Some days I do as many as twelve impossible things. Before breakfast.

In my previous home I painted a saying at the top of the wall in the kitchen. It stretched all the way around. It was a pure white on a slightly off white wall colour so you really had to notice it to read it. It read, “Some days I do as many as twelve impossible things before breakfast.”There was something crazy in the air this last week. It’s had me all twisted up like a pretzel trying to do fifty things at once. I’m telephone tagging people, replying to emails, running to the grocery store several times/day for something I completely forgot about but desperately need, hopelessly trying to organise the Vancouver house, put away the 17 boxes of Christmas dekies into the garage loft, take stock of my life, patch the little sliver of this 100yr old hardwood floor which I found on the dining room sideboard. (No one knows how it broke off or who put it on the sideboard) And putting up with this fuzzy, headachy, jet-lagginess, which is really starting to bug me.This morning I was standing in the middle of my living room and trying to psych myself up for writing this post as an answer for Folk Magazine's third journal entry, (reflecting on successes and failures), repainting the livingroom walls, redecorating the mantle, tiling the fireplace with hand painted and fired one-of-a-kind craftsman tiles (which I would paint and fire myself) based on these exquisite remnants of Victorian tiles I dug up while designing an Oxford garden for a client.And then I remembered that I’ve never painted or fired tiles and I started to feel very weighed down.Weighed right down.As if a large, lazy flock of pelicans just landed on my shoulders and were shrieking in my ears arguing over prime shoulder perching spots.This is Nick Bantock’s “Fool’s Mate”. It represents the heaviness of responsibility. It's named after the swiftest defeat in a game of chess. Some days I feel like this king in Nick’s painting. Some days I feel like my tiny lead Alice. Tiny and heavy but full of Wonderland and impossible possibilities. And some days the dice falls the right way up.I looked back over the past year and remembered that, on a whim, I photographed and created a 24 hour 24 page Zine in July. I’d never done that before.Eighteen months ago I bought this hundred year old Craftsman house, am managing the mortgage, building a garden and am renovating it as needed. Never done that by myself before.Never helped restore a 50 yr old mini before I did it, never completed Communication and magazine publishing degrees before I did that, never knew I could create this lovely website, which gives me so much pleasure, so many beautiful friends and is such a wonderful creative outlet, before I did that either.Then I start to shrug those pesky pelicans off my shoulders.I’m just one girl but I can do so much.For me, it’s best not to think about whether I can do something or not before I begin.My catch phrase # 9, “how hard can it be?” is really the best philosophy for me rather than thinking about successes or failures. Jump in and think about it on the way down...or possibly not think about it at all.So upward and onward with those pelicans. The days are getting longer and I have tiles to draw out.I’m always smarter than I think I am. And, like Alice, I’m always smaller than I think I am.These are good things.Linking to the third journal entry with Folk Magazine. Journal entry 1 is here, 2 is here.Linking to TALU with my 24 hour, 24 page Zine.

Beach love Sunday

A little Sunday walk on the beach with C in the cool light of this wintery afternoon.

Hello Sunday Whirl...it's been a while

Gosh! That was fun! Been missing the Sunday Whirl and those twelve little word pushes to write something. Thank you Brenda, hope it's ok that I'm back. :)burden, bends, drunk, poetry, virtue, palace,ditch, diminishing, wish, breaks, room, stepsTwelve ways of looking at a potted plant-Twenty one years, fourteen houses, seven phone numbers, two drunk roommates, one potted plant.-Stretching from damp earth, sprouting at every angle, the potted plant reaches for artificial daylight in a windowless room.-The dirt-stained, rainbow-striped pot is a dollar-store palace for the potted plant-The potted plant once stood on the steps of a wooden ladder, an artistic homage to shabby chic.-Sitting on my desk surrounded by papers and trinkets and pencils and pens, the potted plant hears every wish I make.-If silence is a virtue then the potted plant can teach me a thing or two.-I thought it would be a burden but I didn’t realise how much neglect a potted plant could suffer and still survive-Potted plant beauty marks: yellow splotches brighten select leaves.-In my potted plant collection: Ivy, Orchid, Jade Plant, That-Plant-That’s-Still-Alive.-Accidently dropped on the kitchen floor, the potted plant bends and breaks stems. A natural pruning.-The potted plant ends its life in the back lane ditch.-Poetry is being read. It’s about the potted plant.

