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Girls, I hope that you took the chance at a leap of faith–and asked your man to marry you while you had the chance. An extra day of the year-and extra day to work, to play…or to take no notice of.
Here's to hoping that March will bring us good fortune.
Did you ever pull a Harriet The Spy and write something about someone that you wish you hadn't? Well, you wouldn't wish you hadn't–if someone didn't go reading it… I love journals, I love the newness of them, the fresh pages, the front to back of endless words that could be written, but there's the problem. What do you write about? As a kid, you write about your pointless little thoughts, and stupid little people….Which is never a good idea, especially if you plan to keep them around to reminisce over. Oh yes, I was the kid who wrote something nasty about a girl-and it ended up in the principals hand. The girl who wrote things about a boy with her best friend and not only were they unlocked from their secret hiding place, but read by her mother-ALOUD! (not by my mum…but who knows if she ever went reading) Words are a tricky thing, they can get you in the worst of trouble…
I've been away for nearly a week. In those days, I had plenty of time to catch up with the many blogs I read–which got me into thinking about my own… I censor my own words and choose carefully about what to write for the sake of the readers that I know I have. And while that all might be well and safe, safe is often boring, and boring just isn't worth doing.
So maybe I'll try to stop censoring so much, and talk about other things-that is if I had other things to talk about.
But in the mean time, to stop being so boring–I got my hair done, and I know you are just dying to see it…
e.darcy
e.darcy
In the week I got my hair cut twice. Yes… I am that much of a bitch that I went back and got it redone-to a completely different look. It was either that or taking the pair of scissors to my hair. Like it, could be shorter-will try something different next time.
A 16th and 18th century farm house, or as the kids called this massive place 'a BIG cottage!'
We went to see the baby lambs-and were lucky enough to get one that was born just this morning! …and then we were welcomed in, whiskey put straight into our hands and sat down by the hearth. It was such an experience and I loved every bit of it.
e.darcy
s.darcy
s.darcy
e.darcy
e.darcy
I could have spent all day with these babies, little black ones and white ones hopping around on their new found legs. Nothing says spring like the green fields dotted with new life.
I once considered the most romantic thing that Steven had ever done for me–was bringing me a cup of tea in bed while I was sick. I'm not saying he isn't romantic, he wasn't trying to be-but to me, it was the sweetest thing…
Until yesterday
'I brushed my teeth this morning, just for you…'
I can't wait for what the rest of married life has to offer!
We sleep under a deep velvet blanket of night, the Moon glides silently through sky-tugging the morning rise… She is a symbol of strength for me. The Moon. She is silent and full, pregnant and reborn. She gives and takes-and requires time.
I've always felt drawn to her at times when her belly is full-basking in her white light is ultimate peace. She brings the blood to my veins and-I just can't explain it…
The last few evenings she has been glowing bright, the dark grounds lit up with her luminous light. Sleeping seedlings beneath the deep soil twitch and dance, coming alive with her. The lunar eclipse tonight-spring is here. Fertility and rebirth. The Moon-and Mother. I feel her electricity.
Simplicity; Cinnamon toast baking in the oven. Swirls of white sugar crystals blending with rusty, earthy cinnamon. This bubbling sweet concoction on toast instantly brings me back home-to all of my homes-to when I was a young girl.
There is comfort in the smell-cinnamon-the smell of home, cooking, holidays, of warm houses and delicious treats. Cinnamon toast is cold snowy mornings-sitting on top of the heaters vents, it's wearing papa's giant t-shirts, bare footed, lounging in bed with mom. Overall, it's comfort and home.
e.darcy
I made myself some cinnamon toast tonight. A simple treat… When I brought it from the oven, Steven's first words were 'that has to remind you of home'. It's true. And it makes me feel like a kid.
What are some of the simple pleasures that bring you back in time? What scents give vivid images of people, places, favourite memories…What smell is home?
Intoxicating isn't it? Being in love… A complete continuous adrenaline rush. An overwhelming feeling, like there is no possible way that you could love any more than you do. Electrifying… As one sang 'You feel it in your fingers, you feel it in your toes..'
