Saturday, 27 December 2008

A winter's morning...

So I have crept down to tap away and in a weird invert of the Night Before Christmas poem, all through the house everyone is still sleeping. I love these few days between Christmas and New Year as it really does feel like the world stays snoozing on the sofa after the excess of christmas food. London loses it's hectic pace(well, if you stay away from sales madness) and the roads are so quiet, it feels like 1953.
There was a clear blue sky this morning and the whole park was covered in a silvery frost,like a secret world that no-one had noticed yet. I immediately covered our tiny patch of garden with birdseed and refilled the feeders and have been looking out at the usual bird gang,feathers puffed up from the cold and the determined squirrels that blatantly scoff from the feeders hanging upside down from the branch. Oh well,I'll chase them off in a while.There have been wonderful plays on the radio; Northern Lights, Little Women and Peter Pan have all entertained me as I huddle wrapped up with socks and scarves.
Soon everyone will wake and the calm will disperse as the day begins.. here he comes

Sunday, 21 December 2008

Hallelujah Battles..

So in the cruddy world of reality tv generated pop stars(ho-hum) that has the affront to call itself entertainment, the latest assault on our UK charts is a murdered version of the sublime Hallelujah originally by Mr Leonard 'smiler' Cohen. As a protest, us cool dudes are refusing to allow the butchery of some of the world's most beautiful songs and have been downloading the spine-tingling Jeff Buckley cover in a bid to keep the heinous X-factor from claiming the coveted Christmas Number One(tm!) spot.Facebook groups are rounding up members and emails have been sent. Fingers crossed!

Listening to Radio4's The Now Show, I heard the brilliant Mitch Benn sing this spoof which amused me muchly. I was so pleased to find it had been uploaded to t'tube! Whoop! Very clever man that he is.

Saturday, 20 December 2008

Waterloo Sunsets and Cloudscapes..

So the second poem that was read at today's wedding was After the Lunch by the wonderful Wendy Cope. A poem about falling in love on Waterloo Bridge, without doubt one of the most romantic places in this often drab, hectic city. And was rather a coincidence because I have been travelling across the 'Dirty ol river' each day this last week and each time as the train shuffles into the station that's just the other side of the Thames, I cast my eyes over Waterloo bridge,St Paul's,the 'gherkin' and downriver to the scaled down sky-scrapers or upriver to Big Ben and the Wheel.The view is mesmeric.

The river can be grey as the sky, the buildings a spectrum of greys and the world still in black and white save an occasional flash of red of bus or boat.

Or pitch black,with electric lights in it's own galaxy revolving round the moon-like dome of St Pauls or a cloudless blue and everything crystal clear in cold winter light.
Or dusk with streaks of scarlet and coral and the lights melting into sky.

Forgive me if it all seems rather cliche and touristy but I never tire of seeing this view with each new light or shade with which it's painted, and as much as I have longings of hitching up my skirts and departing these shores(with the Shoe in tow) the sense of pride when I look along the river is immense.
When I betrayed my suburban north London roots to move south of the river, it was this journey that really made me glad to be a londoner.

Even the most oppressed commuter must get peace from looking up from the depressing daily paper to glance with awe!

Here's the poem. Perfect for a London Wedding..

After The Lunch by Wendy Cope

On Waterloo Bridge, where we said our goodbyes,

the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.

I wipe them away with a black woolly glove

And try not to notice I've fallen in love.

On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:

This is nothing. you're high on the charm and the drink.

But the juke-box inside me is playing a song

That says something different. And when was it wrong?

On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair

I am tempted to skip. You're a fool. I don't care.

the head does its best but the heart is the boss-

I admit it before I am halfway across.

(pics from flickr)

Greenwich Wedding.

Just back from playing at a wedding in the elegant surroundings of the Greenwich Naval College. It's been a couple of weeks since my last one and amidst all my Nutcrackering, it has restored my faith in weddings a wee bit;playing at a considered and personal weddings makes it a joy.
It is one of the most impressive places in London,there is such a wonderful sense of space down by the river Thames, those stately grey buildings their stone edifice fighting their corner against the glittering towers of Canary Wharf. Each time I see this view I catch my breath,the modern framed by the historic. In fact so little has changed within that courtyard until you cast your eyes over the other side of the river and suddenly 200 years of time spring forward in an instant.

