Mosaic Monday

Inspired by the mosaics some of my friends have created, I went through my picture file to create one of my own. Thetis Lake Park is a small wilderness in the midst of suburbia. It's a great place for a walk, lounging on sandy beaches, or swimming (when the weather warms up).
Last year, our family went for a stroll around the lake. Sunlight filtering through trees, limpid water, delicate spring leaves, wildflower bursts of colour and the joy of being together. Wonderful memories.

More mosaics can be found here, at the Little Red House.

Bathroom Fixups

I really need to remember to take some before photos. I think of it halfway through painting. Anyway, this bathroom was painted that pinky beige that is unflattering in every way possible. Everything was painted this colour - even the trim, and the electrical cover plates and outlets. Now it's a sunny yellow colour.

I dribbled paint on a canvas this morning in the colours I wanted and lightly brushed it for a watery effect. I think I like it, we'll see. It can always be changed.

Glass bottles new and old line the windowsill, newly painted white. I am truly astounded at the difference white trim makes. Everything just brightens up. Definition appears. Love it.

We have a curly willow tree in our front yard. Alas, I think it's days are numbered due to roots in the drain tiles. However, I'm collecting the twigs that fall and if we do take the tree down, I'll be collecting many more. I love their wildly sculptural curves.

Here's the corner. I'm still on the hunt for some fabric with which to make a shower curtain and window blind. And we need to get towel bars. Who would live in a house without towel bars? There was one in this bathroom, but none for the hand towel. In our master bath, there are no towel bars, nor a paper holder. Weird.

A Bit of Philosophizing

No, it's not snowing here. But this photo fits the part of the poem that I'm including in this post. It's called On the Flood Plain by Al Purdy, a Canadian poet. The entire poem is longer, and contains some possibly offensive language. It speaks of time and our relationship to time in the form of a man's thoughts standing on the edge of a frozen lake in the wintertime.

It's a poem I've come to love because I think it reflects so much truth. And it comforts me. I think about where I am in life and where I'd like to be and I can panic at the thought that there is just not enough time to do or become all that I would like. I have to choose. The best over the good. The excellent over the mediocre. I look back over what I've accomplished in life and can easily think, "I wasted this or that opportunity." But life is a mixed drink of laughter, tears, leisure, work, expenditure and restoration.

And who but God can judge whether time is spent well or poorly. I can, to a certain measure. But whereas some may suggest that time spent reading a novel is wasteful, I know that when life threatens to overwhelm, such a retreat is restorative and I emerge from that escape ready to face reality once again. Playing with paints and fabric offers me the same restorative effect.

Ultimately, it's the moments that count. Living fully in each moment, whether it be full of pain or joy. Each moment is enhanced or reflected by others, we cannot live in isolated chunks of time. I stand, you stand, in a point in time with the continuum of history behind us and eternity stretching ahead of us. In the poem there is a seamless interaction of stars and frozen water that provides an idealized image of life's moments.

As a human being moving through the landscape of time, connection is established between the past and the present in moments of deliberate attention. The past still lives and gives meaning to the present when humanity is aware of the importance of the present moment and its fleeting nature. The phrase “and there will be time” conveys a confidence in the future that is based on intentional choices in the present. As moments of significance increase in number they will, like the stars, reflect each other and give meaning to all of life.       
 

Whatever I have not discovered and enjoyed 

is still waiting for me 

and there will be time

but now these floating stars on the freezing lake

and music fills the darkness

holds me there listening

--it's a matter of separating these instants from others 

that have no significance 

so that they keep reflecting each other

a way to live and contain eternity

in which the moment is altered and expanded

my consciousness hung like a great silver metronome

suspended between stars

on the dark lake

and time pours itself into my cupped hands shimmering

taken from On the Flood Plain by Al Purdy

Around Home

Our weekend has been a quiet one. On Friday night we headed to the big town about 30 minutes away to do some shopping. Driving in the dark after shopping I thought about the pleasure of arriving home, putting on my robe, making a cup of tea and relaxing. With a start I realized that I was envisioning our former home, not our current one. Waves of homesickness washed over me. It's been just three weeks so I need to give myself time, but it's still a bit hard.

The rhododendrons are beginning to open their buds into full flower. We have three large bushes in the front yard. I planted some strawberry plants in pots up on the deck out of reach of the deer, and two blueberry bushes behind a fence for the same reason. The soil here is very different than in Victoria - very shallow sand before hitting hard pan.

In the front yard is this flower bed that holds a non-functioning and crumbling fountain. For now we'll leave the fountain there. The bed was overgrown with weeds so we dug it out, dividing daisies, trimming cotoneasters (I think that's what they are) and planting herbs - rosemary, sage, lemon thyme, oregano and chives. Deer don't like them, but I do!

