Nursery Rhyme





Bubbles on rosy skin.

The time of day where we become the water-colour illustration of a nursery book come alive,
and this mother - child moment where nurture is a towel on the radiator,
is teasing out tangled locks and wrapping up a clean little body in soft jarmies fresh with laundry love.

Oh, how I love these chapters.


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Wordless Wednesday




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Cottage Pie




Our lane and the cottage that we call home for the next few weeks.

The hedgerows are full of birds that chirrup and chorus in the long late sunlight.

Village life, church bells and stone walls surround me as I drink a pot of Earl Grey in a pocket of morning sunshine at a cafe table.

I try to remember if life exists beyond this,
beyond cobwebby window glass, flagstone floors,
oak leaves, a jug on my kitchen sill of freesias and rambling roses.

Beyond the faint smell of woodsmoke,
of an owl hoot at evening,
of creaking water pipes and claw footed bathing.


Of the honeyed light and soft voices,
of hanging over a mossy fence gazing at minnows threading in a brook.


And I can't explain it but to say that a part of me was waiting for me here.


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Double ended candles



It's been a 'burn that candle at both ends' kinda few weeks.

Blogger has been desperately annoying,
refusing to upload each post I have attempted to blog.

However, today it allowed me to post these snippets from my world.

Sun likes to come and play in our toyroom,


my origami hearts, a mother's day surprise, spin in my study window,




new (preloved) bedroom furniture that says
havenspace to me each time I walk into the room,
sits elegant, all ebony teak wood, british india white linen
and duck egg blue damask drapes.


hours have been spent at my desk working all hours to complete my assignments,


drawing, sketching, colour rendering.


And we are squarely back in duffel bag land,
as we pack for tomorrow's flight to the UK.


Adventure awaits in London, Paris and with family in the Midlands.



Soft blankies to travel and nap with (zoobies)
colouring books, stickers, friendship bracelets, snacks,
puzzles, bubbles, backpacks, gum, cameras, journals...
and that's just the kids' handluggage!

We will be away for a month
but then return to this wee angel...


...going off to the International School with her big sisters!

It's still preschool, but no longer at the local montessori round the corner,
instead will be a 30 minute bus trip,
in her dear little uniform, clutching lunch and library bags.

My baby is getting ready to become even more independent
and will be heading off 3 days a week from 7.30 to 4.

I am not sure how much I will cry.

Especially as I am still recovering from a brutal case of cluckiness after having dear friends to stay. They came from Zimbabwe and I grew up on a neighbouring farm to Leigh, and she was my maid of honour.
They bought with them this long-awaited little guy, who was a massive hit, especially with M2.

They bonded instantly.


and I blinked away tears frequently :)

We have fought off colds with apple cider and honey,


spent hours doing puppy training
and rescuing the latest victims of canine destruction


and ping - ponged from orthodontists, to enrolment appointments,
to uniform shops, to acrobatics class, to Pilates, to birthday parties, back to studies, to the doctor, to emails up the wazzoo, and just peddled madly to keep up with life.

Life.

That 50D will be close to hand on my travels so I can catch the drops as life shakes past,
but right now,
I'm back to burning that candle :)

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Surreality

Would you like to peek through a window into a world of glass and grace in a converted convent?


Or trawl down aisles crammed with spools and spools of every imaginable ribbon on Arab Street?


Or sip Moroccan tea outside a row of vibrant shophouse shutters?

Me too.

And then I remember.

oh yeah.

Surreal does not mean not real.

I
am here.

*blink blink*

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