Peter n me

one of my best friends is Peter. I have known him for over 17 years. He is 74. Last night we went to black and white dinner dance to raise money for one of his charities. Just a country dance, nothing fancy but had alot of fun. Peter is a stickler for doing everything right and is known for his amazing dinner parties - often cooking 3 courses for over 20 or so of his friends. We celebrate New Year with him every year. He is a florist & a chef by trade - having travelled to London when he was young and at one stage did floristry work for the Palace.

both photos were taken by Joe - who is not a professional photographer as you can see, but I love the one above - it captures both of us so well.

the autumn ball

the faeries are busy in my garden getting the trees ready for their autumn ball. They have started to dress the trees in the autumn finery - leaves of gold, russet, burgundy and copper. over the weekend, they told me to get off my behind and get on with my job as 'official faery photographer' - they have been doing their work and were a little peeved that I had not being doing mine - they didn't take my search for my cornish roots seriously....

so I went for a wander in Leura and snapped away. . .

above is an avenue of trees - the faeries are having a hard time getting this family to decid just what colour to go with this year. . some are being difficult, they just don't want to shed their comfortable summer clothes..
as you see below, at least these twins have decided to go to the ball in matching burgundy gowns - making my faery friends job alot easier. . .

this gorgeous golden colour seems to be quite popular with many trees this year. . .

and another view of the trees in the autumn ball gowns - the faeries certainly have their job cut out for them this year with the array of colours available!

a blissful & bright easter

wishing you the brightest of easter days - may the birds sing, may the butterflies burst from their cocoons and may the flowers bloom with joy.

Well, that is if you are in the Northern hemisphere.

If not and you live somewhere down under - I hope your easter day is everything it should be - cool, crisp & snuggly.... may your fires be warm, your leaves be golden, burgundy & bronze and may the laughter of loved ones be around your table -

blessings & bliss to each of you xoxo

I think I must be the only person in the whole wide world who got to sit on the easter bunny's knee. Yes, that is me - about 15mths old, dressed as a boy. Why on earth did my mother do that to me....

today, I hope to be going to the Sacred Lotus then out for coffee. family dinner tonight - lamb roast, vegetables & the chocolate pecan cake....

just call me - Edward

yes, I am now known affectionately by my family as Edward Scissorhands... last week I had a slight 'mishap' with a pair of scissors. a very sharp pair of scissors. I received a parcel from Tara in France that had the word 'chocolate' written on the customs form so of course I had to open it. then and there. the parcel had been opened by customs and for some strange reason, they had decided to use tape to seal it back up. no idea why, 'cause they usually send it on not resealed very well. this time they had used a year's supply of tape. and I had to tackle it with one hand as I was on the phone to my sister as I opened the package. multi-tasking I think it is called. so I was cutting away and whoosh, those scissors found their mind of their own and went off on a wild tangent into my arm. I thought - 'gawd that was lucky' - thinking I had missed and then the blood started spurting or gurgling is a better word... so I yelled to my sister on the phone, 'I will call you back, I have slashed my wrist' & jumped up, trying to prevent it from going all over my very expensive axminster carpet and grabbed the white sheet that was covering my lounge, called to my daughter Sophie - who applied pressure on the cut and I collapsed on the floor.

We got me into the car and Sophie drove me to the hospital emergency - with me going into slight shock and muttering stuff like "I am going to die" and told her I was so sorry I was such a strict and terrible mother (shock does strange things to one). She was great, she talked to me while she drove. When we arrived at the hospital - they yelled 'emergency triage' and I was taken immediately in. I looked a little like a mummy wrapped up in the sheet and oh, how glamorous I was. I had the oldest tracksuit pants on as well as one of Joe's thermal singlets and my hair was every witch way... when they took the bandage off, the nurse kind of sniggered as the cut was only about 1/4" long and had clotted so it looked innocent. However they put a pressure bandage on it and sent me to wait for a Dr ~ with all the other sick people - coughing and spluttering THEIR germs all over ME. . . . . . . 4 hours later I was taken into see the Dr whose first question was did I try to commit suicide... puhlease... although one cretin in blogworld did ask me that, via email. IDIOT. The Dr then proceeded to clean the wound, which promptly started spurting. He said 'my, that is deep' - I think you will need a stitch. (scissors went in about 1/2" or so). Injections into wound. OUCH. that is when I started to go cold & clammy & hot and ditzy and told him I was going to faint.. had to lie down and have the stitches inserted - 2 of them.. not many. It was at this moment that Sophie decided that it was all too much and had to sit down as well as she was just about passing out too. what a pair of funnies we were. "oh and when was your last tetnus shot?" I was asked "100 years ago I said" . jab in the arm..... don't get it wet until you get the stitches out in a week. left arm ... easy peasy..... not so.... hard to wash hair. no sewing or gardening. impossible to type on computer. severe withdrawals. typing with one finger...well you get what I am trying to say....

