Thorn in my side

Let me introduce you to Thorn. A witches cat? Maybe. What I do know is that this animal has fallen into a soup of badness more times than I care to remember. It might not be his fault. He was born at the Summer Solstice on the night of a full and wild blue moon. So he was always going to be a little out there. This was 18 months ago. Since when, he has wandered around Stroud with attitude and abandon, tipping up at the most bizarre places. I then get a phonecall, or my dear neighbours do, and we have to go and rescue him. He sits in his personal taxi-cab while being driven home, unrepentant and yawning loudly, while I deliver my 100th lecture to him on taking responsibility, learning some manners, blah blah, catty blah....

Regular haunts have included: the maternity hospital, Weavers Croft, the general hospital (favourite departments are A&E, physiotherapy, rehab), the Fleece, the Trading Post, Bar Riga, the sheltered housing on London road, Bendicks chocolate warehouse, and the Nelson St. Rehab in Brimscombe (where he sat in their office intray for several days). And of course, countless homes where he takes full advantage of unsuspecting victims' hospitality.

The upside is that I have met some lovely people along the way, and remembered that people are generous and kind, and always so, so willing to help; and I thank them all. But really, what CAN I do with this wayward beast? Other than surrender to his free spirit and wanderlust. Maybe it is just our family??????

Patience

Late January window - such grey days, bare trees, I am ready for Spring in a big way now. But part of Imbolc for me is remembering that this last part of winter is often the hardest. Just like the coldest hour of the night is just ahead of dawn, before the light breaks the inky sky. I am not a patient person. I find it hard to sit quietly and trust. Being creative helps keeps my hands busy, and it is a great time of year for that. I must try and walk those muddy hills more, listen to the birds, smell what little green there is. And to be comfortable in this still place for just a bit longer. It's not like I don't have a mountain of work to be getting on with. I just want to be skipping out into the warm sunshine, in my purple crocs, camera in hand, escaping the house for a bit....

So I decorate my windows with colour, until the outside colour returns. It's not quite as sparkly as Christmas, but still a distraction, if only from those dirty old windows (must get around to that job...) and the fog beyond, that has settled for the last couple of days.

My new love

Check this out....all you stitchy people!! Is this not a thing of beauty? I have been struggling with my mother's old Frister-Rossman coughing and smokin' all over the place...and then I remembered that deep in the bowels of our loft was an ancient machine that I picked up in a charity shop nearly a decade ago (long before the idea to stitch had even orbited my planet) So after some sweet talking I persuaded my man to heave it down - it is heavier than a heavy thing - and there it sat, winking at me all yesterday afternoon.

That evening the very wonderful Mr. Kevin Barton threaded it up for me (thank goodness he knows what he's doing....) and off I sped, full throttle on an old tea towell, wahaaaay! Oh, my happy heart, the possibilities.....

Only a small story I know, but a big event in my life - I've always known that there has been a stitcher in me somewhere fighting to get out. So where do I start? Paper I think....

Fearless

As I am gradually moving out of my winter space, I have been thinking about what I would like to leave behind, things that no longer serve me. What would I like more of? I know straight away, and it is this. Fearlessness. Big strong roots, so that I may journey through my life without sometimes feeling crushed and small. I watch my children running at life with a big "Yes", and wonder when I last had such a rush of abandon, of joy, just because I could.

One of Theo's favourite things is to hurl himself off the side of hills, and there is plenty of scope for it here in Stroud. He fills me with awe. And I can't help thinking, 'when did I lose that part of me that would jump out into unknown space with a big shout'. When did my thunder start to fade? When did I begin to hesitate, and wonder how much it would hurt, or cost me? And can I get it back? There is a roar in me I know.....it just needs a little reclaiming. I would like to be a little braver, a little more willing to step out of that circle of things I know, feel happy with, and trust. Perhaps I could finally face down those things that frighten the life out of me - and there are plenty. I might even leap off the odd (very small) hill next Spring. Now that would make my children smile......

New seeds

Today is Lunar Imbolc. It is the new moon - and the one nearest to the festival of Imbolc which is a week away. It is a time to gently move out of winter....spring is somewhere around the corner - although the sun is getting stronger it still feels cold and dark. So I am trusting that light and warmth is returning.

It is a time to plant all those seeds of ideas I have been dreaming all winter....what do I want this new cycle of the year to bring? What do I want to see grow in my life? Imbolc always fills me with a new wave of being creative. Maybe I can feel all those bulbs getting ready to push through the cold earth into new life.

I will light lots and lots of candles; a fire outside would be better, and maybe that will happen this weekend. Until then, I am sitting quietly with these new dreams; I have been looking at my small front garden, wondering if there is enough space there to squeeze in a greenhouse, and a couple of raised beds. Looking out the window, all I can see are big, ripe red tomatoes and pots and pots of basil. Maybe the odd pepper plant. I don't think I can bear to watch any more of my lovely tomatoes die in the garden this summer, under a deluge of rain. So a greenhouse or polytunnel is the answer I think. Hmmm. But how to get there??

Lucy, Andy, Olly, Jessie

Once upon a time there were four happy biscuits living in a very nice biscuit tin in Stroud. They were loved by all their friends, because the mummy biscuit made squid soup and cakes that truly would melt in your mouth (even courgette cake) and because the daddy biscuit made everyone laugh, and also he started up the biggest band ever, that everyone joined. The two baby biscuits were lush too, sort of like chocolate digestives, and they had lots of friends.

But one day the biscuits decided to have a big, grand adventure, and travel across the world to Canada, where they had heard there were super cool cookies living. And this made a lot of people in Stroud very sad, but we all knew we had to share these lovely biscuits, and trust that one day they would indeed come on home. Of course, we got a little sneaky and sent them tempting pictures of all the parties they were missing, and all the squids and courgettes; but they just sent us back exciting pictures of them ice skating and hanging out with bears and cookies by lakes and forests.

