Thank goodness for weekends—two whole days off. Yay! It’s been a stretch, what with extra shifts and orientation days, but I made it. We’re here. And what a lovely feeling it is to wake without the electronic melody of my alarm clock. No 5:30 summons, no mechanical chirp nudging me into motion.
Instead, Saturday and Sunday greeted me with nature’s own chorus—birds singing the dawn into being, soft and sure. Still early, yes, but not early-early. Just enough time to sip a quiet cuppa, stretch into the day.
Saturday was meant to be greenhouse-building day—weather permitting, of course. The early morning skies looked promising, but before I could finish my cuppa, an email from Chooky arrived: an invitation to join the Chookshed Stitchers for a Zoom catch-up.
"You do it, love. Spend some time with the girls," said Tony. "It’s been a long time since you did that."
I didn’t need telling twice.
Cuppa in hand, I settled into my chair with my crochet, ready to ripple away the morning. We chatted as we stitched—knitting, sewing, hooking—sharing progress, new starts, and gentle encouragement. I ducked out briefly to peg the washing on the line, then returned just in time for another round of “Who’s doing what?”
When asked how much more I had to go on my ripple blanket, I held it up for the girls to see. “Depends,” I said, “do the stripes run horizontal or vertical?”
The consensus: let the ripples run vertical and call it big enough. Time for finishing touches.

OK, suits me. I decided to complete the current coloured row, add a final chocolate ripple, and begin the border rounds. Soon after, we said our goodbyes and drifted back into our Saturdays—each of us carrying a little more stitch, a little more story.
After a gentle start to the day with the Chookshed Stitchers, Tony and I turned our attention to a few indoor chores. I was mid-bed-making when I heard him call out— “It’s raining!” I glanced out the window and saw that the beautiful sunshine that had greeted me at dawn had vanished. The sky had clouded over, and raindrops were already dotting the garden path.
I grabbed the laundry basket and dashed outside to rescue the washing. As I hurried down the footpath, the rain turned to hail—sharp, stinging stones that bounced and rolled beside me like escaped beads. Some were surprisingly large, landing on my arms and hands with a bite.
Despite the sudden turn in weather, most of the washing had dried nicely in its short hour on the line. Only Tony’s work trousers needed a stint on Gran’s trusty airer. The rest was folded, sorted, or added to the ironing pile—mission accomplished, if slightly dampened.
With the weather putting a firm stop to any greenhouse building, we turned our attention indoors. A few more chores were ticked off the list before Tony announced he was making a cuppa and settling into his chair for a while. Sounded like a fine idea to me.
I followed suit— mug of red berry tea in hand, ripple blanket at the ready. I suggested we watch a couple of movies while the day unfolded gently around us. And so, we did. The hours slipped by in quiet comfort as I finished my final ripple rows and began adding chocolate borders to the blanket. A restful day, stitched with warmth and shared stillness. While squalls of rain and hail passed by overhead.

After a quick and easy tea of homemade pizza, we carried on just as we had—another cuppa, another movie, and more crochet. I continued working on the chocolate border rounds of my ripple blanket, letting the rhythm of the stitches match the gentle pace of the evening.
By the time I was ready to pootle off to bed, the blanket—with its first two completed rounds of chocolate border—was starting to look finished. Not quite done, but definitely edging toward its final flourish. A satisfying sight to end a quietly productive day.
*
Sunday started much like Saturday—I awakened to the sounds of birds calling their dawn chorus. But unlike Saturday’s gentle pace, this morning came with a sense of purpose. The grandchildren were coming.
With enough time to start the day slowly, I savoured that first cup of tea and the peace and quiet before the children arrived. Another beautiful morning—so another load of washing went onto the line, bed linen this time, catching the breeze while I turned my attention indoors.
The jigsaw puzzle was moved off the table, making way for plates and platters. Veggies were peeled and prepped, and a chook was popped into the oven to roast its way toward lunch. The birthday gift was wrapped with care, and the cake—crafted and concealed—was tucked safely out of sight, ready for its grand reveal.
And now the children have been and gone. The whirlwind has passed, the crumbs have been swept away, and I’m enjoying a much-needed sit down in the quiet with another cup of tea.
The birthday boy adored his gift—a dinosaur-shaped truck that was raced down the garden path so many times I’m sure its wheels are begging for a rest. We played with chalk on the patio and sang happy birthday when the cake made its grand entrance. Roast chicken was devoured with gusto—Torstein and Grandad each claimed a leg, picked up with fingers and chewed with delight. He does love to copy Grandad. Next they had cake and ice cream, a ritual as old as Torstein.
Their Sunday ritual continued as always: loading the dishbasher together. I’m quite sure it’s less about helping with the dishes and more about pressing the buttons. Of course, Grandad loves it too.
No pictures of Torstein with his gifts or cake—he’s shy of the camera these days—but I did sneak a few at the dishbasher. That quiet teamwork, side by side, says more than any posed photo ever could.
Of course, I love that Grandad is teaching him how to be part of the tidy-up and help out in the kitchen. It’s more than pressing buttons—it’s learning to contribute, to share the load, and to find joy in the everyday. When he’s bigger, I hope Grandad will teach him the fine art of potato bashing and the proud tradition of carving a roast. These are the quiet lessons that hopefully will stick and help to make Torstein a good, son, husband, Daddy and Grandad in his own lifetime.
After making sure the dishbasher was properly loaded and humming along, Grandad and Torstein joined the rest of us outside. We sat on the deck in the sunshine while the children played, their laughter drifting across the garden like birdsong. It was one of those simple, golden moments—sun on our faces, tea in hand, and the quiet joy of watching family unfold around us.
All too soon, it was time to say goodbye. Everyone piled into the car after a flurry of hugs, kisses, and heartfelt I love yous. Grandad handled the car seat—thank goodness, because that contraption is far too complicated for me! There were final goodbyes, high fives, and one more kiss. A last happy birthday and a shouted I love you echoed down the driveway as they drove away.
So now the house is ours again—quiet, clean, and gently humming with the sound of the washing machine. The placemats and tablecloth are taking their turn in the suds, ready to catch a bit of breeze on the line. Just one pair of Grandad’s work trousers left to iron, and then the remainder of the day is mine. To ripple, to sew, or to knit—that is the question. And whatever I choose, it will be stitched with care and wrapped in the gentle magic of another weekend well spent.
Oh, and another cup of tea of course.
How has your weekend been? Did it bring a bit of sunshine, a dash of chaos, or a moment to sit quietly with a cuppa? I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to—feel free to leave a comment below and share your own weekend rhythms.