The say comparison is the thief of joy; it’s certainly true as far as I can see. But then, if we don’t strive for better then what’s the point? I’m sure it’s all about balance – and attaining balance is life-long work, I think.
The seasons are contracting, the pull of home has started. Soon the calendar will turn, and a return to routine for us mama’s with children of school age will begin. I struggle with domesticity; I think a deep part of me will be forever feral, chomping at the bit, railing against the ties that bind. But the centre of my world are my children – and they reign me in. I clip my own wings so that they may fly. And I always return to centre for them.
Back, then, to the rhythm of home.
Don’t you just love summer? Fresh food, light snacks and as much berry pie as you can handle?
What’s coming out of your kitchen these days?
It occurred to me the other day, as I was driving hither and thither ferrying people from here to there, that this is summer. In that, THIS right NOW was summer. There won’t be any more weeks left of good weather; there can be no ‘we’ll do that another day’; there isn’t time to umm and ahh – for this is summer, the last real summer month. In a few short weeks if not the weather, then certainly the calendar, will turn, and classes and schedule and life will begin again.
No time to waste.
All manner of days out were written into the calendar, and for the first time since playing hooky all those months ago, we made time for our beach – and everything that comes with it. And if the weather plays ball we might be back before September strikes.
I have no idea where this year has flown to. But I do know that I’d better make hay whilst this sun shines….
It’s August – harvest isn’t too far away, and there are berries out there needing picking! Blueberries aren’t a native crop to the UK, but we are lucky enough to live near a blueberry PYO farm. They have such a short season, and are such a firm favourite, that we are lucky that we can pick our own body weight of them for pennies (compared with store bought, anyway).
For the first time ever the boys actually picked blueberries instead of running off to find bugs and frogs and we managed to pick a few kilos in no time at all. Which was convenient, as we were the last customers who pulled in ten minutes before closing!
Pie and jam are now firmly ensconced in our fridge. But not for long I think….
From farm to table; this year we have an extra treat at the PYO farm – flowers! Our enterprising farmer has decided to offer something else for our table that nourishes our soul rather than our bodies. Such a treat; I hope it goes from strength to strength. Currently they sit dotted around the house.
I wasn’t really sure I wanted to post this here. I felt like a fresh start was what I needed. My hibernation instincts alive and well. But, makes no sense; neither blogs are private, so I am presenting my new blog – a place just for me and my art journey – where I can explore ideas, techniques, find like-minded folks etc etc in a space all my own. If you would like to check it out, then feel free to take a look here at Qalballah’s Art Journal.
I am not sure if THIS blog will be maintained. To be honest I don’t have a lot to say, and the things I want to say I can’t because they’re no longer just my story now the boys are old enough to need more privacy. The only reason I ever kept this blog was for my own memories and I know I would miss this online presence and memory bank. Maybe it will morph into just that: a photo bank of memories with no words. I am disillusioned with a lot of things. Mostly myself.
It’s nice to return to things we’ve done before; it’s nice, too, when the little people are old enough to have a go instead of standing in big brother’s shadow. I need to remind myself that I need to return to a few things of my own too – before I get lost in a deluge of merely being the sum total of my usefulness and ability to do laundry.
Here we are, then, at the most ntense passion of the boys so far – football. It’s all consuming; all topics of conversation revolves around the game, the players, FIFA, and foot work. I am beyond bored. It’s all I can do to stop myself from stabbing the ball.
But so long as they are happy and occupied I don’t mind (really) playing taxi driver for a while longer.
I didn’t go looking for the junk – it found me, as we went on our travels around Yorkshire and Cumbria. Some of it was reasonably priced, and some of it was not. But I had a blast poring over it, and rummaging around in the piles of vintage and antique gatherings to bring a few treasures home.
Any guesses as to what came home? A couple of them are in the pictures above!