forget-him-not

Jack came home yesterday.

Looking at this small box, it’s hard to believe that it contains that warm, ebullient, intelligent, adorable boy with the silky, silver blue fur that I loved to bury my face into.
I know it doesn’t hold his spirit. That part of him has always been with me.

But, it is the only tangible thing I have of him now... that and the enduring love and precious memories of fifteen special years together.

The pain is still raw.  The heartache immense.
The shower has washed so many tears and sobs from me, to the point where I thought I could cry no more.
But humans have tears in an unending supply, and they seem to simmer ever so slightly below the surface at such dark times.

I know the pain will lessen, in time. And I will one day be able to smile when I think of him instead.

This spring, the garden is filled with pretty forget-me-nots.
Blue flowers for my blue boy.

I picked a posy and placed them by his side.

Sleep well my darling boy ~ you will never, ever be forgotten.

♥

THANK YOU so much for your beautiful comments and words of comfort on my previous post.  I appreciate them so very much.

Love and hugs to you all  xxx

He's gone

My darling Jack.

I can count on less than five fingers the times I’ve been away from you for more than a day in these fifteen years together.
We have travelled thousands of miles across this huge country, and lived in many different places.
My constant companion, cheerleader, keeper of secrets, studio supervisor and very best friend.

But the tyranny of time caught up with you, and wore your old body down.  Not your spirit though, not that.

Throughout these many years, you gifted me with so much love, so many laughs, such unwavering loyalty and bountiful precious memories.
And, you made me a better person.
The very least I could do was give you the ultimate gift in return… that of peace.

And so now, after all these seasons, I must walk alone without you by my side.
I have lost my shadow.

Beautiful boy, I know you won’t be crossing the rainbow bridge – how can you? You’ve never wanted to go anywhere without me.
No, you’re still here, sleeping in my heart, waiting.

And when it comes time to cross a bridge, I’ll be with you, and we’ll go together.

Sleep well my darling.

♥

Boris

Boris is a runaway.

Chained since he was a cub in the circus long ago, he was poked and jeered, as people paid and cheered to see him “dance”.
Sad and alone, in a cage that was too small, he imagined a life of freedom, a safe place to get away from it all.

One stormy night, whilst his keeper slept deep, Boris loosed the chains from his battered old feet.
Running at night, hiding by day, he even managed to stowaway.
For weeks he sailed the high seas, eating scraps thrown near where he lay.
Finally, the boat docked at a far southern bay, and slowly, but surely, to me he found his way.

Boris is now happy and free, and as I write, I can hear him humming softly as he enjoys a strong cup of tea.

♥

 

Ugly

This year, so far, is one of unease for me.

I’m working hard to overcome my health issues which began last year.
I feel mentally drained as I question, doubt and worry about my future wellbeing as my immune system waxes and wanes.
Sometimes, it feels like one step forward and two steps back.
The cha-cha of life.



Jack is declining.
His fifteenth year is fraught with ailments and subsequent treatments. His sight is completely gone now, and his hearing with it.
His world is a dark, silent one.
The reassurance of my presence is more important than ever.
My little blue shadow has been attached to my side for so long, always in my sight, and my heart. It's as if he has always been there, a part of me.

I sleep little, for he lies at the side of my bed, and every snuffle and turn wakes my shallow slumber as I listen for any signs of his discomfort.
And his nightly wanderings of the house, has me ever behind him, guiding him back to bed, or outside should he need to go.
I'm on "Jack time" now, as his routine is of utmost importance.
He is a trooper, and after one of his bad days, he’ll come round with a renewed appetite and an old gentlemanly spring in his step.

But I know the day will come when he’ll let me know that he’s had enough. And, I’ve promised him, when that day comes, I’ll not let him linger just for my sake.



The hunt is on for a new home, as we renovate and prepare this house for sale.
How much does one do? Over capitalise and not recoup in sale? Do just enough, and risk losing potential buyers?

One real estate agent tells us to, “blow the budget on renovations - people here want a certain type of house”, another says, “don’t, as you won’t get the return”.
Or, “sell now, quickly, as the bubble will burst soon and you won’t get what you want”.

What we want.
That’s nebulous in this market.

Pressure builds and stress simmers.