The wedding took place in the Admiral's House, a corner nearest the river in a mahogany panelled room, there were no floral decorations but everyone was given plump ivory rose buttonholes. Also her bouquet was dreamy,cascades of variegated ivy more big fat roses and jasmine- so lovely to have jasmine in wedding flowers.
As I started to perform the entrance music, four bridesmaids proceeded down each wearing a black dress in a variety of styles, the first in a glittering sequined sari and the last in a moulin rouge vintage style with birdcage veil and draped choker.
From my position at the front (I usually have the best seat in the house!) I could see the groom's face, and as the bride started her entrance, from the corner of my eye I could see the registrar ask him to turn round but as he shook his head no,I glanced up and his expression was full of emotion-I guess it was doing all he could to keep it together! Sent the tears rushing to my eyes as the memory of nervous anticipation rushed back.
The ceremony was short but very heartfelt. Two poems were read,not the more common poems that I can practically recite and often rattled off without care or thought. Each was beautifully read and chosen for their lightness of heart and with joyous celebration at their centre.The first reminded me to write a post that I have been meaning to write all week and the second by Thomas Hardy was new to me but contains elements of all the wonderful rustic celebration which give his novels such joy and spirit to contrast with all the fateful tragedy.

Great Things

Sweet cyder is a great thing,

A great thing to me,

Spinning down to Weymouth town

By Ridgway thirstily,

And maid and mistress summoning

Who tend the hostelry:

O cyder is a great thing,

A great thing to me!

The dance it is a great thing,

A great thing to me,

With candles lit and partners fit

For night-long revelry;

And going home when day-dawning

Peeps pale upon the lea:

O dancing is a great thing,

A great thing to me!

Love is, yea, a great thing,

A great thing to me,

When, having drawn across the lawn

In darkness silently,

A figure flits like one a-wing

Out from the nearest tree:

O love is, yes, a great thing,

A great thing to me!

Will these be always great things,

Great things to me? . . .

Let it befall that One will call,

"Soul, I have need of thee":

What then? Joy-jaunts, impassioned flings,

Love, and its ecstasy,

Will always have been great things,

Great things to me!

(pics from flickr)

Sunday, 14 December 2008

Reasons to be cheerful- Part 1


Infinitely beautiful from the simplest daisy to the sweetest scented sweetpea.Even their names sound like poetry;lilac,mimosa,honeysuckle,anenome. 'Of infinite variety' and each one improves the day.Echoing the passing of time as each season is reflected in a new flower or colour.
I loved picking flowers straight from my granny's garden. On childhood holidays we would gather wildflowers from the downs and I would press them at first between book and then in wooden flower presses tightening down the screws with each day.I would collect them in scrapbooks.Carefully noting down the names. How very Enid Blyton that sounds! But between that and the wonderful flower fairy books of Cicely Mary Barker the seeds of my obsession were sown. I would gaze for hours at the charming illustrations and the clever way the fairys' outfits would be made out of leaves or petals. I would always decide which one I would be that day.

As it's december my windowboxes are bulging with cyclamen, little bowed heads blowing in a frosty breeze. I must have bought good ones because they have a delicate scent and I even saw a bee buzzing round them. A winter bee making Catford honey I hope..

We bought glorious long stems of Mimosa from the market, a wonderful blossom with tiny yellow pom poms to lift your spirits on a grey day.

There are wonderful flowery blogs but the tops is Saipua. I was transfixed when I first discovered it, such a wonderful textural and nature inspired arrangements. Wondrousness.Oh dreams of being a florist and owning a shop stuffed to the rafters with blooms and blossom. Sigh..

(pics all by me)

Remedy for a poorly boy...

