Saturday, April 21, 2018

fruition


Some dreams are too poignant and precious to put into words. Like delicate bubbles, they are fragile. To expose them to the light of day too soon might threaten to burst the exquisite sense of anticipation. Of possibility.
To talk about personal ideas publicly threatens to belittle them. Unuttered, they are like hidden treasure, buried safely away where words cannot express something too deep for words.
I have held a dream in my heart that God has tucked safely away for decades. Until now, it has not been the right season. Like a bulb, buried in the earth, the dream is about to burst forth and blossom.
It is hard to comprehend. Now it is finally time.  I am about to embark on something so wonderful I can hardly speak of it and put it ‘out there’.
But the motivation behind sharing is to inspire you to dream of your own adventure and put the hard work in to make it a reality.


Flowers can transport you. In my case, they really are taking me places. Flowers have bought my ticket to travel. Well, actually, my husband’s ticket.
I have longed to go to Europe since before I met Andrew. He said we would go together one day.
Now we are –  35 years later.
It became my catchcry. Andrew is not as keen to travel as I am, but I said if I bought his ticket, he couldn’t say no!
That has been the reason behind growing hundreds of flowers to sell these past two years.
To take him to Italy.
How can a full-time, home schooling mother of eight children living in a rural area make some money to contemplate the possibility of travelling? How can I earn some funds to explore this big wide beautiful world?
Do what you can with what you’ve got where you are.
That’s my motto.
I live in an area with deliciously rich soil, plenty of water and I love gardening.
So I grew flowers!
Commit your plans to the Lord and He shall bring them to pass.
I did and He has.
He is the caretaker of the deepest desires of our hearts. If something is meant to be, those hopes and dreams are safe with Him. He sifts and sorts our plans and ideas as we walk with Him and follow His lead. God is never in a hurry. He has work to accomplish in the preparation. Those three words….In The Meantime. Oh!! Those loooonnnnggg meantimes. The waiting. The wondering. The doubts, the questions. The chaffing as He polishes us and refines the very essence of our character. The lessons in trust and patience.
The peace that can only come when we trust God’s perfect timing.       
I do not want to wait until my children are grown and leave home to fulfil the longing for adventure. It will be awhile off yet! Eight children, roughly two years apart.
I actually want to have some fun with them along the way! We can explore together and share the journey!
I like their company. And I hope they don’t mind mine. I don’t think they will say no to Paris, London or Rome.
Even writing those words is surreal.
I am pinching myself. Paris? London? Rome?
Europe? Moi?
This time tomorrow, the four of us will be winging our way across to the other side of this great big beautiful world to explore together.
My husband and me with our two youngest children as a grand hurrah to homeschooling for 25 years.
Home educating is multi faceted. It is not one dimensional. Books and pages and words.
Education can be so much more. Experiences bring learning to life. To travel is to open up a whole new world.
I am excited not to be a tourist. I just want to absorb other cultures. To listen and touch and smell and taste and see that the Lord is good over there too. To watch people live their lives in another culture. Italians. French. To revisit the Scottish and the English and introduce my children to places that seem so familiar because we have read about them together since they were babies.
Visiting Britain was like walking into books I’d grown up with and then shared with my children. I am looking forward to sharing those familiar places, especially Arthur Ransome’s Lake District. We shall definitely be messing about in boats.
Au revoir!

Photos by Briony Scotton




Monday, October 23, 2017

sunday afternoons

When was the last time you pulled up a chair and sat in the sunshine? 
We are meant to enjoy being in our garden. To simply be. Not do. I am pretty good at turning a blind eye to 'to dos'. I think that's a gift, just quietly. If I waited until everything was ticked off, I would never relax!
This sunny spring weather beckons me outdoors.
Last week was big. I actually wrote down everything that happened and nearly hyperventilated. It wasn't busy. It was big. A friend's death and then funeral, extended family visiting leading to my dad's 80th birthday party, family issues and even the dog getting pregnant from Jo Blo up-the-road. (stressful) There's always something going on! Saying farewell to my daughter going off to Africa for nine weeks in the midst of preparing church music, having young adults to stay and hosting a homeschooling afternoon sharing a lesson in watercolour painting. Phew.
Sunday afternoon was a time to breathe.
I kicked off my shoes and sat outside with a cuppa and a book. Then opened my art eyes and got inspired by this gorgeous Vulcan magnolia in all its magenta glory. I actually did some sketching!
It was bliss.

pretty imperfection


Heavy rain - as in ONE FOOT of rain (300mls) this month has been fantabulous.
It was so hot and dry in September that we were desperate. The season forgot it was spring and thought it had skipped ahead to summer!
The little patch of delphiniums was parched and struggling. We bought half a tank of water for the first time since we moved here 18 years ago, just to keep the garden alive and hoped to pull through the flowers we had invested in.
Then it rained and I thought they would drown!
They sprouted in all directions and became so sodden, the heavy stems bent under the weight of the flowers.
I picked up two soggy stems that had snapped off short and put them in a tiny vase. The colours were surreal. Beautiful shades of blue tinged with mauve.
They made my fingers tingle to capture them in this little watercolour painting.
They remind me not to underestimate the beauty of imperfection.
We tend to reject something if we compare it to what it should look like.
Appreciate something on its own merit.
It can stand tall alone.
It doesn't have to measure up to something else.



