patterns

Old woman, Old man, Woods – Story

| Mairead

1710d

(Patterns… cabbage)

I was watching an art video on YouTube today and it reminded me (long story) that sometimes what other people hear in their heads isn’t what we thought we said. Many years ago I attended a course where one of the things we learned was how to listen to what was being said underneath the words that were being spoken. Anyway, I’m not sure I can explain it a few sentences (or maybe in many) and I’m not sure you want to read it so here’s a compromise, a short story….

1710a

(Patterns… Giants Causeway)

So… once upon a time there was an old woman. She lived in the woods, in a little stone cottage. She had been hurt in love when she was very young and went to live alone in the forest to make sure she didn’t get hurt again. She lived very simply and mostly she was content. Just sometimes she would have loved to have some company. Especially in the evening by the fire as she thought about her day or her week or her life in general.

1710b

(Patterns… garden seat)

Also at this once upon a time, time there was an old man who lived in the same forest, but a good distance away. He was a carpenter and loved being a carpenter and when he got older he saw no reason to stop being a carpenter so he continued to make things from wood in his workshop, in the shed. He had been happily married for years but three years ago his wife died. He missed her and talked to her most days as he worked.

1710c

(Patterns…  Altamont Gardens near Bunclody)

One day the old woman was going for a walk in the woods, she had a lot on her mind, took a wrong turn and ended up outside the old man’s workshop. It was a moment before she realised there was someone in the shed and the old man didn’t see her at all. So she remained silent and watched as he worked. And she thought, He must have been hurt too, poor man, he looks so sad. As if he heard her the old man suddenly looked up and said, Hello there, lovely day, isn’t it? Before she could reply, the old woman thought, Poor fellow, he’s trying to put a brave face on it, I’ll try to cheer him up.

1710f

(Patterns… Christmas snow and clothes pegs in Leeds)

Anyway, they got into conversation (as you do in these situations) and chatted away for about twenty minutes until (as happens in these situations) one or other of them made a move to carry on with their day. As the old woman walked back to her cottage, she thought, That poor man, it’s so sad. And back at the workshop the old man was telling his dead wife all about the lovely cheerful woman he had just met.

1710e

(Patterns… cobblestones in Hungary)

Sometimes I think we hear only what we know must be true, Mairead.

 

Heavy Rain brings Cheerful Scones

| Mairead

1610a

(22 raindrops (or thereabouts) in a row… )

It was a very dark morning full of heavy rain when I woke up. So I lay there listening to the sound of water hitting the window, the roof and the cat. It was surprisingly pleasant (well not the cat bit but he stopped being unpleasant when I let him in.) My memory might be faulty but I think we haven’t had very many heavy rain storms this year. I was enjoyed this one.

1610b

(This flowering shrub has been cheering me all through the summer, looks like it’s happy continuing into the autumn)

It got me thinking about all the things I connect with heavy rain (I mean the nice things I connect with heavy rain.) Being in bed, nice and warm. Staying home, warm and dry. Darkness in the daytime reminding me of the tunnel of trees. Scones and butter. Raindrop sounds. Comfortable shoes. Scones. It was the scones that finally got me out of bed but I completely forgot about them.

1610c

(Pretty edges on the leaves)

By lunchtime it was still dark and raining and I was starting to feel tired and I don’t mind telling you, a bit grumpy. I was talking to myself in a less than kind or helpful way. Like I thought that would encourage me… I worked on my art journal and even began the process of painting one of my tea towels (it takes a few days.) But yet I continued to feel a bit heavy and very slow and not very accepting of this state.

1610g

(More raindrops)

Then I remembered the scones and I was all excited again. Unfortunately, I was in the middle of eating the last egg in the fridge at the time… Still… it is possible to make scones without eggs, which reminds me of the other nice thing about heavy rain – hens.

Heavy rain produces worms and sometimes scones, Mairead.

