A dreamy walk to the postbox

Pick up the small kraft-paper wrapped parcel, simple and lovely and non-descript.

Out the door and down the steps. Good morning, clematis!

Through the back garden, past the roses.

Through the gate, past the poppies.  Stop and say hello.

Down the alley.  Past the Art Deco armchair-style apartment building that I love so much.  The sky is pearly and dreamy.

To the postbox now, wish the small, adorable parcel with my work and hours inside well. Grab the handle. Open drawer, pop in parcel, close drawer.  Check to make sure the parcel has dropped down.  Yes?  Good!  Back we go.

Back past the building. Stop for another look at the brickwork, at the sky.

At the details that are often overlooked.  That have an industrial, curious beauty to them, especially when isolated.

And then it's back up the alley, back through the gate.  Back through the garden.  Home.  For making and dreaming.  And tea.

A Day With Mr. Octopus, or This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Mr. Octopus has claimed the Pretty Shell + Big Mystery SEED that Thomas Gandey sent me for the Proud Nation of Octopia.

But, what's this? AN INTERLOPER? He's after your Stuff, Mr. Octopus! Uh oh...

Oh dear, this is NOT going to end well AT ALL...

Mr. Octopus! What are you going to do?!!

Oh? The Piece of Limestone that I borrowed from Lake Ontario for Thomas Gandey? What are you going to do with that?

OH, Mr. Octopus! You're not going to...no...

Oh dear.

That's it - get the the Pretty Shell + Big Mystery SEED that Thomas sent me back...

And don't forget to dispose of the body!!

One biiig push - all gone!!!

And once again, all is well in Octopia! The Pretty Shell + Big Mystery SEED from Thomas Gandey are back in the right be-suction cup'd arms!

 UH OH...

{Fin!}

Today, tomorrow + yesterday

Imagine my shock and horror this morning as my long-standing suspicions were finally confirmed - I am both an extrovert and an optimist.  Who knew?

But there is no time to dwell on such disturbing revelations!  There is far to much to do this morning.

And yes, I traipsed down my studio stairs with this exact armful of goodies on my left, and another full load on  my right.  Clearly I am taunting fate - as some of you might recall, I recently ended a week-long relationship with a massive bruise that I met after falling down these same stairs.  As I am probably not due to take such a tumble again anytime soon, I figured I was safe.  This time, at least, I was.  But who knows what tomorrow will bring?

Tomorrow is as yet a mystery - but yesterdays, well, I know all about them.  Here's a picture I made while I was in London when 2011 turned into 2012.

A million buildings bend above me
That cathedral's been here so long
This city's just a chocolate box of goodies
The flowers will still be here
When it's gone...

The words belong to my friend The Clerkenwell Kid.  Hear him sing them here.

Sunday

A soft misty Sunday - pale and washed-out, slightly dreamy around the edges.

I am wandering around mouldering stones and towering monuments. The scent of cedars in the damp. I chirp back at the chicakdees that perch low to check me out.

General Brock is up there on top of his column - ah, but he is at the bottom of it as well.  Makes for easier conversation - one doesn't have to shout.

Wide Canadian vistas. Warm English lunch.  It feels like There; it feels like Home.  It feels like Both and None and like they are the Same but Not and this makes total Sense and NonSense both at the same time.

Rocks and water and magnolias that remind me of stars.

 

                     

Cherry blossoms. Twisty roots.  Orchards of white and pink that go on and on.

This is what I need.  This and a few choice mineral specimens that have passed over the Falls and have made their way down here to the Lake.  Oh, and a ginger molasses cookie.

I've been up here so many times.  So many things were different then; are different now.  And, you know?  it's all OK.  I will be back.

Frenzy

I had just wandered downstairs for my next cup of tea when my gaze fell on the packets of poppy seeds lying on the buffet. Next thing I knew I was out in the middle of my William Blake garden. Next thing I knew I was in then out, then back in the middle of my William Blake garden, beloved ho-mi in hand, hacking errant weeds into oblivion with what some might term "terrifying" fervour.I have been told that I am a sight to see while weeding. I can hardly vouch for this myself, since, when thusly engaged, I enter a state comparable to that of battle frenzy. All the symptoms are there - the red veil of rage clouds my vision; my senses (and hacking ability) are heightened; I become one with the ho-mi and the world is reduced to WEAPON and WEEDS. Justice is meted out upon the leafy interlopers and the root veggies and salad greens FLY. It is both extremely satisfying and cathartic.It is in such moments of frenzy that my mind is truly allowed to wander. It is in such moments that my thoughts return to this, my poor neglected blog.And so, Nice People, my point is this - I have a bit of a backlog to work through, but I fully expect to be up to speed in no time. I do hope you'll join me for the ride.

The Somethings

Each time I make a stitch my hands do it seemingly on their own - it's a repetitive, hypnotic dance they know quite well.

Come this July I will have been knitting only (only?) seven years - and in that time I have worked a countless number of stitches. And whether I am - or my hands are - aware of it, I have come to see it like this: Every stitch is like a tiny meditative prayer - a single instant of my life given physical form by my hands. I could have spent all those instants doing something - anything - else. But instead I chose to put them into making a Something.And oh, the Somethings I have made in those past seven years! Somethings without number, for the loveliest people! It makes my heart glad just to think of it.

It goes on - more Somethings, soon!

The Woolly Anglerfish

The Woolly Anglerfish - seen here lurking in its native habitat at the bottom of the Yarny Ocean. It uses its festive Wonka-esque bobble to lure prey closer to its gaping, toothy maw.A fascinating and majestic creature, indeed.

Woolly Anglerfish are quite partial to rolls of Arrowroot Biscuits. The Biscuits, however, aren't in much danger - they are immune, after all, to the festive bobble's lure. Also, as the Woolly Anglerfish does not have opposable thumbs, it is unable to open the Biscuits' protective packet.
These lucky Biscuits will live to see another tea time.

But now the special time of year has come for the Woolly Anglerfish to make its one-way migration across the Atlantic ocean to its ultimate homeland in Southwestern France. This is quite a remarkable journey for one moderately-sized fish to make on its own - hence we are dispatching a couple of overseers along with the fish to ensure that it makes it there safely. These overseers were chosen for their immense wisdom and knowledge in the ways of Woolly Anglerfish and also for their uncanny ability to fit in the box.They truly are experts in their respective fields as well as in the care and feeding of woolly sea life.

Godspeed, Woolly Anglerfish! Happy trails!