My first giveaway! Still feeling the love from yesterday's post.

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now and wanted to put together something special, something which is “me” and also has value.What I came up with is this little gift package:A Moleskine journal – because I write, sketch, keep insane little ideas in Moleskine journals.Ephemera stuffed in the journal —sketches, stamps, old photos, bits of things – because I love to create with ephemera and think you might like to too.Some of my kaleidoscope cards – because I write to people and so think you might like to too.A sweet little vintage vase for you to put some flowers in and brighten up your space while you write - because I love vintage and flowers.And two little bits of vintage lace, one for the vase and one for the cup of tea you will sip - because I love tea.It all goes into this sweet little house box and gets mailed to anywhere at all - because mail goes everywhere these days.So here’s the catch: Leave me a comment please :) That's all.And, if you like, I have a little favour to ask of you. Lately I’ve been thinking about this site because some people have asked me to type cast it. I hate pigeon holing things and always refuse to, but it does make me think. What kind of site is this? Is it even possible to put it into a bracket...like, say, lifestyle blog? Art, photography, travel, she’s-all-over-the-place-with-this blog? The thing is I just don’t know, so if you have a feeling or anything pops into your mind, like that word association stuff, I’d be ever so grateful if you could please tell me. :)Apparently people have these things open for a length of time, so shall we say week Sunday? That would give me till Sunday Feb 3 to figure out what a random number generator is. And then this sweet little package will be flying out to you.(this is a bit of a secret but there are eight more Moleskine journals here so this giveaway may have to be repeated with different goodies)

Love

My friends at Wordpress have asked for a photo which represents love.I thought about it for a good long time and then decided to show you this photo of Kerstie and Bunny (Isla).I remember a moment when Kerstie was expecting Bunny and cuddling Binky and I said to her, "How much you love Binky, that's how much I love you." And she said, "I didn't understand that before, mom, but I sure get it now."That's love. That's the love you kill for, the love you die for, the love you give up a lifetime of Sunday mornings to soccer and hockey for. That is a love which never fades, never stops and caries on forever.That's a love which can't be expressed in any dimensional form so I expect I have failed here.But how lucky am I to feel that love?Thought about and attempted for the Wordpress Weekly Photo Challenge.

Breakfast in bed? Everyday. Oh yes!

Ah, what could be more wonderful than having breakfast in bed? Maybe I should say breakfast in bed 2013. It’s so worth it to wake up a bit early and spend some time checking my favorite blogger’s posts, seeing what my friends have been up to, sipping some fragrant sweet Earl Gray and having a little breakkie. That’s the best way to start a morning...don’t you think so?

The library and thoughts about snuggling up with a good book.

I want to tell you something: I’m very slow to trust a new book from a book store. It looks too shiny and new and not loved...you know what I mean? I turn it over in my hand and stare at the cover image, I read the jacket excerpt, I read a review or two about it on my iphone and I always read page 100 daring it to be everything it promises to be. I can’t help it. I can’t. I think it’s a genetic flaw because the second hand books...the second hand books are like sad little orphans needing saving and just even the look of the yellowed pages makes me snatch them up in my hot little hands and declare them to be mine forever.Either way, new or used, I always mean for them to end up here in the library, but they usually end up all over the house. Actually, books to be used for art and beautiful old books to photograph are in my studio book shelves, on the desks and tables, in the steamer trunks and generally all over the place up there. Current reads are in my bedroom, on end tables, on my bed, under my bed, under my pillows...ok, no idea how that happened.And I reread my favorites...all the time. Do you do that? I usually write “V” and a date on the first page to keep track of the rereads. And I spend my time here cuddled under saved blankets and quilts like this wild handmade granny square blanket saved from a garage sale.This room has a door so no one has to know you’re in here. This room has the only TV in the house but no one ever watches it. (That reminds me, why am I paying for the cable anyway?) This room is half way in the basement so the cats, and occasionally our neighbourhood family of raccoons, come knocking on the windows. This room has shelves full of Terry Pratchetts and Agatha Christies (I really have to stop trying to save every Agatha Christie book I come across) and Diane Ackermans, Carol Shields, Nick Bantocks, Naomi Wolfs...just a wonderfully eclectic collection of books...even the occasional guilty pleasure, like Katie Fford.I love having my lunch here when I'm at home. But now lunch is over and I must put down this good book and finish up the rest of my work for today and also be the good housewife and put in a load of laundry...(Morgan's such a poser)

A fourth journal entry for Folk Magazine with love and understanding.

