party dresses for my mama

today is my mother's birthday. she's not here to celebrate - but she's here, in my heart, mind, soul. so she's somewhere.

so we will make a cake for her - i know my mum would love that we make cakes for her birthday. and light a candle and sing and celebrate with happiness. and think about her. she would really like the cake - that's for sure. probably some champagne and orange juice as well - but we won't do that; we'll just think about it and know she liked that.
so - i'm not feeling too philosophical to talk about my mum. just a bit perhaps. last night, while driving home on my own in the dark, i was listening to joni and thinking of my mum. a few tears, some extra loud singing, and some smiling as well.

 {images from my 'clippings folder' that i haven't yet uploaded to pinterest. this is what i did before pinterest came along..... top left: from Toast, top right: from Selvedge Magazine, bottom left: Zooey on the English Muse, bottom right: Catherine Maladrino

anyway - i thought that instead of sadness, i would think about what dress i would be wearing to my mama's party today if she was here to have a party with us. and what cake would we make her? something fun and indulgent and extravagant perhaps - the dress and the cake!!

dress making will happen once the kids go back to school. for now just planning and thinking about what the dress may be.
one of Leah's aims for this year is to make herself a dress - i aim to be making mine over the coming weeks. will you join me maybe - in making a party dress to wear to my mama's party. what would you make / wear? please share with me.


places that i am looking for inspiration ::
+ my pinterest clothing board
+ these lovely free downloadable patterns from Nani Iro - which would totally mean some new fabric, wouldn't it!!
+ Veronika Maine - endlessly classic and inspiring to me. loving her blue / green combinations.
+ Toast - always. i love receiving the catalogues. sumptious silk velvets in jewel colours. i used to have a most beautiful, simple and perfectly fitted deep green silk velvet dress that floated and swung about. oh - i loved it.
+ other endless clippings on my computer, that I keep aiming to upload to Pinterest.
...... for a start anyway......... perhaps i'll aim to sew myself a new dress once a month. wouldn't that be lovely. oh yes. my mama would love that for sure!


happy birthday mummy plummy. cakes and candles and dressing up for you today.

more words?

I don't have more words today. 

There are more words from other days, other years, other memories, other..... lives. Some years I've written lots of words. That was good. At that moment. {this, this, this or this one if you feel like having a little sob about your own losses}.

But right now. On this overcast, rainy day (the sun is trying trying trying to peek out), with the birds around me as company. Not so many words. 

eight years. a long time. a blink of an eye.

I do think that being here, on this land. Her land. Is good. For me, right now. It's good. Of course, there's moments when really it's not good either. When the what ifs, the not fairs, the what abouts come bursting forth in my mind. Trying to make a different reality. Can't be done. This is the reality. 

Living here. On this land. Without her. With thoughts, and memories, and dreams, and wishes. But without her.

there is much loss in the world, today, as every day. there is grief, and heartwrenching pain, there is throbbing endurance, there is understanding and knowledge, there is mis-understanding. there are wishes, dreams, what ifs, perhapses. and there is knowing that this is just the way. on this day. this day of my days. 

i send my love to my dear ones, my family. my long big wide laughing crying crazy beautiful family. all of those of you who are my family. my close, my far, my near, my distant family. those i've had connections with.

i am thinking also of others who are feeling loss today. shared loss. personal loss. 

there are many of us who have a moment in our lives.life where something happens and we are forced onto that other existence. to become our parallel being. to not be ourselves anymore. to be the other person that we are. i am myself, but not myself.

in my mind and heart right now. dear friends who are facing.have faced moments of becoming a different person.woman.daughter.mother.father.son.lover.man my love to you today, for today, but also for the future, for the strength, the courage. i am naming you in my heart, my mind, my soul, my love.

"How can we compare sufferings?

Each person's suffering is the most important.

But what enables us to go on?

Only sound, which comes and goes

like water amongst the stones."

Goran Tunstrom 

(found in the book "The Mark of the Angel" by Nancy Huston)

Saturday Moments

A few of my favourite moments from the past few days.

Mt Cootha Botanic Gardens :: drawing from nature; splashing in the water at the Japanese Garden; flowering cactus; soaking up the sunshine

My Dad's home :: stone temple building at the creek; low-light afternoon memories; kids + Granddad playing music together; shapes, lines, textures

At the beach with our dear friends :: building sandcastles; jumping and running in the sand; silly photos; honesty and laughter with long-known friends; beautiful weather, water and day

And home again :: a postage box waiting for us, filled with Lotta fabrics (bought on sale - looks like limited stocks left); some to be added to the growing pile of bluey-greens or greeny-blues for Ari's quilt.

7 years

this weekend marks the 7th year since my mother's death.
i have written about her in past years {here, here and here if you want to read}.

this weekend i am planning on spending precious time with my children.
we've been talking about grandma Michele. who she was, mentioning little things about her. of course both my children can never know what she was like - i feel that i can never represent her to the best of who she was. but i continue to try. and will always continue to try.

i love that my children mention little things about her. things i've told them. and so by me talking and telling them, they then remind me at a later stage.

perhaps we'll make bread - kneading the dough with strength, passion, love and honesty the way my mother did on our wooden bench. her strong arms moving the dough back and forth. i remember her talking to me about the ram's head shape it makes under your hands. {hmmmm. Sam wears a ram's head pendant around his neck}.

perhaps we'll sit and stitch, or try to crochet for a moment. remembering how my mum was always doing something with her hands. how she was a potter, a drawer, a gardener, a knitter / crocheter, a teacher, a listener.

