Jaine Rose

2010-09-28T20:23:00.002+01:00

hello, lovely lovely people.....so, being the archaic techno-dinosaur that I so obviously am - I have only just found all your wonderful comments. I have been trying to change my banner, and well, just about everything on this blog, when alongside my fiddling and meddling, I hit the comments button....ah, and there you were sweet friends. So thank you, thank you, for your solidarity and loveliness on what has been a slightly challenging day. Please bear with my utter incompetance, this blog will be the mama whitestuff of all things wonderful someday soon....believe it!! Big kisses to you all....

2009 - A Cake of Many Layers Part II

2010-02-21T18:57:00.018Z

Now, where did I leave you? I think we were frolicking with badgers.....

Then came, FINALLY, some summer loveliness and sunshine, while we were in Norfolk for our annual jamboree with the Earlands - oh, SUN, I love yoooooooo.....

Autumn got kinda scary....as we caved in to the third teenager of our family - a party was followed by the obligatory "I want my room painted purple and black", as a treacherously weak "Ok sweetheart, that could be cool" slipped from my sad 41 year old lips.

Summers soft sweet smelling blooms came and went too quickly for me to linger over them for long, giving way to late Autumn woolleyness, with walks, toast and warm things...

2009 - a cake of many layers...part I

2010-02-21T16:04:00.013Z

I realise with shame, that I am now contemplating another birthday for my mother, so it must be nearly a year that I have put pen to paper, finger to keyboard. After the big cake excitement (fiasco) came an joint exhibition at the Star Anise Cafe in Stroud - a very funky little place with pastries way too delicious to be good for you. Early summer kick started me into potion making mode, and salad sprouted in the garden alongside other wondrous things....

Midsummer was a bit of a bummer - the usual rainy deluge - and on top of all that sogginess, our fire-souls were further challenged when our beloved Big Green Gathering was cancelled. In true Mama Soule spirit I whipped up some colourful bunting from some sad offerings in my knicker drawer and we hot footed over to Thistledown, a fab local nature reserve, to hold our own Little Green Gathering. This was complete with guitars, late night marshmallowing, and badger spotting. Hurrah.....
.

What was I thinking??

2009-03-19T17:12:00.008Z

I should have known better, really I should. And I also should have guessed that a sublime book on cakes from the library by Madam Muffin McPhee (or whatever her silly name was) was going to be trouble.
But no, in I leap - I can make a spectacular cake for my mother's 70th birthday tomorrow - how HARD can it be???? Ha.

Thank you to Annabel my guardian angel who responded to my wails at 2pm, as I was about to end my life with a kilo and a half of butter icing and a spatula.

So an unbelievable 8 hours later, and after a grillion hand made sugar flowers had nearly broken my spirit - it was finally done.

Hmmm. Don't look too closely. I may well be saved by the fact that it will be unveiled at her party after dark. Lighting can cover a multitude.
I guess this means I won't be asked to make Lesley and John's wedding cake this May........

Where did March go??

2009-03-17T21:30:00.010Z

So this is my March diary.....

Much of my month has been spent literally running between jobs, as our Earth Pathways Diary 2010 kicks into action. A full and frantic time, spent placing artwork, writing, poetry, and photography into some sort of coherent and artistic order. Working with the most brilliant and brave of women. We go to print in May, so I am still right in the middle of this creative mania.

And the first wee buds of Spring....on my kitchen table, not needing to compete with the artwork.

Imbolc gently passes and gives way to that longed-for light, and air, and a feeling that a change is happening in the sleepy valley where I live.

A pilgrimmage to the Roccoco gardens in Painswick in the next valley to see the snowdrops bursting with shining whiteness......

and a retreat to our still blazing winter hearth, when those big winds whip back around, reminding me that frosts, snow and coldness can still happen in March.

and in the middle of deadlines, family birthdays and general chaos, the very best of escapes into the Forest....and away from the cabin fever of Stroud. Just one day, but long enough to breathe and remind myself that there is life beyond my little world that I have created for myself.

