Monthly Archives: August 2011

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Busy As ….

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I hate to use a cliché, but take the title above and mix it with the image below and you’ll soon sort out how things are here.

Even though I made it home on August 2, I’ve still not found a place for all the things I brought back with me. Disorder generally makes me stroppy, grouchy, or cross, you can pick the word that best suits depending where you live or leave a few you use to describe how you feel when you’re having an off day.

I could use a few worker bees right now, but I’d likely run them off with my bad temper. I’ll be back when I’m more agreeable. 😦 Humph!

Hidcote Flower With Bees - August 2011- by E.E. Harper

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Angela Jardine & The Write About Love Project

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Paris - 2010

Last February I announced ‘ The Write About Love Project ‘ and then promptly seemed to forget about it. I assure you that like most things that compete for my attention, TWALP has not been forgotten but only tucked away for a bit waiting for a chance to showcase the stories of someone new.

In July I received a gentle inquiry from blogger and writer Angela Jardine, or Angie as I’ve come to know her. She sent me an essay that I had overlooked and later a followup email to see if I’d received it. After getting over my embarrassment for being so slack with email, I found her essay a nice fit and hope you’ll enjoy it too.

One of the best parts of blogging is when we have an opportunity to meet people through a chance online connection. While I’m not completely sure how Angie found ‘ Gifts Of The Journey, ‘ I would guess it had something to do with Cornwall.

She and her husband live in Devon now, but will soon be moving to a village near mine. We’ll be connected by the Camel Trail and the idea of riding my bike to see her has me impatient for her to arrive.

I’ve nicked a photo of her from one of the sites where she writes http://angiejardine.hubpages.com/ and you can also read what she has to say at http://thisisangiesblog.blogspot.com/ as well.

Click here to read her essay for TWALP and find out what she loves and why.

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Risking A Fall To Get What You Want

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Elizabeth Walking Her Path - 2011

That was me yesterday standing on the edge of bridge so I could get a better shot. I felt pretty safe up there especially as it wasn’t my first time. I climbed up back in May of 2008 right after I had rented my house to strangers, quit my job, turned down another job offer, and sold my car and most of the stuff I’d spent my whole life accumulating.

You see I had a plan for a new life and there was no room for excess stuff. I was traveling light which meant hanging on to only the things and people that mattered most to me.

John and I were still a new relationship back then having only met in person three months earlier, but I knew I was doing the right thing in leaving for love like I did. Having lived a pretty full life for my then 47 years, I knew that sometimes risk was necessary even if when the outcome couldn’t be predicted.

Some folks back home in Georgia thought I was crazy for selling off my stuff and essentially moving to a country where I would be considered a visitor and only allowed to stay for six months out of the year, but I believed that no matter what happened I’d be okay.

I have always believed the Helen Keller quote that, ” Life is a grand adventure or nothing at all ” so off I went … following my heart to Cornwall all wide open with the possibility that the risk involved might yield the best possible results.

And as most of you know, it did!

If however, you’d had a window into my life and events the year before I met John you might be surprised that I had ever been willing to risk a single thing for love. What happened then is an old story with a modern twist and not one you’re likely to read here, but I’m sure it will turn up in the book I’ve been working on recently. I haven’t gotten very far with it yet. Most of it exists on index cards right now as I run through my memories mining for the events that have mattered the most.

There’s all kinds fear in writing memoir such as who might read it and get upset, who might remember it differently, and the really big one, what if revealing the past affects your present in ways you can’t control and ways you don’t like.

Having heard my stories since we first met, John has encouraged to me write them down. By stories I mean my true life stories, not the fiction ones which may have a thread of truth through them, but come mostly from my imagination.

During my recent summer of  ” Lost and Found ” a few other people echoed the same message to me. Some of them were only repeating what they’d said before encouraging me once again to put my real life into words more permanent the occasional musings over coffee or a shared meal.

My longtime friend Patrice, and newer friend Greta Jaeger are two of the people I’m referring to. Both of them not only gave me ” the talk ” about writing my story, but they paid for dinner too. Greta works as a life coach and did such a good job over appetizers that I jokingly said I felt as if I should write her a check for a session as she left me with so much to consider.

My friend Carla Johnson did the final wrap up a few months later when she asked me some pointed questions about writing and my goals. Carla can cut to the heart of something with the skill of a surgeon and after years of working with medically fragile people, she knows how to help expose the truth without leaving you bleeding.

This post finds inspiration from many people, but the biggest push came from reading the revealing email below that I received from Marianne Elliot this morning.