Free Food! Free Food! Free Food!

| Mairead

1209a

(The sky last night and that’s a small plane up there)

I want to walk every day after breakfast while I’m here, just for twenty minutes, a budding exercise routine. So this morning I got up a bit earlier than usual (to let the girls out) and went out the back gate and down another lane. It’s a farm lane I’m guessing, because it’s not paved but perfect for walking. Unusual for my experience of France the lane is bounded by ditches and sometimes hedges of trees. They are old trees, like oak and horse-chestnut. Beyond these are crops still growing, like sunflower or wheat. There are also newly cut fields and there’s one ploughed field.

1209b

(Droopy headed sunflowers as far as the eye can see)

On my way back I decided to pick up some cooking apples. Now, I’m talking literally “pick up” – from the ground. Before Mara left she showed me an apple tree in the next field, it didn’t seem to belong to anyone, she said, no one was picking up the windfalls. So we did and this morning I did. I felt very oddly excited by the fact that I would not have to exchange some coins for this bounty. And I wasn’t just taking them because they were lying around I have a plan.

1209c

(Little blue butterfly)

Each day I’ve been making little treats for the hens with the bits and pieces of leftover food from our table. This always includes some bread because the bread seems to go stale very quickly. But hard stale bread seemed a poor gift so I was softening it with some warm milk. It gets lovely and mushy… and that’s when I remembered Bread and Butter Pudding. I used to love that as a child and I often have fond memories of it, I even asked my mother for the recipe once but never made it – there’s milk in it, I don’t like milk! Despite that I still like the idea of it and I love the memory of it, warm and comforting, mmmmm.

1209d

(The apple shop)

So, I’m going to make a different version of Bread and Butter Pudding. I’m usually not good at making up recipes – I worry that it’ll be awful and after all the hard work I’ll have to throw it out. No problem here – the hens eat everything, even stuff that seems really yuck. And I’d be throwing out the bread anyway (to the hens!) and the apples were free and… and it might be a good time to let go of worrying about getting something wrong! So my version will have stale bread, cooking apples, rice milk and cinnamon. Oh and eggs, of course eggs, the other thing we can just “pick up” here. Oh and blackberries, yum.

1209e

(Soon to be Bread and Apple Pudding)

There’s one small problem, I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to start, we’ve eaten all the bread. Hang on, there’s another problem… I don’t know if it’s ethically sound to offer cooked eggs to hens?

1209f

(Oh and free drying too)

From a cloudy with sunny spells back garden in France, Mairead.

How often do Ryanair fly out of Pisa? Anyone?

| Mairead

We’re leaving Florence today, well, tomorrow as I write and we’re leaving very early (read 9am…) so I anticipate having too little time then (now, to you) to write so I’m writing now…. which is in the past… which means I may have developed a time machine… it is now as you read and as I write?… Oh better yet, I’ve found a way to explain The Power of Now…. maybe later.

02 07a

(Window in Venice)

Although the Florence bit is nearly over there’s still the journey home…. Four days of wonderful riding through Italy, Austria, Germany, Holland, England and Wales… Emmm… Thing is, the trip down kinda put me off the trip home and I’m busy looking at a train to Pisa and a Ryanair to Dublin. But don’t tell Denis. He’ll be motoring along without a care until the first stop before he realises I’m not on the back. He’ll open his mail and this blog will be there, maybe I should write something nice for him, so he’ll understand…

02 07d

(Windows in Siena)

Never mind, I’m not really going to Pisa, I’m going overland and I’m going to make the journey as easy for myself as possible! First, I’m going to start by following my own advice… well, I was only sharing it because I wasn’t using it myself. So, I’ll notice what’s happening now on the journey.  Instead of imagining and getting fearful about what might happen or about how it might be as hot/tiring/sore as the last time I’ll notice how exactly it is right now. Also, I’ll appreciate stuff that happens and I’ll share with you what I’m grateful for each day…

02 07f

(Window in Duomo, Florence)

You might notice that “easy” for me doesn’t really include any physical issues…. (well, we will be stopping very regularly, in fact by the time we get home we’ll have stopped at approximately 25 motorway services/roadside cafes  over the four days, so that’s a given!) No, all my issues are mental – interesting, right? Mmm…

02 07h

(Window in Pitti Palace, Florence)

We’ll be in Austria next time I write to you, and I’ll let you know how I am then, but of course it’ll be now… again, Mairead.

