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...a glimpse into life on Vancouver Island, needle felting, photography, food, gardening, etcetera...etcetera
"Happiness always looks small when you hold it in your hands, but let it go, and at once you learn how big and precious it is."
Maxim Gorky

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Le Reve de Geneviève...(The Dream of Genevieve)

She has travelled the world with all of the greats...
The Bolshoi, The Paris Opera, The Royal Ballet.
 
The bright lights, the late nights, the long flights.
Bleeding feet, teary eyes, torn calf muscles and all.
But she was never the one on stage.
Always behind the scenes, amidst the heavy velvet curtains,
 watching every detail of the costumes on the dancers.
You see she was Genevieve, the seamstress.
Not just any seamstress, but one of the best!
Prima Ballerinas would throw temper tantrums
if the basque was not made by Genevieve.
 
If Prince Charming's dance belt was not personally 
tailored by Genevieve, there might as well not be
a Sleeping Beauty.
Her tutus floated like little summer clouds around
the tiny waists of the dancers.
Every sparkly sequin had a special place on her garments.
They were like stars on a map of the night sky.
But she was not always high in demand...
Genevieve came from humble beginnings 
in a small village in the South of France...
 
One day she met a Russian Bear hitchhiking on the side of the road
 who was off to make his fortunes in The City of Lights.
Genevieve had only ever heard stories of Paris but 
had dreamed of seeing it since she was a tiny kit.
Her mother had a torn piece of a magazine in their
den with a picture of the skyline and there,
front and centre was The Eiffel Tower!
Some say she had fallen in love with an Irish aviator during the war.
His plane had been shot down in a field near Paris and when he finally recovered,
 with the help of the Resistance, she aided in his escape to Spain.
There are rumors of Genevieve's involvement
in many other escapes but she never spoke of them.
The only evidence is an old leather helmet that sits on a little corner table in her bedroom.
Anyway, that was a long time ago and many shows have come and gone.
Genevieve was respected by all of the companies and paid handsomely.
Now she lives in a beautiful elegant apartment overlooking
the Champs de Mars in the centre 
of Paris with everything she needs.
But secretly she dreamed of being a dancer and
in her apartment at night, Genevieve will put on
Beethoven's Romance for Violin Concerto,
and don a creation she designed especially for herself.
You see over the years she collected small scraps 
and bits from the finest handmade lace and ribbon.
Pieces that would have otherwise been thrown in the bin.
 Genevieve would work on it by lamplight late at night until
one day it was finished.
Fitting her svelte, long limbed body like a great costume should.
And she dances.
And spins.
And balances in an old pair of slippers that Anna Pavlova had 
once tossed into a corner of a dressing room, considering them 'Done.'
 
She always gives her most elegant curtsy when she is finished.
As any great ballerina would.
Genevieve has many great memories and volumes of tales to tell
but she is most happy with her wine and her music...as the sun goes down...in Paris.

(Currently for sale in my Etsy shop here)

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

A few new things...

Just a wee shop  update.
My experiments in 'cruelty free taxidermy' !
Introducing the handsome Orvis...
Guilt free trophies for your grand lodge or manor!
The lovely Ursula...
Or maybe just for your humble home...
These woollen beasts are sure to set the mood for your next cocktail party...
...cue 'Bungalow Bill' by the Beatles!
 (https://www.etsy.com/shop/farmlass)
Ciao for now(shop update: Sheep has sold)

Saturday, November 14, 2015

From here...


From here I wish I could reach across an ocean and hold my daughter tight.
Although my daughter has lived far from home for many years (in Paris now)
I still am a mother who loves and wishes she could protect her.
It's the same from the day she was born.
It will always be that way.
What a deep breath I took after she let me know that they are OK.
I am not even going to try to make sense of any of this madness.
I am angry and so so sad about this mess.
As the singer Danny Michele says..."It's a sad and beautiful world."
Through the news we will hear many tragic tales but
I know there will be many more tales of love and beauty.
The light in Paris will be dim for now but will never be extinguished.
It is still a city I love and the magic of it's people and my memories
of being there will remain as bright as always.
I am sending all my love and light to the people of France 
and to all who have been sadly touched by this madness.



Wednesday, November 11, 2015

For Len and Thora...




