the scent of water

The woodpile

This is my woodpile.  I took a photo of it.  I think the woodpile is kind of pretty.

Not as pretty as the fake peony sitting on top of my television,

but prettier than these crazy peeps.  Whoever they may be.

A bowl of clay.

And four dice.  This photo is a month or two old because I have lost my camera downloading thingy, again, and if you saw the state of my bedroom you would understand why.  In this kind of a mess it's difficult to believe one could find one's will to live, let alone a camera cord. 

The pot and dice were created by Iona, at some class in school. Soft materials, hard materials, art, I don't know.  Maths, maybe. When she brought them home she sat down with Eilidh at the kitchen table where Eilidh taught her a "really cool" maths game involving dice that they then played for hours.  Hours.  

No maths game is that cool. I'm just saying.

Easter Egg Cupcakes

Some days I kind of suck. Like today, when my disorganised pantry didn't have quite enough food in it for lunch, and I couldn't find my handbag to give the children money to take instead. Given that it's usually they who forget and lose and misappropriate, I thought it was kind of funny.  The children did not. I dropped them off at school with half empty lunchboxes and the promise to pay for my sins with colossal amounts of baking. Not the healthy option, I know, but it's kind of hard to say sorry with a carrot.  

A few minutes later I remembered that I had put my handbag in the cupboard with the potatoes. There were excellent reasons for this, I am convinced. Important secret reasons. Maybe I'm a government agent practising my handbag concealing techniques and have trained myself to instantly forget everything I have ever learned. It's safer for everyone that way.

All three offspring survived their day, and were pleased to see I kept my promise.  Nathan says I am a freakin' genius which is 1) true and 2) something he always says when I present him with brightly coloured food that doesn't contain any semblance of fruit, veggies, or nutritional value. 

The cupcakes look kind of small in the picture, but are full sized.  It's the jelly beans that are giant. Giant jelly beans are eggs, normal sized ones are poop. Okay? Okay.

Cheep at me all you like, fluffy pink chickie.  You're still going down.

The good stuff

The thing I never really counted on before I had kids, was how much fun they could be. I knew cute would be in the mixture, I had no idea about the sheer unrelenting workness of it all, but ever since my 8 week old firstborn laughed at some phenomenally hilarious face I pulled, the fun has been at the heart of all the parenting good stuff.

It's usually them making me laugh now, like coming home from the school gala in full face paint. What was great fun at 5 has become greatly ironic fun at 14. It's supposed to be a T. Rex, but looks more like a Suchomimus. Apparently. Obviously. And don't be scared. It's long lost all its teeth.

I made these pretty little bags today for Easter gifts.  We have the usual disgusting amount of cheap chocolate eggs, of course, but inside these bags I have placed  yet another bag jammed pack full of jelly beans. A.k.a. Easter Bunny Poo.

I know. I still got it.

Curiosity.

Curiosity is a raw and genuine sign from deep inside our tangled psyches, and we'd do well to follow the direction it points us in. ~ Po Bronson

I just wrote, and lost, an entirely different post about hoarding and sharing and art and poets. But really, what I was trying to say, at least to myself, is this. Start following your curiosity again. It's important.

Smart shoes and salad

Once upon a time, a week or two ago, I opened my letterbox and found a cheque.  For me.  For achieving the highest psychology grades in my year.  And everyone lived happily ever after.  I suppose I could have spent it on books for the coming year, stationery, invested it even, but in the end there was just the one sensible choice.

Shoes. Obviously. It's not that they are anything spectacular, it's that they are mine, the fruit of my very own guts slogging. A young friend christened them my smart shoes, and I am pretty sure they actually do raise my IQ by a good 10 points everytime I wear them. Or is that my height by 10mm?

And? As part of my study this year I get to write a thesis on creativity and blogging.  It feels like cheating and pretending, like I get to play 'school'.  I'm pretty sure there is a rule against research topics being that much fun.

The salad. Also low on the spectacular scale, and also all mine. Well, Iona's.  She planted, picked and chopped everything in it, and thinks it well worth its own piece of internet glory. I think she's right.  For sure, it tasted good.

Sisters

I can't remember the exact story behind these pictures.  It went something like: one sister sits on the other, the first sister objects loudly and with much indignation, the second sister is asked to get off, to which she also objects loudly and with much indignation.

The mystery as to why one would want to sit on one's sister in the first place remains unsolved.

Sowing

It's a holiday Monday, and we spent part of the morning in the garden, which is to say, I watched while Warren and Iona spent part of their morning in the garden.  I do some of my best work that way. The marigolds that were planted for pest control are our best crop, but the tomatoes sprouted a respectable harvest, and we are on to our second lettuce sowing. There may only be a single cucumber on the cucumber vine, but it is one hell of a cucumber.

I think I know why it is that people who garden tend to live longer. Even from a distance, every time a new plant goes in the ground I can feel the hope for the future that goes in with it.

Dances with raindrops

Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough. ~ Emily Dickinson

Christmas

There was food. We ate it. Good presents, excited children, lots of happy things. For myself though, I like Boxing Day better. It's calmer, more relaxing. We slept in late, went to the movies, had pizza for dinner. Today we are gardening, though in my world what that really means is half-heartedly planting a couple of things in the vain hope they will grow. I am rubbish at gardening.

I haven't much been in the zone these holidays. All week I have been distracted with thoughts of 2012; I'm not sure why, 2011 isn't done with yet. To get through another graduate year, and three more after that, however, I know I need to be more intentional in what I do and how I do it than I have been. I suppose, in a kind of way, it's similar to gardening. If I don't give the values and goals that matter most to me the time and attention they need, they will likely be smothered by the metaphorical weeds.

Profound.

I like the idea of completing 2011 first, though, and there is a worksheet created for this purpose by Andrea Scher and Jen Lemen that you can download for free here. Rituals are useful. We need rituals. I am going to fill mine out today (sans the out-loud declaration. I am sure people do that and I am equally sure none of them are me), and then I am going to write down what I want out of 2012. After that, I will chop my list in half, and then half again, while lowering my expectation by two-thirds. That will probably put things into the realm of achievable. Maybe.

Hope your holidays have been good to you, and may 2012 bring you whatever it is you need the most.