A new day, a new country, illumination

Yesterday morning I woke up in my English home.This morning I woke up in my Vancouver home.I threw the curtains open and the first oblique rays of the winter sun hit the mantelpiece and this little gift from a visiting Japanese student.Hello Mr and Mrs Oshiawase Ni, welcome to Vancouver.Thought about and photographed for the Wordpress Weekly Photo Challenge: Illumination.

Short term, Long term and good luck

Who else is superstitious? Or maybe I should ask how superstitious are you, because I really believe everyone has some sort of superstition hang-up.Come on...you know you feel a bit prickly when you spill the salt even if you don’t throw it over your left shoulder...or was that the right shoulder? How about that black cat? Don’t you try to imagine that you saw a bit of white under his chin even if you walk across his path?I know...right?I’m probably even worse than you because I support my grandmother’s Czech beliefs that sharp objects (like knives) given as gifts will cut up a relationship so must always be paid for, even if only a few pennies are exchanged. How about no eating birds or eggs on New Year’s Day because all your money for the new year will fly away. Hey, you want to take the chance?Thought not.I have to tell you something: Ok, truthfully, I didn’t believe for a minute that there would be a Mayan apocalypse on Dec. 12, 2012, but just so you know, there was a very tiny, microscopic, infinitesimal superstitious part in my brain that said, “Hey, lookie here...it’s Dec. 12, 2012, 12:13 pm and I’m ok!”Actually I was better than ok. I was skating with my friend Gillian on an outdoor ice rink at Millet’s Farm and we had the ice to ourselves. Boy, that’s one way to remember where you were when you survived the apocalypse...lol.By now you’re all probably thinking, “Where are you going with this drivel V?”Well, the folks at Folk Magazine have asked for a second journal entry: What short term and long term goals do you hope to achieve this year and how are your resolutions holding up?In this post I talked about skating. I also talked about more art, writing, photography and less toxic people. Also redesigning this website and giveaways.But here’s the thing, I’m so not good with resolutions because I have a no limits imagination. I get too many ideas and the new ideas are better than the old ones and the old ones are amended or even completely thrown out the window. Also, I subscribe very heavily to a personal ideology: “to define is to limit”, so I tend not to define anything; including goals and resolutions because I just don’t want to limit myself.So my short term goals and long term goals are exactly the same as last year, the year before...etc. More of the same which makes me happy plus a good healthy mix of new zany ideas which grab hold of my heart.And those resolutions? ¯\_( :) )_/¯ (it’s a shrug) :)Speaking of zany ideas, I’m off to Vancouver in a couple of days and it’ll be time for the first of many giveaways. (just going to sleep off the jet-lag first)Come on lucky 2013...bring it on!

Pie for Saturday supper

The other night I watched a great BBC program called Regulation of the Wartime Kitchen. It was about how brave and resourceful people made themselves a happy Christmas celebration in the bunkers under London in the typical Dunkirk Spirit, while bombs exploded over their heads.Food was scarce and mostly everything was rationed. Typically, a week would bring one egg, 4oz of margarine, 4 slices of bacon, 2 oz butter and tea, 1oz of cheese and 8oz of sugar per person. The rest was grown, raised, traded for or hunted.Beef, pork, turkey or ham was in very short supply and the 1944 Christmas table featured stuffed and roasted rabbits, boiled carrots, carrot cake and carrot fudge (made with grated carrots and gelatin).Rabbit...roasted rabbit, rabbit stew, rabbit pie, rabbit fill in the blank... was a good, nutritious and common food.Old habits stick around and, I believe even as the war ended, rations continued for some years to come. The 1952 Good Housekeeping’s Basic Cookery cookbook here at West Cottage has several lovely recipes for rabbit including this one for rabbit pie.It begins: “Unless the rabbit is very young and tender, it is best to stew it for 1 – 1.5 hours, before making it into a pie.”Today I took some frozen shortcrust pastry, stewed steak, onions and peas. Rolled the crust out, wilted the onions in a bit of butter, added the peas and beef and made a no fuss steak and onion pie...and it was yummy.I love old and vintage cook books. Also love vintage gardening books and those Victorian household lady's books (mostly written by men...lol), charming old children's books, car books...OK, let's face it, almost all kinds of old books, but mostly the gardening books. Do you collect or love to read old books? Which ones?

