Of Snow And Ice And The Frozen Lands.

I love when something drifts into your ether, and for some reason, on this particular occasion, buries itself deep inside you, and takes hold of your Interest with tenacious hands, and soon you begin to notice all kinds of Things of Interest relating to it positively popping up in front of you.
For months now I have been filling my head and heart with all things of the far, distant North, and farthest South too. Increasingly, as the weeks go by, I have been dwelling, in my mind, in places of ice and water, reading of explorers of a frozen world few of us have seen, watching this drama about Ernest Shackleton, trying unsuccessfully, to see this exhibition about his journey, (although it will be on for two years, so I'm not worried about missing it!), being unexpectedly inspired by a talk I attended by a wonderful geologist-turned-textile-artist called Ann Fleeton, at this months Irish Guild of Embroiderers meeting, gathering books and images and inspiration.

Dark Ice by Camille Seaman.

But it all started with the happy coincidence of two things coming my way within days of each other, which settled onto the already lingering taste of two books I had read in the last year. The first book was The Stillpoint, by Amy Sackville, which I have to say is one of the finest written books I have read in many a year. It contains one of the most heartbreakingly romantic love stories, as well as descriptive writing that will make you swoon, and read and reread countless paragraphs again and again.
The other book is less to do with snow and ice, and more to do with the kind of desolate places that some of the characters of The Stillpoint find themselves. The book is by Judith Schalansky, and is called 'Atlas of Remote Islands, Fifty Islands I have not visited and never will.' Incredibly beautiful and thought-provoking, and in fact, winner of the German Arts Foundation prize for The Most Beautiful Book of the Year. It is a book I keep by my bedside and dip into continuously.

The Last Iceberg Series by Camille Seaman.

So, the two things. First, these incredible photographs by Camille Seaman, which are just majestic and beautiful and completely enthralling to me. (She also photographs clouds like no one I have seen before.)
And then this most wondrous thing that I found via the lovely Nancy, of The b In Subtle, which I now have my heart set on and will go on some day! A ship, The Noorderlicht, a century-old Dutch schooner, which carries a boatload of artists and scientists into waters around Norway's archipelago, who's mission is 'to seek out and foster areas of collaboration to engage in the central issues of our time'. In other words, to 'discuss' global warming and related issues, and to make art about it. The project is called The Arctic Circle , and well worth checking out. As I write this, Irish artist Ruth Le Gear  is there now, collecting arctic water in tiny bottles.
I am...jealous.
I have not stopped thinking about it since first coming across it.
I would give anything to be there right now,  in this magical place who's time is limited, and who's face is changing by the year. To record something of it in my own small way.

The Last Iceberg Series by Camille Seaman.

In all of this, my light relief has been rereading Philip Pullman's Northern Lights. So today, when I saw it, I could not help but purchase, and immediately immerse myself in, a very beautiful, small book by him called Once Upon Time In The North, a sort of precursor to Northern Lights. It was the small size of it, and the cover, that did it, a cloth-bound thing of beauty that had on it an engraving by John Lawrence. Indeed it is filled with such engravings, beautifully rendered, on almost every page.

So I sat in the hairdressers for a little over an hour, while the best kind of misty, autumnal rain quietly closed in around this seaside town of ours, a haze of silver and grey outside the window, and lost myself in a grim, desolate icebound island, where sour, suspicious people live alongside panserborne, or polar bears, a once proud, great culture, and now seen as nothing but drunkards, vagrants, who skulk the bleak streets of the dismal town.
When my time was up, I put away my book, and took a winding road up into the rain clouds, between two mountains, surprised at the lack of icebergs in the grey sea below, through the silent silver haze, listening, as I do most days, to music from the north lands, this time Sigur Rós, (Iceland is about as far north as my music taste goes, for I am well and truly stuck there, without hope, or desire, to be unstuck!), my head filled with snow and ice and frozen lands.
When I arrived at school, it was too wet to stand around chatting, so as I waited in my car I opened facebook on my phone, and the first thing I saw was a post from Charlie and Caroline Gladstone, a video called A Homeless Polar Bear in London. I had to take a look.