to make matters worse - I developed a chest cold and have been feeling pretty damn sick...let us hope that it is all over now and life in Woodford becomes quiet like it should be....

anyhow - I am back..lots to catch up on and alot of parcels still sitting here to be sent. SORRY to those of you who are expecting something - it will be on its way this week.

and thankyou, THANKYOU, thankyou for all the emails and well wishes...

and thankyou to daisy for keeping you informed xo

for those of you who asked..... a legend. . .

after my post yesterday, I had many emails asking about the Three Sisters. Yes, there is a legend. I also have a spiritual tie to Katoomba - when I go there, I feel emotional and spiritually connected. I go there nearly every day so I can just be there and absorb the energy. I often comment on it to Joe - how it makes me feel, sometimes it makes me cry with sheer 'oneness'

and didn't have a clue what it was until my 'wise woman' pointed out that it could be a power center or vortex for me and yes! I think that is it....it really makes my heart 'shiver & tingle' with pure emotional spirituality (if that makes sense)

The Aboriginal dream-time legend has it that three sisters, 'Meehni', 'Wimlah' and Gunnedoo' lived in the Jamison Valley as members of the Katoomba tribe.

These beautiful young ladies had fallen in love with three brothers from the Nepean tribe,

yet tribal law forbade them to marry.


The brothers were not happy to accept this law

and so decided to use force to capture the three sisters causing a major tribal battle.

As the lives of the three sisters were seriously in danger,

a witchdoctor from the Katoomba tribe took it upon himself

to turn the three sisters into stone

to protect them from any harm.

While he had intended to reverse the spell

when the battle was over,

the witchdoctor himself was killed.

As only he could reverse the spell

to return the ladies to their former beauty,

the sisters remain in their magnificent rock formation

as a reminder of this battle for generations to come.

the optometrist

yesterday I had my visit to the optometrist. I wear glasses for close work & reading. So off I went, plopped myself into the chair and he asked me if I worked on a computer. of course, my work is not on a computer - but I do spend a hell of alot of time on it....way too much time - enough time so that my house looks like a whirlwind just ripped through it. so what am I supposed to say? ~ I BLOG? yeah sure - and get that blank look of 'what the hell is a blog?'

no-one understands blogging unless they are a blogger themselves......so I held my tongue and told him I wasn't on the computer for long periods - I hope white lies like that don't send me to hell. Have you ever tried to explain to friends just what a blog is? or even admitted you have one?

so I blog. yes. and why?
well at first it started as a bit of fun - describing my day as I went about my daily routine. But I could only tell so many times that I clean my bathrooms on Mondays & flutter about the home in a haze of lavender. Sometimes, I went back to childhood memories and every once in awhile something from my heart. meeting a handful of women - getting excited when I 'met' someone....
then I started to journal and it seemed just as easy to put my thoughts down here - I type quicker than I write and my thoughts became discussions with others.

However, I am not really sure why I do blog - I know I just can't stop. Is it an addiction? Is it because I need to know that I what I think and write is actually interesting to someone else? I don't understand this phenomena called blogging - I run around taking photos of the mundane and put them on my blog - wondering if someone 'out there' will be interested enough to comment. I sit and wonder what the hell I will write about today . I get flashes of thoughts throughout my day and rush to my paper to write it down, a beginning of yet another post.

I think I have been blogging for nearly 3 years and in that time I have blogged more than one post per day. sad but true. Geez, I don't think I even took Christmas day off!

I look forward to words from wise women, to hugs from those who care, & support from those who know what I am going through. I look forward to a kindredship with women who are exactly like me. And yes, I look for acceptance.

I travel the world, reading of other peoples lives - sometimes something, someone says hits my heart & I think to myself - this is me! this is exactly how I feel, how I think.

I take what I read with me - thinking of something that was mentioned somewhere - I think of other bloggers throughout my day - I stress over someone not visiting. So it is part of my life now. so where do I go from here? I have absolutely no idea

I love to go a-wandering. .

