b.r.e.a.t.h.e. . . .

A rose

is a rose

 is a rose

is a rose.

- Gertrude Stein - 

Thanks Gertrude, it's been a busy week at our place, and it's so nice to be reminded of the important things in life. 

Photos taken by me in Canberra, May 2011.

No stories today, no adventures.  Just a moment to take time to smell the roses at your place, suck it in, take that breath, drop the shoulders and b-r-e-a-t-h-e. . . . . . . . . . 

Thanks so much for stopping by my place today.  Take care of you, and have a wonderful weekend at your place.  

Bless.  xx

at what cost?

I have never been known to be fashionable, or have the latest, the greatest, in anything.  I don't want to follow the trend, I like what I like, I know what I like and I wear what I like - it really is that simple for me.  I know, I am special, what can I say.  

First and foremost I love op-shopping, no matter what town we are in, op-shops rule.  I love old stuff, I love stuff that has been loved and looked after so well that it still looks new.  I love that it's not in landfill, I love the price tag and I love that through most of my op-shopping, my purchase is going towards helping a particular charity.

I am trying to be more aware of what I purchase, and where it comes from.  This is fairly easy when it comes to food, thanks to people power, we are now getting items labelled correctly and honestly (some of the time), and for me, I have the power to make  informed choices, because there are people out there that are willing to search the truth, willing to put themselves forward and share their knowledge to inform me, the shopper, on what I am buying and where my money is going when I purchase certain items.  I like that.

So what about my clothes then?  Where are they coming from, who is making them and how do I know my money isn't being used for evil?  

I don't know.  

I really would like to know.

I have seen the odd documentary on sweat-shops over the years and each time I am horrified at the abuse that is wrought on those that slave 'work' there.  Oh and I am guilty, most certainly 100% guilty, because I am a purchaser of clothing.  

I recently read one of my absolute favourite blogs, notions.  Here's the nail, and here's the head, thanks Rosie for putting it out there. 

Then, I was out shopping on the weekend, stores screaming 'sale' from every window, with cheap posters and flashy signs - such a waste of beautiful trees - each store with prices lower than the one next to them.  I did stop, I did look through the racks, I was taken in by the hugely discounted price tags, sheesh, I am a girl after all.  But then I stopped. . . . . . I put the items back on the racks and I walked away.  I don't need these items, not at all, I don't need any of them.

So how does it work?  Is there a little family starving tonight because I didn't purchase those items on the weekend?  Is there a Mum selling her body on the street just so that she can put a mouthful of dry rice into the mouth of her child because she has lost her job at the clothing factory?  Will I ever, in my lifetime, know where my clothing comes from or the fabric that I sew with?  Don't I have a right to know these things, to be in control of where I choose my money to go?  Would I allow my children to become slaves all day and all night?  So why do I so easily accept the fact that another Mothers children are?  Just because I cannot see something happening, does not mean it isn't.

I do say a huge thank you to those that are fashionistas and turn their entire wardrobe over with every season.  Without these people, I would not have the pleasure of op-shopping.  The op-shops would not have the pleasure of making a bit of money to give grocery vouchers to those that need it.  But does that give me the right to feel at ease with myself because I op-shop?  The clothing was still made by the same hands no matter how many times the item has been donated.  I am just keeping it out of landfill, and giving money to a charity.


So where does that leave me now?  Is there a nudie run in this at all?  Then of course if we all go back to birthday suits, what happens to all those mammoth shopping plazas, and job losses.  Don't even go near the gazillion lightbulbs being used, or the electricity that is used to even open the store doors. . . . . . . . . I know, how far does one take it?  I am not even touching the subject of the toy sales.  I am just hoping right now in every major chain store that none of them have a fire over the next 3 weeks.  We will all choke on the fumes of melted plastic. 

Moderation and awareness could well be the key to sorting out this mess.  I am going to start with me.  I am going to start asking more questions, finding out more information.    I do hope to get a hold of this book.  You can read a review about it here.  (Thanks Rosie)


I typed this post out last week, however, I have not felt comfortable in hitting the 'publish' button.  I am not sure why, possibly because I don't know enough on the subject, possibly because I cannot express myself quite so 'artfully' as others.

I had come to the conclusion that I would link the article but not comment on it, until, after a conversation (totally unrelated to this subject, but equally real) with my lovely and very intelligent neighbour, she made a comment to me that although each of us are 'one person', we should not fear wanting more information, we should not fear being able to express our concerns, and we really can make a difference if there is enough of us willing to do so.  Now you have it, I have hit the publish button.  It's out there, my mish-mash, shared with you.

Please read the article, and if you feel as strongly as I do and would like to, please pass it on to others.  Please leave a comment of your own thoughts on this topic whether it be on your blog or in my comments.  If you post and comment on your blog, please let me know, I would love to read your post.  I would so love to hear from you, I would love to learn more if you have more to share.  

Thanks so much for stopping by my place today.  

trees. . . . are not always green.

The beauty of the tree,

can never be duplicated, 

between tree to tree, 

nor season to season.

 So take a look up sometime,

and see.