As I said, I love how these things all just come together like a beautiful dance that is perfectly choreographed, and suddenly your day just seems like a story, or a dream, with all things dovetailing beautifully.
This time a dream of expansive snowy landscapes, vast tundras of ice, blue icebergs and polar bears, and crowds of white sea birds relentlessly thronging the bitter air.

A Giveaway of a Most Beastly Kind!

Now this post is long overdue. Yes, but here it is at last. The Lonely Beast has been launched!

You may remember I posted here before about my brother Chris and his children's book, The Lonely Beast? Well, to celebrate it's launch I have two copies to give away, signed by the lovely author himself.

Now I know, of course, that I am bound to be a tad biased about the wonderfulness of this delightful book, but hand on my heart it truly is something special, as attested by the honest reaction of the many, many children I know who have read it, my own younger two being no exception. They know it off by heart at this stage. It really is a sweet and charming story, and a pleasure to read.

You can find out more about this fellow if you click here, and the website has lots of lovely things like games and things to make , and your little ones can send in their own drawings too! You can also see some pictures of us at the launch in Dublin, where we got to meet the Beast himself! Very exciting. 

The author, Chris Judge, and The Beast at the launch of their book.

The book is available to buy here, or directly from Chris here, and as I said I will be giving away two signed copies here on Milkmoon. All you need to do is leave a comment and your name will go in the hat.

Do check out Chris' other prints here, they are the most cheerful, funny things that will brighten any room, I promise!

The Lonely Beast.

First of all, thank you all so much for your sweet, thoughtful words after my last sad post. My Only Girl is feeling a good bit better now and reading everyones lovely comments and in particular those that shared similar, sympathetic stories helped her a lot.
So today  I thought I would share some happier news with you all. My brother Chris, who I have featured here regularly, has recently shared the exciting and wonderful news that his gorgeous children's book is to be published!

You can read about how this came about over on his blog here: Chris Judge Illustration. And while it won't be out until early next year, you can pre-order it on Amazon here, and WH Smith here.

We are so proud of you, Chris!

Can't wait!

The Child That Books Built.

To books in a moment.

But first, it's been a very slow week this week, due mainly to me putting my back out last weekend and having to go at a snails pace. I know this is no bad thing, and in many ways it's my body giving me a very strong message to slow down, do less.

In spite of my discomfort, I have been thoroughly enjoying the arrival of spring. Instead of rising in darkness each morning, I get up to the beginnings of dawn, to beautiful cool blue skies and blooming tangerine tinged clouds, the quiet garden a palette of jade like an opaque frosty painting through my window. And the moon on it's way to bed, a stripy orange tiger moon slung low over the pink mountaintops, sinking away into tomorrow, barely saluting the sun as it sidles up over the sea, beginning the day.

And the day holds a ghostly haze over itself, softening the distant view, blurring and blending in pale hues that stir up memories of distant shores and other stories we made.

All week I have been held afloat by stories. Stolen moments that are little snapshots that form a curiously familiar resonance. As I am forced to pause, letting the carousel slow and gradually stop, I see My Only Girl unknowingly follow in my childhood footsteps, her unquenchable thirst for books, for new stories, taking her path in eager, single-minded directions. And I am amazed to see a confidence, only recently acquired, as she purposefully navigates her way through the doors and out into the world where she can go after what she wants, and boy is she persistent!

And so, surrounded by piles of books, bought, borrowed, received, and in between high spirited, busy socialising, she submerges herself in other worlds, and no world is left unexplored.

And for myself, my strange book famine continues, with my usual pile of bedside books left lying, gathering dust, while stories stream out of my head in an unstoppable torrent. An interior world now populated by people whose voices I cannot quiet. 

