Falling in love again…

I didn’t want it to happen, never dreamed in a zillion moons that it could ever be…

But it did.

Yesterday I fell in love with a lawnmower.

Dolly is amazing, life changing —  in the way that only a gorgeous, silver  mower called Dolly can be.

Dolly is a utility mower, made for paddocks and rougher meadow type grass, like ours. For years I have struggled with a tiny Cobra classic with a 14″ cut, blunt blades and just about everything broken that could be. Dolly has a 21 inch cut, and that makes a huge difference. She goes through long grass, and shoots all the clippings out the side. I haven’t had her for 24 hours yet, but yep this is love…

You have to have had a relationship with an old, bedraggled mower, to appreciate a prince among their kind.

I just cannot stop wondering over this gorgeous ‘Cut’ grass as opposed to bent and squished grass…

Dolly the Mower
Dolly the Mower
Dolly in Action
Dolly in Action
Gypsy inspects Dolly's work
Gypsy inspects Dolly’s work


Love has more stuff in it!

Today, I took part in a workshop with children’s author Kate de Goldi, during readers and writers week at Founders Park. This event was part of the Nelson Arts Festival program. It gave me a lovely warm feeling to see so many readers and writers and literary types, lunching, learning and listening all  around the park. It feels good to be living in Nelson when we have treats like this bestowed upon us.

Kate de Goldi writes for children and young adults, and the workshop focused on getting us to see through a child’s eyes. This is a useful approach to take for all fiction, and its a good way to approach many aspects of life. Looking at something as if for the first time, especially something you take for granted, like your hand, for example, can be enlightening and even mind-blowing. In their innocence children can make some very profound statements about life, which are so sharp and pure that they shine in the more gloomy and muddy world of grown ups. I particularly love this page from a book called I’ll Be You and You Be Me by Maria Popova and illustrated by Maurice Sendak. The book was first published in 1952, long before Where the Wild Things Are, but Sendak’s illustrations are no less delightful.

Kate read from several vintage children’s books from the 1950’s onwards, and I was reminded of how much less patronising children’s authors were back then. In the days before everything became way too politically correct, children’s literature was a far more interesting and exciting place. When my children were young, I read them vintage books and found some new favourites of my own in the process. I found most modern books too icky for words. They would get very  upset when I refused to read them books with titles like Bunny in the Bathroom because I could not bear the bad writing, but it certainly hastened the process of their learning to read themselves!  I am happy to say that all of my kids now write, have great imaginations and cannot stand bad writing. Sometimes you just have to be cruel to be kind.

I hope that things will start to turn around in the world of children’s literature and people will realise that all this PC stuff is probably doing more harm than good. This is especially true for kids, who only learn prejudice and judgement from adults. Until then, I shall stick to reading the older books, and I will soon have plenty of chances, with a very unexpected new generation about to bless our family!

I will leave you with a favourite book of ours, written in 1912 :)

There is a great post here about this book, which shows many of the covers, both good and bad over the years.

Mr Wilkinson and the Lads


Colm Wilkinson-Four Tenors – Bring Him Home 

I like this, but mainly because of the wonderful, amazing Colm Wilkinson… mwaaaaaaah! I love that man!!

Day 1 – Addiction vs Choice


When I realised that
you were not the love of my life,

I demoted you to a health issue.

You became my addiction, my drug.

My insatiable compulsion to be with you,

the instant gratification derived from your touch;

caused me to modify my natural behaviour.

My tolerance levels grew and grew

So high my friends couldn’t the stand toxicity levels;

one by on they left me;

pretended to be out when I called.


I shrank smaller and smaller

did nothing but drink and smoke between highs;

a couple more addictions to feed the big one


I started collecting losses;

lost weight

lost my job

lost all self confidence

lost sleep

lost my way.


One day I didn’t wake.

An ambulance came

– life was dripped into my veins

I was dripped back, drop by drop


until I was full of me



without yearning


without compulsion

without addiction.



Just someone who once made

a bad choice.

Dark Things

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

Sadness smells like roses after the rain….

Today the postman woke me. One minute I was in a dream of the distant past and an old car, the next I was shot into the day by the knocking on the Tardis door. Three parcels, two for me and one for Boo. Boo got new T Shirts, he only likes original whacky T Shirts from far away, usually Yogcast related. I was gifted with a gorgeous red embroidered door hanging from India… from my friend Nikhil. I thought the last parcel was jam or pickles as it was jar shaped, but instead it was full of love, and some sadness.

