest than I usually do.