Category: Changes

basics · Changes · daughter · son

Skeletons in the Cupboard

Joanne2 Comments

On Thursday night my eldest daughter and I decided to have a good old rummage around in my sewing cupboard. My daughter and I have a mutual interest in all things crafty, and although she knows how to knit, she is just a tad rusty on some of the minor points, (eg ~ keeping all of the stitches on the needle!)

I’m proud of my daughter’s previous achievements in the finer arts. For such a “people person” (she goes stir-crazy from lack of human contact, after approximately ten minutes alone), she has displayed amazing perseverance with craft, especially cross-stitch.

My girl is a scarf lover and I have knitted her several over the last two or three years in a fluffy yarn called “Flurry”. There is another similar brand also available, “Feathers”, which is the knitting yarn I am using for my latest project, which I wrote about in “Back to Basics”. She has attempted to knit with this beautiful, soft, fluffy yarn herself, without success. She is in need of some practise, using a flatter textured yarn.

Remembering my old stash of wool, collected throughout my many years of knitting, although recently neglected due to my so called “time saving” methods of buying readymade articles from the stores, we began opening bags, checking inside of cane baskets and poking around at the back of the shelves to locate all possible woollen candidates for my daughter to practise her knitting on.

We had no trouble at all in locating just the right coloured and textured yarn for her practise knitting, along with a suitably sized pair of knitting needles….

….along with a number of “old treasures” that I hadn’t bargained on finding!

An almost finished jumper, all red, which, as I recall, was intended for my ten year old son, who is now twenty-five! And a sleeveless cardigan that I began knitting for myself, half of the back completed, which, when finished, would have been quite stunning…back in the 1980’s!

Yet another forgotten find was a large bag full of the most gorgeous, deeply toned balls of wool, each ball a different colour of the rainbow. I felt rather disappointed in myself for not completing this particular project as it was a lovely designed multi-coloured jumper, which had also been intended for my eldest son, when he would have been around five years of age!

Neatly wrapped up in its own separate little bag, with half knitted back and extra pastel coloured shades of wool to complete it with, we found a cute little babies jumper, with various designs of boats and houses tediously knitted into it. We both recalled that I had been knitting this for my younger daughter…(drum roll)…who turns eighteen this year!

Oh dear! But all is not lost; my daughter assures me that if I finish the pastel coloured baby’s jumper, she would love to have it herself, for when she has a baby! (Now, where did I put that knitting pattern?)

Why, oh why, didn’t I ever finish these projects?

From my own point of view, the pièce de résistance has just got to be the pair of glasses I discovered, hiding away in the bottom of a plastic bag, immediately recognisable (to me, anyway, even if to no one else) as the prescription glasses I wore, back in the days when I read so much that I suffered from eye strain ~ when I was a teenager, still living at home with my parents!

My youngest son, Master Twelve, (always centre-front when a clown is required!) offered his modelling services for a photographic session, wearing my pre-loved spectacles! (Note ~ No modelling fee was paid for his services. Yes, I am unashamedly into cheap labour, especially when hideous reading glasses are concerned!)

When writing my post on A Rejuvenated Soul, I must now admit to an absolute oversight on my part ~ I didn’t mention sorting through your sewing cupboard, if you own one. :/

So, now we all know what I’ll be doing next week; when the kids are back at school and I have the house to myself, I’ll empty out the sewing cupboard, pack up all the wool that I haven’t got a hope of ever finding a use for, and the charity shops will love me all over again! 🙂

Australia · Changes · gratitude · Mount Warning · winter

A Beautiful Misty Morning

Joanne6 Comments

What a beautiful scene I awoke to this morning! Looking out of the windows at the back of my house, down into the valley, it looked as if an ocean had taken up residence!

Mount Warning looked over the valley, as majestic as ever, smiling on the new day, mist dancing around at her feet.

A sleepy old farm house at the bottom of the valley looked as though it may be swallowed up by a blanket of mist at any moment. You will have to run your mouse over this photo and click on it to enlarge, to see the old home.

In parts of the valley the mist was so dense, it looked for all the world as if we live beside the Pacific Ocean, although we are actually about ten minutes drive from the coast.

This beautiful mist effect happens regularly at this time of year. After weeks of cold weather, we enjoyed warmer temperatures yesterday, in the low twenties. When the earth cools again at night, the mist rolls in! Stunning…

A regular in our garden, a friendly kookaburra who enjoys dive bombing our pool, perched himself on our pool fence, watching the unfolding of a new day.

Although it is the middle of winter, our neighbours beautiful magnolia tree is already in full bloom. It looked particularly pretty today.

After such a beautiful start to the day, I still have one request for the Gods of the Weather ~ Please, may I have just a little more winter, before the summer arrives again? 🙂

advice · challenges · Changes

Too Far Out of Your Comfort Zone

Joanne3 Comments

“Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference” ~ Reinhold Niebuhr

With all of the advocates around these days for “leaving your comfort zone, to get ahead in life”, I almost feel the need to issue a warning before I say another word…almost. Due to my own opinion, of “everyone has the freedom to choose to do whatever they wish with their lives”, it nullifies the need for any warning.

