Category: father

advice · basics · challenges · Changes · father · freedom · inspiration · Mum

What’s Behind the Fear of Parting with “Stuff”?

Joanne4 Comments

Yesterday I spoke about my thoughts on “Adopting the Minimalist Approach”, a subject which I feel quite strongly about for my own life, and although the concept is to “minimise” the material and emotional baggage in our lives, I have reached the conclusion that to minimise is, well, rather a complex subject.

Although we say we want to discard the unwanted material “stuff” in our homes, we don’t always actually take the action to do it…

What is it that we are so afraid of?

Let me tell you about the emotional tug o’ war I experienced myself, just this week, when sorting through the unused clothing hanging in my own wardrobe ~

Tucked away, right at the far end of the hanging rack, I had a long sleeved blouse, a gift from my mother; a short sleeved blouse, a gift from my father, and a knitted beige top, another gift from my father. When these items were newer, I wore them constantly. Each item, in its turn, had once been a much loved article of clothing.

Now, these clothes were yellowing, and smelled “musty”. Why? My mother has been gone nearly seventeen years, and my father, nearly twelve years!

“Who am I kidding”, I asked myself, “by hanging onto these clothes, will it bring my parents back??”

The truth of the matter is, if my parents were able, they would be the first to tell me to get rid of the clothes…and now I have.

What other excuses do we make to ourselves, you know, the self-talk moments we all have, when trying to justify why we can’t let go? ‘I might wear it/need it again one day’ or ‘I’ll fit into it again, when I lose weight’ or even ‘it’ll cost so much to replace it’.

I’m as guilty as the next person, I procrastinate when it comes time for the big clean out. But you know something? Once you start tossing that unwanted stuff into bags or boxes, momentum kicks in…The more you part with, the easier it gets!

Every time I get rid of more stuff, I feel liberated, and lighter. It’s like a weight has lifted off my shoulders. I keep on going back to admire the clean, neat, tidy and emptier cupboards!

Getting rid of unwanted “stuff” fills me with a sense of achievement.

Another gigantic plus to owning less clothing is…a smaller ironing pile! More time away from the ironing board! Now, you can’t complain about that, can you? I’m not! 🙂

Every action we take should be motivated by the question of how this is going to improve our life.

With less clutter in our life ~ we can breathe more easily; it lifts the burden of the “excess weight” of material possessions.

When the clutter has been removed ~ it opens up the “space” around us, both physically and emotionally, making way for fresh, new, wonderful experiences to find us.

When the clothing is minimised ~ we spend less time deciding what to wear (and the ironing pile is smaller! 🙂 )

If you are planning on minimising the “stuff” that is blocking the flow of your life, I encourage you to ask yourself what it is that is holding you back from letting go. And be honest with yourself.

And if all else fails, think about how happy dogs are. All they ask for is food, shelter, love and a kind word. They don’t need any of the “stuff” we humans accumulate, but they are happy.

How about making yourself a little happier too? 🙂

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?

birthdays · cooking · dad · father · pies · recipe · traditions

Apple Pie, For My Father.

Joanne3 Comments

If he were here today, my father would be coming to my home for dinner tonight, to share his special day with my family.

I’m sure that there wouldn’t be any of the fuss and fanfare of a large party of any description. Dad wouldn’t have liked that. No, Dad would have perhaps gone for a walk, or a drive, to the beach, just to watch the ocean and the waves crashing on the shore. Or he may have spent some time at home, reading a book. He loved reading.

He would have enjoyed a roast dinner, with gravy. And soft bread, with a crunchy crust. We may have been able to convince him to have a glass of champagne, just for his birthday. But after dinner, he would like his cup of tea, for sure. Dad was a true Englishman.

For sure, I know what he would have wanted for dessert. Apple Pie. Dad loved my apple pie. And I loved to make it for him, because I knew how much he loved it.

Happy 90th Birthday, Dad……

Apple Pie

Pastry: 1 ½ cups plain flour

¾ cup self-raising flour

1/3 cup custard powder

1/3 cup cornflour

Pinch of salt

185 g butter

1 tablespoon sugar

1 egg

2 tablespoons water

Extra sugar

Sift flours, custard powder and salt into a bowl. Rub in butter until mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Add sugar, mix well.

Make a well in the centre of the dry ingredients, add egg and water and mix to a firm dough. Knead lightly. Refrigerate pastry for 1 hour.

Roll out just over half the pastry and line a pie plate. Spread 2 tablespoons of apricot jam over the base of the pastry shell. Add the cooked and drained apples. Roll out the remaining pastry, cover pie and press the edges together firmly. Trim, decorate and cut a few slits in the top. Sprinkle the top with extra sugar.

Bake at 190 deg. C for 20 minutes, then reduce heat to 180 deg. C for a further 20 minutes or until pie is golden brown.

TIP: Roll out the pastry between 2 sheets of baking paper. Lift the pastry carefully with the bottom sheet of baking paper and turn, pastry side down, onto the pie plate.

Apple Filling: 7 large cooking apples

Grated rind of 1 lemon

3 tablespoons sugar

½ cup water

Peel, quarter and core apples. Cut each quarter in half lengthways. Put all ingredients into a pan and cook, covered, until the apples are almost tender and still holding their shape, approximately 10-15 minutes. Remove from heat, drain and allow apples to cool.