Real estate prices continue to rise and rise, but our finances don’t rise to meet them.
Outrageous prices being asked for less than so-so properties.

My little dream of an acre or so, with a small humble cottage on a sunny plot with perhaps an old tree or two for shade in summer - just enough to grow a healthy garden of medicinal herbs and vegetables to sustain us and keep us well - is now fast becoming just that, a dream.  Nothing more.

My happiest days are spent in a garden, tending the earth… just like I once did.

Now, I battle depression, and fight to keep upright some days.
I spend too long looking back.
To the times when the earth and I seemed to work as a team… me - nurturing, nourishing, sowing and giving back to her, and she - bursting with health and vitality, showering her rewards.


I continue to dream of somewhere to create once more, a sanctuary. 
But my hopes dwindle.


I’m a simple soul.

I don’t ask for material riches - expensive cars, jewellery (of which I own none), designer apparel (I have but few op-shop sourced clothes) or exotic overseas holidays.

I don’t go out often. When I do, evidence of the dash for cash and gathering of wealth and material gains seem to shout in my face, and I am repelled.
I rarely watch TV anymore. Preferring to seek the programs or movies I want, rather than have the endlessly superficial jammed down my throat via my eyes.
It all seems so offensive.
Or, perhaps my tolerance level has been dialled way down to just above zero.



May.

A month of mixed emotion.

It is the month where autumn glows in tones of red, golds and burnished browns.
The coming cold fills me with a quiet joy.

But.

I was born on May 24th 1963.
My mother died in May - on Mothers Day 1986.

Thirteen days before my birthday.

For all the childhood trauma and abuse I endured, the loss of a mother is still huge.

I eternally yearn for a mother that never was – kind, gentle, loving, supportive. 

Every year, on Mothers Day, I am reminded of what I lost, yet never had.
It is not a joyous day for me. Try as I may to lay my thoughts aside.

So, as my birthday approaches each year - even more now as I age - I feel a deep melancholy.
I ache for a connection with a tribe I’ll never know.
I feel a need to belong to the ancestors of my mother’s European homeland.
Blood kinfolk.
To know their stories, so that I may weave a rich and varied life tapestry from fibres dipped in their - my - history.

But they're all gone.
Torn by war. Archives destroyed.
Tenuous threads that lead nowhere, only to sorrow and impasse, it is a futile pursuit.
Sections left un-stitched.
Emptiness remains.

Happy Mothers Day.  Happy Birthday.   Blah.



Life feels scattered, sometimes shattered and disconnected.

There are times when I feel terribly alone and disconsolate as I withdraw further from society.  It’s an odd feeling.  And unsettling.

I crave the need for solace and healing in the earth.
But for now, I must wait.
And hope.



Forgive my errant ramblings. I didn’t set out to say so much. But there it is.


To finish on a more positive note, I share what I have been creating in my studio.
Some wee folk you have seen, some not.

According to professional bear artists, “your first ten bears are your ugliest”.
That seems a little harsh and critical. But, who am I to argue with professionals.

So, here are some ten of my "uglies", in no particular order of creation.
They are beautiful to me.

I’ll let you be the judge.

♥

Bear Folk

Visits to blogland have been fleeting, I’m afraid.
Personal ups and downs, home renovations and making bear folk have consumed my days.
Where did January slip away to?

I recently set up an Instagram account where I put up photos of my characters, and am humbled at the wonderful comments they’re getting. Who’d have thought?...

They have been very well received, and I’m so very glad that my departure from ceramics has not left a huge creative hole in me.
I will also be opening an online shop soon.

My craft is my only income, and as I will be attending fewer markets from now on, I am hoping that interest generated will lead to people loving my characters from near and far, and will want to adopt them into their hearts and their homes.

Already, sweet Madeleine has gone to a wonderful family in Western Australia.

 Madeleine

And one of my recent creations - a bunny named Alfie - sold soon after I put up a photo of him the other day.
He will be flying to a lovely lady in Queensland.
I have seen photos of her beautiful country property, and images of wild hares in the field from her kitchen window.
So, I’m sure wee Alfie will be waving hello to his distant kin from time to time. I just hope he doesn’t want to join them in the wilderness.
But, I think the thought of drinking tea from rose patterned teacups, and a bite of cake now and then, will entice him to stay… he already has a sweet tooth, as you can see from the photo I took the day after after I made him.