To cure a dose of man-flu, position on sofa wrapped warmly in duvet.Feed him soup,hot water and lemon or orange juice at regular intervals.
Be very sympathetic and don't mention how it is all self induced by a whole week of christmas parties, extra birthday celebrations and a wild stag do.
But most of all make him watch a favourite disney film...

Bibbidee Bobbidee Boo indeed...

Caterpillar: Who are you?

In the words of the caterpillar demanding an explanation of Alice as she peered over the mushroom maybe I ought to say a wee bit about who I am and what the deal is.

I am a freshly married girl living in the big city in a small island who has discovered a wonderful world of beautiful things-words,music,flowers and ideas mainly through planning our wedding. Through this I realised how unhappy I had been in so many aspects of my life and found that my imagination had been resting away for too long. Hasten to add that the wedding and realtionship with The Shoe was not making me unhappy! I always realised that one way I had of keeping sane and as Ann Miller sang as she tapped herself into a whirling dervish 'Chasing the blues away' was to take pleasure in swoonsome music and soulful words, have adventures in our smoky city and green and pleasant land.So this will be a record of things that make me happy, a few of my favourite things. Goodness I really must stop talking in Musicals. But above all stuff that brings light to my days and a twinkle to my eyes.. I'm still trying to find my footing again after my world falling apart, I may tell the story of that and then meeting The Shoe which did make the sun return.
We had a wonderful wedding in July, that was unique,personal and rather bohemian! I shall definitely be recounting the tale of that magnicifent day.

Saturday, 6 December 2008

Birthday Girl...

Happy Birthday Me!

Thursday, 4 December 2008

Birthday blues and Grumpy Grannies

So it's my birthday this coming Saturday,and usually I luuuurve birthdays and do them very very well. Some of the best have been the Chinese Elvis night, a ropey ol' chinese restaurant in a dodgy part of London crammed in with hen parties,50th birthdays and us, a table full of professional musicians crying with laughter at the rhinestone jumpsuited Elvis. And I love being spoilt and having a day of just doing whacky me things - two years ago we slid down the tubes at Tate Modern and then I got all emotional watching Wicked. It was great.

But I've been feeling a bit 'meh' about this one... perhaps it's because things are really getting serious now and there are definitely a couple more grey hairs that have sprouted in the last few months resulting in hours(did I say I exaggerate a lot!) standing in front of the mirror trying to catch the elusive silvery hair to pluck out..
Or maybe after organising the biggest party of our lives back in July, the idea of more celebrating has rather lost it's impact. I've been feeling rather like a wrung out dishcloth these last few months hence one of the reasons for starting this... Never the less, I am going to make it fizzy and as it actually falls on the saturday well, it would be rude not to have a party. And so to spread the weight,it will be a joint party with Ozgirl and the theme is Grannies Behaving Badly.. As I do have so many granny tendencies: slippers, my collection of teacups and all things floral.
I have been raiding charity shops and markets to find suitably chintzy clothing and have turned up some beauts! There really is nothing better than finding a garishly coloured polyester frock to lift the heart! So with my spirits getting in the birthday mood, at least any grumpiness can be disguised under the party theme.
Dontcha just love this picture-

Wednesday, 26 November 2008

Nice sounds/ Baaaad sounds..

Things I love to hear...
snoring dogs contentedly snuffling away- dreaming of chasing squirrels in the park

Love a pooch with a big shnozz!

Things I don't love to hear...

Noisy next door builders with the drill of the devil...Aaaargh! It's like being inside a tooth at a visit to the dentist.. Sob sob,just want some quiet...

That's what I need!
here for pic

Tuesday, 25 November 2008

Journey to blog..

I can't quite remember how I discovered the wonderful world of blogging(kind of an ugly word for something that can be full of loveliness), but it must have been through one of the inspirational wedding planning websites that I soon became addicted to whilst planning our wedding.I would stay up for hours,my eyes getting squarer and squarer by the minute. And I am still a fully hooked wedding porn junkie despite getting married in July.I kid myself that it's kind of connected with my work but really I can't seem to tear myself away from looking at all the beautiful pictures and just all the gorgeousness!

