apples for poppy anne

  {crinkle comfort blankets available in my shop sometime today}

Here I sit at our old pine table on a most wonderful autumn day with cold fingers and a whipping wind.  Poppy is sleeping against my chest and I am wearing thick, striped, wool socks and layered yellow.  Listening to Yeasayer's Tightrope for what must be the 56th time since yesterday morning, I can't help but think to myself that it is time for some change and focus.

You may have noticed that I have been tweaking the look around here lately and it is beginning to feel a bit more like a space of my own.  I have, in my sidebar, links to my etsy shop, my blurb book, my flickr, a link to the talent that designed the new banner for both the blog and the shop, a fascinating map to show where my readers are coming from, blogs I love to visit and one of the most fun features is a list of links to love where I will share my favourite finds from the interwebs.

I have decided to take a hiatus from the weekly "it begins with a colour" challenge.  I can't give you a good reason other than the simple fact the I feel I need to.  I realize that I don't do well with writing specific things on specific days; it cramps my style and my process.  It has left me feeling a bit drained with the obligations of artist interviews, snail mail, photo challenges and promoting of others that I have little time to just write unabashedly and with occassional frivolity.  Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed these things very much and don't feel resentful in any way, but they have begun to take too much time away from my own living and writing.  It is time to give my time to knitting, sewing, mothering, wife-ing, baking and exploring. 

Rather than this being a place I avoid because I don't feel inspired enough to even attempt challenging or inspiring others, I would like it to be my place for my own trials and tales.   So I am reclaiming this space for myself by letting go of obligations and writing from the heart and maybe letting my freak-flag fly every once in a while.  Perhaps that will be inspiration enough or perhaps I will lose readers, but whatever the outcome I know I will be ok as long as I have my words to write, a family to love, bread to bake and friends to laugh with. 

Thank you for understanding and I do hope you will continue to follow my adventures in homemaking and creating.

 

On a lighter note, the Apples for Poppy Anne Shop is officially open for business though the shelves are a bit stark.  Stocking shelves in an etsy store is proving to be a rather tedious job what with taking photos, re-sizing photos, writing descriptions, setting prices, organizing my thoughts, and figuring out shipping costs.  My plan is to add a few items each day so be sure to keep checking back for updates as I have lots of lovely items looking for new homes!

As a delayed sort of celebration, I am also planning a little giveaway for my loyal readers in the coming days, so stay tuned for a chance to win some Apples for Poppy Anne goodness!

 

e.

For all that has been, thank you.
For all that will be, yes.

It is in the earliest hours of a day that its potential rests.  Smooth mugs, damp grass and young sun.  Cool breezes and quiet potential.  It is much like the top of the ferris wheel where time seems to pause, if only for a moment, and you dangle.  You feel the wind in a way that is rare.  You see the world from a different angle.  It is in this quiet and still moment that you prepare for the descension into your day and activities demanding your attention.

Although circumstances don't always allow for cup of coffee or journal writing, these are my favourite ways to start a day.  I have many mugs and can't help but love this  oversized, white mug (despite the corporate logo *le sigh*).  There are many mornings I use my handmade pottery mugs glazed in soft blues and greens  while some days call for the bright red or orange variety.  Needless to say, the mug choice is important to me, but the quiet contemplation and written moments while Poppy plays are what make my mornings remarkable.

This week's challenge is to capture a morning ritual.  Where do you find your peace for the day?

e.

P.S. Remember, today at noon is the cut off time for participation in The Great Snail Mail Revolution!  We are well into the 40's now so it should be fun!

This week's photo challenge is to photograph a beloved nook or cranny of your home, yard, or garden.  A space that makes you grateful.  Capture the warmth, simplicity, personality or whatever it is you love about the space.  Take a moment and think about how blessed you are to have what you have.

This is a simple photo of a simple moment. Yet, I am learning that simple can quickly turn into  profound.   I have mentioned before that this house is not our forever home.  We dream of a country home with a front porch and tall trees.  There are so many dreams and hopes for the future, but right now all I have is all I need.  A wild garden with red tomatoes and bean blossoms; a most loving husband, and sweet babe to snuggle, and a full clothesline.

This makes me quiet and grateful.

e.

This week's challenge is a bit different again, but I hope you enjoy it as much I have.

A few weeks ago, a dear friend emailed me with an idea she had found in this woman's book "How to Be an Explorer of the World".  You are to find an old photo of someone you do not know and write a short biography for them.  You can use photos you already have, photos from old books, purchase them from second hand stores or even use google images {though I am unsure of any copyright issues that may lurk there}. 

I have always been curious about the old photos you often find in antique shops and church thrift stores.  I often wondered about their journey and how they ended up on an ornate little plate in a second hand store.  As these sorts of things often go, the rather haunting photos where nowhere to be found in local stores and so I turned to Etsy.  I found this little store with tons of great photos perfect for this challenge and bought two sets entitled "Couples" and "Matrons".