Alfie

Caught with his little paw in a bag of chocolates. "Taste testing" he told me…
What a cheeky boy he is  :)


My days are spent working towards the coming Easter market - the last one for me this year.
Perhaps I will attend at Christmas. But, as we will we preparing our house for sale later this year, frenetic market making may not be on the cards.

Wishing you all well, and I'll be sure to drop by and visit your blogs very soon.
I've missed you.

♥

Farewell Alan Rickman

A man of great presence on stage and screen.

Outstanding, charismatic talent with a distinctive voice like rich, liquid honey.

Another legend gone at 69.

Too soon.

He will be missed.

♥

Rest in Peace, David

There’s a starman waiting in the sky for you.

Ashes to ashes, stardust to stardust.

You’ll be a hero, forever and ever.....

♥

it's nearly time...

... to draw a veil over 2015 and welcome in 2016.

Here’s to fresh starts and bright beginnings.
Safe journeys and wonderful new ventures.

To good health and contented hearts.

Peace in our homes and throughout the world.

As the time draws near, I wish you a...

Happy New Year!

Much love to all my very dear blog friends ~ may this coming year treat you and your loved ones very well.

♥

 

'Tis the Season

Warm, wonderfully bright blessings everyone!

I wish you and your loved ones - furbabes included - a safe festive season filled with peace, love, joy and laughter, for such are the important things that create wonderful memories and are the best presents of all.

Bearhugs

♥

adversity and diversity

Phew! The big Christmas Art Market has come and gone.  And, after averaging three hours sleep per night for the past couple of weeks to meet the deadline, I can now get some quality snooze time.  Hopefully.

Lately, I've been working towards change.

This was the final time I would sell my ceramics.
For quite some time, anyway. One can never really say, "never".

Earlier this year, I developed a chronic lung condition which was, I believe, attributed to working with clay and glazes - especially as no other determining factors were involved.
Many ceramic/pottery materials can present serious health problems if/when used in less than ideal environments, and contain irritants – too many to list – with varying levels of toxicity which can impair lung function… temporarily or permanently.
My lungs have always been the “weakest” part of an otherwise strong body, so upon reflection, I’m not surprised that they were compromised, and it was most evident after glazing sessions.
Other people can work with clay and associated materials for their whole lives without ill effects, but for me, the stricture and shortness of breath, continual watery gurgle and deep, upper chest pain on inhale were definite warning signs.
As a result, I’ve struggled with impaired breathing for most of this year.
Some days, I couldn’t manage the short walk to the letterbox and back without wheezing like a seventy five year old smoker with emphysema.
Going on outings, which required walking any distance, was dependent on how I felt on the day... although, let's face it, roses and chocolate are a very enticing reason to get out of the house :)

Months of dreading lying in bed due to the pain, whistling and persistent coughing, left me exhausted, distressed and depressed.
I knew I was in trouble.
Stern advice from doctors to cease, or put on hold, my “occupation”, had to be accepted - grudgingly.
And, I’m not good at capitulation on someone else’s terms…

Gradual wrapping up of an art I thoroughly enjoyed, and also made money from, weighed heavily on my heart these past months.
But, the inability to breathe without restriction scared me more.
The removal of irritant materials has seen an improvement. Although, I’m not out of the woods yet. My lungs are still compromised – with good days and bad.
I know that healing is going to take time. And, healing with herbs is a much longer route to take – but, I firmly believe, is the better one for myself, rather than relying on harsh pharmaceuticals. It’s my choice to make.

In the meantime, I’ve been so incredibly grateful that I am able to transition from one artists medium to another. And, still work in 3D.
The ability to use my hands to mould and shape is what had me giddy when I set out with ceramics, and I despaired at the potential future lack of motility.
Artists gotta make…

Although, textiles - furry or otherwise - is a completely different “animal”.
The challenge to cut, sew and successfully stuff something which doesn’t end up looking like a mis-shapen blob monster, has been a trial.
Many trials.
Many mistakes.
Growing piles of grotesque prototype heads filled the corner of my sewing room – now studio.