In Woodford we don't have footpaths and our roads are very narrow. So, it is difficult to go for a nice long walk - between dogs running out at you and biting your feet off and having to jump into the bushes when some ratbag drives past doing twice the speed limit - it makes for a dangerous pastime to go walking. So I drive up to the top of the mountains to Leura or Katoomba. Where I want to live oneday, about 10mins from my home here in Woodford. Yesterday I went by myself to Katoomba. It was misty - I love it. There is something about Katoomba that speaks to my soul - a whispering. When I am there, I can feel a bubble of something in my solar plexus and I don't know what it is. I love to walk by myself -just thinking and sometimes talking to myself. I fit right in, up at Katoomba, it is known for its oddballs! So armed with my camera, looking like a tourist - I started my walk. I often wonder what people think when I stop and take photos of their homes. I was half expecting some deranged soul to come flying out, brandishing a stick telling me to get out of it!

this is what I saw:

this house above is FOR SALE! hmmmmm - I think I could live there. I would paint the fence a different colour though. Look at the ancient tree ferns, they must be years old. I love homes made from sandstone. Our home here in Woodford is a traditional mountains weatherboard built somewhere around 1927. a baby compared to castles in the UK or a chateaux in downtown France. But classed as an old home here in Australia.

above, is a typical federation home in the mountains. I love the leadlight windows

I am not sure what the owners of this home thought, then I poked my camera through the gate. But I thought the garden was delightful!

and then. . . .

I spied this:

plain jane or a blank canvas?

Kai, I will let you be the judge!

me - cultured ?

what have you girls done to me?

First collage, now reading poetry & trying my hand at haiku !

oh my! I am becoming 'cultured'.

I am usually in my garden, you see. reading herbal books. a hands in the earth girl. I have never been one for reading poetry nor creating art. Quilting & making dolls was my 'art' - I wasn't at all interested in poetry, ever.

Now I am trying to 'write' haiku. How do you do it? I have searched the net for help and found that I had to write down words, randomly. Yep can do that quite easily. But to try and get them to make sense? HA!

On the full moon, I am starting a new book (yes another self help book!) by Denise Linn - Soul Coaching & in the first week, she suggests reading poetry. So, on Thursday of last week, I took myself off to join our local library. Wanting to borrow a book of poetry by Rumi. I haven't been into a library for at least 10 years. I borrowed not one book but a few. Two poetry books - one by Rumi & another by Thomas Hardy, two novels, an australian heritage cookbook and a book called "A year of slow food" which is like a tossed salad - a mix of Peter Mayle's 'a year in Provence', On Rue Tatin and Under the Tuscan sun. All set in the southern highlands of New South Wales, two hours drive from where I live. About a couple who live off their own land. Recipes included. great book! So, I wandered aimlessly around the library. I had no idea what I was doing or what I was looking for
I just browsed the shelves, looking for a cover I liked. I know, you are not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but if I buy my wine for the label and have never been disappointed, I figured choosing a book for its cover should be ok. So far, my theory has proven correct. The Rumi poetry book is good. Having a hard time getting into reading it but I will.

Just to prove that this 'un-cultured-ness' does not run in my family - my pa was an opera singer, my youngest daughter can read music and is a grade 7 flautist and has had poetry published when she was about 11. AND here is a poem that my eldest daughter wrote in primary school.

Deep, purple, bumpy and oval.

squishy, moist, soft and juicy

good to smell

scrumptious, delicious and good to eat

I love mulberries good and sweet

so maybe, just maybe, there is hope for me yet.

one person's junk. . .

yesterday Joe went to an auction. I was on my way to have my massage and thought I would call in to see if there was anything I HAD TO HAVE. a few boxes of ephemera but nothing much else caught my eye. I took some photos ~ alot of junk but alot of possibilties....

I am so glad that Joe didn't get auction fever. He has been known to bid on stuff 'cause it is cheap and I am trying to declutter. but he did well - one box of paper rubbish & a pair of plaster cocker spaniels - one for me and one for my sister

I wanted to buy this doll, to alter but it went for too much money - obviously a collectable. I loved the little watch pinned to her chest. I had a chair just like that one - when I was little

"junque or junk or just plain rubbish?"



another doll that I wanted to buy but it went for a ridiculous sum of money. So, I have to be content with the box of cards and other paper 'rubbish' as it was described in the auction.

In the afternoon, I spent time between my garden - *spreading 8 bags of mushroom compost & 2 bales of lucerne, watering my citrus trees and making up some more comfrey tea* & my 'art' room - playing with an altered book that I am making for a swap, trying to work out who I have sent teenie tiny shells too and getting the last of my valentines swap together.