I should be standing up saying 'Hi, my name's Flora and I'm a wedding porn addict' (Hi Flora!)

First of all there was this place and here where I made lots of like-minded pals and we discussed the big things and the not so big things like dressing dogs up as bridesmaids and what our theme tune that would accompany us through life.Mine would be this

And then, ooo, then I was introduced to the beautiful world of Snippet and Ink, with her colour co-ordinated, masterpieces of elegance and whimsy (ha,love that word)
Oh, to live in a S and I world with flowers and ribbons and swishy dresses- sigh..
These were the pictures that confirmed I wanted a Secret Garden/ Alice in Wonderland

And our tea party would definitely have a touch of the Mad Hatter about it..

From that point, I found myself whiling away the hours on the chain of blog, clicking through the lists on each page, finding new stories and pictures and pretty,pretty things that inspired me and drew sighs of admiration...or just raised a chuckle.

From peonies to something new,lobster and swann to weebirdy.

Wonderful tales from sexyredframe and guiltysecret and dreamy blooms from saipua.

And here because she had violets as her wedding bouquet and anyone that does that wins my heart.. 'Buy a flaawr from a pawr girl Mister?' That's why

It's been a blast.. So after the wedding was done, it felt like a project was needed and somehow all the joy I have got from reading these words made me want to join in too, and share the things that made me smile and swoon. So here I am, finding my way..

Thursday, 20 November 2008

My heart just skipped..


I just had minor heart failure as I saw the title of this blog listed on the side of the delightful peonies and poloroids under beautiful places and beneath my absolutely faaaavourite flower website in the whole world, saipua. Ooo what a thrill! What a compliment and what company to be amongst. Will have to keep my mad ramblings going now!

I am such a newbie to this game, it is taking me a while to get my luddite head round all the techie things to do- I am the girl that only got an email address 2 and a half years ago and entered the wonderful world of the interweb.

Peonies' world was amongst the first that I discovered and have had countless MOP's from reading the lovely words and drooling at lovely things! Her photographs suspend you in time, the moment captured and often the colours are like muted watercolours. I think I was enraptured by her wedding planning as it seemed to have many similar points of inspiration as mine. An outdoor ceremony in a beautiful garden and a bohemian style with garden flowers and cakestands.And this post contributed to our day directly as I bought the beautiful labels to use as name tags.
And seeing the story of her day unfold has been a joy.

I know it's just a small thing but it has made me very happy! When I rushed up to The Shoe bursting with the news, I don't think he really grasped how big it was... Humph-boys just have no idea sometimes!

Just popped over there and peony has written about the wedding ceremony, always my favourite part of a wedding. There hasn't been a poem for a while and this quirky one by W.H Auden would have brought a wry smile to what must have been a very moving ceremony.

Oh Tell Me The Truth About Love

Some say that love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go round,
And some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway-guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
it wasn't ever there:
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
Or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my shoes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.

W.H Auden

Tuesday, 18 November 2008

The roses...

But the best bit about the fair was that two of the most wonderful suppliers of roses were there. Heaven! The Real Flower company grow beautiful garden roses with names like Just Joey, Margaret Merril, Deep Secret, all names I remember learning from my grandmother's garden. They had fabulously loose and blousy arrangements.The petals so silky soft and the flower heads with just the right wildness as if freshly picked from a clambering rambler in a secret garden.
Of course they were the flowers used in the beautiful bouquet on peoniesandpoloroids wedding day.All translucent pinks tied with silk.

I had hoped that these would be the roses I would have for our wedding but unfortunately the combination of rotten English weather and one of the country's largest flower shows being held the same weekend meant that there wasn't enough roses for little ol'me. I was heartbroken.... until our friend, Superflorist, who was in charge of ordering all our flowers told me that she had ordered replacements from David Austen.

