Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label inspiration. Show all posts

09 January 2015

friday | fodder+folly | favorites


follies of the week:                                                     
-facebook                                                                    
-facebook
-facebook
-canon customer service
-facebook

fodder for the soul:
-rising early
-listening to the traffic and pretending its the wind
-watching the sunset
-laughing with my oldest
-gratitude for the warranty on my big camera

provender for the days ahead:
-an oldest who turns 15
-starting my +365 project tomorrow
-embracing imperfections
-picking up my big camera from canon customer service
(after much needed repairs)


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xoxo

23 July 2014

we live loudly, and dream ever on

 We live loudly,
dancing with parachutes,
eyes pressed against the plumes of wind
from the billowing sails.
xoxo

21 October 2013

the house that jack built

"A story is not like a road to follow … it’s more like a house. You go inside and stay there for a while, wandering back and forth and settling where you like and discovering how the room and corridors relate to each other, how the world outside is altered by being viewed from these windows. And you, the visitor, the reader, are altered as well by being in this enclosed space, whether it is ample and easy or full of crooked turns, or sparsely or opulently furnished. You can go back again and again, and the house, the story, always contains more than you saw the last time. It also has a sturdy sense of itself of being built out of its own necessity, not just to shelter or beguile you."
-Alice Munro

(I found this gem, over here via elphantine)

18 October 2013

seven | school ready :: a guest post

A guest post on homeschooling, from Sarah Elwell, a poet and writer. If you haven't visited Sarah's blogs, Knitting the Wind, or gnossienne be prepared to have your heart stirred and soul moved. What I especially love about this post, is that there is so much to take away from it, whether you are homeschooling or sending your children to a more traditional school. We can all benefit from the different ways our children learn...especially in nature. 
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When I first began homeschooling, I didn't appreciate how vast our classroom would be. I had no internet in those days, and all my understanding of homeschooling was based on the scant few books I found at the local library. But the thing I did not realise back then, although I take it for granted now, is that when your heart is open to the world around you, the world opens its heart to you too.

Not even the best traditional school could provide the expert tuition children receive simply by being out in the daily life of regular society. From professionals to homeschooling parents, adults are endlessly welcoming and they actually like to share their knowledge. Firemen, paleontologists, zoo keepers, butterfly farmers, forensics officers, artists, potters, sportsmen, shopkeepers, ornothologists, geologists, historians, writers, flax weavers, lion wranglers ... There's no way one teacher, no matter how dedicated and brilliant, could replicate such breadth and depth of experience. And I don't see how any school could justify the resources needed to provide all the field trips homeschoolers can do easily and often.

And there's another great teacher from whom homeschoolers learn: nature. For example, our local homeschool group, on a woodland walk to sketch autumn leaves, found a stony river and the children spontaneously built a dam, learning about physics in the process. There was no need to insist on the leaf-sketching, nor to hurry them off at the end of an hour. We mothers sat in the sunshine, picnicking, discussing lesson plans and good books, while our children got on with their learning, socialising, and sheer fun.

Because they have regular opportunities to be outdoors, knee-deep in (and heart-full of) nature, a homeschooled child can develop a good weather eye, or an instinct for bird behaviour, or a deep connection with plants. They can sit for hours in the garden, counting bird species. They can go swimming in the sea on summer afternoons while school children are sweltering in classrooms. I know homeschooling children who forage for wild food, hand-rear baby birds, run backyard weather stations, tend their own vegetable gardens, and are experts on local wildlife. They may not necessarily know all the important dates of history (although then again they might) but they do know how to truly engage with the natural world.
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Thank you so much Sarah!  xxoo

14 October 2013

monday | updates on the giveaway

tucked in my heart are notes from our glorious weekend in the San Diego Mountains. 

but here in the bright blue of a monday, they seem lost amidst the bustling bellow of papers piled high.
and to do lists scattered across the unswept floor. looking forward to a week filled with a school ready guest 
post as well as wrapping up the write now | fall giveaway this Friday. 

*Please note that the deadline has changed to midday this Friday, October 18th, PDT 

10 September 2013

Oh! The Tale End of Summer!

Oh Summer! The weekend before last, a friend and I picked and canned tomatoes. I met her outside her home in the early morning hours and we traveled out to the Valley to a farm where, on Labor Day weekend, you can pick your own roma tomatoes for 25 cents a pound. It was still cool when we arrived at the farm, though you could feel the hint of the day's heat steadily tugging round your neck.
There was something so striking about the long, early morning shadows stretched across the field. Children were darting in and out of the rows and the faintest drops of dew still hung on spider web's strung across the wooden posts.

09 September 2013

poetic pause :: the me. alone. separate from all else.

I think about him from time to time.
Down on the beach.
Fishing.
Standing in the shadow of the pier.
The way he would dart across the water,
dancing lightly on tiptoes to the sound of the surf
and the call of his prey shimmering beneath the waves.

02 August 2013

a quiet creature

that i could have the chance to fit you into the palm of my hand. 
have your feather light wings bless my skin.
 burnt orange against my unholy white. 
whiskered, and whisked, that you nudge me along, 
off my path, off the beat of my breath. 

