Country folk seem to use their mailboxes express themselves. While homes tend to be set a half acre back from the road 'round here, mailboxes are prominently positioned by the road. Why not give them a bit of character? I think I will begin a series: A Collection of Country Mailboxes. If the box reflects the person, what kind of person lives at this address?
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
My cousin, upon visiting our old home on Havelock, once commented; "It's so bohemian..." Truth be told, I didn't know what to make of the comment at the time. Was my home garish and loud, like a bad stereotype of a gypsy caravan? Further reflection, and increased familiarity with this style of decor, has helped me embrace the bohemian in me, (decoratively speaking, that is). I love the sharp bursts of colour, and the odd, unconventional way they are thrown together. there's no harm in a little colour... or a LOT!
Monday, April 28, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
I was asked to create a lantern about her "travels in Austria": Two beautiful buildings, snow-capped mountains, greens and burnt orange, rolling hills, a lady with her guitar, (see the real lady with her guitar in the third photo collage)... I think I fit it all in.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Skritch skrath skritch skratch. The sound was startling and unpleasant. My first thought, making it all to clear I've never fully recovered from our summers at Havelock, was that it was a squirrel inside the house, frantically trying to get out. But, upon closer examination, it occurred to me that it might be an animal stuck in the stove pipe. Sure enough, once it gave up the struggle to climb back up the way it came, a little black bird plopped down into the ash-filled stove.
Aidan was the first to donn the beat-up leather work gloves. But it became very clear that I was better suited to the task. While his strategy involved a large cardboard box combined with impossible speed and a lot of luck, I figured it did not have to be so complicated. I decided to put on the gloves, gently slip my arm in and scoop the bird into my hand. Done!
The boys just loved this little episode from start to finish. Well, ok, not from the alarming skritch-scratchy beginning, but the remainder of it. The release was a thrill. Perversely the long-suppresses wildlife biologist in me longs for another trapped bird. Chances are good I will get my wish, so. . . I decided to give the stove a good cleaning. Next bird with be released with decidedly cleaner wings.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
My second design & decor style-board for our basement. I'll call it Wood & Amber. The boys vote for this one but I have my reservations: 1. It's an old style in a new house. I have reluctantly admitted to myself that, try as we might, we can't make our house take on a rustic, aged look when it's brand new. I doubt we'd achieve the look, no matter how much money we put out. Which brings me to my second point; 2. Wood is more expensive than cheap stuff painted black. To see my previous Jazz Palette *CLICK*.
Monday, April 14, 2008
My dad uncovered this gem last year. It is his father's family back during WW1. The reason it is so precious to me is that I see so much of me and my siblings in these faces! Do you?
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
We all gathered at Ness and Cory's to welcome Henry home. After being cooped up in a truly unpleasant hospital room for days, Ness was more than happy to have us. We ladies all piled into the living room to chat while the men gathered downstairs to do man things, (involving cigars and the BBQ etc.) I think, at one point, each of us were moved by the beauty of the moment: four dear friends, four mothers, four babies all packed into one room. The future feels charged with the possibility of so much joy.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Thursday, April 03, 2008
I cannot hide my many failings from my innermost circle of friends and family. That I am often unaware, scatter-brained, suffering from bouts of short-term memory loss with growing frequency is no surprise to them. But I can generally get away with appearing somewhat collected to the outside world. Yeah, I've got four kids under five. No problem! They leave the house fully dressed--usually--with their hair brushed at least 30% of the time. And they rarely have globs of jam on their cheeks. But sometimes, I just plain give myself away. . .
. . .like when I lock them all in the van at the mall.
Let me plead my case! I pulled into a spot directly line with the entrance. It was a chilly day, so I wanted direct access to the door. How's that for maternal foresight, right? Then I got out of the van, and set about kitting myself out in this fancy baby carrier. Maybe in was one of the straps, maybe it was my flailing arms as I wrestled with the complicated baby apparatus, but somehow my door got locked. And then it swung shut. It wasn't me, I swear, the van must have been parked on a slant.
Tug. My door won't open. I move to the sliding door. Tug. Won't budge. Now I'm frantic. Run to the other side of the van. Tug. TUG! Trying to breathe. Scan the parking lot. Spot a responsible looking woman with a toddler getting into her car. I think, she's clean, well dressed, and has a kid in tow, I'll trust her-- "Hi! Can you PLEASE help me? I've locked my kids in the van. Do you have a cell phone?" The woman most helpfully mentions that she just heard about a free service the mall offers for unlocking vehicles. What?! She offers to watch the boys. I run as fast as I can, keeping in mind I'm still on post-C-section-take-it-easy orders. Get to the help desk. Try not to cry as I explain my predicament. The ladies are incredibly kind considering I feel I deserve jail time. They send me back out to wait with my boys.
I peek through the windows as best I can, (stupid tint), and see that the baby is sleeping, Gabriel is wide-eyed but ok, and tears are streaming down Elijah's cheeks. Of course he's crying. Mom's run off and a strange, though well dressed, woman is hovering outside his window. I yell through the glass; I'm so silly Lij! I can't open the doors! Someone is coming to help me. Aren't I so silly? He nods, pops his thumb in his mouth and sits contentedly. Silly is something he knows I do well.
Minutes later three men come by with walky-talkies. Actually, thinking back, it was two men in official yellow coats, sporting security badges, and one shaggy looking teen who really looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Little brother perhaps? Anyways, the security guys tell me the "lock guy" is on his way. They assure me this happens often: "Once every few months," they say, (Often?!), and "I shouldn't feel too bad." One even took off his coat and had me put it on. "I don't know if yellow's your colour but it's warm."
Too make this long story a bit shorter, ten minutes later, Lock Guy pulls up, opens a case full of metal gadgets and pops open the lock on my door. It's actually alarming how easily he does it. He takes my address, (so now I'm thinking maybe this "free" service may not be so free), and me and my boys carry on with our day.
JUST SO YOU KNOW:As Lock Guy was getting into his car, he got a call: someone on the third floor of the mall's parking garage now had need of his services!
AND:Two weeks ago one of my dear friends confessed to having done the very same thing with her friends son.
To read "One of the special people" Part 1 Click *HERE*.
Just another episode in the life of a mom who's almost always calm, but nearly never collected.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
I simply HAD to share these fantastic creations. I have taken to calling them Pillow Dogs. These quirky canines were presented to my four children a few days ago by my mom-in-law. Apparently the pattern came from an old Dutch sewing magazine our Aunt Corrie has had in her possession for quite some time.