Giving The Fairy Feet

I've never really been a wishful thinker or a flibbety-gibbet. I'm not a dreamer or a schemer, nor do I get lost in fairytales. I would have liked a happy life.

Just that.

But we don't get to chose our heritage, do we. We are given what we get!

And then it's our work to do, to resolve, heal & redeem.

My journey has been hard. Many times I have nearly drowned, yet here I am, having plumbed to the bottom in the murk, now gliding in calm clear waters.

The tools I need to build with are now in my hands, the strength is in my back & the fairy now has feet, at last.

I am well practised in the language of authenticity & the arts of imperfection. I have let go all the structures & the judgments of the past & I now rest.

I rest in being me; fully.

In the early days of blogging I "met" a dear kindred soul who wrote at Fading Grace. Many are the metamorphoses of Sophie who quite recently wrote this truly charming dedication to her followers & friends over at 
hettie brown : 

...."It seems a shame to me to give way, to the more popular, more stylish, younger, thinner, perfect bloggers, although they too have their place. What about the not so perfect, the slightly wonky, the ones who admit to their failures and crapness at times, I think we are worthy too.

So I continue to scribble away here, with my heart on my sleeve, with my successes and total pants failures. I am being brave, I have no idea who reads it, and some idea of those who do who i wished didn't.  When i dont write , I miss it, when I stop missing it, Ill stop writing.....

So I dedicate this blog and all its writings from this post onwards to the

Wonky, broken people who happen to stop by,
to the shy and introverted, and maybe not so,

who always drop their dinner down their fronts and mostly look like they've been dragged through a hedge backwards,

to those who wear big knickers and knit their own socks,

who are fraying and maybe greying a little round the edges......

To all the misplaced souls who strive for perfection and never quite reach it

I write this blog for you

Love

hettie brown"

Here I am one of the wonky & not quite so broken ones, only dropping my dinner down my front on occasions. As to the big knickers...well you'll never know!

Sophie's words make me feel right at home; found.

Another friend passed on the writings of Jeff Brown on Facebook about New Year. Every day I am encouraged & expanded, empowered & strengthened by what I read.

It's about giving the fairy feet.

It's about finding romance in the naked fires of everyday life.

Oh yes!

Jeff Brown

(The little ballerina is me, by the way)

So what does all that mean?

It means taking Pollyanna & making here real, grounding her...& I don't mean sending her to her room! As an old Pastor friend once preached....let it work grace.

In the fiery yet enervating heat of summer we fill our paddling pools in the garden & sit & rest & chat, not fussing that there's nowhere to swim. 

We fill our pretty jug with cool water & lemon & we drink!

A little music might be nice...streaming jazz is great, the reception not so much.

So he put the little speaker up here. That's better.

A kindy teacher from way up north kindly sent me some of her giant sunflower seeds. I figured growing up the nice high wall might be good

 but the traitors just stand there waving at the neighbours!

 The birds come & feast on the early figs & they are welcome, yet time & again I go to the tree & find one is being eaten & right beside it one is ripe yet untouched. That's kind sharing, don't you think?

 Bright & early one morning, quite recently, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find...

 a long package containing a stick!
Fortunately the other half was waiting in the letterbox.
Shoes everywhere, leaves & debris scattered all around.....not so perfect (fairy feet)!

A spontaneous & thoughtful gift from my dear & treasured friend Julie who lives a creative, crafty & truly inspiring life near Te Awamutu.

Our birds are so used to us by now, they made themselves right at home immediately.

I have been trying to grow hollyhocks in my garden for years now, without success & especially trying hard to grow the double dwarf variety. I've tried them in all the places I was sure that they would love & even in pots but time after time they would curl up their toes until...just one, grew right here. Apparently they are an oak-leaf variety.

 I have tried some more along Margaret's front fence next door. Some are single, some are double most are quite wonky but they all make the most delightful hollyhock fairies.

 I think I may need face drawing lessons.

 It's easy to walk in to the Garden Centre (Green Door...marvellous place!) & see everything flourishing & vibrant & fabulous & feel discouraged that at home it's all flagging, messy & pooped

 and that the snails have crept out night after night & munched through the middle of your petunias,

 that even though you followed the instructions for pruning hydrangeas to the letter they are so late & lanky & are being very sparing with their flowers, like there's a shortage.

 Sometimes life just feels like the paint spilled in the middle of the plan.

 But then you turn around & look again & there...right there in front of you is the most stunning fragrant beauty that you'd forgotten you even planted & you inhale the heady fragrance & wonder whoever chose the name Heart Broken?

Outside the kitchen window high up in the neighbours elm tree we realise that the tuis have built a nest....right here in town! The tree should have been a golden elm but part of it reverted & got taller & taller & made suckers that come up through our garden...yet, had it not, the tuis wouldn't have built 

right there for us to watch them & hear them feeding their babies.

But even in the beautiful & happy-go-lucky world of the tui things go wonky. This wee one arrived on to the middle of the lawn. early one morning  The parents were extraordinary & we all looked out for him for a week until one day it all became too much, his wing was damaged & he'd never fly. Margaret found him last week under the fig tree, dead but unharmed. So....we rang Anna & she came & collected his wee body & will use the rarely found & beautiful feathers in her flax weaving.

