a scrapbook of my absence...

...but now the desire to write has returned.

my wilderness

Spending the morning here was bliss. I wanted to take J to see this particular tree. I used to climb it as a child... see that long long branch stretching out to the side... its like a big arm with which the tree scoops you up and lets you sit in its branches.
I would build a small house here if I could, just to live in this wilderness where I used to hide and where my other half proposed and where I know my daughter will also love to play surrounded by trees and rabbit holes.

Twinkle Twinkle

Here is the little outfit I made baby j:

Here is baby j rocking the little outfit:

Pink wine

what a magical weekend. the little fairy princess enjoyed herself. my reward: pink wine. goodnight x

Baby & the Beast

Another day spent crawling around the floor of the library. ah bliss. Hired out a few craft and cookery books... then we went home and ate lunch in the garden. Yes! it was actually sunny enough. I remember last year we had a glorious April and May and then a rainy, stormy rest-of-summer. My July baby was born during a thunder storm.

Beauty & the Beast - I always imagine Beast as a lion... and I never want him to change into a Prince at the end... Is that just me?

because, just because...

I save a little money here & there... because I cut my own hair and because I prefer to holiday in the UK. I save a little money this way & that... because, just because... I love to spend that money on pretty things instead...

I bought this polka dot throw to keep me warm as I sew and when I saw this solitary willow patern story cushion... oh my goodness! - it just leapt into my hands. I love love love it.

This is my dresser. The dresser my Dad made from scratch for me. It is completely my favourite thing in our house. So naturally it holds many of my favourite things too. A few more gorgeous crockery bits and pieces were added to the shelves over the weekend, namely the 2 jugs top left and bottom right. There are piles of plates and pieces in the cupboard beneath too. Mismatched china makes me smile.

impromptu tea party

Everything is colour. the weekend was colourful.

Instead of lunch on Sunday we had a tea party. Me, Mr K & Baby J.

Baby J says 'da da da' to this Lion when he wears her Dad's spectacles. Hilarious.

Meanwhile I posted off a huge package full of hand-me-down baby goodies to a wonderful old friend who I have been getting to know again through the shared recent admission to the 'mummy club'. I love love love putting together little packages, little bundles of bits and bobs all tied up with a ribbon.

I love the word 'secret'

Lots of things inspire me... pictures, sounds, words.

I love the word 'secret'. The way it rolls off the tongue, the way it means something that is hidden, something to keep all to yourself; then share with others…

Who would not be intrigued by a secret? Anais Nin bought a house in Paris and was intrigued by a secret window - a fake window which was added to the front of the house for symmetry's sake but which could not be seen from the inside of the house. On holiday as a child the large old farmhouse we stayed in was all on one level, but there was a secret door, kept locked, that would have led to the upstairs…
A secret sets the imagination rolling.

Countless times I have read the book The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson-Burnett... I watched the film again over the weekend. It is a fantastically well-drawn narrative, clever enough to pull together an inner and an outer journey into one simple story.

The story begins in India during the early 1900s, when Mary Lennox is orphaned and sent to England to live in Misselthwaite Manor, the gloomy estate of her brooding and melancholy uncle, Lord Craven. Because the uncle is almost always away on travels, struggling to forget the death of his beloved wife, Mary is left mostly alone to explore the estate. She finds a door that leads to a secret garden left neglected since the death of her aunt… she befriends the young brother of a staff maid called Dickon and Lord Craven's apparently crippled son, her cousin Colin, who has been needlessly bed-ridden for years. Together the three children restore the neglected garden on the estate grounds. As the garden grows, the characters grow.

The metaphor used in this book is uncomplicated and yet so powerful. There is something universal about the use of nature is writing or poetry. We understand it because we are part of it. Life, death, light, dark and the changing of the seasons all reflected in our own lives. The closeness to nature and the importance of environment is one of the things I love about this story.

I am also interested in the initial setting of the book in India, the India of the British Empire. My family on my Dad's side lived in this India. My Grandfather grew up in the Punjab. And I recognise this India in The Secret Garden…

The main character Mary Lennox is all at once a child and a young woman, a little girl and a force - a catalyst. She is weak and strong, innocence and experience. In the film version, the character is exquisitely played by Kate Maberly. When Mary arrives at Misselthwaite Manor she is defiant and haughty in her speech and attitude and yet the body language she uses is that of a little girl afraid and unsure. This is excellent acting and portrays the layers of this character that are also evident in the book.

Isn't this just how we all feel day to day? We like people to think we know what we are doing, to think we are sure and capable adults… but inside we are still children. I have an excellent childhood memory. I can remember my emotions and responses to situations and experiences from as early as age 2. I can still recognise that 2 year old in myself today. I am the same person inside and I will be that person when I am 80. In some ways The Secret Garden is also about learning to be that person, whatever age we are.