Melting, unfolding

2009-02-20T12:18:00.005Z

Something I read: "What if there is no need to change, no need to try to transform yourself into someone who is more compassionate, more present, more loving or wise? How would this affect all the places in your life where you are endlessly trying to be better? What if the task is simply to unfold...."

During all that cold weather recently I watched this little piece of ice melting into a perfect heart on the skylight window in my kitchen. Unfolding, just being. And then again on Thursday evening, with some special women talking late into the night, uncurling that aching part of ourselves that is waiting, always yearning for a time to come when we will be happier, more whole, more us. But what if that time is now, that this is the most we will ever be? And that actually, we are enough? Maybe then I could truly breathe out, and be happy, in a gloriously imperfect, chaotic, me sort of way. It might well be the start of a very new and big adventure for us all.

Holding out for a hero

2009-02-20T09:32:00.006Z

Half term week, and in celebration of my man, who has bravely trekked to the wilds of Norfolk to build the long awaited deck on our little caravan. In February. With no water, no heat, in a field next to a big North sea. What a hero.

Meanwhile I have been at home with the kids trying to work; failing. But in big appreciation of my central heating, hot showers, my computer, and lovely friends who keep me up till 3 in the morning with a sing-along Mama Mia and pudding. Men seem to come with a built in gene that enables them to do clever things like artic deck building; I'm sure I could pull something out the bag in the building department if really pushed. But the loveliness of home? Wild horses wouldn't drag me from it right now.

Daddy torment

2009-02-15T16:36:00.002Z

This is daddy. If I was an American blogger I would call him Papa. But he's a bit too grungy rock god for that.

And this is the children's favourite sport. Daddy torment. Their experience in this is wide and well practised. He has been subjected to all manner of uglies, to shrieks and peals of malicious laughter from our four shared children. Poor man. I do love him, and admire his good nature and resignation in the face of cunning children.

Theo, the youngest, may not be cropping up in these photos, but you know, he can be the worst tormentor of all.

But his revenge is always absolute and final. This month it was blue soup. Really. And don't ask me how he did it, although I suspect there was some red cabbage somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen at the time. I cannot put a picture up, it was far too disturbing. But believe me, the wimpering was loud at the table, and the daddy smile was wide.

Gwen

2009-02-12T09:49:00.004Z

Thursday morning, and it is high time I got fit. Spurred on by my friend Sarah who is following the Guardian's get fit in 8 weeks programme, I decided I would try the Jaine Rose shorter version (get fit in 8 minutes, whilst eating chocolate and watching Johnny).

You see, in my mind I am Gwen Stefani in a little crop top. In reality I can now see that my bottom half looks like a pair of badgers trying to escape out of my trackie. But undeterred, I started a slow rolling sprint up Spider Lane and towards our local park, Daisy Bank. Ohmigod. I thought I was going to need resusitating. I think this is going to take a little more time and committment.

But on the way back, I started to feel good. I guess those endorphins were kicking in. Either that, or I really had died and was having an out of body experience. A week from now, if I repeat this little exercise, I can see I am going to have the zeal and tediousness of a reformed smoker. It could get addictive. I really could end up looking like Gwen. I will report back......

First Flickr adventure

2009-02-11T15:31:00.002Z

Wednesday, and in the spirit of ongoing work avoidance, I absentmindedly stumbled onto Flickr and realised that there are thousands, nay millions, of photos just ripe for the blogging. This means that I am not under so much pressure to leap around the house like a mad woman trying to get the next day's blog shot (my family are breathing out in major relief)

So this is the very first offering. I havn't quite got the hang of it yet, and didn't manage to credit the photo to it's owner (is there anyone out there who can give me a quick tutorial?? It will have to be in left-handed sieve brain speak....) And a rather apt offering I thought, as yet again, my naughty and wayward computer has reeled me in. Sigh.

