Sunshine coast

 

Certain amount of irony in today's title. If any of you have visited northern Germany in autumn and winter (sometimes spring and summer too), you will have probably noticed the prevalence of grey stormy skies and cold winds.

If you ask someone "How are you doing?", they will often answer with their opinion of the weather. Which puzzles me. It is as if you can or cannot be happy only if the weather is in sync with you.

One of my now best friends, who moved 10 years ago to Germany from Cameroon, first question to me when we first met was "What's this about the weather?". I told her that it was a German's way of doing small talk. Her response, "That is so stupid. What good conversation can come out of talking about weather?". 

It is true that all good conversations usually start with a good dose of small talk. Yet, in Germany, small talk is considered a superficial, and thus not useful, form of communication. So, in the end, many are left with only the weather to fill up the void.  

Another quilt

Another quilt... I think drawing them taps into my engineering soul. Piece by piece. Patter upon Pattern.

 

I am starting another project today, "Growing Up & Growing Old" (gugo for short). Like the Hadley Story Corner, the end date is undetermined. Even the level of progress is questionable. One thing, is that whatever finds its way here, is only a first draft. Eventually, I would like to make it into some sort of visual book.

* This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.   

Hadley Story Corner: #5 Babysitting (Karen)

One of the tasks Karen was given as the eldest of four siblings, was to babysit us. I’m not even sure whether or not she was paid for doing this. It was undoubtedly a thankless task.

Kim and I probably ignored anything Karen told us to do. Daniel, who was much younger than us all, was self-sufficient out of necessity. He never received the attention his age required. (For this, I apologize, Daniel.) If our parents had any common sense, they would not have left us to our own devices.

Thank you, (cc) Andy Blackwood for your music.

Hadley Story Corner: #4 Grandma Buckley (Karen)

(grandpa and grandma Buckley, Pat, John, and Peter)

Grandma Buckley, Pat’s mother, was one of our family’s unsung heroes/sheroes. She gave her life to the care of her family and community.

 

Karen talks about all of the fine handwork grandma did her whole life long. She titled this story “needlework compacts purses and teacups”. It is lovely to know that Karen still has so much of grandma’s artwork. Thank you dearly, Karen, for keeping grandma’s legacy alive.

 

(Diane, John, grandma and grandpa Buckley (50th wedding anniversary), and Pat)

There was another aspect of grandma’s handwork that I thought to mention. 

This was the work she did for the Women’s Church Auxiliary. Grandma knitted a storm of mittens year in, year out, which were sold in the Christmas Bazaars. 

Thank you, (cc) Andy Blackwood for your music.

Hadley Story Corner: #3 Pets We Had (Kim) + Story Revisited (Lia)

(Photo of Kim and Megan (as a puppy))

 

Kim tells a story about various pets we had in the Hadley household when we were a child. Then she talks about the dogs she and Damien and Dylan had.

 

As I was editing this story, I realised how different childhood memories can be.

(Photo of Lia, Bonnie and Miel as a kitten)

 

So, I recorded what I will can “story revisited”. It might be interesting to have all of the siblings give their spin on what actually happened all those years back.

 

If you do not want to record your memories, please feel free to comment in this blog post.

Thank you, (cc) Andy Blackwood for your music.

Hadley Story Corner: #2 Auntie Barbara (Lia)

A few years ago, I drew/wrote Sara my story of Auntie Barbara. For, I see a lot of Auntie Barbara in Sara.

I am not sure whether you can actually read the drawing. I might have to do it over again.

Karen asked me to "tell" the story in the drawing. Not so easy to do, but I tried my best.

Thank you, cc Andy Blackwood for your music.

Hadley Story Corner: #1 Auntie Barbara (Karen)

The Hadley Story Corner is a place for Karen, Kim, Daniel, and I to reminisce about people and occurrences in our past. It is our hope you will enjoy the telling of tall and humble tales.