A fresh start and waayyy too many challenges

What?Another January challenge...what am I thinking?There’s the daily small stones challenge, Khara’s love my blog challenge, the Apartment Therapy January cure challenge, and now the lovely people at Folk Magazine have issued a weekly journal entry challenge.Oh well, I must remember I don't have much in the way of disciplined thoughts in my butterfly brain, and so refuse to feel undone if I give up on a challenge or if I handle things in my own time...so...in the wonderful spirit of “my way or the highway”... :) (in the nicest possible way)...here goes:The first Folk Magazine journal weekly entry:Week 1: reflect on lessons learned in 2012Ha, I can’t do it all...big, BIG lesson learned! I can’t be the best mother while switching countries several times/year, I can’t develop as an artist without painting/sketching several hundred canvases per year, I can’t develop as a writer without writing pages and pages, I can’t be happier while keeping toxic people in my life and giving up on doing things I love for lack of time...well, you get the picture.Last year I decided to stop running out of time and start running into it instead, but I really thought I would be much further ahead right now with certain projects. The reason I’m not is the same reason why I still can’t play the piano...(something I’ve wanted to learn for about five years now)...it’s because I haven’t taken the time to do it.So what to do about it?Art: Get into that studio and paint! And, maybe by sharing with all of you lovelies a new sense of well-being and community spirit will develop.To that end I want to finally finish opening that Etsy store, have give-aways here and get more art “out there”. Veronica’s OUT THERE art. I love it.Writing: Well there we go...it all goes hand in hand, doesn’t it? I mean Sophie Storm isn’t going to get written without the images and the epistolary concept isn’t going to form out of thin air, so a daily amount of minutes dedicated to the story and art work is in order, but I probably already have enough images for The 10 Mile Project and just need to get over the "not good enough" hurdle. So wading thru the photo files and committing some to 10 Mile and weeding out the rest is also in order.Photography: Yes...do more! Somedays, when I have my "I'm useless" head on, photography is the cure.Skate: Yes, skate more. Figure skating for 14 years and then stopping physically doesn't mean my heart stopped skating. So I will skate more. Skate at the cabin on the frozen pond this winter, skate at the public skating rinks, put on the in-line skates when the ice melts. Let my feet keep skating along with my heart.Toxic people: Oh god...absolutely no idea here, so probably going to take it slowly and one baby step at a time, but protecting myself from toxicity is definitely at the top of my list and actively seeking out new and lovelier friends is a BIG goal for 2013.This little ephemeral space: ??? Hmm, have to figure it out. I'd love, LOVE more interactions with all you who stop by. Won't you come say hello so I can get to know you? I'd like to develop more how-to posts, especially creative, doing, crafts, art posts. I'd like to re-develop my creativity course into an on-line project, an e-course, and offer it free to anyone who would like to take it. And mostly I'd love to keep finding wonderful like-minded people to correspond with. What do you think my lovely friends? Would you like more of something?Linking to Folk Magazine

January 1st and the sun came out.