Small act of kindness

2009-02-10T11:00:00.001Z

Tuesday morning, and a quick flick of the duster before work...and I was reminded of the sweetest thing that Holly did for me just over a year ago. I had had a terrible winter after my father died, leaving a huge, sad gap in all of our lives. At times I had really felt quite broken into pieces, as we all did. So when one day the "J" that stands for my name symbolically lept off the radiator and broke, I thought 'yup, that's completely how I am"

And that was when my sweet 11 year old daughter found the nicest piece of satin ribbon in the cuboard, and painstakingly mended me all up, with cellotape and a hug. And thats how I have remained ever since. I will get the glue out and make a more permanent repair job at some point; but the power of a small act of kindness when I needed it most, will keep me going for a long time yet.

Love what you love

2009-02-08T17:15:00.006Z

This is a little stitchy piece I made for Lindsay's 60th - it has one of my favourite quotes on it from a poem called Wild Geese by Mary Oliver:

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles, through the desert, repenting
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

And so the soft animal of my body, on a Sunday, loved what it loved today with a hot, steamy bath -

followed by a snowy walk to a favourite pub - the Albert, in Rodborough. Mmmmm.

Inside or Outside - which is more delicious?

2009-02-05T14:36:00.010Z

Outside or inside?? It was a close call today....we did both, but inside won!

Reclaiming playtime

2009-02-03T07:21:00.006Z

We have been very naughty today.....after a night of a few swirly snowflakes, I looked out the window and decided there was JUST enough to roll in, just, so thats exactly what we have been doing. With our changing climate, snow really is a big adventure for my children, and a rare beast not to be missed, so we sneaked off school and work, and headed for our nearest hill.

I had been feeling a bit guilty about all the lessons they were missing today, until I remembered the joyfulness of playing, and how we so often forget to do it. And how we forget to honour it. We used to have such fun when they were younger: teaparties with tigers, jungle expeditions, bouncing to the moon and back. But then the big system of school claimed us and I felt that make believe world slip through my fingers.

But ah, snow. It's easy to imagine polar bears, and ice castles, heroic snowboarding missions. Well, it's easy for them, even in 3 inches of the stuff. And for me, those little pink faces glowing with the thrill of being out, when they should be in a classroom - priceless. I won't have a 10 and 12 year old forever....I am going to squeeze every, single last drop out....!!

Wool, snowflakes, song, community...

2009-02-02T14:46:00.009Z

An afternoon of the most delicious food for my soul.....a gathering of friends including lots of small people, to celebrate Imbolc, to sing, make, talk, be.

As we sat in Kesty and Martin's roundhouse, having sang love songs to the earth, air, fire, water, and spirit within, the smallest of snowflakes started fluttering outside. It didn't really feel like we were ready to move out of our winter space, and welcome in Spring stirrings. As is so often the case with Imbolc. But beautiful words of our coming intentions were spoken into the fire, and the urge to move into a new cycle of growth and change felt strong. Oh, and the colourful and creative Brigit's crosses that we wove our wishes into - even the littlest of hands had fun.

We were even blessed to have our very own song written for the day, which we sang together... looking for snowflakes, snowdrops, seasons and cycles, and most of all the light returning.

Stepping out

2009-02-01T10:00:00.001Z

This is my small story of feeling hopeful.
Hope is born in the dark. It lies there like a little seed, dreaming, for a long while. I do love the darkness - it is winter, and it is rest. It is curled up infront of a fire with big socks on. It is quiet, and it is calm. There is room enough here to hold all dreams. And it is in these dreams where hope begins.

But sometimes on my journey, I fall a long way from my dreams, and waves of depression wash over me, try to steal me under. On those stormy red days, even getting out of bed becomes an act of faith - that I will be able to weave my numbness into my deep breathing and day song.

An act of hope is getting up anyway. An act of hope is making packed lunches for people you love. And act of hope is putting on something special to wear, when yesterday's baggy tracksuit is calling you from its heap on the floor. An act of hope is making yourself a cake.

A big act of hope is stepping out - into nature,
to trees, to scrunchy leaves, to birds singing, and streams flowing, to paths winding, to hills rising up, then down.

Stepping out. Not because you have to, but because you choose it, as medicine, as an act of faith that the world will hold you, soothe you, need you. And you need her. So very much.