perhaps we'll tickle and giggle and cuddle and laugh. the way my mum used to. generous laughter - sparkling pale blue eyes. her mouth open.

perhaps we'll walk around the house totally n.a.k.e.d.* the way my mum always used to. {Mishi particularly likes that one - being so very very similar!}. or wear a sarong - a pink faded batik piece of cloth that she wore for so many years. wrapped, with expert fingers, around her narrow body.

i will think about jumping in freezing cold water, screaming with the sheer happiness of the fright of the cold. something my mother did regularly enough - the Winter cold creek water, or ocean not yet warmed by the Summer.

we will light a candle. in the candle holder that my mother made with her hands. the exact same brand of candles that my mother always burned.

i will spend my days thinking and remembering the wonderful things my mother gave me, did for me, offered me, showed me, told me.

i will listen for snippets of information about her. about who she was, things from people who knew her better, more, differently than me.

i will laugh and love and cry and smile and pass on all that i know i am because of her. i will hold my head high.

i will have soft, silent peace in my heart.

i will miss my mother every single day for the rest of my life. and i will cherish that i was her child.

*i myself have not one single issue with saying, writing, thinking, mentioning this word. i do, though, have issues with this word potentially bringing unwanted search engine visitors.....

the remains of the day

today is ari's birthday.
5.
big boy. my baby boy.
we were talking about the day he was born. how we almost didn't make it to the hospital (which was only 3 minutes down the road from our house), because i didn't recognise the 'pushing' sensation. we did get there, with 45minutes to spare, though fully dilated. just enough time for sam to park the car and get back to the birthing room!
for parents, you know that feeling as if you've known your children for your whole life, they are so ingrained your every day and essence. you can barely remember time before them. yet you can also not quite believe that they are now old enough to..... make jokes, back chat, get themselves dressed, feed themselves... any number of every day activities.
we had a party yesterday.
so lovely. family and friends in the backyard. a Japanese theme dress-up party - so fun to see everyone pull out their kimonos. and the 'party activity' was sushi rolling - seemed most kids quite enjoyed it, and also meant i wasn't in the kitchen for hours on end rolling sushi (was in the kitchen for hours on end doing other stuff!).
and today, a quiet day. with brother + nephew and my sister + nephew.
and this afternoon. the end of a long weekend. two sleeping kids (sam at work). a quiet house. with the breeze outside bringing snippets of kids playing and birds calling and cars driving.
and me tired too. but many things heavy in my mind, things needing to be done. work to be ready for next weekend.
yet one small quiet moment to stop and observe and remember.

new corners

been moving things about a bit here.
fluff stirred up in corners, and resettled down somewhere else.
cupboards moved to that room
boxes pushed under there
things piled up here
and then

a
new
tower
for me to
look
and remember
and smile
about.

recently my aunt passed this piece along to me
made by the hands of my mother
made by
the hands
of my
mother

those perfectly formed
flowers
and
shapes
embroidered
then the sun
crocheted out and out and out
those rings of bright
colour
and love.

a corner,
for me
to smile.

**all photographed at night, under very low light conditions.

i'm going to have to start sharing

My big boy decided that he can sew by himself. On my machine. He had this long stretch of white felt that we got from (possibly) Reverse Garbage. He drew great lines on it, just strips of colour. And a few cross lines as well. Simple. And perfect. In a very graphic art way. I really like his simplicity, his restraint with the shapes and lines. Just keeping it still and uncomplicated.
(Someone outside, in another house, is playing a beautiful lyrical piece on a flute, or something. Another one of those moments you have of living in the city. In a street where you can hear your neighbours breath and talk and yell, and play music, and laugh).So, after much talking, and me having to finish sewing my skirt (photos tomorrow, or some other time, I promise), I let him at the machine. First he sat on my lap, moving the fabric about with his hands, and pressing the button to reverse the stitches, lifting the foot up and clunking it down. All to my instruction. With me pressing the foot presser, to make it all go.
Then, while I was doing something else in the same room (my machine is now in our kitchen), he hopped onto the chair, and stretching his legs to reach the foot presser, he started doing it all on his own.So, my big (little) boy can sew. Have a look at that concentration.We got a box to make the foot presser higher, so that he can reach properly. And with standing over shoulder instructions from both mum and dad about being careful to not get fingers sewn on.
He did it.
He decided exactly where to start and when to stop the stitches. And then, half way through a line, half way across the 'page' he stopped, lifted up the foot presser, cut the thread. And declared it finished.
So, I suppose I'm going to have to share my sewing machine with him now, hey. Or buy him his own.

yesterday was....

the memory day for my family.
I've talked about this before
(here and here),
and now don't have many words that I want to say or express.
A softness and quietness;
not peace,
but
not anger.
An accepting, understanding.

Some tiny inner stillness
that I know she still exists in. But I feel
that I know she isn't in my daily life
the way she used to be.

I do see her in my daughter,
and in my siblings.
And stop and smile
when I look at photos
- above my sewing table, or in my bedroom.

And only a few weeks ago my aunt told me
that I looked so so much
like my mother.
A wonderful thing to hear,
to be told. A wonderful thing
to look in the mirror
and
look for her in my features.

So, on this anniversary
I cannot talk
about my feelings or thoughts
about
my
mother.
I cannot say words of deepness
to my family,
or express that
deepness
they may be needing to hear from me.

But when I sit,
I look up and see the smiling face
of my mother, and the way
she looks
at my father
in the photo
I love so much.
I delve
deeper
into my mind,
my head,
my soul.

And there, somewhere, is a sort of peace.