How long ago was it that all of this talk about “you’ve got to get out of your comfort zone” begin? It seems to me that I’ve been listening to the wise and wonderful lecturing us on their opinion for more years than I care to remember.

Believe me; I’ve tried getting out of my comfort zone, against my better judgement. I have buckled at the knees, due to a combination of peer pressure along with the miss-guided belief that another person, or persons, know better than I do regarding what is right for my life.

This poses a dilemma ~ do you stubbornly remain totally within the parameters of your comfort zone, at the expense of not making any progress in your life?

Here’s an example, based on my own experience ~ someone I met years ago, whom I believed possessed a huge dose of credibility, convinced me that it would be in my best interests to allow a complete stranger to babysit my children every Saturday, and sometimes both days of the weekend, whilst I pursued a career in marketing. This position also involved public speaking.

Whilst I succumbed to the pressure placed upon me to follow through with this “new and exciting” life, every weekend, as regular as clockwork, I would wake up on Saturday morning feeling “sick”. Recognising the Saturday morning “illness” as a good old fashioned dose of nerves, I persevered.

After a period of time, during which my children missed me, I felt guilty for leaving them with said stranger each weekend, and I broke out in a cold sweat and practically hyperventilated at the mere hint that I may be requested to stand on stage and address the multitudes, I quit.

That’s right…I quit. So much for leaving my comfort zone!

Which leads me to the questions, when is it the right time to step outside of your comfort zone, and how do you define how far out of your comfort zone is too far…?

When embarking upon a new venture or starting with anything new, there is bound to be a certain amount of anxiety present. How do you define the anxiety?

  • Is it butterflies in the tummy and a leaping heart? Does the mere thought of this venture make your soul sing? Is your intuition telling you to “go for it?”
  • Has the new venture you are about to embark upon been decided on through your own free will?
  • Or…Has someone coerced you into a decision, (when your intuition has its doubts), by bombarding you with a large array of so called “positive points”?
  • Does it feel as though you are about to walk through fire, and across a bed of broken glass, simultaneously?

The thrill seekers out there may be requesting the fire and broken glass at this point, however I would be surprised if any thrill seekers had any interest in reading this blog! (Thrill seekers please note ~ your Google search has led you astray!)

Wisdom gained thus far through the years has taught me a mighty strong lesson. If the anxiety brought about by an idea of trying something new is just way too high on the Richter scale, I change my plans, simple as that!

If the task is just too far outside of your comfort zone, chances are one-thousand-to-one that you won’t stick with it anyway; then you may be in danger of feeling like a failure! (But that’s another topic, for another day!)

Your intuition will never lead you astray, unless it is influenced by another person. Trust your intuition; it is an intimate friend of yours and as such, knows exactly what is best for you.

You can enjoy the very best of everything that life has to offer, by following the requests of your own intuition. Your soul will be relieved too.

So sit down in a comfortable chair, put your feet up, close your eyes, relax, take a few deep breaths and clear your mind. Tune in to the singing of your soul, as you relax comfortably, making your own personal choices, for your own personal advancement through life, in your very own comfort zone. 🙂

Australia · Changes · father · gardening · Mum · nostalgia · pies

Recollections of Comfort and Security

Joanne2 Comments

“Ah! There’s nothing like staying home for real comfort” ~Jane Austen.

Once in a while, memories of my first childhood home re-emerge, usually brought about by a mention of the area I once live in, and every time it happens I am left with a feeling of melancholy.

The reminder this time was due to my stumbling upon a blog, discontinued in 2006, written by a lady living in Woodford in the Blue Mountains. In her blog she had spoken of her love for anything vintage ~ clothing, jewellery, books, recipes…actually, this woman and I have a lot in common.

My own early childhood home in the Blue Mountains was in the little township of Valley Heights. Today, the population of Valley Heights is estimated at 1,336, so you can imagine how tiny the town would have been back when I was a child!

Way back in the early days, in 1813, when Australia was still learning to walk, three explorers, Blaxland, Lawson and Wentworth, managed to find their way through the rugged, mountainous bushland of the Blue Mountains, opening New South Wales out to the western plains area.

Although the progression of time has brought about many changes, both to my old home and the area, my memory still holds images of the three bedroom house, mostly built by my father; the home where the true meaning of the words comfort and security originated in my existence, and still live today.

Recollections of red velvet curtains, a wood grain wall, a kerosene heater and grey carpet in the lounge room. Linoleum floors throughout the rest of the house, including my bedroom, with scatter rugs here and there.

My bedroom was painted pink, with my second hand furniture repainted in light blue. A low, built in cupboard ran along one wall, purpose built by my brother-in-law to hold my doll collection. At one count, I had collected around forty-something dolls.