Today’s story is about Auntie Barbara. She was Dave’s sister. Karen tells us about wonderful influence on her as a child.

There will probably be a lot of stories about Auntie Barbara. She was both larger than life and down to earth.

Thank you, cc Andy Blackwood for your music.

Drawing wallpaper

Not quite sure what this phase of of drawing is I am going through ... drawing wallpaper... no explanation necessary, it is as it is. Inspiration can come from anywhere.

 

Gentle push

 I have ten days off work. Time to put away my work computer, turn off notifications, and for the first time in such a long time truly rest. I am going to start to art projects I have been meaning to do for a long time. One is a sister storytelling corner. The other is start a writing a visual book "growing up and growing old". 

Not sure how much I will get done, but it should be fun to give them a try.

Etching in sand

A child's fingers hastily turns white nobs

On a fire-engine red etch-a-sketch

Scribbling grey lines on a grey background

Tongue stuck out in concentration

Mind not knowing what will come.

While a brown wrinkled monk's hand 

Slowly sweeps gently over the surface

Of golden sand, smoothing, never lifting

Or displacing a corn of concern without

Silently celebrating the exhaling of breath.

Work table

Giui ordered a new adjustable office table to be delivered to our home. 

Very chic. Very good quality. But, boy oh boy, was the putting it together an eye-opener. Guess after so many years and so many moves, this woman is no longer the Ms Master Fix-it I need to be! (Hint: if you can not lift pieces off the floor, maybe you shouldn't be putting it together using one hand to balance and one hand to screw in the bolts.)

My father used to say how good it is with age to engage Young Blood. Now I know what he was talking about. 

 

Winter lights

The days are getting shorter and shorter. Now is the time when winter lights in store windows or through laced curtains make a walk in the morning cheery. 

 

Velvet pillowcases

 

I used to volunteer at the Oxfam shop. Fortunately, I was designated to the book section. Nothing better than to work with books all day.

There was another section, my least favourite, that dealt with household accessories. There was often really strange stuff there. For instance, customers regularly brought in elaborate embroidered velvet pillowcases from the 60s, which I found horrifically ugly. Yet, surprisingly they always found a buyer. Who'd guess.

Beadwork

 

Years and years ago, I did beadwork. Very similar stuff to the drawing above. Wonder what happened to it all. Set free in the universe.

Quilting by numbers

 

1,500th blog post, this one

15 years of blogging, who would have thought

My son and daughter asked

If I would start blogging again 4 months ago

And even if I wasn't convinced, 

This is number blog post 43 this year,

16 this find month of October.

It was easier to do than I believed it would be

As is the quilt I drew along the way (see above)

Quilting by numbers, a new take on

What I liked to do as a child, paint-by-numbers

When I would try to finish before the 

Paints dried up. I thought the same

Would happen with this blog. Dry up. Not so.

 

Middle Ages

 I love living in Lübeck which has existed since the 7th century during the Middle Ages. Everywhere my feet walk, others have done so for hundreds and hundreds of years.

Also, how weird would it be to live in a place like Singapore and be older than the country? (The country became self-governing in 1959.) 

Oxford Mills

My sister's and I learnt to row a boat on the river behind our grandparent's house in Oxford Mills. This was, at that time, a small farming village not far away from Ottawa. There was an telephone operator in the grocery and hardware shop who would pass through (and listen into) the telephone calls to the various residents.

Anyhoo.. there was a river behind our grandparent's home and we were allowed to take the heavy red rowing boat and row up to the cemetery and back. We were not allowed to go into the direction of the dam. Those were the simple rules we had to keep to. 

There were a lot of wonderful dragon flies, frogs, painted turtles and birds to discover. There were also dangers... snapping turtles and blood suckers. A child's paradise.  

Bubbles

 

Grandma B.

