apples for poppy anne

I can't sugar-coat it all...

My heart aches for warmer days and an old house with far away neighbours.  Wide plank floors and a wooden screen door off the kitchen.  A big wrap around porch perfect for iced tea and late night chats.  Tall trees perfect for naps in hammocks and summer picnics.  A pond and an old wooden rowboat.

Pregnancy takes me to such a dark and melancholy place.  Instead of filling up with guilt and hating myself for feeling what I'm feeling, as I did in the first pregnancy, I am rolling with the punches and sinking into the warmth of it all.  Instead of wishing for this time to feel as miraculous as it actually is, I am tasting each and every aching morsel of it and just allowing everything to flow through me.  Hot tears fall while inadequacies bubble up and intermingle with belly laughs and a calm strength.

I would like to say that I have learned to love myself more since the last time, but I haven't.  My body is creating a human life complete with a spirit and all of its little teeth yet all I can do it look at how puffy my face looks and how dull my hair is.  I always manage to put myself off with the lie that I will learn to love myself later; when I am done with pregnancy; when I am thinner; when my hair grows out.  I would never lie to my husband or children the way I lie to myself nor would I deny them my love as I repeatedly do with myself.

Heather wrote about pregnancy as a long sea voyage we take to be united with the sweetest of souls and some of us just get more seasick than others and I like that way of looking at it.  It made me think of the words I wrote early in my last pregnancy: "...the juices and hormones slosh around as I lay shipwrecked on the bed the way nature intended perhaps for a woman to surrender fully to her body.  It brings her to her knees and reminds her that nature is in fact running the show..."

I am slowly realizing just how much I live and do for others while trying to fit it all into my own truth.  Perhaps it is the plague of an only child who never had a sibling's bad behaviour to distract people's attention from my own.  I began this blog to be a happy go lucky space for crafting and creating, but I can't deny the ugly stuff that still bubbles up and I can't help but put it into words.  And oddly enough, people respond just as much, if not more, to the truth and reality.  Everyday I learn how to be more real and honest despite the reactions I get and writing gives me that.  I can't write about perfect pantaloons and the gratitude without sometimes writing about the frustrations and the darkness.  I can't sugar-coat it all...it's just not who I am.

e.

P.S.  I so appreciated your encouragement with regards to the repeat c-section vs VBAC debate and would love to hear your detailed stories if you are willing and able to share.  Please email me at [email protected]

wishing it was time...

 

  

 

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this house since we happened upon her listing late Saturday night.

Beauty.

 

e.

Letting Go & Paper Lanterns

 
I am a bit of a hoarder...Ok, alright,  I am a lot of a hoarder. 

What began as a standard organizational sweep of our cluttered bedroom quickly turned into an overdue and slightly emotional purge.  I hold onto things for thinner days and fatter days; richer days and poorer days; rainy days.  I let go of beautiful and well crafted items that just weren't me anymore.  I let go of clothes that I loved in high school.  I let go of clothing that I bought in hopes I would one day fit into again.  I am not letting go of the goal of losing weight or someday being brave enough to wear that skirt and bare theselegs.  But in this moment I am drowning in stuff and the guilt of broken promises to myself.  Rather than feeling motivated, it was all making me feel worse about myself.  If I came across an item that was especially difficult to release, I reminded myself that by holding onto these items I was indirectly saying that there is a lack of abundance in this world and in my life. 

I release these beloved items out into the world so that others may give them good homes.  Abundance is about letting go and enjoying the flow.  I am creating space for the things that I really want and letting go of the items that weigh me down.

And so, to celebrate the abundant shelf space and the empty floor in our tiny closet I hung these festive paper lanterns above our bed.

e.

 {Above items available at Sycamore Street Press & Satsuma Lynn} 

 

I have been committing much of my time to finding my positive center.  I have returned to my large life-chart hanging in my happy studio space.  I have reopened scrapbooks filled with inspiring images of what I hope for and what I feel gratitude for.  My favourites include names like Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra, Louise Hay and may not be for everyone, but they are for me.

Through all of the listening I am gathering what resonates with me and creating a message that fits my needs.  Some of the main nuggets that I have come upon are these:

Say yes to the things that frighten and thrill you. 

Be grateful for the rain that has already fallen. 

Be open to the people coming into your life; the doors opening to new opportunities; and the clues along the way.

Follow each clue wholeheartedly and it will always lead you to the next clue.

I have said yes to taking photographs.  I have said yes to the photography course.  I have said yes to the craft shows.  I am saying yes to my creativity.  I am saying yes to new friendships.  All of this yea saying will ultimately bring the necessary people and circumstances into my life.