I subscribe to more than I can read these days so most things like this go into the trash pretty quickly. This one caught my eye because I was interested to read about an event she had to cancel, one that for whatever reason did not work out and how she choose to see it as an opportunity to try a new way rather than an excuse to dwell in the negative messages that most of us tell ourselves when we feel afraid or overwhelmed by circumstance.

I’ll leave you with her email (along with another photo of me from 2008 ) and hope you find some encouragement if you need a little today.

Marianne Elliot’s email,  Subject: Ever fallen flat on your face? I just did. And here’s how I’m dusting myself off.

” You know the Creative Flow workshop in Berkeley I’ve been telling you about for the past couple of months?

Well, it just didn’t take. 
Maybe it was the wrong workshop. Maybe it was just the wrong time. Maybe I’m terrible at marketing. Maybe no-one likes me (I know, I know. Lots of people like me. But I did wonder that for a moment. I am human after all.)
Whatever the reason, we just didn’t get the sign-ups and had to cancel. I felt like I had really put myself out there for the first time in the US by offering up an in-person workshop, and had fallen flat on my face. In front of all of you. And all my creative friends. 
I felt a bit like I used to in school when I would try a new trick with my skipping rope and end up tripping myself up, landing on my ass. Face flushed. Heart racing. Ashamed. 
But I’m not a little girl any more. Thank goodness. These days I can recognise my own shame and fear, and I know that we all share those experiences. I also know that sometimes things just don’t work out and even though you might have something to learn from it, it doesn’t mean that you are a failure. 
It might just mean that you should try it a different way. 
So I’m trying this a different way. Instead of the weekend workshop I’m teaching a 90 minute Creative Flow yoga class at 10am this Saturday at the Teahouse Studio, 1250 Addison St, Ste 20, Berkeley.
I understand that an entire weekend was a lot of time, and $380 was a lot of money, to commit right now. So instead lets practice together for 90 minutes. You just need to bring $25, a yoga mat and a journal and pen. We are going to do a little bit of writing to explore how opening the creative flow in our bodies can support our creative work. But you don’t need to consider yourself a ‘writer’ to do this. I promise!
If you’d like to come do a 90 minute class with me this Saturday please RSVP to teahousestudio@gmail.com
On the other hand, we’ve had great sign-ups for the Off the Mat, Yoga in Action workshop atYoga Pearl in Portland next Wednesday. There are a few places left though, so if you were thinking of coming and just hadn’t registered yet, you do still have time. That one runs for three hours (from 5.30-8.30pm on Weds 17th) and costs $50. You can learn more about it here and register here.
And thank you – for being here to witness me as I learn these lessons and for being so encouraging along the way. 
Love, 
Marianne “

Elizabeth On The Edge - May 2008

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When Things Are Exactly What They Seem

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John and I skipped off to the picturesque village of Knowle for few days for a family celebration about 48 hours after I arrived home last week. I’ve been to Knowle before, but this was the first time I had a chance to explore it on foot with my camera in hand. This darling cottage caught my eye when we arrived the night before and the next morning I made a point to photograph it. I tried to find out more about it with an online search, but found nothing of interest. It looks as if it was one of several known as The Artillery Cottages.

What was most interesting to me was the milk and juice delivery looking as if it was waiting to be taken inside. I showed John my pictures when I got back to his brother’s house and asked if it was real or a prop designed to add to the look of the cottage. I think he found it funny that I could not decide whether if was really there for drinking or to enhance the image.

I remained slightly skeptical until later that morning when John and I went for a walk together and I took the image above. I couldn’t help thinking that in Atlanta this delivery would have likely been snatched for some stranger’s breakfast. As it was, it sat out there for more than a few hours and while it was cooler outside than the cottage cheese creating temperatures of Atlanta, it was warmer than I’d like my dairy products to linger in for long.

Thanks to all who added their thoughts on my post yesterday regarding the riots we’ve had here in the UK. My blogging friend Sarah at Texpatsabroad had a look at the situation from her London-based expat perspective that you might want to take a moment to read. I’m still thinking about what she had to say and the conversations John and I have had around the unrest.

John and I have distinctly different viewpoints being from two countries, but we disagree respectfully which more than I can say for many of the comments I’ve read in some online forums. 

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Destruction, Intimidation, & Theft – Raising Kids Who Riot

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Unless you are without access to news media, you know that parts of England have been dealing with riots for the last three days. I can’t imagine the fear of seeing such lawlessness in the community you call home. Watching as looters destroy the shop where you stop for coffee or a newsstand run by a sweet old couple who’ve worked there seven days a week for as long as you can remember must feel as if you’ve been dropped on to a movie set.

