Breaking out of the Cage

In these days of lock down, most of us have moments when we feel imprisoned. But today I escaped...

...to my very Messy Playroom, my happy place. First I joined a class run by Liz of Book Arts Studio, but started playing with some pages I had prepared to make notebooks for a retreat planned for next weekend. I have been struggling to create since the anxiety, fear, horror of covid19 started to impact me at the beginning of March. Inspiration doesn't come, and besides, comforting myself with art seems such a privileged thing to do. I think of all those who are so much worse off than me, so much more trapped, so much more vulnerable. And yet, how does having an unused room full of art and craft supplies help anyone?

Today, taking something I started before all this started, and turning it in into something different from the plan, eased my anxiety for a while, and for a few hours I was happy in my mess.

A book made using one of my gelli prints, and embroidery thread from the days before I had linen thread for bookmaking.

Mark making with s gold Pitt pen and a homemade stamp.

Coffee dyed paper, which was dried in my dehydrator, resulting in some interesting markings.

Book paper pockets with a chook feather, and a tag stamped with a hand-carved stamp of a kowhai leaf.

And another with a kowhai seed stamped tag and a duck feather.

A second book, again with a gelli printed cover.

This time, one pocket holds a dried ginkgo leaf.

More pages await covers and stitching, and I feel like I'm finding myself again.

A Walk to the Long End of the Road

I only meant to walk to the mailbox with a bucket of apples, but Mac decided to come with me, and then we decided to go a bit further. We saw our farmer neighbour doing something with young cattle in his yards, and had a bit of a chat about gorse and drought and how much rain we'd caught on the roofs and what a great year it was for mushrooms - and were a bit hoarse at the end of it, because we were keeping our distance. 

We passed Mac's sister's old place

with the shed that we helped put the roof on the day before I had my stroke a couple of years ago.

I love the shadows these trees cast upon the road.

The liquid amber tree is starting to colour up.

Another peaceful evening.

And in the evening I mend my round-home, merino trousers, practising stitching in anticipation of a more artistic project.

Late Afternoon Melancholy Walk

Five Things

rain

family

friends

my cat, Min

the beauty of nature

Walking and Noticing

Since the beginning of 2019, when I had first a tooth infection, then a really debilitating, long-lasting cough, I have let my health slip. Not eating so well, and not exercising. I am eating better since lock down because I am weaning myself off the little 'treats' (how is something that's not good for you be a treat?), and I have started walking again. I knew I wasn't as fit as I had been, but it has been shocking to realise just how bad I'd got!

Today I did 2 x 2km walks to the short end of the road and back, plus 2km this evening after dinner. And I am feeling better for it, mentally as well as physically, and my blood sugar has dropped a bit too.Daily walking the same route also gives me an opportunity so observe my little part of the world, and I am reminded of how observation is on of the principles of permaculture, and that permaculture has given me the best structure for thinking about, and living in, this world.

Tomorrow I have my NIA Heal exercise class on Zoom, but will still do some walking as well. Regardless of whether I live through this damn pandemic or not, I am determined to be the healthiest I can every day.

Hope and the Bumblebee

the wilding pumpkin vine

winds its way though

long grass and seed heads

a marble-sized green fruit

absurdly optimistic in April

but the bright yellow flower

still brings hope and promise

to the bumblebee

A Day of Rest

It's only been a little over three weeks ago since Womad. It would have been my 15th, but we decided to stop going, as it had become just too big and crowded for us. I February I was starting to regret my decision, but by the time March came, I was already worrying about covid19, and fully expected womad to be called off. Last year womad continued under the black cloud of the Christchurch mass shootings, and this year they continued despite the pandemic.

As the pandemic news kept coming, my love of music left me: No more music festivals, no more concerts, and every familiar song said, 'never again'. I couldn't listen to music without crying, let alone sing along or dance. Then Maggie, my daughter-in-law, started posting a song from her dad each day - and of course, Pete is a similar age to me, so his choices sit very well with me. After a few days of tears I started humming along, and enjoying them again.

