the scent of water

At home.

I've gone all Albert Hastings-ish, and developed an incurable addiction to photographing the mundane.  Because I find it sublime.  That makes sense, doesn't it? 

It feels, when I am physically taking the photograph, like I have found something I was always looking for and never knew it.  It's gold, when that happens, but it's never long before the restlessness returns, and off I go again, in search of another moment.

It's like trying to catch an eel in the dark with your bare hands, and I couldn't love it better.

Me as a Fire Engine

My film camera spontaneously started working again.  My sewing machine just as spontaneously decided not to.  I am taking it as a kind of omen.

 

And remembering why I love film so much.

Chocolate Therapy

I had one of those days yesterday where I was Useless Ugly Girl whom the Whole Pointless World hates.  Didn't make for jolly company, that's certain.  Eventually Warren convinced me to take a trip over the hill with him as a way of avoiding listening, I am sure, to any more of my wallowing.

Greytown is so pretty.  We walked along the main road and bought local fruit and veg., coveted much beautiful fabric and many handmade goods.  Decided to pack all my worldy belongings and move there immediately.  (Warren humoured me in this, lovely man, knowing I am sure that I would return to some semblance of sanity the next day.  As my sister likes to say, everyone needs a Warren). 

As we were leaving town, we made one last stop at Schoc.  You remember in the movie Chocolat how Juliette Binoche made all sorts of weird and wonderful concoctions as remedy for the villages ills?  That's Schoc.  We all got to choose two of our favourite flavours to take home (for me, lime tequila + salt and lapsang souchong tea), and either scoffed them immediately or savoured them later with drinks, depending on our temperament.

I woke up this morning feeling all was well again.  It's amazing what great chocolate can do for a girl.

I do hope Henry was right about this at least.

 

One of the greatest discoveries a man makes, one of his great surprises, is to find he can do what he was afraid he couldn't do. . ~ Henry Ford

1. love, 2. for tea, 3. Untitled, 4. waiting, 5. the spring shoes again, 6. carnage, 7. flowers, 8. Pins - May 15, 9. I'm not dead yet

She sees monsters.

 

Iona woke me up last night around three or four in the morning, distraught and wanting to climb into my bed.  She had dreamt our house was burning down and was beside herself with terror.

If there is one thing I know about this girl, it's that you can't pull her back from the edge of an overwhelming emotion by using reason.  She believes her feelings, trusts in them.  Instead, I pulled my blankets over her, wrapped her in my arms, and chatted with her in my best calm mother voice about the merits of one breed of puppy over another, and what tricks we would teach them if we ever owned one.  It didn't take long for the nightmare to shrink back into the shadows of her subconscious.

I thought of this when Justine emailed me the next morning with the offer of a raffle ticket in return for the chance to win some beautiful art.  She's helping to raise money in aid of the many devastated residents of Victoria.  (If you want a ticket, and I have no idea if she has any left, click this link.)

As pleased as I was to offer some small monetary amount, and lord knows they will need every cent they can get, I still felt more than a little helpless.  Homes will be rebuilt, communities restored, one day, eventually.  These things I know.  Even so, what I really hope for, and cannot offer, are arms to take refuge in when the memory of loss and grief rips them from sleep in the middle of the night, man, woman, and child alike, where everything will be made better.

The angel came from a shop in Denmark

 

It rained today, proper rain, cats and dogs and a handful of sheep type rain.  It was so peaceful, the rhythmic percussion of water driving itself against the side of the house, the layer of fog covering the tops of the hills, as if the weather was bossing me in a maternal sort of a way to stay inside.  I folded washing, read, listened to TED lectures on my laptop (this one, and this, are favourites).  Cooked myself a proper hot lunch.  Napped. 

Unexpectedly I have an urge to write a list of things I want to learn.  It might be long.  It's probably uninteresting.  It starts right after the end of this sentence.

1. Piano
2. Russian
3. Ballroom waltz
4. Oil painting
5. How to sing
6. Manual photography
7. Film editing
8. Two dead languages and one highly obscure one
9. Pilates
10. A martial art
11. How the brain works

I had been meaning to get to a hundred; that was a lot harder than I had imagined.  And even at just 11 things, a couple of them aren't really even true.  Not entirely sure which ones.

Wouldn't it be great to be a world champion at something?  I could be world champion at writing pathetic lists.

Hey.

Nothing much going on.  Just wanted to say hi.  I got a photo in the mail yesterday, and Iona asked who it was from.  A friend, I told her, from my blog. 

A lot of your friends are from your blog, she said.

It's true, I had to agree.  So thanks for that.