The Sydney Morning Herald has some excellent photo coverage as does the BBC News site. In fact, there are sadly loads of photos online documenting the destruction.

The reports say that most of the rioters and looters are teens which makes one have to ask … where are the parents in all of this?

More importantly, I wonder what you would do if you recognized your child with stolen property in their hands or saw an image of them vandalizing a car or building.

Update: 

I wanted to add some photos shot by a friend. Amyra Bunyard  lives in London and was essentially trapped during the riots that took over her neighborhood last night. I stayed up very late watching her updates on Facebook and asked if I might include some of her photographs today. She took most of these from her apartment building and more from the street when she felt safe enough to venture outside later.

London Riots, Peckham - Photo by Amyra Bunyard

London Riots, Peckham - Photo by Amyra Bunyard

London Riots, Peckham - Photo by Amyra Bunyard

London Riots, Peckham - Photo by Amyra Bunyard

London Riots, Peckham - Photo by Amyra Bunyard

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Hidcote – A Birthday Stroll Through One Man’s Garden

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I often wish that my step-mom Cullene could be by my side as I explore new places during my travels with John. She’s content to travel less these days although you would never guess it based on what she manages to accomplish while out helping others.

We had a chance to talk about all the places we would go if I could persuade her to cross the ocean just one more time, but she feels the need to stay closer to home. She gives so much of herself to those around her and both family and friends are the recipients of her loving attention, but it does leave her with less time for herself.

Today is her birthday and without giving away her age (not that she’d likely care) I am glad to note that this is the 39th birthday I’ve had the privilege of sharing with her even if from a distance. I wish I could be there to make this day special for her or even better if she could be here with me. I’m stealing a bit from the children’s book author, Dr Seuss, ” Oh, the places we would go … ” in order to tempt her.

I left her a gift that will be appropriate for the photos in the birthday post today, but I misplaced the card and did not realize it until it was too late so I’m hoping that this post will act as a substitute for a more traditional birthday card. It is sent with great love and a not so subtle hope of enticing her over when the time is right for her to fly again.

Happy Birthday, Cullene.

You can go here to read about Lawrence Johnston who was often described as a ” self-taught gardener ” and spent much of his life creating the gardens at Hidcote. (Click to enlarge photos)

Can you guess where Cullene might use the birthday gift I left for her?

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And The Winner Is …

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John Biking On Bodmin Moor

When my sweet husband bought me a bike of my own, he gave me a gift that made my heart very happy and I’ve had the wildest thoughts while zipping through the lanes or pushing hard to make it up hills. Due to having only three gears, I love how this little beauty makes me work a bit harder to get up the steeper places. Somehow the success at the top feels more like I’ve earned it. I could not have done it half so well without my season of spin classes and think this new bicycle and I shall become the best of friends.

That said let’s move on to the naming and why I chose the one I did. I tend to assign meaning to most things in life so I should not be surprised that the idea of a name for my new ‘girlfriend ‘ seemed important.

Thanks to everyone who offered a suggestion yesterday. They were all lovely in their own way and I appreciated the explanations as well. Angie came closest to the name I chose … offering something similar, but not quite what I had in mind.

I’m calling her Dora and here’s why …

When I was riding so hard up the hills around our village for the first time, I could almost hear the music playing when the bad witch rides by during the tornado scene in the Wizard of Oz movie. Although not the actual scene I’m referring to, this video link has the music I was hearing in my head on those hills.

Counter the witch imagery with the thrill and excitement of flying down through the lanes and you have some of the childlike enthusiasm I was feeling the rest of the time even going so far as to let out a few ” Weeeee, I love this biiiiiiiike” screams in places where my joy could not be contained.

Given the visual imagery, music, and my struggle to go home, how could I not think of Dorothy, her ruby slippers, (my bike is a deep shade of red) and the witch who had to be conquered. Even though Dorothy was was a front-runner, I knew I wanted something shorter and more racy for my girl. I thought Dora might work and when I checked online, I found it was a nickname for Dorothy and that it meant ‘gift’ which seemed just about perfect since she was gifted to me by John.

I know in America that ‘Dora the Explorer ‘ has been a favorite of young girls in particular for some time and while I had no thought at all about that Dora, I feel sure that my Dora and I will do quite a bit of exploring as we spin our way to new adventures.

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Choosing A Name For My New Baby

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Elizabeth Dodging Sheep On Bodmin Moor

Thanks so much to everyone who commented on yesterday’s post and celebrated my return to Cornwall and John. What a great welcome back it was to have such a thoughtful gift from him. I love how he listens to my not so secret dreams and surprises me with an action.

Now … I need a little fun help from you.