Today I have been just so incredibly tired. All the worry, anxiety, panic, fear, all just washed away in a wave of exhaustion, and I spent the afternoon listening to mostly new-to-me music, reading and dozing, while Luna the Cat guarded the house from the chooks. I did go for a walk this evening, to the end of the road and back, slowly, and needing to use my walking stick, but the fresh air was lovely and the moon tonight is glorious. But best of all, music is back.

A Good Day, After a Bad Start

Admittedly, I got up late, but still it was only just after breakfast that the phone rang. A stranger cold called me to tell me that he was Ron (or Rob) Taylor from Raglan, and that he was ringing to share some scripture with me, in these troubled times. So I told him to fuck off, fester and die. Probably a bit extreme, but I don't like door-to-door religious snake-oil peddlers at the best of times, let alone assaulting me my over the phone in a fucking hugely anxiety-inducing pandemic. Just as it is illegal to break into someone's physical bubble under lock down, in my opinion it is also morally indefensible to force your way into someone's mental health bubble by cold-calling on the phone with religious proselytizing. I wish someone would send their pitbull in to wrestle his Raglan Directory out of his hand! People who want scripture can get it from their book of fairy tales of choice, or by ringing their minister or online or numerous other sources. The rest of us should be left alone to deal with our anxiety in our own way. So having started the day in such a horrible manner, things were not looking good! But after a bit of ranting and raging, I calmed the fuck down, and moved on with my day. I fed the ducks and chooks, made yogurt and kefir, rinsed sprouts and watered microgreens, hung out two loads of washing, and ordered my milk for delivery next week - really life under lock down isn't different from any other time in the moment. Simon made some amazing pesto scrolls for him and Mac - I was so very tempted to eat some, but as I have been getting tension stomach aches, decided that filling my tender gut with gluten would not be a great idea!

Lacking much in the way of old newspapers and firelighters, we decided we needed some Old Man Pine. Several years ago we had someone come in and fell a huge old dead pine tree before it fell down onto the driveway and trapped us. Over the years we have used most of it, leaving just the biggest part of the trunk which is so layered with gum that a small piece in the fireplace is enough to get the fire going without paper: you just have to hold a match to the gum and it catches alight.

I helped clear a path through the gorse and new native saplings, then sat and watched as Mac chainsawed.

After sawing off a slice, Mac realised that half of it had been sawed through by the tree fellers, and we both pushed until it took off down the bank, onto the driveway.

Then Mac used a chain attached to the bucket on the tractor to lift it on to the trailer, and Simon and I lifted the 'little' slice on behind it.

Mac backed the tractor up to the top of the hill, to wait in case he had to pull the van and trailer up.

Simon drove the old Toyota Hiace to the bottom where he turned around and got a good run off before barrelling up with the load.

The Rusty Trusty made it, no trouble. It may not longer be legally road-worthy, but it sure is useful, and very worthy in our eyes.

After a cup of tea, I went for a walk to the mailbox and back, in the late afternoon sun.

For once there were no Paradise ducks or pukeko around, but lots of fantails and rosellas, the resident kingfisher, and a tui who seems to have moved in to live in the bush halfway up the hill. Birds make me wish I had a proper camera with good lenses, but I don't know how to use them, and I'd never carry it with me all the time.

So many weeds - but there is beauty in them too.

The day ended wonderfully, with a long video chat, first with Jeff and Konny, and then with Simon, Gre and Steven joining. I know I've said it before on numerous occasions, but, oh how fortunate we are to have the internet and video chat platforms! I may not be able to hug my family, but at least we can see each other and talk. Hopefully next time Maggie and Zeda will join us. Poor Maggie was essential working - on her birthday no less. When this is over, we will have to have a series of birthday celebration for all those who missed out during lock down.

PS I have no idea where all the blank gaps in this post came from, nor why. I can't see them in my draft, and can't get rid of them, so sorry.