Both my grandmothers were artists. One painted in oils, a gentlewomen's pursuit. The other knitted, embroidered, crocheted, made lace, sewed, quilted, painted porcelain, and much more. It is odd that the Grandma H., who came from a middle-class family, and only occasionally painted, was considered the artist. Whereas, Grandma B., coming from a poor background, and was always making something, was considered frugal instead of artistic.

Yet, when I think back to Grandma B., there wasn't one day that went by without her creative spirit finding something to make joyful. She was amazing. I wish I had told her that. 

Slowing down

It was a strenuous week at work, coping with an edginess in the air. Colleagues and bosses wanting me to magic something out of thin air. Like a gremlin, my thoughts scatter. My promises follow jaggedly to appease the needs of others, but rarely solve the problems in any way whatsoever. 

What I do need is to stand still, slow down my heart, and get better at saying no to others and yes to myself.

Curtain of leaves

 

We have a willow tree that partly fell, tipped over into a large pond around the corner from where we live. This happened four or five years ago during a storm. Initially, I thought it was going to die. Surprisingly, the tree continued to grow. It offers the best of hiding places for children and adults alike. You have to climb over its tilted trunk and through a curtain of leaves and there you are in wonderland.

Hippy generation

Many people who meet me think that I am from the 60s hippy generation. Actually, not true. Even my older sisters were too young to be hippies. Though that did not stop us from embracing some of the music and life choices (wink wink nod nod). 

Knowing this, it is all the more shocking to discover that even though I am not an true blue old hippy, I am a Cursed Baby Boomer. Hardly seems fair.

 

Broken toe

Another broken toe

One of many;

Past life as a ballet dancer

And also, me who continually 

Stumbles in the dark of night

I ask a friend about toe pain

And she shares sympathy

... she broke one of her

Toes when she was 

Six years old! Hardly

in the same league, but

I let this pass without

Comment. Companionship

Overrules comradery

 

No excuses. Just fun.

 

The above is a silly colouring-book style of drawing. It is also an excellent way to relax while listening to an audio book or half-watching a film. No excuses. Just fun. 

The weather has turned and done a deep dive into "shit weather" over here in northern Germany. So doing the drawing above is like going back to Grenada as a child, when every day seemed perfect for playing in the water and on the beach.

Rituals

For months now, I have been sending a friend of mine a drawing with an inspirational quote every day. It is my way of sending her a prayer and wishes that she will find the strength to stand these times. 

This ritual of drawing, even if it is nothing more than drawing wallpaper patterns, or quilts, or folkart brings a calm joy into my heart. And, just maybe, to my dear friend, Maria. 

Autumn leaves

Step-for-step over-and-over

I take leave of our house and

Walk down purgatory, past hell,

And veer towards paradise* 

Across cobblestones 

And gravel pathways, 

Occasionally I trip over 

Sunken tombstones of

long forgotten dignitaries

hidden under autumn leaves

(The street corner I live on is "Purgatory" and there is a small alley with houses called "Holle" and the cathedral at the end of the street has a section called "Paradise" so the story above is not a metaphor.)

 

Undercurrent

 

We are experiencing a second wave. Different than the previous one. This time there is an undercurrent of collective fatigue, confusion, fear and stubbornness pulling each and everyone. How to swim strong?   

Flowers and fishnet

Long ago, in the late 60s, I had a dress with a similar pattern to the drawing above. There were flowers and dots and either the background or the flowers were in a garish pink. I wore blue fishnet stockings with it. I thought I looked really chic. Blue and pink a perfect match.

Then one of my sisters told me the fishnet pattern didn't match with the dress pattern. That was the day I gave up on being a fashion queen. If fashion was more than matching colours... I was off that train. 

 

Lemonade

 

We had an amazingly hot summer. Plenty of opportunity to find the best recipe for homemade lemonade. This one from Chef John was my favourite.  

Wallpaper

 

Walking early morning

Finding a rhythm to my steps

Less random more async-sync 

Their echoes wallpaper in

The space of this new day