Valentine's Day 2014: The Little Land of Me

 

I came across Naomi Johnson, creator of these gorgeous little artworks at her workplace last year. She is as lovely as her creations.  If only you saw her range of Christmas decorations, each one handmade to Naomi's meticulous standards. Guess the price of the red felt heart above; £3.00.

 

And this perky little key ring; £1.00.  Yes really, a pound! I've ordered several for little stocking fillers ready for next Christmas.

But the green wreath above is my favourite decorative item this spring, and is going to feature heavily in my Easter decorations in the weeks to come. 9cm diameter an absolute steal at £2.00.  Two pounds!

 

http://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/TheLittleLandOfMe?ref=l2-shopheader-name

 

If we are to reflate our economy, we must support young, skilled British designers like Naomi.  For as William Morris so perfectly stated; "If you want a golden rule that will fit everybody... Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful."

Easter Tulips

I cut tulips early in the morning, and as I move around the garden selecting these beauties I carry them upside down to protect the blooms.  I'm thinking how beautiful their understory.

Easter Sunday & Pablo Neruda's The Captain's Verses

I temporarily abandoned my duvet this week in favour of vintage monogrammed cotton sheets picked up for next to nothing at my favourite junk shop.  The sheets are almost as heavy as my duvet, but are such a delight to sleep under these recent warm nights.  Imagine waking up this morning wrapped in white sheets with the dawn chorus carolling around my consciousness.  Heavenly.

The hordes began arriving for Easter yesterday afternoon, and soon we were laughing and yahooing over cups of tea and endless, endless cakes and treats.  No chocolate though, as most of us gave it up for Lent, together with "chocolate-cheese-chips", the usual alcohol, walking the bloody dogs (we screamed with laughter at this one) and "not saying the rosary every night;" to which we all nodded and thought we should have done this too... One had even given up saying the F-word, and as the F-word is merely another adjective for someone born and raised in the North, this was indeed a magnificent achievement worthy of a very large glass of Bush after lunch today.

Flowers are banned from churches during Lent and make a spectacular appearance after the Easter Vigil on Saturday night.  It is one of the loveliest parts of Mass on Easter Sunday.  I try to operate a similar ban at home, so as soon as it was light this morning I was up and out into the kitchen garden, cup of tea in hand, looking for spring flowers for my Easter feast table.  Photos to follow.

And always at Easter my thoughts turn eastwards to my homeland. 

To war zones. 

To you.

"...and that there where I am,

under rain or

underfire,

my love, I am waiting for you,

I wait for you in the harshest desert

and by the flowering lemon tree,

in every land where life exists,

where spring is born,

my love, I wait for you.

If they say to you: "That man

does not love you," remember

that my feet are alone in this night, and they

search for the sweet, tiny feet I adore...

...and your soul which I awoke

so that it should keep on singing

until the end of life..."   

Easter Tulips

It is in the nature of flowers to fade and to transform in their fading. The tightly budded flower heads relaxing over the days into something as beautiful as a true blue dream of sky.

Easter Saturday And Bowls Of Paperwhite Narcissi

"The walls of the hallway were panelled in natural wood, and polished floors were scattered with worn and faded Persian rugs. The wide staircase, thickly carpeted, rose in three straight flights to the upper landing, and sunlight streamed down through the wide stair window, curtained in folds of heavy yellow silk brocade. In the middle of the hall was a round pedestal table, on which stood a lustre tureen crammed with a moon-burst of white narcissi. As well, a worn leather Visitor's Book, a dog lead or two, somebody's gloves, a stack of mail. Opposite the staircase was the fireplace, the mantle much carved and ornamented. In its hearth lay a bed of dead ashes, but Judith guessed a dry log or two and a puff with the bellows would soon bring the fire back to flaming life."

Coming Home

Rosamunde Pilcher

Easter Sunday

Good Friday

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvjKUFVLLrE

Palm Sunday

I see the King of glory
Coming down the clouds with fire
The whole earth shakes, the whole earth shakes
I see His love and mercy
Washing over all our sin
The people sing, the people sing
Hosanna, hosanna
Hosanna in the highest
I see a generation
Rising up to take the place
With selfless faith, with selfless faith
I see a near revival
Stirring as we pray and seek
We're on our knees, we're on our knees
Hosanna, hosanna
Hosanna in the highest
Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like You have loved me
Break my heart for what breaks Yours
Everything I am for Your Kingdom's cause
As I walk from earth into eternity
Hosanna, hosanna
Hosanna in the highest

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7SMUf6QcyQ

Good Friday

Peach and nectarine stones buried amid the iron walkway running the length of the peach house.

Holy Thursday

Leonardo da Vinci, The Last Supper, (184 K)

1498

Fresco 460 x 880 cm

Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie (Refectory), Milan

http://history.hanover.edu/courses/art/leols.html

Palm Sunday

Dominus Flevit, Mount of Olives, Jerusalem

Going uphill from the Kidron valley towards the Mount of Olives, a small church stands watch over the city of Jerusalem. It is called "Dominus Flevit" (The Lord wept) a very suitable place to indicate the location for the Gospel account of Luke 19, 37-42.

http://198.62.75.1/www1/ofm/san/TSflevitmn.html