I've seen a fair few 4am mornings these days courtesy of Milo who has an alarm clock in his little cat brain. It's fine by me. I love the mornings and relish the still, quiet time. Reflective time. Chloe, on
Yesterday my dear friend Elaine and I went to visit a private house. This is Sezincote House, a stately English house, which was built in 1795 by Colonel John Cockerrell (grandson of Samuel Pepy's) in a Neo-clasical, Neo-Mughal architecture. However, the
Wow, Brenda, I love that you took these words from street signs along your trip. And I loved playing with them. :) bird, bridge, unstable, wild, bend, rock, retreat, bear, lane, fallen, meadow, island The word if is a curtain in the right breeze
I’ve said before that I bought this house because of the light. Because of the old-glass, single-pane, broken down old drafty windows which let in such incredible light, and it’s so true. I love the way the light dawns into
Ok, this totally wasn’t my fault. It’s been a warm day, the sun was shining, and I got an email from a nursery, 50 km out of town, that they were having a May Day sale. Buy one get one
Yesterday I finally fell into work in the studio. I set all projects aside and simply created from my heart, created for you and for this post. I love improvisational work, nothing feels better or truer. It can be hard to let
The Folk Magazine Journal entry for this week asks for influence. To write my American story as part of a giant American story, the tapestry of our lives, in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day. I’m Czech by
It’s funny how coincidence works. One of my favorite blogs disappeared a year ago and, searching for it, I came to another blogger’s site, and that blogger has now become my friend. She is the sweet, gentle-hearted Vicki of 2bagsfull.
Among all the wonderful things about Britain there is one thing in particular I absolutely love: the idea to buy local. This is something both my countries have in common and it just makes so much sense on so many
Occasionally I’m overcome with fear. Some little demon of despair perches on my left shoulder, drags his fingertips across my heart and utters wicked things like, “You’ll never make anything interesting. This art of yours is nothing but a hobby and