Diving for Pearls

There's a Certain Slant of Light, Winter Afternoons-

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons--
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes--

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us--
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the meanings are--

None may teach it--Any--
'Tis the Seal Despair--
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air--

When it comes, the Landscape listens--
Shadows--hold their breath--
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death--

Emily Dickinson

What exquisite melancholy- there's such a strong connection between season, mood and art in this poem, a subject that is mildly obsessing me at the moment. Just mulling over the power of creativity to heal and cheer and reinforce connections with the outside world.

There are dozens of famous artistes known for their productive depressions and anguished creativity; Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath; Van Gogh, Pollock and Rothko; but I'm not overly interested in the Artists with a capital A with their A-list abjections; I'm interested in you and me and everyone we know who once was in a blue funk or a crabby mood because we hadn't seen the sun for months and life felt like it was closing in....then spent an afternoon with a friend discussing a book over coffee, or scrapbooked together or went for a walk with a camera slung over the shoulder or doodled on an envelope wilst talking on the phone or jotted a few notes whilst waiting in the car....and then skipped home with a smile and and stayed up half the night painting, drawing, cutting, sticking.... humming inside, the way I feel when I capture a shot I didn't expect... or someone comments on my blog post .....;  whether or not we call ourselves 'artists' doesn't matter, as long as we recognise the need within us to produce something however small that is meaningful to us, and that we have the means to kick that blue mood into touch.

But Soft! What light?

iPhones are known for their multifunctionality- camera; diary; child entertainer; you can even make phone calls with it! And now.... I have discovered courtesy of Strobist that you can use them as a softbox...

Five a day...

Sophie and Ols getting the most out of their 5 a day.

Look at Oliver in his grown up shirt. (School visit....) Sophie declared he would look 'hot' if he weren't her brother. Indeed he does look like a mini version of his father... with the same disrespectful attitude to the fruitbowl.

This one looks like a poster for a scary movie, Donnie Darko meets the banana splits?

Home.

From Home is Where the Heart Is by Ilse Crawford;

Home is the ongoing story of a person. A home can be complex, a place for crazy combinations, for modernity, for memory. Try things out. If it works for you, it works. Forget about restraint, good taste and what the neighbours think. Home can be filled with things that please the eye, soothe the senses and move us in some way. It can be a playful, spirited vital place. In short, home is a canvas for self expression. There's only one rule. Leave space for change, a place for passing passions, for something else to come along. If things are too defined, there is no possibility for life.

Clockwatching

Albert Einstein said that Time exists so that everything doesn't happen at once...nice theory, but it doesn't feel like that just now...

Stumped.

Counting tree-rings; One of 'our' beech trees laying bare the map of her life; 160 years. A life broad enough for Oliver to lie right across; a census of arboreal years, the cycles of boom and bust in the forest; summers of plenty and long winters of frost before she was finally felled by the wind that proved too much for her.
Throughout the woods the stumps provide a playground for bugs and beasties of all shapes and sizes.

Misunderstood Minds.

"When you're a kid, school is your career. And if you go out of business in school, if your business goes bankrupt, if you're not having any success, you're left with almost nothing. You are poverty-stricken. Where do you go from there?"

-- Dr. Mel Levine
Founder, All Kinds of Minds

I found this quote on a website called Misunderstood Minds as part of my ongoing exploration into why some children (i.e. one of mine) suffer so badly from the devastating frustrations of a cognitive difficulty with writing.  Writing is so important in schools, (obviously) and in Britain at least writing is the major measure of a child's 'output' or progress, such that if an otherwise bright child can't write due to a neurodevelopmental delay or another cognitive or physical malfunction which won't fit into a neat diagnostic box (like dyslexia or dyspraxia) he risks being written out of the education plot completely-it happened to us. We were left 'poverty stricken' when it came to support and advice, and when it came down to it, a school. Hence 4 years of home-ed. A lot of love, and calm, and latterly, writing practice! And we are getting there. Oliver now writes to a level (nearly) appropriate to his age and we are starting to look again at schools.

I wish I'd found this site 4 years ago. If you have the time and inclination, there is a great exercise which helps explain the kinds of 'Higher Order Cognition' difficulties children like Oliver have.



In it you are asked to write a short essay based on a picture of a train wreck, but adhering to a meaningless and arbitrary set of grammatical rules (e.g. Place the three words with which you want to begin each sentence at the end of that sentence; Without otherwise changing the spelling, place the letter "h" to the right of the letter "T" in all words that begin with "T" and to the left of the "t" in all words that end with "t."; and so on. ) It's a bit like walking out of your front door and finding your familiar landscape changed overnnight into an alien terrain. After a big struggle (and I'm usually a fairly fluent writer!) I came up with this;

ts looks lke t was taken n te wld wesht, when te ralroads forged trough te prares carryng paneers t a new lfe. somehow te worst has happened and te tran has deraled. survvng passengers stand to te sde and are even seated on te grass, dsprted, and watng for assstance. much hstory and drama n te photograph, a story n te mdst of unravellng tere s so

Ohmygosh Oliver, I'm so sorry for all those times I nagged you about your writing. I just didn't really understand quite how hard it really was.

Every kitchen should have one...

How about this for the latest in kitchen counter accessories? Entertaining and very hardworking (when it comes to fish-feeding) and very cute to boot!

I need my tonic of toddler mischief every now and again... and the opportunity to take pictures like this, to embarrass him with at his 18th birthday party...although it's possible this hairstyle may be back in fashion by then!

Because I couldn't decide which of these to use for my 20/365, and because I knew these tulips won't last another day, I took this. Given to me by a dear friend 10 days ago, I can hardly bear to throw them out..

Me Time Monday.

Mondays. Up at 6, get Sophie on the school bus, get Ollie up and in the car for 8 and a long drive up the valley to school.... yes, school! One day a week, so far so good... and then...

Me time.

After a trolley dash round Waitrose it's up the stairs in Coffee 1, the smell of leather sofas, coffee beans and damp boots. Now I've trained myself not to worry myself ill over the son I have temporarily loosened from my apron strings I can sit and think and read magazines and have a second cup and just... be alone. A bit of me time amongst the happy hurly burly- that's what 'life balance' must feel like. I think I like it.

Dancing Hands

She dances through life, exploring the world through movement and music. How much expression in those hands!