It’s all in the pattern. Get that first step wrong, and the final result could have you howling in tears of frustration.
And it did.
On many occasions.
Because I chose to design my own characters, and not work from someone else’s pattern.
Typical for me. Always the hard path, not the one of least resistance.
But, more rewarding in the long run.

When I posted about Neil Gaiman’s quote on making mistakes in January, I really didn’t know I was headed down a diverse road paved with tactile, soft, furry fabrics, and away from clay.
But, when I look at my creatures, as they cheekily stare back at me from their shelf, awaiting final flourishes, my heart melts. And I’m converted. Eager to explore the possibilities.

Seriously, if anyone had said to me five years ago, that I would be making teddy bears - albeit in a unique vintage style for adult collectors only, rather than the typical stare-eyed, ubiquitous, furred childrens' toy - I would’ve laughed until my stomach hurt.
It really didn't seem like something I was at all interested in.

Life.

It’s full of challenges.

And change.

Copper, Madeleine and George

♥

quiet companions

Jasper and Bartholomew

♥

 

Lost and Found

World weary, yet wise, from a life long lived.

Sporting threadbare patches from years of cradling hugs and comforting strokes when woken from bad dreams in the middle of the night.

Ears, tattered and torn, have kept many secrets whispered into them.

Silent tears absorbed by his now faded fur.

Worn seams, carefully stitched so as not to lose his fortitude… and his stuffing.

That knowing look - still there, long after the shiny twinkle has gone from his old boot button eyes.

Outgrown. Abandoned. A childhood relic, relegated to memory.

Consigned to an old hat box, placed within a wooden chest and stored in a cobwebbed corner.

Waiting. In the dark.

To one day be brought out into the light - and into the arms of another.

Touching the heart of the inner child.

Friends forever.

~

Introducing 'Hugo' ~ my latest creation.


More on his charming self, and others, coming up...

♥

Thinking of Paris

Shockingly sad news.

Our hearts go out to the victims and their loved ones.

Sending energies of healing and strength in this time of deep, dark sorrow.

For all...

...who lost their lives.

On all sides.

In all wars.

Hope, Charity... and chocolate

This post, following on from our Alowyn Gardens visit, is a little later than promised, I’m sorry.  Christmas market season is upon me once again, and I’m swamped :)



I’m not ashamed to say that, one of my favourite films is Chocolat.

I mean, tantalising images of fine couverture chocolate and a charming French village, a wonderful cast including beautiful Binoche (in those red heels!), delightful Dench, marvellous Molina, cute Caron and generous doses of a pony-tailed, gypsy style Johnny Depp…. what’s not to like?
And if it’s just me, well, let’s just leave it at that.

Chocolate has been my weakness for as long as I can remember ~ and that’s a looong time ;)
So, seeing as we were literally next door at the gardens, we thought, why not drop in to the Yarra Valley Chocolate Factory afterwards?
But then, who really needs an excuse, right?  Anytime is chocolate time.

When we turned in the driveway and parked the car, we noticed something quite unusual – a kaleidoscope of giant jumping kangaroos in all colours of the rainbow bounding on the grassy banks, with the magnificent Yarra Valley as a back drop.

What a view for a roo or two!

Investigating further, we found that this outdoor sculptural display was called, hopforhope, a collaborative art exhibition raising funds to keep children safe from violence and bullying.  A cause that’s close to my heart.

The Alannah and Madeline Foundation has, to date, supported 1.5 million children and their families impacted by violence.  More information can be found here

The incredible, larger than life sized, kangaroos were painted/decorated by Australian artists and identities – one of them, a beautiful young lady aged eight years old, and already, an inspirational artist! 

Each roo will be auctioned off to the public and the funds will go to the Foundation. 

Winning bidders get to take their chosen roo home.
Imagine having one placed among tall grasses in an Australian native garden.

Quite a statement and conversation piece it would make.

 We marvelled at the many multi-coloured marsupials.

 

Look closely, and you can see a wee joey between the silvered arms of this beauty.

The public can vote for their favourite by dropping a gold coin donation in a box representing each roo.

This one below, painted by Michael Leunig, was very popular.