I was breathless the first time I talked to Steven on the phone-but that was nothing compared to when I first heard him say those three little words… I love you. I never expected my reaction to be so cliché. Sitting in my closet, phone pressed tight to my ear. Butterflies tumbling throughout my body, pulse beating a thousand times a minute, red flush at my cheeks. His words were electric, and they sucked the air right out of me. Literally. My mouth hung open waiting to say it back, heat poured into my face, hands shaky, stomach flipping, in ecstasy. I was in love.
I never knew that with that fluttery buttery i love you i love you more…no you hang up. you first…no you! came with so much heart ache as well. No, not from broken love–but from loving so much you feel as if you could burst. That your heart can take no more… That it seems physically impossible for you to love anything else. Heart expanding to its full capacity, with potential to burst.
My first love. My only love, and my very best friend…
e.darcy
My first kiss was on the lips of the man that I now call my husband. Every kiss still holds the same butterflies, the same heat. He takes my breath away.
There is nothing like a great love story. Girls gather 'round to listen to every tiny detail, eyes all a dream, swooning… 'you're so lucky…' We all want the same fairy tale ending as the next.
Do share yours! Who was your first love? Where did you meet The One? What's your engagement, love, romantic story?
When I was a little girl, I was told that somewhere in the world-someone is doing the exact thing, at the exact time as you. So, I'd sit and think about what person in the world was sitting and thinking just the same thought, about me. Wondering what language they would speak, what games they would play, what names they would have for their mom and dad. Wondering above all, if we would be friends if we knew each other…
From one of my favourite movies; Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain, Le. Amélie seeks solitude. She amuses herself with silly questions about the world, such as 'How many people are having an orgasm right now?'
So I am amusing myself right now, with questions such as that… How many people around the world will be engaged tomorrow on Saint Valentine's Day, and how many will be broken hearted? But also, how many people will be sitting like me, thinking that exact thing?
As a little girl, I imagined my other side of the world twin friend to be darker skinned, middle eastern perhaps. I imagined him or her to be out in the dirt and heat, as I was out in the grass and rocks of the mountains. He played with rocks while I played with marbles, and we both wished to be friends and play together.
As tomorrow is the day of love and friendship, think about someone else for a change-someone you have never met, and will never meet…that might be doing the exact same thing as you… Your own secret pen pal, living under the same moon and stars.
While looking around, I happened across one of Sheila's 1951 ration books. Sugar, tea, butter, bread, flour, and wheatmeal. This is all one needed, with the chance of getting a bonus tin of Spam with their dole collection…
e.darcy
These simple, basic needs that get us by-taking for granted the luxuries…As Sheila would say, we have a warm house, and we aren't hungry. She said that she can only remember one time in her life that she was hungry… Isn't that such a way to describe it?
I'm grateful that I haven't had to live on rationings, that I have always had a roof over my head and clean clothes on my back… It does ring some alarms though. While I think that the people before me are stronger, more able to deal with anything that is thrown their way, I just don't know how I would cope if I didn't have all of the great things I have today.
Basic survival and living skills are not necessary in today's world-everything is at hand and foot. Well, for most of us… So I sit here, on a computer, connected to the internet, MP3 playing music in my ears, belly full of good food…
Twenty things for which I am grateful, one for every year of my life on this beautiful planet…
*This is your chance to think, and share a few things that you things that you are grateful for…
In some cultures, a butterfly is seen as the personification of a person's soul, whether they are living, dying, or already dead. In Greek, butterfly means soul.
This house is like the sanctuary of rebirth for butterflies. Throughout the winter months, throughout the summer months. Throughout whatever type of weather it may be, you are guaranteed to find a single butterfly. It sits and never flies. It beats its wings slowly and rests. Around three days later, it dies-and from somewhere, a new one appears.
e.darcy
A soul it must be. Sheila has always believed that the butterflies found in this house were visits from her son, Desmond, who passed in 1997. She tells the story of how a single butterfly seems to hover and stay near at family functions, how randomly she finds them in her house, and how these are signs that her son is visiting and watching over.
e.darcy
I have never seen anything like it. I have never seen a butterfly in the dead of winter-let alone the amount that I have seen inside this house. There would be nothing to attract one, sustain life-no reason what so ever to be…But they are here, constantly, one at a time…