25 June 2013

an order :: a summer decree of chaos


and unto us, decreed by the order of summer,
there shall be a slow churning of chaos in our veins.
an unpinned, uncertain future of days that comes with tightrope walking
over a vast open field full of dark dew, fairy-ed fireflies, mint stung clover, and pennyless thoughts.

vague plans crowd our dream filled memories;
there is no bridge across the channel
to sensibility, instead we must hang down upon it,
muck our way through the crowded
days, no direction, no compass,
        tromping through the moored wet grass
        clinging petals at the hem of our soaked feet

until.

until we pull ourselves up
into our desks at autumns gate.
sweaty legged in scratchy classroom air,
blow the shavings of wood and crushed lead off our pencils,
sitting down to scribble instruction once more.


20 June 2013

summer happiness, undefined


backpacks litter the floor. 
forgotten and shirked off for the summer. they smell of forgotten lunches 
and the smooshed sugared crumbs of lost snacks hidden inside the creases of their pockets. 

notes and papers are crammed hidden under the leftover books. 
laced shoes are all but forgotten.

13 May 2013

a north carolina weekend

morning soul, daybreak wandering.
dusting off travel boned fatigue
to walk amongst the song 
sung deep within my heart. 

11 April 2013

wilderness first aid kit for the soul

midweek messiness, grateful lists and flowery-goodness come a little late this week.  life is busy with the balancing act of boys back at school, homework, dogs, a broken washing machine and the ever classic oven door handle falling apart. At first I thought the oven door handle was the least of my problems until I tried to bake something actually in the oven. well guess what? you need a handle to open and close the oven door! sigh. it feels like our home is perched precariously up on a balance beam, there are some moments we have just the right amount of time to play and work and do all the things that need to get done; & other days, most days, even some years, it feels as if we are slogging up hill through the mud in the pouring rain, only to find out we have carried our coals to Newcastle and our oven door is broken. 

08 April 2013

poetic pause :: hidden

i am gone from this chair. all that is left is my jam. i am hidden. 
         i am gone from my chair, 
         from my bed. 
gone in silence. crouching and hidden. the ghosts of all the clothes i have ironed are still there. lying in wait. 

04 April 2013

winter leaves slowly sometimes

     oh you forget. you forget because winter seeps so slowly back
     into itself so high up there on the deserted mountain plain.
     you forget that equinox. of the explosion spring can be.
     of mud, and slogging, of giddy children drunk on the blooms
of the tree tops and sparkling nights. oh you forget.
oh you forget, because winter seeps so slowly back
into itself so high up there on the deserted mountain plain.

remember too, it is beautiful because it is your own. 
happy day.
xxoo

28 March 2013

making yourself incredibly happy...or not

I wonder about all sorts of happiness. I wonder what brings me joy & what brings others bliss. I wonder what makes me happy now & what will make me happy tomorrow. I am sure that when I was younger, I knew happiness: pure light filled happiness that just fed my soul and grew my ego.
Now that I am older, I have certainly not put away my childish things but I understand better, from a constructive, adult-ish point of view, that there are layers of happiness out there.

Layers as lovely as an iced cake for your birthday & layers of joy from the rotting compost of sorrow, decomposing, nurturing and fertilizing a better tomorrow.

My children are mixed into those layers. The layers of icing on the cake and the composting pile in the backyard. They mix into my own happiness. They mix into my soul and shake all those clearly defined borders of who I am and where I am going.  I know for certain they have a list of what would make them happy.
It is long, especially when you

25 March 2013

poetic pause :: memories

& i made memories. memories of when they slept in unmade beds. they slept. deep. in dreams. 

& they played at our feet. slipping their fingers in and out of the stems of grass. slowly. tearing each one apart. blowing on dandelions blossomed in the heat. 

24 March 2013

sunday forward into the week :: stills

sunday. morning. 
fog slowly peeling back the blue in the sky letting dapples of sun adorn the mountains across the bay. 
heart. longing.
lazy holiday and star smattered nights. inside tents. watching our cheeks blow our breathe across the remnants of the winter air. uncurling toes tight in covers. 

we are tumbling headlong into the spring holiday. TWO whole weeks of luxiurious freedom that will seem shorter than a baby sneeze; then it will be over with & the boys back into the last round of school before summer. I know it is just three months into the year, but with the mention of the holidays ahead & summer somehow in sight, we seem to have already had such. a very. full year.  

for that i feel blessed & so grateful.  

here are some stills from the past week & this weekend. we live with some wild & unfettered boys at times, so i am glad to capture a growl or two (ahem the youngest in this first photo on the right), but i also love all sweetness of moments caught with some of their younger friends. 

Have you been very mindful this March? I have been trying to make myself ever so more mindful of my taking in and putting out. but mindfulness is a day to day experience, so naturally i falter, almost all the time.  however, i hope when i am able to look back on today, i will actually see that i was able to sketch out a wee bit of meaning in these days of now. 

hope you had loveliest of weekends. 
xxoo

21 March 2013

medium+happy=

for me, today, finding happy is all about finding my happy medium. not all things are perfect all the time, but if i can find a little balance of this & that; get a little perspective on the here & now; close my eyes & let go of things behind me, then i think i will have found my happy medium...for today anyway. 

how are you finding your own little slice of happy? xo

ps. this is a blog hop...so link up your slice of happy and join the happiness all around! 



20 March 2013

flowers for me. a silly poem for thee.

Oh these flowers are for me; 
just to share them here with thee!
and...
 I will like them in this room. 
I will like them when they bloom... 
...I will like them here or there.
 I will like them anywhere!
I will like these these tulips, oh so true.
 I will like them! thank you Lou!

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