Apologies that it's been so long. Our home computer has given up the ghost, so I'm limited as to when I can access a computer. How are you? It's beautiful here. Sunny days, and evening showers.
The twins turned 3 last week. They had a lovely day playing in the garden on their new ride on toys, Molly alternating between her new Snow White dress, and her Fairy Wings, Wand, and Crown. Proudly proclaiming 'I'm a pretty fairy princess, and Garthy's a prince!' Gareth jumping up and down with excitement saying 'Birthday! Party! Cake! Yaaaay!' Molly fussing over her new dolly, and Gareth with his musical tractor (this thing plays Old MacDonald, makes noises for the different animals, has a horn and flashing lights, and goes when you press a button, I'm desperate for a shot of it) Enjoying time with family, and new toys, and all the great things that come with being 3.
We are slowly getting through the transformation of the house and garden into ours. I've painted the front door a cheerful, glossy blue. We (mostly my husband), have painted the hall and dining room. A rich, yellowish cream for the hall, and Magnolia for the dining room. We've stripped wallpaper in the spare room. I've been making my husband laugh with the hours I've spent engrossed in paint charts and home ware magazines (free ones only!) and we're almost agreed on the colours for our living room and bedroom. I love our house, and I do not strive for interior design perfection, but I think a lick of paint, some new curtains, a few cushions go a long way to making you feel truly at home. A nice environment makes you feel better, brighter, prouder, and I know that I am more able to dispel the Black Dog Days if things are nice. Polished furniture and vacuumed carpets make me smile, although maybe that's because when these things are done, I'm not worried about unannounced visitors.
And I've been busy in the garden, cutting back overgrown Hydrangeas enough that the bed below is exposed, but leaving enough height that it offers some privacy from the neighbours. Turning over and breaking up dirt, pulling up unwanted plants and digging out bulbs. It is satisfying this work, even when my hands cramp, and my back aches. There is pleasure in dispelling the overgrown, and creating a clean slate on which to work. I don't even think of the fact that I've pulled up plants others might find beautiful. I found some of them beautiful too, but like my dad always told me 'A weed is simply a plant that's growing where you don't want it to.' There's freedom in that thinking. My plan is to use borders for vegetables, and containers for flowers. Pretty and practical, and easy to maintain.
I'm a potterer and fidget by nature, and this appeals to me. There is no rush, the house can be dealt with a room at a time. Paint can be changed, sticky hand prints can be cleaned from furniture, carpets can nobly bear the marks of being the indoor playground of rambunctious little people. Gardens can grow with our help, and in spite of it. And the days will pass, and the seasons go round, and whatever they bring, there is joy and beauty to be found at home.
Wednesday, 21 May 2014
Friday, 25 April 2014
Hello, It's Been a While.
It's been a while since I blogged. To be perfectly honest, I've been in a bit of a funk. Things have been stressful at home, my self-esteem isn't that great, and I really just haven't much to say (or I didn't think what I had to say was worth reading).
I'm still not sure if what I have to say is worth reading, particularly at times like this, when I don't have much to say at all, and yet, here I am, writing.
I could tell you about the worry over my husband's unemployment, the tension I feel when the kids are throwing tantrums, and the neon arrow of 'Terrible Mother' seems to have taken up a permanent position above my head. I could tell you about carpets uncleaned, and walls half-painted, of scribbles on bannisters, and meals rejected, of arguments, and stubbornness.
But I could also tell you about love, about people trying. I could tell you about choosing, every day, to do something, anything that make things a little brighter. I could tell you about kindness, even when you don't feel kind, about taking time to rest, and watch children at play. I could tell you about laughter seasoned with frustration, when the twins are joyously asking, for the umpteenth time, for 'More sing, mama!' I could tell you about being loved when you feel unlovable, and about loving when you feel as if you have no more love to give.
I could tell you about life, but it wouldn't be anything you don't know already.
I'm still not sure if what I have to say is worth reading, particularly at times like this, when I don't have much to say at all, and yet, here I am, writing.
I could tell you about the worry over my husband's unemployment, the tension I feel when the kids are throwing tantrums, and the neon arrow of 'Terrible Mother' seems to have taken up a permanent position above my head. I could tell you about carpets uncleaned, and walls half-painted, of scribbles on bannisters, and meals rejected, of arguments, and stubbornness.
But I could also tell you about love, about people trying. I could tell you about choosing, every day, to do something, anything that make things a little brighter. I could tell you about kindness, even when you don't feel kind, about taking time to rest, and watch children at play. I could tell you about laughter seasoned with frustration, when the twins are joyously asking, for the umpteenth time, for 'More sing, mama!' I could tell you about being loved when you feel unlovable, and about loving when you feel as if you have no more love to give.
I could tell you about life, but it wouldn't be anything you don't know already.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)