I was sitting on a crowded rush hour train just four days before the wedding as she told me this news and I couldn't help yelping and doing a chair shuffle for joy as SF told me I would have to 'make do' with these stunning roses. And as I rushed over to the stand on saturday, I garbled to the assistant- 'these were my wedding roses' before burying my face in their frilly petals and drinking in the scent.It instantly took me back to the sunny day when I first saw them, waiting to be adored, in a grey plastic bucket, their heads wrapped up in tiny cardboard bonnets to protect the delicateness. I felt the rush of excitement again,I remembered breathing in the soft lemony scent of my wedding bouquet and my heart swelled with happiness. As we finally made our way out of the fair,I couldn't resist buying a bouquet of the white Patience roses to take home. The scent is drifting through the room like nectar and I'm drinking it in. It is the strongest reminder of our incredible wedding day I've had for many months.

Bliss is surely a rose's perfume.

(wedding pic by fwphotography, roses by David Austen)

all's Fair..

This weekend saw me and a couple of swishy pals,Frenchie and the Bombshell, journey to the Country Living fair. Organised by the magazine of the same name, we were most excited at the prospect of viewing,sampling and shopping all the variety of vintage style, homespun arty crafty wares and bought suitably stuffed purses bulging expectantly in our handbags. It was an epic journey round the variety of stands.From vintage fabrics, hand knitted cushions,rocking horses and retro toys,there were plenty of things to keep us entertained. The most random thing for sale was a birdbox fitted with a teeny tiny camera so you could watch the nesting bird and birdlettes on tv and from the comfort of your sofa. Kind of like Big Brother of the bird world..or I suppose Big Bird Brother. Although after installing the thing, how do you guarantee a bird chooses your hightech nest for it's home? With my luck, it would probably be a case of 'Day 53 in the Big bird box and there is no sign of any birds.But a leaf has blown in'
Surely even a bird needs some privacy!

Things I like

from here

Both from here
They do chickens too..

I still see things and think weddings. I love the leaf tealight holders, they would be perfect for an Autumnal table setting.

There was a lot of Granny-Chic going on at the fair. It's our new favourite style.

Hope and Benson
make these sweet bags and sell the clothes in their shop in Bristol. There was a wonderful knitted cushion which I didn't think I needed at the time, but keep thinking about.. oh well.

We came home laden with goodies.Well, apart from Frenchie. She just bought some sausages..

Monday, 10 November 2008


The loveliest thing about yesterday was driving through a copse of beautiful beech trees the colour of copper.And the light shone through them juuuust right. This picture is from a wonderful set taken at Burnham Beeches very near where I saw the trees. It's a place filled with ancient trees that have been coppiced making the trunks distort like something from a fairytale forest.

Photos from here

Sunday, 9 November 2008


This Sunday is Remembrance Sunday.It is such a humbling day. Watching the parade of 'old boys' as my granny calls them or seeing grainy footage from trenches or hospitals (always a jaunty grin and a cig hanging out of the mouth)- you can't help but gulp back the tears and feel the lightness of being alive just a touch more keenly.

There are just three veterans from the first world war still living, the youngest is 108 years old(yes that's right!!). He was interviewed on the radio and in a rasping voice he said that every day was remembrance day. How true that is, whether you have lost one person or a while battalion.
This poem is by Wilfred Owen who died one week before the end of war. His mother was told of his death on the very same day as Armistice was declared.

Move him into the sun -
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him,
even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.

Think how it wakes the seeds -
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-acheived, are sides,
Full-nerved - still warm -
too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?

It is also a time full of memories for me as today is my lovely Pompa's Birthday, he would have been 98. He went into hospital this day last year and passed quietly away. Tomorrow will be Jerry's birthday- the two dates so close always and now we just have the memory of each.So strange how close it is to remembrance day..

Friday, 7 November 2008

feels like home...

At home, a red velvet throw over my curled up legs, a flat out pooch by my side. Randy Newman's on the telly singing 'Feels like home' and tears are in my eyes.

This makes my ever growing list of songs I wish we could have danced to or had in our ceremony. If I'd had my way, our wedding ceremony would have lasted for hours with all the poems and songs to illustrate our feelings.
I heard this song the night I met The Shoe. After our amazing encounter we said our goodbyes and I headed home to my little terraced house that was my haven.I awoke in the night,sleeping the light sleep of a boozed-up gal and this was playing on the radio.. As I listened to it's melody and the lyrics drifted over me- in that timeless middle of the night state I didn't realise quite how prophetic the song was and how my life would change.