The Folk Magazine Journal entry for this week asks for influence. To write my American story as part of a giant American story, the tapestry of our lives, in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day.I’m Czech by birth, German by heritage, Canadian by chance, British by choice. My Austrian grandfather was in love with Vancouver, the land, the ocean, the mountains and, when it was evident that our family would not be safe in Russian occupied Prague, my grandfather decided we would immigrate to Canada and here I am. I have a dual citizenship and speak several languages. I’ve lived in Europe, (Paris, Geneva, Austria, Prague and now Oxfordshire UK) for very long stretches of time so I can say that while Canada is my country, Europe is generally my home town.I must say that I don’t know a lot about American history. I know of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. but only understand his basic premises and I hope that’s enough for me to talk about what I would like to talk about in this post.I have a story, a beautiful American story to tell.Over twenty years ago, my then husband and I drove down the American Pacific coast on holiday. I was pregnant with my last child and so over the top emotional...you know how that goes. We were at Fisherman’s Warf in San Francisco and I just stepped out of the car when a man ran past me shoving me violently into the side of the car and another man ran past me directly after him chasing him with a knife. I was shaking and completely inconsolable and we got back into the car and drove to Oakland to the hotel we were staying in.I gathered my strength after several hours, and after much persuasion, and seeing the lights at the Oakland Coliseum, we decided to go to the baseball game.Now please know and understand that I was never, NEVER, EVER going to set foot in San Francisco ever again. But then we found our seats and beside us were the most wonderful, loveliest, most loving people I had ever met in my life. Some of them invited us to stay with them, all of them sympathised and many told us of the wonderful and beautiful San Francisco I had given up and abandoned forever without ever giving it a chance.So this brings me to my MLK Jr. story. It’s so important to know and understand your whole community, everyone, whoever they are. Look thru understanding and loving eyes. Having been a political refugee, an immigrant and living as I do in different parts of the world, I come across prejudice sometimes but I truly think that, by knowing and accepting without judgement people of all nationalities, races, sexual orientation, religious/or not persuasion and welcoming them into my life, these prejudices can be dispelled and the vitriol neutralised.What would I do without my writing group Wordsmith Studio, (mostly made up of American members) who support me and love me and accept my quirky ways? Where would I be without my Seattle friends and closest American neighbours who I impose on each year? Who would I be without those generous Oakland A’s fans who held my hand and helped make San Francisco one of my most favorite and romantic places to visit?So, on this third Monday in January, I would like to wish a Happy MLK Jr. Day to my lovely and loved American friends, I’m so happy you are all in my life. I hope to keep learning your stories and continue to be a part of the tapestry of America in my own Canadian way.Journal 1 entry here, journal 2 here, journal 3 here.

Sunday Whirl...oh no, Sylvia Plath words...good thing I didn't look first!

I copied the Whirl words from Brenda’s Saturday prompt from the Sunday Whirl FB page into a blank word document and didn’t look beyond the words. Good thing too because I would have known and been influenced by Lady Lazarus and would probably have written a more slash-your-wrists-by type of poem.We all are a bit afraid of my slash-your-wrists-by poetry...come on...admit it. :)charge, art, knocks, filaments, cell, sticky,pearls, bone, linen, air, beware, skin, callIt’s all in here with the steamer trunks and canvases long covered with old linen and sticky, stale air.You know it. This is the stuff you can feel. The stuff you understand.Open a trunk and watch dust pinwheel thru the orange haze of a 30-watt bulb.Close your eyes. There is life here.A merciless call in every cell, every hair on your skin.Take a chance. Lift away the linens. Look at it.Once you believed that art would open a doorway to a beautiful world. A perfect world.As it happened, you were watching yourself, studying your bone structure, staring at a full length mirror from across the room.And your vision focused on reality.Some place where disbelief and pearls of wisdom are two sides of a worthless coin.And as you live knocking around in your tin-can armour while your passion withers away locked in those trunks, under that linen,Beware of aging in that cold room where even God is chattering his teeth.Breathe in. Feel the charge. Pull off the linen and exhale.And look up in time to see the aged bulb flicker its last light and listen.Just listen to the sound of the frail filaments tinkling in the clouded glass..............Art: "Making the rounds" Mixed media on heavy Arches paper. (paper collage, pencils, pens, acrylics, chalk, nail polish, (yup, you can paint with nail polish if you want to) photographed with coins)

On top of spaghetti...remember that song?