Before you read on, study the picture of the woman.  Define her traits and quirks and give her a name.  Think about it for a few moments and then read on to hear my version of this woman and her life.

As always, check out Flickr for last week's submissions as well as previous entrieslinked in the comments of each challenge.  If you are interested in joining, is is open to everyone so just send me a request via Flickr and I will gladly accept!

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Meet Madge.

Despite her rumpled and somewhat gruff appearance in the above photo, Madge was a gentle woman with a whimsical soul.  She had a difficult childhood as her mother fell into a deep depression after the birth of her youngest brother Charles.  Madge never understood her Mother's cool demeanor and found comfort in her father's presence and in nature.  She loved her father deeply and her fondest memories were of time spent with him and her siblings.  It was from her father that she learned a great love and respect for fairies and gnomes and their intricate worlds.

This was a love she was sure to pass onto her three children.  She spent many afternoons exploring with the children in the woods, looking under mushroom caps and asking toads for directions.  They had many chance encounters with the elusive fairies and gnomes as they trusted her and her children. 

Madge loved baking bread, in fact, that is just what she was doing moments before this picture was taken as her husband good naturedly dragged her out into the yard so he could try out their city-folk cousin's new fangled camera where the light was best.  Madge never concerned herself much with outward appearances and secretly loved it when the wind would loosen wisps of her hair from her practical bun and make it dance upon her head.  She loved red stained fingertips from picking wild raspberries along the lower road.  She looked forward to the children running ahead and into the forest until she was all alone in her quiet contemplation of the importance of sunshine and dessert.  While thinking of these things, she would often slip off her shoes and sink into the damp squish of the deep ditch where the rain collected, place a sun-warmed berry in her mouth, and raise her face to the sky.

As one can plainly see, Madge was a dreamer and a romantic, but lucky for her, so was her husband.  John was a short, fat man with playful brown eyes.  He loved to tease the children and pinch Madge's bum at every opportunity.  He spent most of his days tinkering in the barn inventing both useful and not so useful gadgets and hoped he would one day strike it rich.  You see, John felt terrible that his house was not a stately one that Madge could be proud of and show off and he wished to give her a housekeeper so she could spend her days exploring and writing.  But Madge never complained, and he loved her all the more for that.  He kept this photo in his breast pocket long after her death and thought her to be the most stunning woman he had ever set eyes upon.

Madge loved many of her wifely duties such as sewing and baking, but wasn't one for housework.  The house was always warm with fresh bread or cooked roast on the air and though it was untidy, friends and family were always welcome.  These friends and family thought John and his rumpled wife to be quite eccentric and unconventional, but couldn't deny just how well mannered the children were, how delicious the food always was, or how much they laughed and smiled while visiting these kind people living deep in the woods.

Some may say she lived an unremarkable and forgettable life, but Madge and those who loved her, knew the difference.  She died tragically while swimming at a church picnic near the falls just outside of town.  She swam out to explore an island that had always caught her eye and was never seen again.  She was 72; an explorer until the end.

Her callused hands and dancing hair live on and become grander and grander with each generation who tells the tale of this rather remarkable woman.

e.

This week's photo challenge seems fitting for my state of mind as of late.  I feel as though I am beginning to lose focus with too much emphasis on the end product.  Losing focus and direction in my writing and crafting.  Too many things whirring and whizzing around in this curly-mopped head.  I am days behind, uncertain of where to go next, hoping that it all works out, forgetting to take my own advice.

But through it all, I am reminded of one of my favourite quotes: "Just when we feel we will never smile again, life comes back.".  Afterall, it is a good blur of babies and colour and craft mixed with unknowns and deep-seated fears about to be broken, but a blur nonetheless!

This week, embrace the blur and trust that it will all come back into focus in good time.

Note to "it begins with a colour..." members:

I am sensing a wane in interest and enthusiasm for the "it begins with a colour..." photo hunt these days.  I know summer is fleeting; I am admittedly seduced into her sultry embrace these days, but perhaps Fall will bring a renewed sense of routine.  I do see it as a healthy creative challenge {if only for myself and a handful of lovely peeps who still play along} and will continue on with the challenge for now.  If you have any suggestions or ideas I would love to hear them and incorporate them into future photo hunts!

For those still playing along, check out Flickr and previous submissions found via links within each week's comments!

e.

My apologies, for I am a day behind.  Where that day went, I have no idea.

Overwhelmed by a congested babe, crafting, listing, and swirling tufts of dog hair, I was at my wit's end.  So to look up at the end of the day and see Mike standing on the front step with hand picked flowers from the garden at work to surprise me was most magical.  It didn't make me less tired or overwhelmed, but it did make me stop and devour the sweet breath of hydrangeas with warm heart.  I watched an ant make his way through the leaves and petals and thought about how wonderful it would be to call a flower home.  All of this quiet meditation and gratitude because of one simple act of thoughtful love.