Talking with the neighbours we discovered that the very tall tree in full bloom just now in a corner of the driveway is a Bing Cherry tree. Oh yummy! I love cherries. I can see Cherry Clafouti, Cherry Cobbler, Cherry Jam, Dried Cherry Biscotti and more in my future.

And inside this weekend I painted the main bath. It's still not put back together, but will be soon. And I made this French Silk Pie. It's a recipe that doesn't use raw eggs like the original. It's rich and chocolately - very small pieces suffice. Find the recipe on my recipe blog.

Volcano Memories

The stories being told about the Icelandic volcano have made me remember our own volcano experience - not nearly as dramatic, but exciting at the time.

We were living in Quito, Ecuador at 9500 feet above sea level. Two volcanoes in the country, Pichincha and Tungurahua became active in 1999. My husband was the administrator of a hospital there and all kinds of disaster plans were written up and even practiced.

We lived about 30 minutes out of town in a relatively safe area. We told our friends they were welcome to come in case of an eruption, but bring water and toilet paper! My husband taught me some basic car maintenance like how to change an air filter because he knew that it would be my responsibility to get the children out of the city and home to safety while he would be busy at the hospital. We carried dust masks with us and used them periodically when the acrid ash clouds fell.

I taught school and what a nightmare that time was. Schools closed off and on as the alerts fluctuated. We had volcano drills instead of fire drills. Elaborate plans were drawn up to ensure the safety of our children. All the teachers made up packets of work for students to keep at home to enable education to continue.

October 7, 1999 school was out, but the teachers were required to come in for a staff meeting. Tim and I left the house around 7:30 am for the 30 minute commute. The children were all still sleeping, happy for a day at home. As we rounded a corner I looked up and could not believe what I was seeing. The mushroom cloud in the photo above had just begun, roiling and boiling above the horizon. Tim pulled over and we watched in awe. Of course, we had no camera. What amazed me was the speed with which this cloud ascended, all the while churning and swirling ferociously. The cloud at the point in the photo is about 15 miles high.

This was just a small explosion but amazing nonetheless. An enterprising photographer took the photo and made copies to sell on the street. I'm so glad I have this.

This extremely unclear photo, snapped with my digital camera from my scrapbook, shows our family in front of the other volcano. All the cloud you see in the background is volcanic. This volcano Tungurahua, showed pyroclastic flows, or lava. We really wanted to see it. So we, along with two other families, packed up our 4 x 4 vehicles (we borrowed one) with camping gear and set out on an adventure. We camped on a ridge opposite the mouth of the volcano which was on the side of the mountain rather than the top. A wide, deep valley separated us from the volcano.

We had a hot dog roast for dinner and then as night fell, we waited for the explosions. The first sign was the trembling of the earth as the rocks made their way up from the bowels of the mountain. We ran to the edge of the plateau to watch, cheering and clapping as molten rocks glowed red and orange, a bright gash against the dark mountain. It was a marvelous spectacle.

In the morning our tents were covered with black ash. We had gritty ash in our hair, our pores and every bit of clothing. Once we got home a hot shower was the BEST thing! Some people thought we were crazy, but I'm so glad we experienced this adventure. It's one of the things we talk about as a family.

Interestingly, I have small bottles of ash from both volcanoes and they are very different. One is grayer and finer, the other coarse and black. One of the memories I have of this trip is of the mighty power of God. Volcanoes are just a hint of his mightiness. And the recent eruption in Iceland is a reminder to me of that power.

Stash Busting

Having to pack all my fabric into boxes to move made me realize that I have waaaay too much of it. I think I keep so much on hand because of 20 years of living overseas when I stocked up on trips home. Fabrics there were sometimes not of the best quality and it was almost impossible to find any 100 percent cottons.

However, since several fabric stores are within 30 minutes, I really need to get over this. Today I rummaged through the stash and found this piece of lineny fabric - probably a linen polyester mix, and decided to make it into a tablecloth for our newly painted breakfast nook. A mug of parsley grabbed from the countertop adds a bit of green to the scene.

My sewing room is not quite the way I want it yet - there are a few boxes still to be unpacked, but today I set up the machine and ignored the mess and sewed. Every little step gets me closer to feeling more at home here.

Thanks for all the encouraging comments. I know many of you have moved a lot, too. We're all in this together and I'm grateful for this blogging community and bloggers whom I have come to regard as friends, most of whom I've not yet met.