This was the telegram my Great Aunt Thora was waiting for…
My Great Uncle Leonard had been in England, France, Belgium and Holland fighting the Germans from April of 1944 until May 5 of 1945. 
He remained in Europe until January of 1946.
This photo was probably taken in Victoria before he was shipped off to England.
Last night I re read his diary he kept during that time. 
I sat in my bedroom with Big Band music playing on my iPhone. 
I could almost imagine it being a transistor radio with it’s ‘small’ sound.
The rain was coming down hard last night which was echoed in Uncle Leonard’s entries of his days and nights in the pouring rain, in the trenches in Normandy.
About a third of the way through the power went out due to a wind storm 
and I finished it by candlelight.
Many of his words speak of the longing for home, his wife and peace.
At one point he was in the thick of it during the Battle of Caen, 
a very strategic turning point for the Allies.
 For some reason he never understood, a bomb hit his tent, a piece of the shell tearing through it, smashing one side of the desk he was hiding under and buried itself in the ground just short of his head. In his words “How I ever escaped being hit will always seem a miracle to me.”
I read the fear between the lines.
I also found these papers amongst his telegrams.
One was to aid them if they were lost or captured...
(the pamphlet also has the same phrases in Dutch, Spanish and German)
If you look at the top of this one it explains how he acquired it in his handwriting.
(Slang for Germans was the term 'Jerry')
Imagine that he carried these around with him for almost 2 years.
His treks through ruined towns and villages had an immense impact on him.
He says at one point “What I can see, the civilians seem to suffer worse than the armies concerned.” 
“The refugees still keep coming out of Caen and a sorry looking lot they are. To see them gives you a rotten feeling in the pit of your stomach. Thank God! Our wives, brothers, sisters and families don’t have to go through this.”
He speaks a lot of the children and how undernourished they look but on a lighter note states that “The children have learned the words ‘gum’ and ‘cigarette’ which they ask for everywhere we go. We are leaving a trail of gum, candy and cigarettes across France."
Here he is on the right with a buddy...
He describes being in the countryside of France once and how on July 18, 1944 “It was such a lovely morning that one could hardly realize that death and turmoil lay all around me.” 
And so it went for him and so many others, trying their best to stay safe and come home.
Which he did eventually.
Uncle Leonard on the left during a lighter moment of the war...I don't know what became of the others in the photo...let's hope they had a happy ending too.
He and my Aunt Thora went back to Europe a few times and on one visit revisited the small town of Oss in Holland. They searched out the house where Uncle Leonard had stayed during the last days of the war, which he had always remembered so fondly because of the kindness of the family. The family still lived in the same house and celebrated the return of the Canadian soldier with a big party that went on all night!
Remembrance Day is a time of intensity for many including myself. For it’s these stories that flow through time and which should be told over and over, never to be forgotten.
For us all to know the dedicated sacrifice which so many made.
For us. For Freedom. For this privileged life we live here in this country.
I didn’t know my Uncle very well since he died quite a number of years ago but I’m so grateful that he kept such an important diary. 
And thanks to my mom who painstakingly re wrote (on a typewriter!) all of the pages and transcribed them into a book for our family to have.
Lest we forget.

(The last telegram my Aunt Thora received...probably the most welcome one of all...)

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Early...

It's official that our mornings are much lighter and the evenings longer.
The lamps come on long before dinner time now, time to curl up by the fire.
I love the first light of morning.
A new day.
A new beginning...
Another kick at the can!
There have been days where I just don't want to begin again.
Days during times of strife and tragedy...
But for the most part I am enticed by the prospect of another day in this beautiful world...
With an open heart I start new...
open to the possibilities before me...
blessed to be one who creates...
and so fortunate to be where I am now in this place...
Here's to another day!

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Getting it out there...

Well, as part of the world the way it is today, I decided
to create a Face book page solely dedicated to my art, specifically
my needle felting sculptures and photography.
I feel the need to 'get out there' more in the digital world 
if I'm to continue to take my passion seriously.
It's funny because my needle felting is probably the most low tech form
of art there is. I don't need power (except for light sometimes) I don't need any
fancy equipment, just a few sharp needles and some roving (props are always fun too)
and I'm off to the races. That's what I love about it. I can
take it mostly where I want to work on it.
But then there's the whole business of, well, the Business of art.
I want to do what I love and make somewhat of a living from it.
Have to keep myself in wool and wine somehow right?
All kidding aside, it's not part of most artists mindsets to
market themselves and lean on the business end of things but it's 
a necessary bit of taking yourself and your work seriously.
So I thank each and every one of you who visits this blog and
who are kind enough to take the time to leave such lovely comments.
Don't worry, I'm still going to report on whatever
shenanigans I feel worthy of here and share my photos 
of such events as well.
Just one more place you can visit me...
Ciao for now!