Shortly after I finished watching "You Can Heal Your Life", I found myself on Etsy and was drawn to a letterpress fortune teller listed in my favourite items.  I suddenly had a vision of myself in a small but beautiful workshop that opened out to a wide field next to our house in the country {our dream house}.  I was watching myself move with grace around a large old letter press.  I had a thick canvas apron on and ink stained fingers.  I was wearing a linen tunic and dark denim and could hear the intoxicating sound of paper on paper.  Tssk tssk.  Tssk tssk.  There were children laughing outside in the long grass and Mike was bringing me a cup of tea with the same destiny as the cold cloudy cup of coffee sitting on the wooden desk.  The afternoon sun sliced across the floor and crept through the wooden screen door.  It all provides a comfortable and artful life for us with many hours to spare for picnics under the trees and building fairy houses by the tiny creek.  I am calm, settled, and joyful.

I don't know the first thing about the art of the letterpress, but I do know that there is nothing I can't learn.  I don't feel a crazy sense of immediacy with this, but a gentle coaxing towards it.  A comfortable knowing that it is something I could feel at ease in.  And it fits me so well; a quiet perfectionist who often craves solitude and simple beauty.  I can't deny the thrill that runs through me when I see and touch beautiful paper that is more like beautiful fabric.  I can't help but buy large sheets of textured scrapbook paper even though I am not a scrapbooker.  Such a pure and ancient beauty in the same category as linen and wind.

Could it be that this is what I want to be when I grow up?

 

e.

Lemon Meringue Pie & A Workout

I awoke this morning with a new feeling; a feeling I haven't had in a really long time.  I woke up ready to work out.  I woke up feeling ready to move past my fears and in the direction of my dreams.  I woke up and didn't eat for breakfast, the dreamy little lemon meringue pie I made yesterday.  I woke up feeling prepared to do what it takes.  I woke up feeling done with being fat.

I have been struggling with the body that pregnancy has left me with.  I vowed to begin working out as soon as the baby was in this world; as soon as my feet resembled something other than potatoes; as soon as the nausea would allow me to eat a salad again.  But things took a wicked twist and I was taken out by an emergency C-section and long recovery.  Despite me being immobile, the weight began to drop off with breastfeeding alone.  I lost 40 of the 55 pounds in what seemed like weeks...melted...gone.  The procrastinator in me rejoiced and I put off formal exercise and diet for a later date.

Well that date has arrived and I have been stuck at this weight (15 pounds higher than my pre-pregnancy weight which was already above my ideal weight) for months now and it is getting old.  Seriously.  I am still breastfeeding and will continue to do so until February at minimum (another post could be written on this topic), but the frequency has dwindled during the days as I follow her lead. 

My goal is to lose 25 pounds.  Like Oprah, I can't believe I am still talking about this.  I can't believe I am still battling with this. 

Today feels different.  Maybe it is because I am coming out of the facebook fog, or maybe it is due to the sheer amounts of Wayne Dyer wisdom I have been listening to in the past week.  Whatever the reason, I woke up with a renewed outlook on the topic.  Instead of focusing on the end, I will focus on today.  Instead of looking at the huge task ahead, I will focus on the tiny decisions.  Each day I will arrive and feel well.  I will stop holding myself to impossible standards.  I will be patient and kind with myself.  I will celebrate the small triumphs.

Now lets just hope I wake up with a similar clarity tomorrow.

e.

I have decided to do a facebook detox. 

Although I love the reconnecting and networking I have been able to do with it I find it gnaws insatiably at my valuable time.  Time that will never return.  It is just a little too reminiscent of high school with its pettiness paired with barbed comments, and status updates.  So many souls {though definitely not all!} seeking validation.

In general, it is a rather curious website by which we can creep and sneak into other's lives and base opinions and comparisons upon our findings.   Some people are able to find a balance, but for others it becomes an strange addiction to status updates and what lost friends are doing in their spare time.  For me, it is the latter of the two and I can't seem to stay away from the mind numbing crack that is facebook.  

I may return to it or I may not.  I am committed to 21 days without it and see how I feel after the lame-ass drug is out of my system.  It is a rather daunting task to stay in touch without facebook.  After all, I don't even have the email addresses of one third of my friends and I don't do the telephone {though if I had one like this, perhaps I would be more inclined}.  But it is a tad bit sad if we are merely friends with others because it is effortless isn't it?

I must admit that it is a freeing feeling.  Like finally removing a cumbersome piece of furniture from your space. 

As for today...

Today is a grey day perfect for making hankerchief Christmas gifts and perusing my new books Carefree Clothes for Girls and Linen Cotton and Wool . 

Today, the streets and earth are drunk and fat with rain making the remaining orange and yellow leaves pop out of the otherwise muted landscape.

Today I signed up for a photography night course that focuses on natural and artificial lighting.  It begins tomorrow evening.

Today I will stop living in terms of status updates and replace negative with positive.

Today, the wind smells like freshly churned soil.

Today is for making apple crisp while listening to audio books.

Today I remember the quote "Your opinion of me is none of my business".

Today, it ends with me.

e.