Leunig is an iconic Aussie cartoonist, writer, painter, philosopher, poet and cultural commentator, whose simple yet clever illustrations have captured many hearts and minds for over forty years.


After some deliberation, I found myself being drawn back time and again to this one.

Wow!

Named, ‘Steampunkdaroo’, it was created by clever Melbourne artist, Joe Blanck.

This stunning rustic roo comes complete with its own “working” gauges and barometers.
If I won Lotto, it would have been my choice to bid on.
A unique sculpture, supporting a worthy cause, and installed in a natural garden setting.  Sigh, one can dream…


All that “serious” contemplation made us hungry, so we headed up to the Chocolaterie. 

 

Therein was a wonderland of temptation to suit all tastes.

The range was impressive – over 250 quality, luscious products!
White chocolate. Dark chocolate. Milk chocolate.
Plain or mixed with fruit or nuts, sourced from their own organic gardens.

Truffles and sauces and pralines, oh my! 

 via

Through the large viewing windows, you can watch chocolatiers at work.

Not quite Oompa-Loompas, but experts nevertheless. I think Mr Wonka would be very pleased :)


As it was a hot day, any chocolate would have melted in the car on the way home, so we opted for a scoop of icecream.
There was a delicious array of choices. From rich, velvety, creamy concoctions to gorgeous dairy-free gelatos.

 Heaven in a cone...

 via

So ended a wonderful day where all of our senses were treated and sated.


Next post – another trip down memory lane...

♥

Celebrate Spring!

Returning to the present for now, yet sticking with the garden theme…


On Saturday, hubby and I headed out for a drive to the stunning Yarra Valley.
It was a pretty, softly sunny spring day – just perfect for a garden visit.

Turning into a driveway lined enticingly with gloriously red, red roses, we arrived at Alowyn Gardens – which consists of 7 acres of mixed formal and informal areas.
Within this green and floriferous haven, there are approximately 500 trees, vast organic vegetable gardens that include luscious berries, fruit trees and herbs, a nursery where one can ponder upon plant purchases, and a charming courtyard café.


The star of the garden every spring is the Japanese Wisteria arbour.

Stretching to the garden's centre, and continuing on past, it is one of Australia’s largest wisteria walks, and boasts a truly glorious display. Sadly we weren’t able to get there in time this year, but we marvelled at the deep emerald green shade the arch provides.
Hopefully next year, we’ll return when it is in its fully glory and while away time under the pendulous purple racemes – the longest has been recorded at 1.6 metres!

Since the garden’s beginnings, there has been a strong emphasis on recycling, with most of the materials gained from local sources. An intense composting system enriches the soil. All water run off is collected and returned back to the plants, and solar powered pumps run the fountains and water features.

So now, come with me as we amble through these lovely gardens, taking our time to stop and smell the many, many roses in their first flush, while I get my rose fix...

Even though romantic "old world" Pierre de Ronsard has only the subtlest of scent - and can "ball" badly after rain - he still finds a place in our hearts.

The tiered fountain is the central focal point of the garden, and many vistas lead the eye back to it.

Gates beckon us beyond them.

Meander through the beautiful birch forest.

Wander past mysterious mini monolithic meeting places.

And visit an old replica miner’s cabin, which is now home to birds of all kinds.

Happen upon cool shaded nooks that welcome weary travellers.

Watch hoverflies and bees busy themselves among bountiful blooms.

Subtle sculptural features are dotted throughout.

This is made from discarded horse shoes.

Irresistible iris flank a long pond.

Pretty parterres and productive potagers.

So many tempting paths.

 Which way now?

Rest awhile by the wetlands, and listen to the songs of the many birds who call this magical place, home.

Take a moment to appreciate the waterlilies on a small lake.

Chairs welcome the guests of a happy couple.  It’s a nice day for a white wedding…

 

Stop, once more, to smell the roses.

Enter the charmingly rustic, maple lined courtyard café.

 So pretty

Reminders of days gone by.

Oh my gourd!

After a coffee, saunter through the small but neat nursery.

And finally, once more outside, look up the hill...

... for a sneak peek to where we head next - which will be a unique, colourful feast for the eyes... and tummy.   To be covered in my next post, in a few days.


But for now, we leave here happy and inspired.

♥