I’ve never really been someone who gave names to things like cars and bikes, but with my lovely retro looking ride, I find that I am thinking of a special name for her. I have something clearly in mind, but I might change it (although not likely) if you leave one that wows me.

I’ve got my reasons why I’m leaning in the direction I am, but I’d love to hear what you think before making a final decision. Thanks for your help!

I’m putting my vanity aside and leaving the photo above one you can enlarge even though my hair looks a fright. I want you to be able to see the sheep on the road and the moor. This is one of the roads we drive on regularly to get to our village. When you meet an oncoming car you have to pull over which is easier than meeting in the mostly narrow lanes where someone must backup.

 

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Back In Cornwall & Home At Last

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If you follow me on Facebook, you know I arrived home in Cornwall early yesterday evening. John met me at the gate and I was over the moon to see him. As we live about 4.5 hours from London, he was a bit tired before the day was over. When he meets me at Heathrow, he likes to do the drive in one day preferring a 9 hour drive (500 miles) to an overnight stay in London. He took this photo right when I saw him. I can’t say the woman behind me looks as happy as I do to be there. (Click to enlarge)

Back At Heathrow After Three Months Away

When we made it home, I walked back into my studio space to find a lovely surprise. I had a happy tear or two when I saw John’s thoughtful and unexpected gift. Can you guess what it was …

Is that not the sweetest, most darling, best bike, you’ve ever seen? John said that I need some Brogues and a tweed skirt and I’ll be kitted out just right for my new retro looking bike. My sister Margaret would say that I need a helmet. I do have one, but it’s not retro so I may need to look for one on the London Cycle Chic site.

I think my face says it all … happy, happy, happy!  Now if I can just navigate the narrow lanes without crashing into anything, I’ll be good.

UPDATE: The first ride …

After making a few adjustments to my bike, I changed into pair of cycling shorts cleverly as a skirt and  John and I went for a ride up on the moor. The route we took through the lanes was stunning with color from the wildflowers that were everywhere and the green of the hedges.

I can’t even describe how it looked and felt except to say I was overwhelmed by it all and felt like I was going to have a happy cry more than a time or two. My urban stress melted away out there. Poof! It was gone, just like that.

I loved it! I’d say that my spinning days will quite happily be taking place outdoors. Some of the hills increased my heart rate in the same way my spin classes did and the sheep and wild ponies made for lovely view. I wish you all could have this experience.

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Wishing For What You Want – Messages To The Universe

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Last Tuesday I had farewell dinner with two friends who’ve been helping me through this long hot summer. I’ve talked about Patrice here more than a few times so you may already know that we’ve been close friends for about ten years. Lisa is a new friend for me, but based on the number of times she came to my rescue this summer, you wouldn’t know we only met last December.

During our yummy dinner at West Egg Cafe, Patrice pulled out her iPhone and began to show me shots of a flowering cactus that she had photographed the night before. She said this special plant only blooms at night and that the flowers only open once in their lifetime. Can you imagine a life that short? She invited me over to see it saying that one of the two remaining buds was likely to bloom and she wanted me to snap a few photos as it opened. So I did.

We arrived at her house about 8:30 and the bloom looked pretty tightly closed to me. Because it opens at night, we felt that it might open faster if we kept the outside lights off.

While that seemed to be exactly what the plant needed, it left me shooting in the dark. My Canon G11 shoots well in low light, but the images were still too grainy to make me happy. We filed inside giving it a chance to be alone in the dark and went back out later with flashlights as it began to open adding a bit of controlled light to the photographs. I think think the flashlight approach worked well. It was more dramatic in the dark.

Here’s what I looked like trying to shoot while holding the light. Both Patrice and Lisa offered to help, but I got territorial and wanted to do it myself. Patrice snapped a few photos of me while I was working to get the look I wanted and then jokingly revealed that she thought she had a hand in my having been in Atlanta so long after I was originally scheduled to go home to Cornwall.

It seems that back in April not long after I had arrived, Patrice was moving her big cactus outside to enjoy the warm weather and found herself wishing that I could be here long enough to photograph the flowers when they opened. The flowers on this cactus bloom in June or July so with a return date towards the end of May, there was no way I was going to see it. She didn’t even mention it to me until Tuesday and I had no idea what to expect. 

Calling something so special a flowering cactus seems a bit bland for such a lovely flower with a too short life span. Gardening types would know it by its proper names such as Night Blooming Cereus or Queen of the Night.

I have to admit that it was definitely worth seeing and I while I didn’t mind leaving after midnight, the next time I come for a visit I’m going to have to ask Patrice to be careful what she wishes for.