Wide awake is a strange place.

| Mairead

It’s five past much too early as I write, on a Saturday morning in a studio flat near the Via Sienese on the edge of Florence. It is hard for me to believe that last statement, the bit about being in Florence. I feel no different than usual. I feel no huge Italian influence. At this early hour I don’t feel the heat. I see familiar things around me. I am drinking water. So why did I travel for days on the back of a motorbike to be here if I feel just the same as being at home?

29 06a

(Ponte Vecchio, the only bridge in Florence not bombed during World War II)

But of course it’s not the same. If I open the door onto the garden I can see the soil is dry and cracking from the constant heat and lack of rain. If I pick up one of our host’s books I can see they are written in Italian, even if the cover is familiar, the contents are completely indecipherable. If I open the fridge there are strange foods in there, in the cupboard also. And especially under the sink, the things in there may contain warning labels but how would I know? Even the tap in the kitchen sink has an extra colour… red for hot, blue for cold and white for…

29 06e

(The huge Duomo)

And even though at this particular moment sitting on an (almost) normal chair, typing on my own laptop and drinking ordinary water (from the white section of the tap…) I don’t feel different…. But for every moment that I am here in a country I did not grow up in, I am awakened by differences all around me. And being awakened is probably a good thing.

29 06c

(Jugs for sale)

Most of my life I spend asleep…. and I’m not talking about the time I’m asleep in bed. For example, I go to the shop, I  walk to the third aisle, I pick up some toilet paper, I scan for the shortest checkout, I pull out some cash from my purse, I hand it over, I smile/don’t smile, I say something pleasant/unpleasant about the weather/government/price of cabbage, I walk out, I notice very little…. unless they moved the toilet rolls.

29 06d

(A braille map of Florence)

Here in Italy I stop every time on the threshold of a shop and wake up. I think “is it still day or is it evening?” and search in my memory for the words “Buongiorno” (good day) or “Buonasera” (good evening), because here in this unfamiliar place everyone greets each other when they walk into a shop. I stop in front of the shelves full of unfamiliar packages and search for clues as to what might be inside. If I’m lucky and know what I want, I search for a match between my want and each package in front of me. I am awake because they have moved and repackaged everything….

29 06f

(Florence from Piazzale Michelangelo)

As I walk along the street I am noticing shop windows, footpath edges, scooter sounds, bicycle sounds, pedestrian sounds, I see crossing stripes. I look right then left and then with a jolt I remember I must look left first. Wake up! The traffic closest to me will come from the left…. unless this is a one way street… I’m awake now.

29 06g

(The reason Piazzale Michelangelo got its name – a copy of Michelangelo’s David)

And while I’m awake I notice what’s going on right here and I can bring a little bit back home with me for when the rain falls and I am asleep again, Mairead.

Watch La Luna by Pixar!

| Mairead

3

(Butterfly on lavender at Powerscourt Estate)

I watched a beautiful short movie on Sunday… here’s the blurb about it. There’s a little boy, his father and his grandfather and they are out in their boat. In the beginning of the movie the father gives his son a hat, the same kind of hat as the father’s, the same kind of hat as the grandfather’s. The father places this hat on the son, in a particular way – just like his own hat is placed on his head. The grandfather huffs and puffs, grabs the hat and then places it on his grandson’s head in a different particular way – just like his own hat is placed on his head.

7 8b

(Gothic doorway)

There’s a bit of a scuffle and the father’s way of placing the hat on the little boy’s head finally wins and the story continues.