There is an anticipation in a New Year’s morning. Will the sunrise be the start of a fulfilled promise from the night before?High winds, leaden skies and bucketing rain for weeks on end and now...calm...sun!Walking down to the village the wind felt like a whisper. There is new birdsong in the hedges and, if you look really closely, you can see the tiny song in opaque white against a blue wash of sky.People are out in the lane; on horses, on pushbikes, walking, wishing everyone a good morning and happy New Year. Molly, just returned from a good field run, barks and calls me over for a pet.Anything’s possible on a New Year’s morning like this, in this lovely sunshine, in this little pink heart of mine.I stood on the bridge and watched the reflecting blue and welcomed the new day...and I dangled there. Hanging in that moment, hanging like the birdsong in the hedge, like the aftertaste of harmony on still lips.

Happy New Year everyone. Memories of 2012, a pick and mix from my personal files.

January 6th. Anyone ever heard of this: my Czech grandmother always insisted that Christmas decorations stay up till Jan. 6th, the feast of the three kings, the 12th day of Christmas. My British grandmother thought it was silly, but I loved my Czech grandma and have kept the tradition for ever.Binky at a year and half already!February brought a little snow on this sixth month of me owning my little house. Gave us a little winter wonderland for a day.Inside the house was sunny and warm.March and my cats stretching out in the sun. Here's Morgan.And here's Milo. Milo feels his job is holding us up so we don't slip off the sofa.April and a new garden! Got out all my saved seeds and made a plan.April and my beautiful Chloe turned 20!!!A little easter egg fun with my oils. Bunches of blown eggs given as gifts to friends.May and a visit. Our beautiful Binky is such a sweet scamp.May brought university finals...UggJune and Kerstie had a baby shower at home for her new baby to be. I missed the jackpot birth date lottery by one day!!!But then we have a new baby, a June baby, Isla Violet Gray, welcome to the world Bunny.June also brought a lovely trip to Quebec city.I loved my time away from cold Vancouver and in warm Quebec.July...saying happy anniversary to me owning my little house for one year. Also saying goodbye to my house and my children for a few months in England. That's a floor to ceiling cork board in the kitchen, painted black and holding happy postcards to and from friends.July and August were a whirl of tea...sillinessart, walks, time with my British cat Theo...and trips out to towns, castles, gardens and Blenheim palace.Beginning September and a necessary return to Vancouver. Time to tidy my British studio and collect my art and pack.September in Vancouver, missing England...naturally reorganised my closet!Chloe sporting the French ingénue look for her third year of uni. The fringe took a little getting used to.October brought stress and strife in my life but happily Kerstie came with our two babies and it was wonderful to be with all my girls.November and a nasty ex business. Court files all over the place and organisational stress, but my girls were there to lend support.Don't know if I've told you about the time we drove C's boyfriend Bryson to referee a hockey game and C tried to burn down the Olympic skating arena with a bag of popcorn in the cafeteria microwave. Yup, steel doors closing, three firetrucks, blaring alarms. (Can't take us anywhere)Most of November I dedicated myself to meditative work to get over the stress and anxiety.Then one more look at the house and December 1st I was off to England,where I hung a great big bunch of mistletoe off my bedroom chandelier.Wow, it's nice to look back. With all the stress I imagined in 2012, there was actually less stress and more lovely times than I remembered. I hope you all get a chance to look back and reflect on 2012. Here's to a wonderful 2013 for us all!! Cheers everyone...to your health and happiness. Much, much love to you all. :)

The fourth day of Christmas, and a walk thru the fields.

Driving back from Oxford over the Thames, beside the Windrush and down to the village, you might be excused for thinking you’re in the Lake District instead of Oxfordshire!Honestly rain! Enough already.There has been so much rain here that the two rivers are swollen and overflowing into the fields, across roads and, it is feared, thru houses in neighbouring Standlake village, which has the misfortune of having the Windrush flowing right beside the village.The fields are lakes and walking down the footpath is an adventure.Still, it isn’t anything like the summer of 2007 when the flood came into the dining room and, so far, West Cottage has been safe.One wonderful thing is all that river silt will be deposited on the fields where it will be the best thing for future crops and meadows.And, this evening’s sunset, (red sky at night, Sheppard’s delight), holds a promise of dryer days. (I hope)