Thorn in my side

2009-01-31T12:39:00.005Z

Let me introduce you to Thorn. A witches cat? Maybe. What I do know is that this animal has fallen into a soup of badness more times than I care to remember. It might not be his fault. He was born at the Summer Solstice on the night of a full and wild blue moon. So he was always going to be a little out there. This was 18 months ago. Since when, he has wandered around Stroud with attitude and abandon, tipping up at the most bizarre places. I then get a phonecall, or my dear neighbours do, and we have to go and rescue him. He sits in his personal taxi-cab while being driven home, unrepentant and yawning loudly, while I deliver my 100th lecture to him on taking responsibility, learning some manners, blah blah, catty blah....

Regular haunts have included: the maternity hospital, Weavers Croft, the general hospital (favourite departments are A&E, physiotherapy, rehab), the Fleece, the Trading Post, Bar Riga, the sheltered housing on London road, Bendicks chocolate warehouse, and the Nelson St. Rehab in Brimscombe (where he sat in their office intray for several days). And of course, countless homes where he takes full advantage of unsuspecting victims' hospitality.

The upside is that I have met some lovely people along the way, and remembered that people are generous and kind, and always so, so willing to help; and I thank them all. But really, what CAN I do with this wayward beast? Other than surrender to his free spirit and wanderlust. Maybe it is just our family??????

Patience

2009-01-29T08:00:00.004Z

Late January window - such grey days, bare trees, I am ready for Spring in a big way now. But part of Imbolc for me is remembering that this last part of winter is often the hardest. Just like the coldest hour of the night is just ahead of dawn, before the light breaks the inky sky. I am not a patient person. I find it hard to sit quietly and trust. Being creative helps keeps my hands busy, and it is a great time of year for that. I must try and walk those muddy hills more, listen to the birds, smell what little green there is. And to be comfortable in this still place for just a bit longer. It's not like I don't have a mountain of work to be getting on with. I just want to be skipping out into the warm sunshine, in my purple crocs, camera in hand, escaping the house for a bit....

So I decorate my windows with colour, until the outside colour returns. It's not quite as sparkly as Christmas, but still a distraction, if only from those dirty old windows (must get around to that job...) and the fog beyond, that has settled for the last couple of days.

My new love

2009-01-28T09:00:00.003Z

Check this out....all you stitchy people!! Is this not a thing of beauty? I have been struggling with my mother's old Frister-Rossman coughing and smokin' all over the place...and then I remembered that deep in the bowels of our loft was an ancient machine that I picked up in a charity shop nearly a decade ago (long before the idea to stitch had even orbited my planet) So after some sweet talking I persuaded my man to heave it down - it is heavier than a heavy thing - and there it sat, winking at me all yesterday afternoon.

That evening the very wonderful Mr. Kevin Barton threaded it up for me (thank goodness he knows what he's doing....) and off I sped, full throttle on an old tea towell, wahaaaay! Oh, my happy heart, the possibilities.....

Only a small story I know, but a big event in my life - I've always known that there has been a stitcher in me somewhere fighting to get out. So where do I start? Paper I think....

Fearless

2009-01-27T07:36:00.009Z

As I am gradually moving out of my winter space, I have been thinking about what I would like to leave behind, things that no longer serve me. What would I like more of? I know straight away, and it is this. Fearlessness. Big strong roots, so that I may journey through my life without sometimes feeling crushed and small. I watch my children running at life with a big "Yes", and wonder when I last had such a rush of abandon, of joy, just because I could.

One of Theo's favourite things is to hurl himself off the side of hills, and there is plenty of scope for it here in Stroud. He fills me with awe. And I can't help thinking, 'when did I lose that part of me that would jump out into unknown space with a big shout'. When did my thunder start to fade? When did I begin to hesitate, and wonder how much it would hurt, or cost me? And can I get it back? There is a roar in me I know.....it just needs a little reclaiming. I would like to be a little braver, a little more willing to step out of that circle of things I know, feel happy with, and trust. Perhaps I could finally face down those things that frighten the life out of me - and there are plenty. I might even leap off the odd (very small) hill next Spring. Now that would make my children smile......

