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Showing posts from June, 2010


I haven't much to report, l haven't anything to write about
perhaps l am more chilled than l realize, so all l can tell you is that l have been quietly doing things
... drinking tea, eating toast with Jeremy Vine and fiddling in the front 'garden
an overgrown 12' x 4' frontage

being home means l have been able to create this...  in what was an overgrown wasteland...

removing all the 'growth' l found this rockery underneath  which a neighbour tells me was a previous owners pride and joy             
                                               so four hours work. and this is more presentable...

time out

I have some time on my hands,   my doctor has signed me off work for 4 weeks  and I am under instructions to relax,  be kind to myself and to let things wash over me. 
In the last few months I have probably done a little too much coping, much hiding in my work and a bit too much overtime,  now I find that l am facing an impenetrable brick wall
So I intend to do as l am told, enjoy without guilt some morning lay ins, some must do walking and cycling in the evenings,  with a rest on my favourite bench,
breathing in deeply of my surroundings
(my bike resting in Rickerby Park, Carlisle)
I have organised my paints and pastels, bought a couple of fresh canvases and even had a stab at a large pastel landscape

I am all signed up on courses including Tai Chi and Shiatsu l intend to spend many hours in my healing place, my new secret garden literally smelling the old roses!


a selection of trees probably a century old or more from within my secret garden

l wonder  how many trees can be named  from this silhouette of leaves

 l love looking skyward  and being under the canopy of branches

solid, old, strong, wise, dependable is this the tree or what l'm looking for...
old trees bring out the hugs in me...

Miscellaneous Monday

as l stopped by the window and filled the kettle for a brew I was drawn to the symmetrical composition  outside the kitchen window
twin parked almost identical cars made a strangely pleasing sight

What am I?

In an art gallery the other day, a canvas hung with text listing the roles in one persons life. Entitled. What am I? As opposed to, who am I?

I always wonder about that. Am I what l feel l am? What l think l am? Or what people perceive me to be? I believe l am all these things and more, much more. I'm not sure if l even wish to be defined. I certainly do not need to be. I know l am ever changing, never the same, inconsistent yet consistently true to myself.

Is it perception or reality? I feel there must be a constant, as it is innate. A shadow of love and life that connects to the family and friends way beyond any tag l could be given, any box into which l am placed.

I have had many roles, as myself and as other see me;in the workplace, in the home, friendships. I have always been in a front line... more by luck than judgement but there you are..

school girl, checkout girl, shampooist,
 hairdresser, shop girl
manager, area manager, fashion buyer fundraiser, trainer, counselor booksel…

Where, when, what...

... blatantly taken from Expat mum, who in turn got it from London mum

Where were you 5 years ago?
We were living in an old farmhouse, on a working farm, deep in rural Cumbria. 3 miles from the nearest shop, with cows our nearest neighbours. Surrounded by fields, our kids played in the gardens, lanes and fields safely. I ran them to and from town, a 30 mile round trip once, twice, three times a day. manic by day, laconic by night. I didn't realise how good it all was. How simple.

Where would you like to be in 5 years time?
Happier and pain free certainly.

5 snacks l like.
swizzels loillipops
strawberry shortcake Haagen Dazs

What is on your to do list today?
washing linens
lunch with french conversation
and any three of the above snacks

5 things to do if l become a billionaire (or millionaire, even thousandaire would be cool)
help children with facial disfigurements in third world countries
set up a trust to help cancer victims receive appropriate unavailable on nhs drug…

a key to the song of life

the doorbell rang
whilst England scored their first goal and the treasurer from the  Chatsworth Garden Residents' Committee handed me this key... my key

I took leave from the football match  and with camera in hand to capture and share with you
my first moments discovering my secret garden
the dusty original 1855  iron locks  on one of several gates

I am inside...

and locked the gate behind me... l think l spy a clearing..

l do...and wow!

and l see another...

and another smaller one... this one is 'only' 28 paces across

l am overwhelmed by its size it makes me think of the tardis, from the outside it appears smaller
another locked gate...

the light is amazing and it is nearly 9pm

there are five grassed areas, separated by a perimeter of bushes and trees...
this area is by far the largest...
old trees,  reach out high and over my head...

small moments

... these are the forces  which make up the power within the day that sustain and keep us from the darkness in our lives...
yesterday as l walked away, l had been draping the washing to dry  at the bathroom window full of  warm breezes,
l heard a tune a light melodious picking following me up through the hallway l slowly stopped, carefully turned and retraced my steps
lest it stopped entirely...
out of the window l watched amid the tangle of  fabric hung about .... I was enchanted and l saw a  man
can you?

The Secret Garden

As the weather gets better and the sun shines through
As the evenings get longer  and l struggle with the heat in the apartment (and my own fluctuating temperatures)
I long to be sitting quietly amongst the branches and the greenery of my own secret garden

this is Chatsworth Square a Victorian residential town square designed for the great and the good of Victorian Carlisle the garden is chained and locked, there only for the residents of the square
my road runs behind the square and  I can peek out over to this greenery from my kitchen and bathroom windows if l stretch and crane my neck

last week I wrote of the beckoning lilacs,  and how l  poached a handful of blooms 

the lush square offers four gates within its belt of  ironwork fencing north, south, east and west facing

this is the south gate ... which l dream would be my gate!

l peer through and covet the space seemingly unspoiled, lightly maintained not highly manicured

it calls to me l feel its pull, a tension as l walk past
a healing place to rest  to mend

I wait...

La joie venait toujours apres la peine.
Joy always came after pain.

G. Apollinaire