I am moved by layers of denim, soft grey, and oatmeal.  Cinnamon sticks bubble with a quartered apple on the stove for a comforting air freshener.  Another batch of indian spiced squash soup awaits Mike's arrival home.  The wet fern came in from the cold wind to cozy up in her new winter nook.  Gramma's chair beckons me to sit and knit something warm, but I can't seem to sit still long enough what with baking, warm laundry and dancing in the kitchen with Poppy.

I find so much inspiration in other people's work and creations, but still struggle to find my place in it all.   Despite the peace, the plants, and the homemade food I can't seem to shake this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Alas, I am in deep need of driftwood, fall bouquets, and new oven mitts.

e.

 
  
  
I am flirting with the idea of trying my hand at photographing children as a tiny business {for lack of a better word}.

I have always felt most comfortable photographing inanimate objects and still lifes and never thought I would venture into photographing wildly unpredictable and hard to please humans.  Still life contains no pressure, and are easily manipulated.  But alas, here I am contemplating another fear in the name of staying home with my girl.

People have, on occasion, asked me  if I would be interested in doing a family portrait or casual weddings.  But my immediate reaction has always been to politlely decline, not because it doesn't interest me, but because it frightens me.

As you may have noticed I have a rather paralyzing case of self-doubt, but I am hammering away at it.  I am a big believer in the Universe and her signs and couldn't ignore the serendipitous moment that arose when a friend  asked playfully how much I charge on the very day that I began entertaining the idea.  I decided to offer a free photo session with her two beautiful children in exchange for me bcreating a sort of portfolio while building some sort of confidence in myself.  Worst case scenario she gets at least a few fun shots of her kids and I learn more about my abilities and limitations.

I am going to move into this slowly so as not to frighten my skittish self.

View more here.

Wish me luck!

 

e.

  {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.

Bonjour

We have returned from a most lovely Quebec City.  We had a wonderful time eating croissants and wandering the cobblestone roads and narrow streets.  The Chateau glowed as though it were some magical castle upon a hill as we meandered the foggy boardwalk at dusk.  It wasn't hard to imagine we were in Paris and we couldn't help feeling slightly envious of the city's inhabitants.  Every street with its very own soundtrack of harps and song.  We ate breakfast beside open windows with the clip-clop of horse's hooves outside.  Even the simplest greetings sounded like happy french songs to our english ears.  Everyone we encountered spoke english and sadly never challenged us to speak french. 

I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed with myself for retaining barely an ounce of the french I took in school everyday for 10 years or more.  How lame.  So Mike and I made a pact that we would make it our goal to learn the language once and for all; a goal we have both hoped to one day fulfill.

It was a lovely trip, but my heart ached for home.  You see, we recently inherited enough furniture and items from Gramma's house to refurnish our living room and beyond.  A couch and two antique chairs, a craft cabinet spattered with paint.  A spinning wheel and huge amounts of un-spun wool.  Cameras, jars, books and blankets.  I find myself burying my face into the cushions and blankets trying to commit the scent to memory as I know it will soon fade.  Salty tears mix with a pain I never knew takes my breath away when I realize I will never smell it again.  So I sleep under her blankets, knit in her chair and cook with her pans and quietly hope that she will one day visit Poppy with a message of love.

I finally rid our kitchen of teflon and plastic cooking utensils and began using Gramma's cast iron frying pan.  My eyes welled up as I made our first dinner and the heat released the smell of Gramma's cooking and home into my own kitchen.  Like the rings of a tree tells the tree's story, cast iron holds a homemaker's tale in its seasoned layers.

I don't know if it is the season or the comfortable antique chairs calling me to sit for a spell, but I am nesting like never before.  I have mentioned before that this house has felt impermanent to me, but with the addition of Gramma's things it somehow feels more complete and welcoming now.  I feel energized and rooted here now.  I sit in her chair and reacquaint myself with knitting projects tossed aside in the young days of spring.

Yesterday Mike and I made 11 jars of spicy salsa from our very own tomatoes (barely making a dent in the abundance) and 4 jars of organic apple butter.  I now know the sweet satisfaction of snapping lids of the resting jars.  I think we shall buy a preserve cupboard at the Farmer's Market for our treasures.

The end of my paid maternity leave is looming and I fight the panicky feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think of it so today will be dedicated to Etsy shop construction craft show searching.  There is something exciting and freeing about challenging ourselves to a frugal and simple life though.  I can't deny the thrill I get when I make something with my own hands or change an overripe banana's destiny to that of warm banana bread.  It is as though my body holds onto some sort of cell memory that responds and swells when I busy my hands and heart with the fading arts of homemaking.

I am exactly where I am meant to be.  I am grateful and perfectly happy.  I will begin to weave while trusting the Universe to provide me with the thread I need.  I trust this sated warm feeling in the pit of my belly to be contentment {finally} in fulfilling a life purpose.

P.S. See more of our trip photos here!

e.