The White Barn

Monday, 21 April 2014

seascapes

This Easter's warmth has put me in mind of pastel coloured gabled seaside houses, bunting zigzagging down to the water's edge, masts tinkling in light breezes and the safety of the harbour...

You can almost smell the seaweed and taste the tang of salt from these wonderful seaside paintings by St Ives artist Emma Jeffryes available here
Agapanthus and Dolly | Emma Jeffryes

Having Fun in front of Quay House | Emma Jeffryes

We have been blessed with warm, sunny and extremely welcome Spring weather. Out in the garden the boys set up their teepee tent and made it den-like with blankets and cushions and books and toys. They played all day out in the sun, swinging in the trees, inventing complicated games and not-so-complicated ones. Food and feeding moved outside too. Lunch was leek and smoked bacon tart. Later that evening we chopped some logs and lit our ancient cast iron barbecue. The air, full of woodsmoke, was a reminder of summer days. As we cooked over the crackling heat the excitement of cooking in such a simple way brought home to us how complicated we sometimes make our lives. What could be better than wood, fire, smoke and heat from the sun and having the time to enjoy it all?

Tuesday, 15 April 2014

"my holdfast in such wild water"

On Sunday I sat glued to Radio 4 to hear something I had waited all week for- the Echo Chamber with a visit to the poet Jen Hadfield in Shetland. I had never heard of her before. She won the T.S Eliot prize for poetry in 2008 and the radio programme featured poems from her recent collection Byssus meaning a mussel's beard or the threads which anchor it. The sounds of Shetland, the cries of seabirds, the swash and backwash of the shore and Jen's own voice made for an enchanting half hour. If you get the chance listen here.

out walking

This week I have been walking the quiet roads, often just as the sun has risen, when all is calm. There have been mornings of sunshine with clear blue skies and other mornings of low lying mist and frost on the grass. The blackthorn is flowering, the cattle are out in the fields and there is peace in this corner of the world. I relish the complete lack of human noise. It has taken me a long time to realise that I prefer to walk alone (well, with dogs) certainly without a squabble of children but also without husband or other walking companions. Is that wrong? No, I don't think so. It means I appreciate my time alone, it means I come back into the breakfast scrum with good humour, it means I get to see the small, everyday scenes of beauty all around which helps me to connect with this amazing earth we live on, it means I plan my day or week without interruption, it means I write long, complicated letters in my head to people who have really pissed me off, it means my heart beats faster, it means my lungs fill with morning air. It means everything.

Thursday, 10 April 2014

oh heck....

...what have we done?? We've just taken the bold/totally-going-to-ruin-your-life move of getting rid of the TV. Breathe. And unclench. And try to think of the positives...

Kill Your TV Letterpress Manifesto Poster

manifesto from here

It began with us not watching TV during the school week. No-body missed it and the grown-ups watched the news at 9pm when all children were in bed. Then the TV stopped working. Then the TV licence bill dropped into the letter box (€160). Then we started saying "what if we had no TV..." So here we are with no TV. And I'm wondering "oh heck, what have we done?"

But it's hard to do anything even remotely creative when the television is on (or waiting to be turned on). And to be honest that's not we want for our boys or for us. I really want us to read, play, explore, get muddy, bake, sew, make, do, rest, draw, paint, dance, talk instead.

So for better or for worse we have no TV.

And yes, I am a little bit scared.