First Flickr adventure

Wednesday, and in the spirit of ongoing work avoidance, I absentmindedly stumbled onto Flickr and realised that there are thousands, nay millions, of photos just ripe for the blogging. This means that I am not under so much pressure to leap around the house like a mad woman trying to get the next day's blog shot (my family are breathing out in major relief)

So this is the very first offering. I havn't quite got the hang of it yet, and didn't manage to credit the photo to it's owner (is there anyone out there who can give me a quick tutorial?? It will have to be in left-handed sieve brain speak....) And a rather apt offering I thought, as yet again, my naughty and wayward computer has reeled me in. Sigh.

Small act of kindness

Tuesday morning, and a quick flick of the duster before work...and I was reminded of the sweetest thing that Holly did for me just over a year ago. I had had a terrible winter after my father died, leaving a huge, sad gap in all of our lives. At times I had really felt quite broken into pieces, as we all did. So when one day the "J" that stands for my name symbolically lept off the radiator and broke, I thought 'yup, that's completely how I am"

And that was when my sweet 11 year old daughter found the nicest piece of satin ribbon in the cuboard, and painstakingly mended me all up, with cellotape and a hug. And thats how I have remained ever since. I will get the glue out and make a more permanent repair job at some point; but the power of a small act of kindness when I needed it most, will keep me going for a long time yet.

Love what you love

This is a little stitchy piece I made for Lindsay's 60th - it has one of my favourite quotes on it from a poem called Wild Geese by Mary Oliver:

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles, through the desert, repenting
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

And so the soft animal of my body, on a Sunday, loved what it loved today with a hot, steamy bath -


followed by a snowy walk to a favourite pub - the Albert, in Rodborough. Mmmmm.

Inside or Outside - which is more delicious?

Outside or inside?? It was a close call today....we did both, but inside won!

Reclaiming playtime

We have been very naughty today.....after a night of a few swirly snowflakes, I looked out the window and decided there was JUST enough to roll in, just, so thats exactly what we have been doing. With our changing climate, snow really is a big adventure for my children, and a rare beast not to be missed, so we sneaked off school and work, and headed for our nearest hill.

I had been feeling a bit guilty about all the lessons they were missing today, until I remembered the joyfulness of playing, and how we so often forget to do it. And how we forget to honour it. We used to have such fun when they were younger: teaparties with tigers, jungle expeditions, bouncing to the moon and back. But then the big system of school claimed us and I felt that make believe world slip through my fingers.

But ah, snow. It's easy to imagine polar bears, and ice castles, heroic snowboarding missions. Well, it's easy for them, even in 3 inches of the stuff. And for me, those little pink faces glowing with the thrill of being out, when they should be in a classroom - priceless. I won't have a 10 and 12 year old forever....I am going to squeeze every, single last drop out....!!

Wool, snowflakes, song, community...

An afternoon of the most delicious food for my soul.....a gathering of friends including lots of small people, to celebrate Imbolc, to sing, make, talk, be.

As we sat in Kesty and Martin's roundhouse, having sang love songs to the earth, air, fire, water, and spirit within, the smallest of snowflakes started fluttering outside. It didn't really feel like we were ready to move out of our winter space, and welcome in Spring stirrings. As is so often the case with Imbolc. But beautiful words of our coming intentions were spoken into the fire, and the urge to move into a new cycle of growth and change felt strong. Oh, and the colourful and creative Brigit's crosses that we wove our wishes into - even the littlest of hands had fun.

We were even blessed to have our very own song written for the day, which we sang together... looking for snowflakes, snowdrops, seasons and cycles, and most of all the light returning.

Stepping out

This is my small story of feeling hopeful.
Hope is born in the dark. It lies there like a little seed, dreaming, for a long while. I do love the darkness - it is winter, and it is rest. It is curled up infront of a fire with big socks on. It is quiet, and it is calm. There is room enough here to hold all dreams. And it is in these dreams where hope begins.

But sometimes on my journey, I fall a long way from my dreams, and waves of depression wash over me, try to steal me under. On those stormy red days, even getting out of bed becomes an act of faith - that I will be able to weave my numbness into my deep breathing and day song.

An act of hope is getting up anyway. An act of hope is making packed lunches for people you love. And act of hope is putting on something special to wear, when yesterday's baggy tracksuit is calling you from its heap on the floor. An act of hope is making yourself a cake.

A big act of hope is stepping out - into nature,
to trees, to scrunchy leaves, to birds singing, and streams flowing, to paths winding, to hills rising up, then down.

Stepping out. Not because you have to, but because you choose it, as medicine, as an act of faith that the world will hold you, soothe you, need you. And you need her. So very much.