New seeds

2009-01-26T11:00:00.002Z

Today is Lunar Imbolc. It is the new moon - and the one nearest to the festival of Imbolc which is a week away. It is a time to gently move out of winter....spring is somewhere around the corner - although the sun is getting stronger it still feels cold and dark. So I am trusting that light and warmth is returning.

It is a time to plant all those seeds of ideas I have been dreaming all winter....what do I want this new cycle of the year to bring? What do I want to see grow in my life? Imbolc always fills me with a new wave of being creative. Maybe I can feel all those bulbs getting ready to push through the cold earth into new life.

I will light lots and lots of candles; a fire outside would be better, and maybe that will happen this weekend. Until then, I am sitting quietly with these new dreams; I have been looking at my small front garden, wondering if there is enough space there to squeeze in a greenhouse, and a couple of raised beds. Looking out the window, all I can see are big, ripe red tomatoes and pots and pots of basil. Maybe the odd pepper plant. I don't think I can bear to watch any more of my lovely tomatoes die in the garden this summer, under a deluge of rain. So a greenhouse or polytunnel is the answer I think. Hmmm. But how to get there??

Lucy, Andy, Olly, Jessie

2009-01-25T18:06:00.003Z

Once upon a time there were four happy biscuits living in a very nice biscuit tin in Stroud. They were loved by all their friends, because the mummy biscuit made squid soup and cakes that truly would melt in your mouth (even courgette cake) and because the daddy biscuit made everyone laugh, and also he started up the biggest band ever, that everyone joined. The two baby biscuits were lush too, sort of like chocolate digestives, and they had lots of friends.

But one day the biscuits decided to have a big, grand adventure, and travel across the world to Canada, where they had heard there were super cool cookies living. And this made a lot of people in Stroud very sad, but we all knew we had to share these lovely biscuits, and trust that one day they would indeed come on home. Of course, we got a little sneaky and sent them tempting pictures of all the parties they were missing, and all the squids and courgettes; but they just sent us back exciting pictures of them ice skating and hanging out with bears and cookies by lakes and forests.

But of course, we know that biscuits cannot travel for ever. They just become sad and crumbly. And their chocolate bits melt. And their nuts might fall off. So we are keeping their lovely tin warm and cosy for them for when they get tired of the cookies and come on home. To us. For good.

Getting stitchy

2009-01-24T09:53:00.007Z

I have been having a lovely time this week, with plenty of scope for work avoidance, making this shoulder bag (ssshhh! A present for a good friend...)

The back is felted, with cotton flowers stitched on - little paintings printed out on special cotton and linen fabric that will go through an inkjet printer. And the front is an absent minded piece of knitting that just grew, from my long days on the sofa. My friend Martha, and her mother Geraldine, had baskets and baskets of wool to give away recently. A few of us had a very gorgeous and woolly morning picking through the different yarns, and I brought armfuls home with me. (Thank you G. and M.) And so this is what happened to some of that wool.

Ah, nothing better than settling down somewhere quiet and cosy (even if it means I have to hide from the children; the bathroom is a favourite spot...) for a little bit of stitchiness and creativity. As it is January, I am back to believing my fantasy that I will make everyone's birthday presents this year. It has been a good start, although my poor heart already knows that the September birthdays onwards mighten fare so well! But hey, I am a demon with the chocolate chilli biscuits and they can be whipped up in a flash. Saturday now, and after a morning of climbing walls and children centred activity, my warm bathroom is calling to me and my needles for a little escape.

Order

2009-01-23T17:58:00.000Z

Today I have been having a "Sleeping with the Enemy" moment. You know, that bit in the film when Julia Roberts opens her cuboard doors, and all the tins are stacked beautifully? O.K, so it is majorly creepy. But what bliss - someone has come in to your house, and done that. Question: do you have to sleep with an enemy to get your house in perfect order? I'm not sure I know too many. But that lovely feeling of everything neat and just so. Addictive. Yes, I am a virgo, and yes, obviously anal. And clearly I need to get out a whole lot more. How many of us truly can sit with chaos, and just enjoy being. My Canadian friend Carol always says "they're not gonna put on your grave 'she kept a neat house'" - and I love her house. So what are those naughty cuboards saying?? Well, I am cultivating nerves of steel. Oh yes. I will leave them. Just as they are. Let them chatter away, I am not listening.