And so...having "got to the bottom of things" in me, it was interesting to notice as I drive past every week the old house, the funny little place where we lived when I was little...where I fell madly in love with feijoas, made my first attempt at concocting perfume, got a little potato stuck up my nose & had to be carted off by flustered parents to see Dr Earle to have it removed, 

where we lived when I first started school & where my best friend Wendy lived just down the road (still a bestie after 53 years!) was empty & being prepared to be removed. 

Just the right time to say goodbye to the past.
Peace.

Everything seems overwhelming in the sweltering heat of summer & we wonder how we normally manage to do life & feel a lot less prickly. Best idea is to plan an hour or two at the river & revive,

however, upon arrival the river banks were busy, someone was in "our" spot, another crowd had their builder's boom box up full bore tuned to the radio & there was rubbish all over the show so...we had a little paddle & a wander round & found another little shady spot to picnic that was quite perfect & very soon the noisy one drove off on his way,

leaving us to gently descend in to peace & tranquility.

Life is just about the moments.
So here's to hettie brown & Jeff Brown (entirely coincidental!) & Pollyanna...to the wonky ones, the cheerful ones, the kindly ones, the ones still getting-to-the-bottom-of-things, to fairies' feet & you.
Much love,
Catherine x0x0x

Living Juicy

Golly, I didn't mean to disappear!

I have been keeping up with Sunshine Vintage & doing some very necessary & deep emotional work. Meantime...the world swirled on around me & then quite suddenly it came time to celebrate our 35th wedding anniversary. Surely that can't be us...35 years!

We took some time off & went north for a couple of nights to stay in Gisborne. Although I spent a good deal of time as a child visiting with my grandparents in the little town of Wairoa I had never been to Gisborne before.
We passed through Wairoa on our journey & stopped at a great little cafe called East End in the main street (well there aren't really many others, actually-streets or cafes).
We loved this creative design in the entrance.

Look who we saw peeking out from her little feather bed in the rafters of the veranda...Mrs Swallow.

We went & found my Nan & Pa's old house in Campbell street.
I always loved that old Pohutukawa tree.

Then we found where my other grandparents had lived awhile.
Wairoa is where my parents first new each other.

The road to Gisborne is windy & hilly but soon enough you can see down the other side.

We were advised to use the back entrance when we got there because.......
there was a night food market & fundraiser for the old steam train being set up right in front of the motel.



Goodness, we didn't expect front row seats!
We were even given vouchers by the motel people & found ourselves a lovely cheese platter.
All the food offerings were capped at $5 to make it affordable for families & to encourage people to try new things.

The train has been restored by volunteers over the course of the last 30 years & what a marvellous old thing it is.

Rob remembers a train much like this from when he was a child in Nairobi, Kenya.

Lots of palms all around Gisborne...they love the sunny seaside climate.

We found a marvellous & large bookshop.
Fun Christmas tree idea.

Just around the corner we walked by the beach as the sun went down.

We found a wonderful ancient Pohutukawa tree along the way that looked so inviting some of us climbed up in to it's welcoming arms. Cool hut.

 I love it when the tuis fluff themselves up like ninnies.

We searched out all the op shops & found the thriving Farmer's Market on Saturday morning just near the museum.
Walking along the river bank we came across this very cleverly painted building.

The skies were so blue & the wetlands around some parts of the river most intriguing.

It's a real shame that the rail link has been closed so everything has to travel by road or container ship.
But we soon realised that the main route in to town for people, is the well used railway bridge.

And the primary pastime for many on a hot & sunny Saturday afternoon is sitting on that very bridge egging each other on & hoping that your courage might pass on by & help you face your fears & jump!

Posturing helps!

Next morning there were more goings on in the road out front.
Around breakfast time there assembled an entire vintage car club.
They set up a little christmas tree & piled up a mountain of parcels that will be given to needy kids.

The whole thing began to take on a hilarious life of it's own.

After a bit the Sallies turned up to play some Christmas carols, but alas, there was no choir.
Soon enough some willing volunteers stepped in to sing-a-long. Not sure they knew any of the words but their enthusiasm was welcome.

On our way home we stopped at Morere springs. New Zealand's only hot salt water pools.

I spotted a new wild flower on a bank as we passed by. I've taken some cuttings...not sure what it is so do let me know if you're familiar with it. 

Many times we have felt so alone through the years...the indifference of our families a harsh & palpable thing. So we were over-joyed to receive such nurture & warm hospitality on our journey, the enveloping of arms of "you're just fine" enabled us to relax & know that yes, indeed we are.

On our return home my lovely friend Gina sent me this:

We didn't just take a nice little holiday, we journeyed in celebration of connection. We talked about the transformation through the years, the waking up to so many things & the vital necessity of juice. 

Living juicy means being truly alive & vibrant & growing & having resonance.

It means not boring the heck out of each other with the sameness & stuckness.

Living juicy brings sweetness to life.

In each other we find home.