The house was humble, to say the least, but in my mind I lived in a beautiful mansion, surrounded by lush gardens; a tall weeping willow tree down the back, not far from the swing my father had built for me and where I would spend hours of my time.

Out the back, we grew hydrangeas and fuchsias, which to this day still remain two of my favourite flowers, and we had mint growing and a passionfruit vine. Our garden backed onto a gully full of various species of gum trees and bottlebrush, but my favourite find in the bush was always the uniquely shaped branches of a plant we called “mountain devils”. I could walk with ease alone down the gully, to a point where there sat a huge bush rock. The rock was my limit, without my father’s help.

In the front garden my sister had planted poppies, roses, gardenias, violets and daphnes, along with as many other flowering plants as she could lay her hands on. She was married the day before my seventh birthday, but still spent time in the garden when she can home to visit us.

Nothing gave me more delight than walking to the end of our street with an empty bowl, returning home to my mother with the bowl full of wild growing blackberries, which she would turn into a pie. Wild flowers grew everywhere in the area as well, in the empty lots of land and along the sides of the roads.

Those were the days when we bought our milk, bread and vegetables from the back of one of the many vans, which travelled around the streets selling their produce. We lived on a gravel road and walked everywhere we needed to go. If the walk was too long, we took a bus.

Life was oh so simple back then. And the air was fresh and cool, not surprisingly, with an altitude of 375 meters (1,230 feet) above sea level. Winters were cold and summer days were rarely unbearably hot. It doesn’t snow at Valley Heights, although we would regularly visit the snow, when it made its appearance during the winter months, by travelling just a few kilometres further into the mountains.

When melancholy sets in, it is brought about not by the memories of a time long gone, but rather from knowing that my family prefers to live in a warmer climate, beside the sea.

I wonder if the blogger from Woodford still lives in the Blue Mountains, enjoying her vintage finds in the many antique stores and craft shops there? As far as I know, the cottage industry is still alive and well in the mountains and I feel certain that the antique stores and art galleries have multiplied, since my last visit there.

The melancholy will pass, I promise, and I will bounce back tomorrow, my usual chirpy self. 🙂

What about you ~ do you have a special location, held near and dear to you in your heart of hearts?

advice · challenges · Changes · inspiration · music

Child of Mine

Joanne2 Comments

Music, at times, can give me goose bumps. Not just any music though. It has to be the right combination of tune, lyrics, vocals and instruments for the “goose bumps effect” to occur. I spoke of the music/goose bumps combination in a previous post “Time Travelling…with Music”.

Rarely does the written word have the same effect on me as music does. Sure, I’ll be the first one to admit how easy it is to lose yourself in the imaginary world of a book, and yes, words do have a profound effect, although not generally the “goose bumps” effect.

The following passage, however, not only gave me goose bumps, but also brought tears to my eyes ~

“Child of mine, I will never do for you that which I know you can do for yourself. I will never rob you of an opportunity to show yourself your ability and talent. I will see you at all times as the capable, effective, powerful creator that you’ve come forth to be. And I will stand back as your most avid cheerleading section. But I will not do for you that which you have intended to do for yourself. Anything you need from me, ask. I’m always here to compliment or assist. I am here to encourage your growth, not to justify my experience through you”. ~ Abraham Hicks.

Oh how easy it is to allow natural maternal or paternal instincts to take over, disguised in the names of nurturing, protection and love. When our children are new born babies, of course we do everything for them. They rely on us as parents to be there when they are hungry, to dress them and keep them warm, tuck them into bed at night and have hugs available by the barrow load. We have wonderful dreams of the amazing people our children will grow into.

As the years progress, we develop a habit of “doing” for our children, believing they expect us to be there for them, because that’s just what parents are there for! Think about it, didn’t our own parents always “do” for us?

And then there comes a time when we must begin to let go. With the passing of the years, our children are learning, mostly through watching the examples we set for them, through our own actions, therefore, haven’t they learned from the best? 😉

Gradually, we see a change in their demeanour. They become more independent, personal preferences begin to show. Our children still need us, but their needs change. No longer expecting us to spoon feed them, they begin to seek our approval.

Our role in their lives changes, we become our children’s “most avid cheerleading section”, giving them the confidence to strive ahead, forge on and follow their dreams. Because now, the dreams they are following are those of their own making, not our dreams for them.

As a mother of four, I have learned five main lessons from my children ~

  • Believe in them. If they have your support, in whatever they choose to do, they feel invincible.
  • Allow them to have the freedom to experience the world for themselves.
  • Keep the lines of communication open to them. Let them know they can confide in you, no matter what.
  • Let them make their own mistakes, and be there for them, when they need you.
  • Most of all, keep on loving them, and let them know you do. No child is ever too old to be reassured that they are loved by a parent.

With mutual respect and love, as the years progress, your dependant little baby will become a friend, and not just any friend, but a friend you can trust, rely on and cherish.

There is nothing more exhilarating than to watch your own child growing up, allowing them the opportunity to become the person who they really are and becoming acquainted with their own individual personality.