But couldn't resist just hanging these wet tea towells together, as they looked so colourful and inviting........

Weaving Threads

2009-01-22T08:32:00.018Z

Just as I was ready to settle down with a glass of wine yesterday evening, I heard those words uttered from my 12year old, guaranteed to strike terror into any parent - "I've just washed my hair, can you plait it into a million tiny plaits??" Oh. Well, I talked her down from a million to about 25 - that kid has alot of hair - and so off I started. But then that rare, blissful moment, as I tuned into a different scene. A cosy sitting room, late winter storm outside. Theo on the sofa playing with little metal soldiers, lost in his own world; Holly sitting reading while her hair was transformed. Mark sitting with us, all of us quiet and busy in our own things. But together. No television, no arguing. Just quietness. And I thought, hold onto this, it is surely precious. A small moment of just being normal.

Holly and I have two identical woven bracelets made of wool around our wrists. One red, one green. The red one we made together back in September, when we were at the amazing 13 Moons festival on Dartmoor. A large tent of powerful women, threading a long piece of red thread around us all, which later got made into our warrior bracelets. Holly had just started secondary school - a big old wobbly time for all the family - and needed to find a bit of her own power. The green bracelets she made for us both a couple of weeks ago, "to bind us together mummy". I guess she can't see that thread that was there between us at her birth, and will always be there, silent and strong in my heart. But I remember thinking, how much longer will my growing girl want to be so visibly joined to me. She is nearly ready to step onto that path that pulls away from me, that strong journey to herself. And how it aches me. So for now, I am wearing my green and red threads, as is she. And it feels so good to be still woven entirely into and around this childs life.

Different Rhythm

2009-01-21T14:15:00.003Z

These have been long days.....with little else other than knitting, rocking, looking out of the window, dreaming. It should have been blissful, but the truth is, post-flu, I have been forced to slow down to "stillness" and it has been painful. While I watch a storm of work and washing grow around me. I asked the Universe for a complete break, thinking of long walks and deep breathing, and this is what I got, a big viscious germ invading my body. File note: be more mindful of precise wording next time. But today I am noticing a new rhythm entering me, and it is slower, calmer, ocean time. I bet that all the jobs will shrink to fill this new amount of time. I'm thinking that everything will get done. And if it doesn't, it didn't need doing so badly in the first place. As Kesty says, "my pace is slow...." - a mantra repeated over and over.....and I am beginning to believe it. Oh joy.

Hope

2009-01-20T09:18:00.004Z

There are people putting the world back together again. Piece by piece, hope by shining hope. Will today see such a day? We will pause, as we watch one man step forward, holding all our collective dreams. Let our hearts be open, and know that we can vision a different world. I know we can. But I also know that, in Carolyn Hillyer's words, "it takes time to birth a mountain".

Breakfast time

2009-01-19T18:43:00.000Z

At 7.00am I need a little candlelight to soothe these jangling January nerves.....getting children up for school in what seems like the midddle of the night. And after all that Christmas sparkle, well, everything is so dark, and relentless. I guess that's what the Solstice is all about - trusting that the light will return. So here is a little of our breakfast table - minus the dollops of jam heading for the carpet, the homework undone, unbrushed hair and teeth. Gentleness in chaos. My sometimes life.

Can it really be January?

2009-01-18T22:41:00.000Z

Can it really be so cold, so blue, so, so January......
when somewhere in the middle of last week there was this...

the most curly, the most green, the most lush bean on the Spider Lane allotment.....

oh yes. and some.

Sunday 18th January 2009

2009-01-18T22:33:00.000Z

Dedicated to our beautiful Earth and to all paths that open our hearts to Love