Wednesday, 5 November 2008

one day,maybe...

Having been rather scathing about voter apathy over here,there are things to be thankful for. Before entering into the blog world, I had no idea about prop8 ,it has had no coverage in the media in the UK. But I have no doubt that we would never see the reaction to same sex marriage that resulted with the passing of the ban in California,Arkansas and Florida. The clunky sounding Civil Partnerships have been readily accepted into everyday life and wedding jargon and because of work I have played at many ceremonies and attended weddings of my friends. And thank Judy for it.
It is so infuriating that some couples are able to openly celebrate their relationship and 'the state' has the audacity to snub others.It is a disgrace.When I heard the result,I felt so guilty at having had the privilege to marry my chosen partner when so many cannot. Amidst all the election joy,the irony of celebrating one amazing achievement for civil liberties whilst this travesty occurred on the same day bought a cloud to the clear blue skies. It will change I am sure,but unfortunately it is going in small steps.
The gay weddings I have been part of have been amongst the most moving ceremonies because they have a value beyond that of other ceremonies. Of course all weddings are glorious events but there is just an indefinable extra something...A final acceptance and public confirmation of their relationship.

My two friends had this read out at their ceremony last year. It was perfect.
The song lyric by Cole Porter 'I am Loved'

Yesterday was a dull day,
Yesterday was a grey day,
But,oh,today,today is a gay day
You ask me darling,why?
And I answer,
I am loved,I am loved,
By the one I love in every way,
I am loved,absolutely loved,
What a wonderful thing to be able to say.

I am adored, I am adored,
By the one who first led my heart astray,
I am adored,absolutely adored,
What a wonderful thing to be able to say.

So ring out the bells and let the trumpets blow
And beat on the drums for now I know
I know I am loved ,I am loved,
What a wonderful thing,what a glorious thing
What a beautiful thing to be able to say
I am loved.


OK so sometimes it is about the big things!
I know, originally I intended it just to be the little things that make me happy but there are some things that need to be noted and today, happens to be one of those days that has affected people all around the world. Millions of people. And all I can say is Hooray! I have heard radio presenters struggle with words as they choke back the tears and seen the euphoria of enormous crowds, jubilant and incredulous that sometimes,just sometimes good things do happen.
I have been amazed by the huge queues of voters snaking along the streets. If only we could see the same excitement in this country. What a wonderful world that might the song almost goes.

Tuesday, 4 November 2008

The thing with feathers....

As Emily Dickinson says, is Hope.

It's an electric feeling when a day feels like history is being made within it's hours and minutes and seconds. Through the small x marked with a stubby pencil, or how a perforated tab is torn,the world changes.
We can all 'hope' that this will be the start of great things,for individuals,communities and countries.
I remember this same feeling on a balmy May evening back in 97,sitting with friends, meeting strangers, merry with hope and anticipation.There was such optimism and actual joy in the air,I'm sure people were almost dancing down the street. We all quickly asked each other 'have you voted?, have you voted?'and rushed home when the results started to come in. It did feel like a new beginning.I won't dwell on what the hope turned into, for fear of tainting it but that's the glory of now. It is all in the expectation.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson

We all wait with hope in our soul as the feathered thing takes flight.

The first moment...

So, I have taken the plunge...
A place to think, to smile, to bring light to my days and to find moments that make my heart sing.

As music flows through me, the inspiration came from a song. One of the most heart-achingly beautiful songs I know. One that I can never hear just once but press replay as the strings fade for as long as I can bear it. An under the skin song that travels with you, the melody and intensity filling your ears. I love it so-

I had never seen the video before, it reminds me of the jewelry boxes I had as a girl,Kate as the ballerina whirling around.
And the line 'Every old sock meets an old shoe- Ain't that a great saying?'

I always wanted to meet my old shoe. I think I have.