Yet though I do not read for myself, each day ends with a little row of heads on my pillows, and the soft rustle of pages turning as eager faces listen quietly, and they hear about Mole and Ratty and Toad, and Gulliver, and Aladdin, and Alice. And as the book closes softly, and night draws around us, I marvel at the power of the tale, the fathomless, resounding chimes that each one creates deep inside the heart of a child. A staggering wealth that is created in a place so deep I wonder do we ever know it's true importance.

Twilight Fever.

So, I survived Easter. Not a speck of chocolate passed my lips. It was easier than I imagined it would be. I just tuned it out of my consciousness. (And it helps when your SuperMum makes a cake with you in mind). A few of you asked the reason I can't eat it, and the reason is Candida. A nasty advanced form of it that I usually try not to talk about, simply because I have no doubt my friends are bored silly, as it comes up again and again. Any time I sit down with friends and there's food involved in our gathering, it comes up. I get bored talking about it too. 

So in a nutshell: no sugar, gluten, dairy, yeast or caffeine. I struggle with caffeine these days, but I'm getting there. The rest is possible. Most days.

So before you feel sorry for me just let me say it doesn't work that way. I feel so awful when I eat any of the above that it's just not worth it. But there are always days when it truly is a struggle. But my treat to myself is the not eating it. It's really the only way I can think about it.

So I was amused by something that came to mind over the last week. The older two discovered Buffy awhile back, and I've really enjoyed reliving that with them. But more recently we have been taken over by *Twilight* fever in our house. Between endless watching of the movie, to fighting over who gets to read the next book, it's been all-consuming. To the point where today I sent them out into the sunshine for a change and what do they do? They don baseball caps, find a big stick and a ball and set to playing baseball. Vampire style. They even cranked up the stereo and had that song from that scene on loop. For an hour. (Sorry. No links for either song or scene as they were all dreadful...)

It's very sweet. 

But what came to mind as I watched the movie, yet again, was how I sympathised with poor Edward. There I was, the scent of chocolate filling the room... oh I was tormented. But then I considered how he struggles with his desire to kill and taste the blood of his beloved Bella, yet he loves her so completely. I felt better. Honestly...

(And if you haven't seen the movie, or read the book, then do. No matter what age you are.

 If you've ever been in love. 

Do...)

Exquisite Corpse.

Ah, what a week. No real reason I didn't get around to posting other than a sort of vacuum of a week in the sense that we did very little except draw in to ourselves, making the house warm, nesting ourselves for winter. Any precious time I got at the sewing machine was spent making things like boring curtains, whilst a half made pile of other more desirable doings lay on the table, drawing my eye again and again. This week, I promise myself.

One thing that did brighten our week though was the arrival in the post of a parcel from Buenos Aires (along with the latest Pedlars catalogue, oh yes!) which included an early birthday present for me!

The thing that was immediately fought over was this stunning book. An Exquisite Corpse (favourite game no.1 in this house) book of animals. The illustrations are just beautiful.

The pages are in three parts and by turning them individually you can create amazing creatures.

Or you can view them as a whole. They truly are beautiful. 

Thanks so much Marta and Sam!

The Tales Of Beedle The Bard

If you are not a fan of Harry Potter, you're as well to stop reading now, he he. We are first of all excited to see the trailer for the next HP film that is due out in November. Oooo, darker than ever.
And now we find, something else due out in December. Good old JK has brought out a book of The Tales Of Beedle The Bard which features in the Deathly Hallows book.



A mere trifle I know, compared to waiting for the HP books themselves, but something to look forward all the same.

Abundance Abundance Abundance!

Well, what an amazingly wonderful few days I have had. Jimmy-the-postman must be rolling his eyes at this stage at the thought of having to make his way down our lane with yet another parcel. (I secretly believe that he holds onto our post until there is enough between the few houses here to make the trip!)

First to arrive a few days back was this beautiful print by Rima over in The Hermitage. I am surprised that I chose this one and not one of her illustrations when buying my first one of her prints, but I found it very difficult to choose! I'll just have to go back for more.



I didn't realise it was a quote from Roald Dahl, who is a great favourite in our house. You can click on the image to see it better.