I don’t even know where to begin.One said, “Those meatballs are huge!”The other said, “That’s what she said!”And that was it. Everyone was laughing.What are we like?

A special event, a virtual coffee house. I’ll be the one wearing a pink carnation waving at you.

It’s funny how coincidence works. One of my favorite blogs disappeared a year ago and, searching for it, I came to another blogger’s site, and that blogger has now become my friend. She is the sweet, gentle-hearted Vicki of 2bagsfull. She is hosting this lovely blog hop.Hi everyone, my name is Veronica, which you probably already know by the name of my blog. Just today someone asked me how does one come up with a good blog name and I had to say that I honestly never thought about it.Several years ago my daughter Kerstin designed and drew this symbol as a brand for me and I’ve loved and used it ever since, so it’s Veronica Roth here, or just V, because who can be bothered with a four syllable name anyway.Speaking of children, I have three: Jonathan, Kerstin and Chloe. They are grown and over the years they’ve multiplied and now I seem to have seven and so now we must include Kerstie’s Adam, Chloe’s Bryson, and the new babies in the family: Ever and Isla (usually called Binky and Bunny). Somehow they are always getting in front of my camera.Oh, cameras, yes, I seem to have a collection of them and that’s a good thing because I take a lot of photos, a LOT of photos. Really A LOT, A TON of photos.Some you will not see because they are proprietary to magazines or for sale thru stock agencies but you'll see loads on these pages. The photos on these pages are for you. And I mean for YOU. Use them, copy them, find inspiration with them, say thank you, have fun. They describe everyday moments … my everyday moments … a common magic.I also muck about with paints.I love to paint in oils on large canvases......but I’ll paint, draw, muck about on just about anything with any medium. Old maps, sheet music, book jackets, the sawn off end of this year’s Christmas tree ...you get the picture.I write. On these pages you’ll find free verse poetry under the “I’m not as green as I’m cabbage looking” tag, in real life you’ll find magazine and on-line articles.I’m all over the place usually, but mostly either in my home in the city: Vancouver, BC, Canada or my home in the country: the village of Northmoor, Oxfordshire, England. (where I drive really fast on the wrong side of the road)And, as it says on my bio, I’m completely hopeless at planning anything and so have no idea what the future will bring. Right now this site is a wonderful creative outlet for me and I love, LOVE and cherish the friends I’ve met thru it. I hope you will say hello and leave your site addy so I can come visit and get to know you and I hope you will take the time to get to know me.Oh, there are cats. Vancouver cats Morgan and Milo and British cat Theo. They're the little heartbeats at my feet.

Look beyond. A wordpress weekly photo challenge

I'm not sure I've ever shown you this image. For a few years now I've been obsessed with reproducing Vanitas in my photography. Vanitas are a type of symbolic work describing the transient nature of life. The word takes a root from Vanity. In Latin: Vanitas vanitatum omnia vanitas: all is vanity. Look beyond the lovely hot cup of coffee. Think about what it is you see.Thought about and presented for the Wordpress weekly photo challenge: Beyond.

A little sad but a lot of happy in one morning

Last night, as I was walking across the back garden, I heard a small rustling noise at the foot of the basement stairs. There was a weak little finch in the leaves. I thought it was a good thing I found him because just then there was an orange streak behind me; the neighbour’s aggressive cat.I cradled the finch in my hands and, remembering what the vet advised about the last bird we rescued, I put him into a cage in the garage to recover with a bit of soft blanket and a small dish of water.I’m so sad to say that sometime during the night his little body stopped. I think he probably flew into the loft window and fell the three floors to the basement stair well. That's a hard fall for such a little creature. This morning I wrapped him up in the bit of blanket and buried him under my favorite yellow rose.This is how it goes sometimes.Inside I poured myself another cup of tea, pulled back the curtains to let the sun in and watched Morgan and Milo play. C joined me and soon we were smiling again.