These photos were all taken by me between April and May 2011 while I was galivanting about the countryside in my flying by the seat of my gypsy pants, type pants.  *sigh* I so miss those pants.

No stories, no adventures, just a moment, a quiet 'tree' moment.


Go outside, lay yourself down on the grass, and breathe. . . . . . just breathe. . . . . .


Thanks for stopping by my place today, have a wonderful weekend at your place.


xx

b r e a t h e

A quiet moment of the experimental hooky kind.

It's Friday night down time before a busy weekend.

Thanks for stopping by my place.

Wishing you a quiet moment at your place too.

still raining

Photo taken by Joyce at Cockington Green Gardens

After four five days of rain the locals were rather taken aback at the dizzying brightness of the dazzling ball that shone in the sky above them.  

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

  

It has been (and continues to be) rather damp and a little bit wild on the Mid North Coast of NSW -  They say the sun is due to shine soon.  We hope 'they' are right.  Our thoughts to those sheltering in high schools and other evacuation centres the next few nights in various little towns in this region.  There is going to be a bit of a mop up when this rain subsides, but we will all pitch in to help out in any way we can.  

Thanks so much for stopping by my place today.  

'T' is for Today.

I was going to use this Monday of our long weekend for study, I was going to pull out the books and do a bit more and leave my boys to entertain themselves for the day.  

 Then I thought to myself - there is time enough for study.   

Today is my gift.  Today I will never get given back to me ever, never again.

  

If I were to die tomorrow, then at least for today I have lived.

 

 At least, for today, I found time to enjoy the rain on my garden. . . .

at least, for today, I got to write letters with my boys. . . . . .

at least, for today, I will have coloured and drawn. . . . . . 

If I die tomorrow, then, at least today, I will have seen my boys set up their rally racing indoor course. . . . . .

and watched as they taped and rolled the cardboard for their jumps and ramps. . . . . .

at least today, I will have tidied our wardrobes and have had a mini clean out, so then there will be less for hubbie to sort through . . . . . .

 

at least today, I would have snuggled with my darling boys and read a bit more of our current favourite book right now.  

If tomorrow was the day that was marked for me to breathe no more, then at least today I would have had a chance to make a few more squares for charity. . . . . .

Today is your gift too, make the most of it, treasure it, hold it gently with both your hands, savour each particle of it, the low bits the high bits, the choccie chip bits and the bits in between.  You will never get them back again, absolutely never.  

I am out of here for today, it's happy hour at our place now, and I am thirsty.  I hear the feint but persistent calling of a board game, it's getting louder. . . . . 

Thanks so much for stopping by my place today.

Today's blog post has been brought to you by the letter T, the letter T for Today . . . . . . and for Thirsty.

  

Loop-a-liscious Lushness

 I have not been doing a lot of crochet since busting my hand here but this last week I have managed to get a few rows done, just enough to finish this loop-a-liscious lushness scowl?  Well its not a scarf and nor is it a cowl, so I am guessing a cross between the two gives us a scowl, either that or it could be a carf, yeah, ok, maybe I will call it my loop-a-liscious lushness, cause that is just how it feels.  

I would like to credit Heidi Hirtle who credits Jen on Ravelry for her version.  

The scarves I make to donate to our local cancer ward can feel quite heavy, but I have been making them for warmth.  The back of the neck can really feel the cold and I find myself that a heavy scarf although provides warmth, ends up giving me a dull head and neck ache.

I wanted a scarf, I wanted a chunky scarf, I wanted a light weight scarf.  I had Heidi's scarf on my Ravelry faves for quite a while, but for some reason, I didn't think to use it at first.  Before I went away, I played with all manner of stitches but while it sort of worked, it just really did look crap.  And we don't want that.  

Flicking through my fave pages on Ravelry, I come back to Heidi's Mesh Scarf and thought I would give it a go.  I wanted longer, so I made some changes to suit and ended up with the pink scarf that I am wearing Here (keep scrolling, and scrolling).  I love it, I totally love it, I wore it so much while away, dangling just like the photo then other times wrapped and wrapped about my neck, lovely and chunky and light and warm.  Luckily I had enough of the grey from my beanie and scarf combo of which you can sort of see in the photo Here (again, scrolling, and scrolling some more) to begin on the mesh pattern.  

It was going to be a scarf just like the pink one, however, now I am back home and into the classroom with my little students, a scarf can be a bit cumbersome, dangling down, hanging over the desk and generally just getting in the way.  I have seen in the shops quite a lot of loop scarves or cowls and I am also seeing quite a few on ravelry popping up.  I don't want a single cowl thing, some days I like chunky, some days I like drapey, some days I like loopy.  I wanted something that would do all three.

I think I did it.  (Just ignore the monster eyebrows and bad hair.)

Chunky.

Loopy.

Drapey.

Introducing my Loop-a-liscious Lushness

See, just one big loop.

I am going to make some of these for the local cancer ward and hopefully they like them just like I like mine.  

I am going to post my pattern count to ravelry, when I work it out and I will let you know, in case you would like to make one too.

Thanks so much for stopping by my place today.

Have a wonderful weekend at your place.  

Today's blogpost has been brought to you by the letter L.

L is for Loop-a-liscious Lushness.