Small steps

Small steps... I'm just not very good at them. Maybe I should have been a writer because my imagination whisks me away on a daily basis. I have an amazing talent to form a teeny tiny concept within this mind of mine and within a matter of hours convert it into an entire, life encompassing, minutely detailed reality that must happen; and happen now!

I suppose that I should be glad that I am a big picture person but at the same time, this means that I am not so good at seeing the wood for the trees as it were.

I am getting better, though. I just have to keep pulling myself up and saying "Hey, slow down a minute, breathe, now, one thing at a time." But man, it's hard.

Cos I want it and I want it now :-)

I want to have an amazingly overflowing, beauteous and bountiful organic garden. I want to make bouquets from it everyday. I want to work in the sun, surrounded by flowers. I want to share it all with my wonderful boyfriend and fantastic friends. I want to keep my great day job at the florist and live in the country at the same time. I want to create, to cook, to sew and to sing. To get this little business off the ground and rocking. And I believe (maybe somewhat misguidedly) that I can do it all; chronic pain condition included.

Hmmmm ?

So, I suppose, if it's going to happen; I'd better practice my small steps and get a bit better on the patience thing!

Oh and one more thing... why can't I grow chocolate cosmos from seed if I want to, dammit?


I have returned to my Sanctuary and there can be no doubt that that is indeed what this little patch is. I have spent the morning basking in Mum's garden; thinking that it truly has never been so beautiful and trying to imagine what my life will be like without this Heaven to retreat to. We will of course, have a new Sanctuary and not so far away; but it will be different and I don't think there is a member of my family who won't consider themselves honestly blessed to have been able to experience the beauty of this home.

I am also in a fog of Victorian Romantic literature as is probably showing in my own proper and verbose tone today. Hell, I even just used the word verbose! It has long been curious to me, how comfortable I am with rediculously pompous and lengthy phrasing. During my schooling, my ever succinct and practical Mother used to edit out massive swathes of writing in my essays and exclaim that she had never met anyone so capable of saying basic things with such a large volume of words! It seems I have slipped back into old habits ...

You can attribute all this wordiness to Possession, by A.S.Byatt and the fact that after my recent trip to the NGV International I went on a bit of an Ebay binge. I have this received The Works of Emily Dickenson and an anthology of English Romantic Poetry this week in the mail; it's so exciting getting parcels! Now, I have banged on about the brilliance of A.S.Byatt before, here. This novel, a very popular one in the early 90's - which I have only just come to - has created for me another fantastical web of imagery and words that seems to constantly echo in my real life. I thought, when reading The Children's Book that Byatt couldn't have combined more of my favorite topics and themes in one book. Yet it seems to have happened again, whereas before I was tangled up in the Edwardian arts and crafts movement, the renaissance of fairy tales and magical puppet shows and the eager adoption of Ruskinian ideals. This time I have been absorbed by romantic, metaphysical poetry of the Victorian era. Again fairy-tales and celtic story telling feature strongly; but this time with a Breton influence and thus the inclusion of French language - yay for me :-)

Now that is, by far, enough talking for today. I'm off to research traditional herb lore and read poetry...

I fear hitting the publish button on this one; I think I might look back on it and cringe. Oh well folks, you're laughing with me, not at me!

"Just keep following the heart-lines on your hand."


Thinking, I do lots of it. I'm sure you do too. 
I've been thinking lately; how much is too much thinking? There are different types of thinking; how many can you think of, etc. etc. 
Actually, I have been pondering, that is thinking, without being particularly attached to those thoughts. Mostly I ponder possibilities: what if ..? and maybe one day ..? or what about if tomorrow I ...?  etc. etc.
In my current state of in-between-ness, I have plenty of time for such musings. And I am starting to get that exciting, tingling feeling that soon the pondering will be over and things are actually going to start happening ...
In the meantime, I'm just being, trying to ponder rather than think. I'm visiting friends and playing with paint, just because I can. I start writing things but don't finish them because I'm not in that spot right now. I'm taking in information and letting it slowly catalogue itself. 
A dear friend of mine sent me this program to the 2011 Stroud Textile Festival's "Textile Trail" and I have been drooling with jealousy over the images of hand-weavers set  up in their cute little Costwald studios; weaving away. 
Patience, Lindsey, patience ... hmmm, ponder ...

The beauty of synchronicity

 The most fantastic web of wonderful imagery was created for me while I was overseas. I'm trying to keep it going now that I am home but really, all I have left is memories and photos; inspiration wanes already! 
The unifying factor was this most divine book, entitled "The Children's Book". I think it totally appropriate - in this instance - to judge a book by it's cover. The cover illustration is mesmerizing and the tale even more so. Set in England during the Edwardian era, the tale evokes the spirit of the Arts and Crafts movement and of Ruskinian ideals. There are sumptuous descriptions of artworks and clothing. There is insight into the very first days of the Victoria and Albert Museum and a detailed illustration of the Parisian Exposition Universelle. There are fairytales and theatrics; really, what more could one ask of a book? 
With this web of imagery and tales already installed in my little mind, I travelled. Everything I saw, matching up like pieces of a fantastical puzzle. I journeyed through picturesque Cornwall, took long train rides, went to the V&A, saw "The Cult of Beauty" exhibition, went to Paris, visited the Musee des Arts Decoratifs, saw Le Petit Palais and Le Grand Palais, which were built for L'Exposition Universelle mentioned above. Everything twined together like Morris' very own "Honeysuckle". 
Makes me want to be a textile designer, again!

The brushes are out

Well, I did get the paintbrushes out but I still haven't got very far; nor bothered taking pictures. So here's a half done something that I left at home. I wish I was one of those people who gets whole heartedly consummed by creativity and doesn't leave their room until a masterpiece is complete. I am not however, I tend more towards the "doing a hundred things at once and while being constantly distracted by more possibilities" type. Oooh, what's that over there? ...