Kitchen/Breakfast Nook Before and After

This is the breakfast nook with the previous owner's table and chairs. I really like the doors and the windows. But the colour just wasn't me. It was dark red. The kitchen, which adjoins this, was a dark reddish/orange. Definitely not me. On Friday I started painting. The first coat was just a primer to cover the dark red. It took me three and a half hours, with all the prep having been done the night before.

This is the primer coat. I do NOT like ladders, and I had to climb to the very top step and stretch up to reach some of the peaks. I have a bruise on my shin from leaning so hard into the ladder. Clutching the ladder with your shin bone is not an easy feat!

I took this photo at night, before we put the blinds back up. Believe it or not, this colour is gray. You don't believe me? Well, neither do I. We thought we had chosen a gray-blue. I had done a large swatch on a piece of white paper and it looked gray. But no matter how we tilt our heads or squint our eyes, we don't see gray, just blue. However, it's a very pretty blue and I think we'll keep it. 

The job is not quite done. The French doors need painting - they are still red, but I'll have to wait for a warm sunny day so I can leave them open to dry. That won't be for a couple of months. And one wall in the kitchen will be removed so I didn't paint that. But the majority of it is completed. 

And I'm amazed at how much I'm affected by colour. When I walk through the house and catch a glimpse of this colour, I smile. I can't help it. It's the only room so far that reflects my taste. And what a difference it makes. My husband laughs, and I have to laugh at myself, too. Who would have thought? 

What shall I paint next?

Where to go from here

I wandered around the house this morning with my camera looking for something pretty to photograph. I didn't find much. The house is functional and tidy, but there's little charm just now. So much needs to be done. Everything needs painting, but some of that has to wait for my husband to fix little things first. The house has a lot of potential but has been sadly neglected.

The one room that's painted is my studio (aka sewing/craft room), a bit of which is shown above. I finished the last coat of paint on Monday and did all the trim in white. I couldn't believe the difference the trim paint made. It just seems to finish off the room, in spite of the closet doors that still need to be installed and the ceiling fan sporting hockey stickers. What I'm waiting for now is storage space. Tim will be installing shelves in the closet, and I need another bookcase or cabinet. I may make a trip to the thrift store this afternoon.

Today is the last day of the 39 days of stitching. Amy finished hers, seen on the 39 Squares blog. I've neglected my stitching for the past two weeks. The poor thing is looking crumpled. Just pulling it out to take this photo got me interested again. There might not be a lot of beauty around the house just now, but I can certainly create a little bit of it with thread and needle.

I'm realizing how much I really enjoy having order and beauty in my world. When I look around my home I want to see things that please me - be it through colour, memory, composition or order. That's what I'm missing just now. Knowing that I can work, little by little, at creating a space that reflects and pleases me helps me to get through this sense of dislocation I'm feeling right now.

Easter Weekend

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!

What a weekend! We've been in our new home for one week. My parents came over from the mainland for four nights, and all the children came up from Victoria for Friday night. The house hummed with activity and I like to think it enjoyed all the life lived in it. I know I did.

There was some of this -

some of this, especially on Friday when fierce winds and rain battered the Island and made settling down with a good book the best choice

more reading

a morning of yardwork on Saturday

including some serious pruning and pulling of overgrown bushes

and even a little painting of what we call the "snowboard room" - painted a violent yellow and blue with tons of decals and stickers on the walls. It's now a soft yellow and hopefully will become my sewing/craft room, after we get some shelves built so I can unpack my boxes.

Of course, there was much eating and laughter, lots of conversation, and hugs. Above - a father/daughter moment.

Today, Easter Sunday, is much quieter. The children left last night after our Easter dinner of ham, (with both raisin sauce and sweet mustard sauce options) scalloped potatoes, etc.

One of the very worst parts of moving is finding a new place to worship. It's something I dread. I put on my bravery boots this morning and we went to a new church. I found myself comparing it to our wonderful church in Victoria and it fell far short. I'm going to have to accept that things will be different here, and stop the comparisons. Each church has something to offer, each town has its pluses and minuses.

Tomorrow, my parents leave but Tim has the day off. I'm sure we'll be puttering around the house and maybe the yard, depending on the weather. It feels more like December than April.

I hope your Easter weekend has been full of the hope that Easter brings - hope for forgiveness of past sins, for present strength, and for future grace.

April Fool's Day

Did you know that April Fool's day is said to have begun in France, when one of the kings decided to switch calendars, making January 1 the start of the new year instead of April 1. 