I am just a dabbler in art. There sure is plenty of room for improvement!
I have given myself permission to appreciate all that I am learning and practicing. 
To enjoy the journey.
It is so much fun to splash gorgeous colours around.
I don't want to spoil my own enjoyment by comparing myself to others - especially experts who have studied art and painted for years. 
It just makes me happy!
And I am surprised how it touches others with a breath of fresh air because it is loose and light and breezy.
Do something that makes your heart sing this week. 
You don't have to be an expert in whatever it is you want to try.
Relax and enjoy the process.




rugosa roses




Rugosa roses are lovely. The rich colour and scent is something special. I remember reading in the beautiful cookbook "Rose Petal Jam" by Beata Zatorska, that her Polish grandmother made rose petal jam out of this variety.
I noticed a different kind of beauty here once the petals fell and before the blooms turned into a rosehip.
I like these quirky spiky bits.
We get so fixated on a finished product that we overlook the process. 
We disregard the different stages. 
The garden communicates all sorts of messages when I listen.
What is your garden telling you this week?

spring cleaning



We are doing a major overhaul here at our place.
Recently, I was head down, tail up, cleaning out disgusting, black mucky sludge from the base of the fountain. 
Not very elegant. And the smell? Hooeee! 
(Thank goodness for lovely Crabtree and Evelyn hand scrub for gardeners.)
Gardening sure ain’t  glamorous.
You wouldn’t think so, looking at this idyllic pic would you?



Maintenance is not my strong point. I’m an ideas gal. 
I like the theory of a pretty fountain. Long term practicality however, includes maintenance.
I'd noticed ours was not fountaining as it should be. I thought the pump was the problem.
Turns out, a fountain gets all clogged up with the go-slows when mucky sludge blocks the inflow and output.
It needs to be emptied, pulled apart and cleaned out before we can put it back together, fill it up and reconnect the power.
Does that sound familiar?
Sometimes we need to be emptied, pulled apart and cleaned out to be filled up and reconnected to the power source.
I think my heart might need a revamp.
The sludge of comparison, envy, insecurity and frustration is clogging my arteries. I feel weak and heavy laden.  I’d better take it to the Lord in prayer.
Spring cleaning time.


Monday, June 12, 2017

random acts of kindness

You cannot put God in a box.
He often surprises us and sometimes answers prayers that we don’t even utter.
The garden has had the upper hand this year. Big pruning and hedging work has needed doing for months and it has been so overwhelming, it makes me want to run away from home!
I look at all the work that is beyond me, sigh, and go and make (another) cup of tea!
There is a dearth of gardening help in our local vicinity. Those green VIP guys don’t come out our way. My capable son is working elsewhere and my hubby is out of action with a bung shoulder.
A few months ago, I wondered how I could find a WOOFer (workers on organic farms) – the only trouble is, we’re not really organic!
Then along came Nicolas.
God just dropped a new friend into our family, courtesy of our capable son who suggested I might like a hand in the garden in return for a place to stay for a week or two.
(I think Tim was relieved he didn’t have to do the hedges.)
Nicolas is from France. He finished his agricultural studies and is spending a year travelling in Australia experiencing various work opportunities. He met Tim working for friends on the cotton harvest.
It is amazing what an energetic young guy can do in a few days!
He has been so willing and enthusiastic, it has blessed our socks off.
Pictured below : Nicolas helping our youngest son with a bridge building project.



There are many fine young people in this next generation. Cheerful, honest and trustworthy.
Despite the negative news reports bombarding our senses, there is so much good in this world.
Let’s focus on the positives.

“There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t met yet.” William Butler Yeats



Tuesday, May 30, 2017

sit still



It seems surreal to sit still this morning.
As I prepare to share my stories with a roomful of younger mummies in the thick of babies, toddlers, pre-schoolers, middle úns and teens, it does not seem so long since I was in such an intense season of motherhood.
I sip hot tea in the quiet and almost want to pinch myself.
How can this be? I am a mother of eight children!
All those years of clamour and being needed and woken by little ones, thinking it would never end. Now it is such a contrast. My youngest two are older and often sleep in. I let them. Our days tend to be longer at the other end.
I savour and soak in the morning peace.
 I have grandbabies to cuddle now, but not in the middle of the night.
I want to reassure these dear mums that "this too shall pass". Not with a trite platitude, but to encourage them to embrace this season and make the most of any moment to sit still. Not to fill up the cracks of time with distracted busyness, but to stop and notice the joy of today. Even while folding endless washing. Even if it is at four oçlock in the morning. It can be a gift to have that opportunity to relish the calm in the house and (sleepily) gaze into the face of this precious baby in your arms.There is always much to be thankful for. 
I don't miss those years. I treasure them. I loved the crazy, full days. Draining every ounce of energy, but fulfilled in believing that pouring into my family mattered.
I want to cheer mothers on. It is so worthwhile to love our precious little ones through a beautiful childhood. Giving each child a solid foundation. A springboard for the adventure of their lives.

"Home is where your story begins" 
Annie Danielson