songs of light

from this moment

"From this moment on, every day, I want you to spend at least five minutes recognising all you contribute to this world just by being who you are, not because of anything you do or anything you say, just by being who you are.  And let that recognition light a flame inside you that with every day grows stronger and brighter from the kindness you show yourself through your lifestyle choices and your thoughts. And may that light guide you home to the radiance you have always been."

- Dr Libby Weaver

That is just exactly the quote I have needed lately. Don't you love how the right words turn up in your life at the right time?

This little bird flew into my window the other day. She sat huddled on the deck for a few seconds and then coughed a most ladylike cough, and out popped a worm. I watched her from as close as I dared saying quietly under my breath, "Don't die, don't die." She knew all she needed was a moment to catch her breath. It was so nice to meet her.

I'm sorry I haven't been in this space much. Every winter I struggle with blogging, and this winter even thought about quiting. I'm not going to, at least not yet, for I know when the spring comes I will awaken with it. It won't be long before the blossoms begin again . . .

 

Since we moved into this house, our fondest wish has been for enough snow to get snowed in.

It finally happened!

It was falling when we went to bed and Dean said, "Maybe in the morning there will be so much snow that we can't leave the house." I thought that to be very unlikely as it very rarely snows heavily here.

But then in the morning, there it was.

Everything was beautiful, even the pines. We stayed home (just about all of Christchurch did) and watched it fall and read books and watched it fall and ate and watched it fall . . . so silently, so softly. It was just as wonderful as I had imagined.

 

winter sun

After days of rain and gale force winds, the sun came out. It was so golden and mellow and threw beautiful shadows and patterns on the walls. I walked from room to room drinking it in.

Hope that qualifies as more house pictures Laura :)

 

 

 

 

a little sigh of relief

It's all done. The photographer was the loveliest man ever. We ate cheese and talked about photography and life . . . it was so easy.

I painted the cupboard blue, then regretted it, then liked it. But one thing is for sure, I do not have the energy to paint it again anytime soon! So, blue it is.

Have a lovely weekend. I am looking forward to catching up with all of you x x

almost there

This has been in my head for awhile. It's just a test print, tomorrow I will play with paint colours. I am crossing my fingers that it turns out well. 

I am just so tired of painting and washing windows and tidying the house (and wondering why on earth I am doing this all again when I know full well I am a hermit and hermits don't let strangers into their house to photograph it.) Cannot wait till friday night when it will all be over.

I promise to be a better friend then. Hope you are all well x 

for you

 

Driving home I see that the light is pouring from the sky , as though an angel is tipping a jar of sunshine straight onto my mountains. (And really whose to say there isn't?)

And while I know it is impossible, I hold my breath and hope that the light holds, that I can show you this miraculous beauty on what is an otherwise ordinary day. Rounding the corner home I see that the fingers of light have disappeared. But still . . . I leave the car in the drive way and run inside for my camera and a ladder. Laughing to myself I climb the ladder, and look - it's still beautiful, still worth capturing. 

I wish you were here. We could drink tea and eat chocolate biscuits while we watched the light fade on the hills, while we talked about life, while the earth spun, while we lived.