The information below comes straight from the website link included, and is simplified for children. But if you google "April Fool's Day in France" you'll find lots more information.

http://www.kidzworld.com/article/593-april-fools-day

The History

In the 16th century, France celebrated the New Year just like we do today, except they partied on April 1st. In 1562, Pope Gregory changed the calendar to the one we use today and from then on, the New Year began on January 1st. Lots of peeps didn't know about the new calendar, or they ignored the new calendar and kept celebrating on April 1st. Everyone else called them April fools and played tricks on them.

Fools Around the World

In France today, April 1st is called Poisson d'Avril, which means April Fish. Children tape paper fish to their friends' backs and when the young "fool" finds out, the prankster yells "Poisson d'Avril!" In England, tricks can only be played in the morning. If a trick is played on you, you are a "noodle." In Scotland, you are called an "April gowk," which is another name for a cuckoo bird. In Portugal, April Fools' is celebrated on the Sunday and Monday before Lent. Pranksters usually throw flour at their friends.

Exploring

The sun is shining gloriously after a cold, wet week. Venturing out into our new yard with my camera, I set out to see what I could find. Lots of treasures awaited me. My younger daughter told me that she had placed my Japanese fishing ball somewhere in the garden for me to find. Here it is, nestled among the green, looking quite at home.

Daffodils nod their heads in the front yard. No tulips, though - the deer love them and we have plenty of deer here. I came home from shopping on Monday to discover two of them lunching in the front yard.

This clematis has wound its way to the rooftops - it has to be cut way back according to the house maintenance man, aka husband. And hidden behind all that growth is a lovely stone water fall feature with a small pond at the bottom. It's going to be fun fixing that up.

A lovely pair of stone birds - herons, cranes? nestle under a tree. I'm looking forward to featuring them in some small garden vignette.

And indoors, cinnamon bun dough is rising in the breadmaker and brownie bites, rich and chocolatey, but not too big, are cooling on the countertop. The recipe can be found here on my recipe blog.

Settling In

Friday was move-in day, and the process continued throughout the weekend. Our children all came up to help out. We couldn't have accomplished what we did without them. By Friday night the living room was set up and turned out to be a great place to crash when exhaustion took over. On Saturday afternoon while I snoozed on the loveseat the boys organized the boxes, separating books from crafts from fabric, etc. My husband's comment, "You sure have a lot of fabric."

We tend to purchase houses that need some work done on them so we can add sweat equity. This one is no exception. And we do the work gradually. The green carpet you see will be going. Wood floors are planned, but first we have a wall to remove in the kitchen and an island built. Also some work on the staircase. I'll try to take before photos and post the progress as we go along.

First off....changing some paint colours. This is the current kitchen colour - not my taste at all. Nor the countertop. And the breakfast nook is a dark red. Today....

Paint chips galore. Can you tell I'm leaning towards grey? Blue-grey, I think, and I'm pondering doing the whole house the same colour. Just pondering. Maybe a bit of yellow in the breakfast nook?

I took a last wander through the rooms of our house in Victoria and thought, "how pretty and light this is." Grey skies and rain characterize BC's coast and I want to encourage as much light as possible. Airy and bright is the look I'm going for. We have mostly wood furniture (made with love by my husband and therefore unpaintable) and pale walls seem to set it off nicely.

Thank you all for your prayers and good wishes. The children all left on Saturday evening and Sunday was spent here just the two of us. It was also my husband's birthday. We celebrated Saturday with the family, but I did manage to rustle up a roast chicken, roasted yams, and zucchini gratin for the two of us yesterday. This is a beautiful area in which to live and we are looking forward to doing lots of exploring. But for now...back to the boxes.

Thoughts on Moving

It doesn't take very long to go from this...

to THIS....

We're in the home run stretch of this move. The movers come on Thursday afternoon to load everything up and will deliver it Friday morning in Parksville. We'll spend the night at our daughter's home.

Over the past several weeks this place where we live has been transformed from a home into a house, a mere shell of the life it once held. Grief and loss are represented in the packing up of treasures of memories. A sense of forlornness fills the rooms. Pictures removed from walls leave blank spaces that are echoed in my thoughts of our immediate future.

This house, our home, has seen enormous joy and enough heartache to make the joy brighter. One high school graduation, three university graduations, two weddings, innumerable raucous family dinners, overnight guests from near and far who have shared pieces of our lives, game nights by the fire, great cooking, dreams, sorrow, and tear-inducing laughter.

This move is our 20th major shift in 33 years of marriage. I grieve moving away from this home because it's the last place we have lived together as a family. It's the place we've lived the longest - almost 8 years. In fact, that doubles the length of the previous longest stay. I know that our new home will be filled with even more laughter, joy and fun times together as a family, but the children will come only as visitors. And that's the way it should be as children grow up, leave home and make their own homes. There's an adventure awaiting Tim and me and I will embrace it in time. But for now, a little grief is in order to enable me to move on.