Ro’s Argan Body Conditioner, from Lush…. sent to me as a belated Christmas gift by my darling Tabby and her awesome girlfriend Liv. It is delightful, and it smells like old fashioned scented roses, right after the rain. I felt the love, that they went out of their way to get something they knew I wanted, that they wanted to make me smile ! I did smile… then I cried.

A few days ago Tabby told me that her and Liv were breaking up, giving each other space to grow and move on, after two and a half years. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t read her email, I don’t like endings, I don’t want people to move on…. and I don’t want anyone to be left behind. Yes I know its how the world goes, how love goes, how relationships are, and how people grow. Of course I know all this. But I don’t like it, not right now. I want them to be happy and together. I don’t want to worry that one is unhappier than the other. I don’t want life as we knew it to end, even though it does end, over and over.

The two and a half years of Tabby and Liv were a BIG two and a half years, we all lived together, we were family, we had cats and kittens, and shared a car and a fridge and towels and pasta. We experienced new life and death, tears and joy, lots of airport goodbyes and hello’s……..ending and beginnings. Then a year ago, they left for the Big Smoke. That was tough, but they were still together, safe in their little family unit with Casper and Ziggy the kittens.

And now they are no longer together, divorced, a broken home…. even though they will always love each other, and we will always love Liv and she will always be part of our family… It hurts…. it hurts so much, it hurts for Tabby and Liv and Phoebe and Boo and Casper and Ziggy… and it hurts for me. Each time I drive my car that the girls shared so often,  it hurts, when I go past the BP garage where Liv worked, or open the larder and see a bag of Liv’s Pepito’s, it hurts. When I go into the purple room, it hurts.

I had no idea how my children’s relationships would become my relationships, or that their break ups would involve the ripping apart of my own heart.

I hope this is right for you both, I hope you are truly happy, I hope you always love each other, and stay friends forever, I hope you have lots more fun times together, even as just friends. These are a lot of hopes, but I cant help them, they live in my rainbow coloured heart, where there will always be a wee Tabby and Liv shaped hole.

I love you Tabby and Liv and I miss you already  xxxxxxxxxxx

Pinkness #30

You have these dreams
scary dreams
that leave you unsettled
and in denial of life
but you know they are
just dreams
and then one day
they are not just dreams
one day you are paddling
through your life
and you get
your feet don’t touch the ground
anymore and
your reality is no longer real
you are in a spaceship
with a passenger
no more loneliness
a comfort of two
love and need
and grace and mercy
and charity and faith
are all bound together
hope has already been fulfilled
without you asking
it happened silently
in the darkness
of a womb

A Love Poem #29

You know those days
when you wake
feeling full of joy
and everything is beautiful
and you can feel your heart
curl up at the edges
and you just know that all
your inner organs are smiling too…
when there is no
special reason to feel
so happy except
that you are alive
and in love with life
and aware
that everything
in your world is good
and perfect for this moment
one of those
days when you
KNOW the Universe TRULY
this is one of those

The Naming of Me #27

The one who came at 4.00am
The firstborn
The one whose spring was autumn
She who was born on a Friday
New baby for St Swithin’s Day
The one they call a Witch
The child who came from a caravan
Princess of a thousand books
Siouxie with hair like an Indian squaw
Who is a builder of towers
The dreamer who wakes up contented
(although she rarely sleeps)
She who ran away to the bottom of the world
Mother of Shoog, Chickpea and Beetroot
Mother of angels who walk through her dreams
Mother of Tabby and Polly and Phoebe and Boo
Sister of the worlds best sister (and aunt)
Hippy Tripp and the attachments
Bib best forever friend and soulmate of Dilly
She who cooked Bob Dylan’s breakfast
One he calls Bonegirl the lover
She who can burn in her passion
One who loves once and forever
She who plays guitar late at night
She who wants to sing like Janice and Patti
but who sings just like herself
Brighid the Goddess of Poets
Dylan the wanderer from the sea
or a rabbit on The Magic Roundabout
Daughter of the Moon
Daughter from the wild side of life
Daughter and Sister who was lost (and so
collects waifs and strays)
Daughter who was a boy named Sue
Wife who was a girl named Bob
She who followed the hares
She who whispers with goats
She who waits to be found
She who you all gave names to
She who misses you all, in every moment