But of course, we know that biscuits cannot travel for ever. They just become sad and crumbly. And their chocolate bits melt. And their nuts might fall off. So we are keeping their lovely tin warm and cosy for them for when they get tired of the cookies and come on home. To us. For good.

Getting stitchy

I have been having a lovely time this week, with plenty of scope for work avoidance, making this shoulder bag (ssshhh! A present for a good friend...)

The back is felted, with cotton flowers stitched on - little paintings printed out on special cotton and linen fabric that will go through an inkjet printer. And the front is an absent minded piece of knitting that just grew, from my long days on the sofa. My friend Martha, and her mother Geraldine, had baskets and baskets of wool to give away recently. A few of us had a very gorgeous and woolly morning picking through the different yarns, and I brought armfuls home with me. (Thank you G. and M.) And so this is what happened to some of that wool.

Ah, nothing better than settling down somewhere quiet and cosy (even if it means I have to hide from the children; the bathroom is a favourite spot...) for a little bit of stitchiness and creativity. As it is January, I am back to believing my fantasy that I will make everyone's birthday presents this year. It has been a good start, although my poor heart already knows that the September birthdays onwards mighten fare so well! But hey, I am a demon with the chocolate chilli biscuits and they can be whipped up in a flash. Saturday now, and after a morning of climbing walls and children centred activity, my warm bathroom is calling to me and my needles for a little escape.

Order

Today I have been having a "Sleeping with the Enemy" moment. You know, that bit in the film when Julia Roberts opens her cuboard doors, and all the tins are stacked beautifully? O.K, so it is majorly creepy. But what bliss - someone has come in to your house, and done that. Question: do you have to sleep with an enemy to get your house in perfect order? I'm not sure I know too many. But that lovely feeling of everything neat and just so. Addictive. Yes, I am a virgo, and yes, obviously anal. And clearly I need to get out a whole lot more. How many of us truly can sit with chaos, and just enjoy being. My Canadian friend Carol always says "they're not gonna put on your grave 'she kept a neat house'" - and I love her house. So what are those naughty cuboards saying?? Well, I am cultivating nerves of steel. Oh yes. I will leave them. Just as they are. Let them chatter away, I am not listening.

But couldn't resist just hanging these wet tea towells together, as they looked so colourful and inviting........

Weaving Threads

Just as I was ready to settle down with a glass of wine yesterday evening, I heard those words uttered from my 12year old, guaranteed to strike terror into any parent - "I've just washed my hair, can you plait it into a million tiny plaits??" Oh. Well, I talked her down from a million to about 25 - that kid has alot of hair - and so off I started. But then that rare, blissful moment, as I tuned into a different scene. A cosy sitting room, late winter storm outside. Theo on the sofa playing with little metal soldiers, lost in his own world; Holly sitting reading while her hair was transformed. Mark sitting with us, all of us quiet and busy in our own things. But together. No television, no arguing. Just quietness. And I thought, hold onto this, it is surely precious. A small moment of just being normal.

Holly and I have two identical woven bracelets made of wool around our wrists. One red, one green. The red one we made together back in September, when we were at the amazing 13 Moons festival on Dartmoor. A large tent of powerful women, threading a long piece of red thread around us all, which later got made into our warrior bracelets. Holly had just started secondary school - a big old wobbly time for all the family - and needed to find a bit of her own power. The green bracelets she made for us both a couple of weeks ago, "to bind us together mummy". I guess she can't see that thread that was there between us at her birth, and will always be there, silent and strong in my heart. But I remember thinking, how much longer will my growing girl want to be so visibly joined to me. She is nearly ready to step onto that path that pulls away from me, that strong journey to herself. And how it aches me. So for now, I am wearing my green and red threads, as is she. And it feels so good to be still woven entirely into and around this childs life.

Different Rhythm

These have been long days.....with little else other than knitting, rocking, looking out of the window, dreaming. It should have been blissful, but the truth is, post-flu, I have been forced to slow down to "stillness" and it has been painful. While I watch a storm of work and washing grow around me. I asked the Universe for a complete break, thinking of long walks and deep breathing, and this is what I got, a big viscious germ invading my body. File note: be more mindful of precise wording next time. But today I am noticing a new rhythm entering me, and it is slower, calmer, ocean time. I bet that all the jobs will shrink to fill this new amount of time. I'm thinking that everything will get done. And if it doesn't, it didn't need doing so badly in the first place. As Kesty says, "my pace is slow...." - a mantra repeated over and over.....and I am beginning to believe it. Oh joy.

Hope

There are people putting the world back together again. Piece by piece, hope by shining hope. Will today see such a day? We will pause, as we watch one man step forward, holding all our collective dreams. Let our hearts be open, and know that we can vision a different world. I know we can. But I also know that, in Carolyn Hillyer's words, "it takes time to birth a mountain".

Breakfast time

At 7.00am I need a little candlelight to soothe these jangling January nerves.....getting children up for school in what seems like the midddle of the night. And after all that Christmas sparkle, well, everything is so dark, and relentless. I guess that's what the Solstice is all about - trusting that the light will return. So here is a little of our breakfast table - minus the dollops of jam heading for the carpet, the homework undone, unbrushed hair and teeth. Gentleness in chaos. My sometimes life.

Can it really be January?

Can it really be so cold, so blue, so, so January......
when somewhere in the middle of last week there was this...

the most curly, the most green, the most lush bean on the Spider Lane allotment.....

oh yes. and some.

Sunday 18th January 2009

Dedicated to our beautiful Earth and to all paths that open our hearts to Love