Brunch at Hemingway's

The sky is filled with clouds

Vegetable pie

Halloween hour at the office

Thanks for the flowers

Hanging herbs on the patio

Write with a permanent marker

It's our house so I thought why not do what we want with it. We're never going to sell it, so why preserve it for a potential buyer. We should just do what we want, so I wrote on the walls on the patio.

I wrote this piece so many years ago, although I did change it slightly on the wall. You can view it here: http://journeyalonganordinarylife.blogspot.co.za/2011/06/hand-on-my-heart.html

The view from Ron's house

Pallet project

We turned these pallet into pool loungers. They are so comfortable. Roll them into the sun or shade, whatever.

DIY weekend, painting the lounge walls

We painted the entrance hall, dining room and lounge as well this weekend. It's open plan so it all got the same colour. The chimney wall, however, we left in African Mud and the library we had done earlier this year in the dark blue.

A few weeks ago we had selected a green paint and had painted half the walls with it but when we stepped back and took it all in we realised we hated it. For two weeks we tried to like it, let it grow on us but on Friday morning we stopped at Builders Warehouse on the way to work to buy this colour. At the end of the weekend our mistake was no more. Yipee! 

DIY weekend, painting the bedroom walls

If they teach I will learn

I have just finished reading this book, Love may fail - Matthew Quick, that I really enjoyed. Anyway, a lot of the book is about a teacher who was different and made a difference, and the scholars remembered him decades later.

It got me thinking about teachers I had at school and college that added something extra to my life. 

These are the ones I remember, but sadly I don't recall their names, even though I tried to Google it. Let's face it, I went to school and college before the Internet, before email, before cellphones, before the fax machine, while man landed on the moon. My Maths teacher, my English teacher, our photography lecturer and an arts lecturer are the ones I remember.

The maths teacher was so passionate about her subject and, honestly, what a difference that makes. When she gave us an equations to solve it felt like a puzzle that had to laid out, a formula that could be decoded and finding the solution was exciting, a great challenge, an adventure. Solve x=y. 

I was probably just average at maths but I loved that class.

Our English teacher. His name almost appears on a memory card in my mind but I can't see the name without my glasses ;-) Anyway, he had to teach poetry once a week to a bunch of teenagers, poor man. (He was also my hockey coach). He was smart enough to realise that we would be bored silly with old English poems so he brought in vinyls. He would play the LP and then we would discuss the lyrics. Amazing and interesting how different and varied the interpretations were. We did eventually get to Robert Frost and I have bought many collection of poems over the years. I have also bought the volume we used in English class, A Poet's Sphere, at a second hand book shop. I still open it from time to time and read my old favourites. But what a great introduction to poetry and a different approach that created appreciation.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost

My father had already instilled a love for photography and I was excited to have it as a subject at college. Our photographic lecturer wouldn't let us use our cameras until we understood how photography worked, not until we had made a pinhole camera and taken a photograph with it. He insisted we buy old film, the more distant the sell-by-date the better, so that our images would by grainy. (Long before  photoshop and the digital age.) Experimenting with the development of our photographs in the dark room was encouraged and a memory of the smell of those chemicals lingers at the edge of each of my old photographic prints. We had to explore black and white photography before we could move on to colour, had to . It was great, inspiring.

Mrs Leviseur, our arts lecturer. She was unique, really one of a kind. Created lovely pieces of art. She gave us each one as a gift when we left college. I asked her if I could have two. She said I  was a piggy, but gave me another one anyway. She didn't work to deadlines but to a completed piece of art, it was finished when her eyes told her heart it was done. She would get so absorbed in her art she would forget about time, forget to eat. She sewed all her clothes by hand (she only wore dresses).
She made silkscreen look like paintings, they were so layered. She made the colour grey interesting. A great artist, a gentle soul. She showed us it didn't matter to fit in, just fit in your own skin - be comfortable with who you are.

Each person you meet teaches you something but for those that you can remember three or four decades later with admiration and joy, knowing they shaped who you are in some way, to those I say thank you.

Stop and take a look

Some moments on the drive down. I would also have stopped for the single sunflower on the side of the road, the man relaxing under the tree, the boys herding cattle, the man walking his dog, the ladies walking through the long grass, the washing on the line. Sigh! Compromise ;-)

Sunday service

My mother would go to church most Sunday mornings. When I was young I would sometimes accompany her. 

I remember once we were standing to sing a hymn and then I woke up in the pastor's living room. I had fainted. I think after that I didn't attend church as frequently. Did God strike me down? Wink.

My mother and grandmother both sang in the church choir, choir practice was on Wednesday evenings. I tried that too but I was so bad (friends don't even want me to take part in SingStar).

I stopped to photograph the church on Sunday. While I was standing there the bells started to chime, I got goosebumps. I have heard them chime for Sunday services, weddings and funerals but whatever it is for it is the most beautiful sound. I didn't go in for the service. I just wanted a photograph. Or maybe I just wanted to remember my mother.

Pallets make good fences

I was going to photograph this yard that was entirely fenced with pallets but then when I stopped they were feeding the pigs and it made a much better picture, a much better story.

A range of small bowls

The Jacarandas are in bloom

Must love proteas

I have been drying proteas for our Christmas table, but I couldn't waiting any longer to arrange them and put them on the table.

Garden path

We are re-laying all the paving for the path around the house. I wanted to show you the path but I got a little side-tracked by the pretty flowers.

Revisiting some old favourites

School courtyard

We went to the Artists' Press Pop Up Shop at Parktown High School for Girls last weekend. We couldn't resist walking across in the school. Look what we found. So beautiful. Perhaps as old as the school.

Take a moment

Shelf unit

Months ago I applied the stencil design to an old pallet I had in the garage. At long last, we have cut a plank, painted it black and nailed it in place to create this shelf unit outside the entrance to my therapy room. I provide therapy, although sometimes I need it myself ;-)