This week's photo challenge is to capture thoughtfulness.  It can be something grand or something small.  It could be something that stops you in your tracks or gives you a warm smile.  Write about it, photograph it, be grateful for moments of kindness and then pay it forward in a way you see fit.

Check out last all other blogged submissions by checking comments here and check flickr out too!

e.

it begins with a colour...

I spy with my little eye...

something that is red.

 

The above photos taken at the opening of my very talented Aunt's {Cheryl Ellenberger} art studio.  She is also in the future artist feature line-up so you can look forward to that, but in the meantime, you can check out her blog or if you are in the Bancroft area, make the climb up Cleak Avenue!

This week's challenge is simple. 
Find a mess and then find the beauty in it. 
Find peace in the wabi sabi.
Let go of everything you were told about messes.
Embrace disorder. 
Take a picture.
Then clean it up if you must.

e.

p.s. Check out last week's submissions at Flickr and follow the links found here {found in comments of each post} to the lovlies who blogged along with us!

 

This week's photo/creative challenge is to capture  happiness spilling over.

This photo was taken in an "ah-ha" moment of sweet realization that my life is perfect and that happiness is what I have.

Rationally I know that I am blessed, but it is so easy to get caught up in the tiny details, the dishes, the laundry, the swirling dog hair, and the tedious things Mike and the pets do to drive me nuts.  Of course I have regrets and sure, I could always have a little more money, less bills, be a bit thinner, or have smoother skin.  But when you are lying under a tree with a bowl full of strawberries and cream reading Anne of Green Gables aloud to a beautiful nursing baby, none of that seems to matter.

I am married to my most kindred soul and mama to the prettiful Poppy.  I am getting paid to be a stay at home mama and have a good feeling that I will be able to continue to stay home at the end of the year.  All day, I get to do anything and everything that I have ever wanted to do with my days.  Bake, sew, take photos, write, cook, knit, visit, walk, decorate, hang clothes on the line, putter in the garden, wander, and nap; all with my baby watching from the grass or on my hip.

I am going to be a vendor at the local folk festival,I am finding my photographic style and have finally created a book of my own {though only through blurb.com, it is still a goal accomplished} and .  I am learning something new everyday and, biggest of all, I am putting myself out there.

We have let go of passive aggressive "friendships" and, in turn, have opened the door to welcome new, supportive and fun friendships while deepening existing ones.

We have money in the bank and a growing savings account.  Every month our debts get a little smaller while incurring no new ones.

We have not only one set of parents, but four who do nothing, but support, believe and encourage us in the directions we wish to go with our family and life.

We have a roof that doesn't leak, a garden to feed us, a freezer full of organic fare, quiet neighbours, a reliable car, trees to sit under, and tootsie pops in the cupboard.

For the first time in a very long time, I feel sated; I am, for once, not chasing anything; I am still and want for nothing.  I have somehow tapped into a vein of intent and purpose and feel empowered.

I know that I will be blessed throughout my life and travels with yet unimagined decadence and goodness and find it hard to believe that the best is yet to come, but it is; for this is just the beginning.

"today i will be happier than a bird with a french fry."  What is your french fry?

e.

Dear Erin;

Yesterday I watched a small bird, flying very fast, disappear into the canopy of an oak tree. So dense were its leaves that it was impossible to see what happened next, though I can tell you it remained inside.

I wondered how the little bird found its opening through the leaves at such a speed, and then managed to gently align its fragile body on the branch it chose to land upon, all within a fraction of a second. Not to mention the impossible to imagine flying maneuvers required: the banking, the curling, the vertical and horizontal stabilizations, the deceleration and landing.

Memory? Calculation? Not in that tiny brain. Instinct? Maybe, but how does instinct know which way the branches of a tree have grown when no two are the same?

erin, that little bird just knew. It had faith, in spite of not being able to see how things would work out, that if (and only if) it stayed the course the details would be taken care of; that an opening would appear and a twig would be found. In fact, had she slowed down enough to carefully and logically inspect the tree first, the prudent thing to do, she would have lost her lift and fallen to the ground.

Kind of like reaching for your dreams. Neither memory, nor calculating, nor instincts are the deciding factors, but faith coupled with action.

Tallyho,
    The Universe

A couple of years ago, I signed up for this free "Notes From the Universe" program in which you get a little nudge or love note from the Universe each day.  You can sign up at Tut.com if you are interested.  Some days are better than others and some just hit the nail on the head.  Like the one above.  I received this one yesterday and wondered how I chould share it with you in a more creative way.  So I have decided to put it in the form of a "it begins with a colour..." challenge for everyone. 

What dreams are you over- thinking?  What actions do these words provoke?  What does this inspire you to do?

P.S. Check out last week's submissions at Flickr and at last week's post. 

P.P.S.  If you are just joining us, you can view all challenges here.

e.