On Sunday night, the concept of home was reinforced here. Our youngest came home to spend the night because she was sick. Her boyfriend didn't think she should be alone and brought her here, vomiting and pale. We dragged a mattress from the pile, rummaged to find sheets, blankets and towels, and tucked her in. She had a nasty bug and she spent a sleepless night. Yesterday she managed to hold down some liquid and a few crackers but she spent the day on the couch. I wandered in and out of the room, talking when she felt like it, letting her snooze as needed. And I realized that home is more than a house - it's about the people who love and live together whether or not we all share the same roof. I was so very, very happy that she came. Thank you Ashley. I'm sorry you were sick, but you have given me a tremendous boost.

On Sunday the church gave us this beautiful bouquet of flowers. It's wonderful to have something beautiful to look at in the midst of the current chaotic state of our house.

Last night a group of my friends with whom I've worked in the women's programs at church took me out for dinner and gave me this planter filled with beautiful herbs. I am so blessed.

I don't make friends easily and I'm dreading starting over again. But one thought I had when I found out that we were moving comforted me - my blogging friends will still be there, and I can visit you every day. You, my readers, mean a lot to me. Thank you for reading and for commenting. I've found connections through blogging that have surprised me and make me smile. You are my friends and I treasure you.

Squashing any tendrils of guilt over abandoning both my riveting studies and a house burgeoning with boxes for the move, I talked my eldest daughter, on spring break into accompanying me on a little cruise. We caught the 9 am ferry to Vancouver for a day away. I will mention that she is a high school teacher, not a student, because she is often taken for a student. She is good about saying, "no, I'm not a student, but she (pointing to me) is." And the person behind the desk looks very confused and hardly knows what to say because no one ever assumes that I'm a student.

This was our goal - visiting the Vancouver Art Gallery to see the Da Vinci display. We bused from the ferry to the newly opened Canada Line, then zoomed down to the city center, feeling quite cosmopolitan. Although the line ups that existed during the Winter Olympics had dissipated, there were crowds of people enjoying the Paralympics. A very short line into the art gallery soon had us standing in awe in front of Leonardo's anatomical drawings. No photos were allowed once inside the gallery, but I did ask permission to take this one at the entrance.

Fascinating to me was the detail with which Da Vinci executed his drawings. He wasn't interested in just how to draw the human anatomy for artistic purposes, he was enthralled with how everything worked. Meticulous notes accompanied each drawing, written in mirror image - backwards, right to left, with Leonardo's left hand.

Climbing the stairs to the upper floors I looked up into the rotunda, a bit puzzled at this design for an art gallery. All was explained while waiting for the Sky Train (metro) on the way back. An elderly lady informed us that the art gallery used to be the Vancouver court house.

After wandering through the remainder of the art gallery, which included some of Emily Carr's paintings of British Columbia and a photographic display that was most interesting, we went up to the BC display on the 4th floor. Wood products were highlighted. I took a photo of daughter standing in the Spirit Tree - made from the remains of a huge redwood cedar that grew in Stanley Park and was taken down after the big windstorms of several years ago. We have a photo (somewhere now in a box) of the family (sans yours truly who was behind the camera) standing in this hollow tree years ago.

All that culture made us very hungry. Serendipitously, an Italian-themed cafe - Bellagio - directly across from the art gallery beckoned with an outdoor terrace and fragrant aromas. We found a table in a sheltered nook and proceeded to enjoy a pizza together under the sun. It was almost like being in Europe. From there we retraced our journey back to the ferry and sailed away home.

In spite of everything I left undone at home, I walked in the door feeling refreshed and renewed. Stepping back from the chaos of moving was a good idea and I spent the evening happily packing boxes. I also slept well for the first time in several days.

I leave you with a quotation from Leonardo Da Vinci writing about the intricacies of the human body....

"While human ingenuity may devise various inventions to the same ends, it will never devise anything more beautiful, nor more simple, nor more to the purpose than nature does, because in her inventions nothing is lacking and nothing is superfluous."

Still Stitching

Time - to stitch, to dream, to breathe. In the midst of my busy life I remind myself to pay attention to the moments. My life is topsy turvy these days - piles of boxes pile up in every room, the fridge and pantry look more and more empty, the detritus of life lies in piles to recycle, to discard, or to donate.

A bit of lavender came to mind, delicate buds on green stems. I haven't stitched now for a couple of days, but I'm making a date with myself tonight to settle in on the couch with my needle and thread.