7 8k

(Raindrops on flowers… requested by Grahame…..;-/)

By the end of the story the little boy places his hat in a completely different particular way on his own head as he teaches his father and grandfather something new. Our children learn all they can from us and then there comes a time for us to learn from our children. Probably sooner than we think…..

What’s the lesson for today? Mairead.

The rainy season has arrived…. time for a story change!

| Mairead

25 9a

(Lovely day in Cashel, Co. Tipperary on Saturday)

It rained all day yesterday and it looks like it’s ready to do the same today. As always it’s funny how I get used to the weather and think it’ll never be any other way…. then it changes. At the weekend it was dry a little cold and sunny, I thought that was going to last, in fact I can’t remember where I put my rain coat and I don’t remember when I last needed it. It’s like the story of our lives…..

25 9b

(Livestock in the grounds of Cashel Palace enjoying the sunshine)

When we’ve got past childhood and we’re making our way in the world we take with us lots of goodies. We’ve got skills like cooking, organising, speaking French, etc. We’ve got lots of baddies too, like nail-biting, eating with our mouth open, etc. And we’ve got our story. The story that defines us, tells us and the world who we are. Trouble is we are not completely aware of our own story. We’re not completely aware of the story of others either but at least we see their behaviours.

25 9c

(Evening walk beside the Rock of Cashel)

When someone’s behaviour includes repeatedly putting themselves down, you can be sure their story includes a reason to be put down. When someone repeatedly allows others to bully them you can be sure their story includes them as the victim. When someone repeatedly makes fun of themselves, you can be sure their story includes the fool. But there’s good news, we can rewrite the parts of the story we don’t like, the parts that we notice when we notice our behaviour.

25 9d

(Fence post perspective)

We don’t change it by putting ourselves down – that’s just more of the old story. We change the story when we are inspired. When something lights you up, lifts your heart, or just plain interests you – wallow in it!  Play with it. Allow it to inspire a different story.

What lights you up? Mairead.

We found the perfect rice cooker!

| Mairead

14 8b

(Sky over Strangford Lough)

From time to time we buy gadgets and I don’t mean the computer type of gadgets, I mean the kitchen ones. For a time these beauties take pride of place on the kitchen counter but eventually one by one they all make their way to the back of the larder. We always have very good reasons to buy them in the first place. They promise to cook food in a healthy way (the steamer and the George Foreman), they promise to help prepare healthy food (the instant shredder/dicer and the food processor), they promise to make a particular yummy food (the bread maker and the smoothie maker). But no matter how excited we are about the potential outcome, the journey to the back of the larder is always their destiny.

14 8d

(View from our boat trip)

The latest to make the journey to the larder spent about eight weeks on the counter, a relative short time when you consider the smoothie maker’s eighteen months. It was the instant shredder/dicer, a beautiful and colourful piece of engineering. In fact it’s attractiveness was probably the reason it remained in view so long, but it had a flaw – it didn’t instantly shred or dice. It squashed and spat. If you’ve ever bought a gadget that didn’t do what it was supposed to then you will know the sinking feeling of regret. Your dreams dashed and yet you have some hope so you keep it on the counter. Until the next gadget finds its way into you home.

14 8e

(Island on Strangford Lough)

We were on that cycle again this week but something different happened. We were looking for the next gadget  – a perfect rice cooker. We had begun the research and had visited a kitchen gadget shop. Although their model was attractive we have been fooled by beauty too recently so we took a step back and went home to the internet. Well, there’s a lot to read about rice cookers but mainly they allow for the steaming of rice. Steaming…. a memory floats back into consciousness, don’t we have a steamer in the back of the larder?

15 8a

(Flowers in the garden at Mount Stewart)

We put the beautiful gadget into the larder and pride of place on the kitchen counter goes to… our old steamer and surprise, surprise it steams rice perfectly. Not as pretty as the last occupant but it keeps its promise – to steam.

I think I’ll have another look at the bread maker, Mairead.