Then, what should arrive in our little wooden box on the doorstep but these gorgeous measuring ducks, all the way from Buenos Aires. Yes Marta, we will always think of you and Sam when we make our muffins! Thank you!



And then, I get a lovely message from Sarah over at Little Paper Bird that I had won a prize! Wooo! And what should arrive promptly in the post but one of her beautiful handmade notebooks. And I can tell you it really is simply beautiful.



Doesn't that all add up to a very satisfying week of abundance?

Yes, I thought so. But the icing on the cake? It gets even better! Late last night I got news that I have finally, at last, become an Aunty for the first time! Yippee! If you could see the smile on my face!



Baby Thomas was born late last night to my brother Andrew and his wife Fiona.

WELCOME TO THIS WONDERFUL WORLD THOMAS!

And congratulations to you both! The fun starts here!

Where Our Hearts Collide.

I am basking in the glow, not of this wonderful warmth and sun we finally have, but of the timeless joy I am getting from our days outdoors, as I mentioned on Tuesday. I am keeping it close as we draw to the halfway point in the school holidays.

When we got back from the beach on Tuesday, I couldn't stop thinking about how I had felt whilst sitting there on the sand watching the children play. Isn't it wonderful that some things never lose their magic, their lustre? It's like finding a beautiful pearl in amongst the glittering baubles in the little box of my life. 'Oh! I had forgotten this! Look! It's still here!' And now I have these little people to share it with, and yet it is already a normal part of our summer days.



Below is a picture taken in 1977, on the same beach, Brittas Bay. From left, there's my sister Emma, my older brother Andrew, Chris, and me. I think I'm right in saying that Simon was probably about a month old so that's why he doesn't feature!



And as I came in the door on Tuesday evening, fresh from the beach, I went straight to the bookshelf and pulled out our copy of this book which was one of my favourites growing up.




It's one of Marcel Marlier's books called 'Johnny and Sophie at the Seaside', and I loved it because in my head it was Brittas Bay, and that was me (oh how I wished I looked like Sophie!) running up the sand dunes. It was especially beloved on a winter's evening by the fireside, just like the beginning of the book.



I'm not sure what happened to the original one I had, but somewhere along the way my Dad picked up this copy in Irish!



And so the wheel turns. The circle of life goes round. And I get to see it through the eyes of a child once more, and I truly am transported.



And I give thanks, for I am blessed.

The Sun. At Last.

Finally, the sun came for a visit...



Off to the beach they go. Giving me some space to try and get my sewing done. You should see the chaos surrounding me...!

****

Oh, now this is something I can't wait for! This autumn, Bob Dylan is bringing Forever Young out as a children's book!



"May you always do for others, and let others do for you,
May you build a ladder to the stars, and climb on every rung."

What a cool idea!

My Inspiration.

Our house is going through a very slow cosmetic make-over. Nothing structural, just a beautifying process. It's old, and it's beside the sea, two things which make living in it a bit of a challenge at times. Most days find me in the midst of chaos, trying to meet the demands of four children and the hectic timetable that brings, as well as attempting to keep on top of the house, and squeezing in a bit of husband time and me time. The creative ideas that buzz around my head, vying for attention, don't help either.

A friend recently asked how on earth I manage to (multi) blog too. But that's what I love about blogging. I can filter out all that madness and chaos, and present the bits I like, the magic, the beauty, the order. And it helps me to keep that in focus.

With our annual Solstice party looming I am so house focused! It's a brilliant opportunity to do all those jobs we've been planning. So, inspired in part by Mrs. French's delightful post about beachside cottages and by my rediscovery of this book buried under all those other interior books, I want to share with you some of my vision that is inspiring me.

This house is the reason I bought the book in the first place. It really reminds me of our house, although it actually looks more like our next-door-neighbour's. But there is something there, some essence that is an echo of ours.



When I saw the inside, well, I was undone...



Again, it has a likeness, but it's more the potential for like-ness that appeals.








This studio is from one of the other amazing waterside houses in this book. It's my dream. Overlooking the water.



Someday.

For a peep into our home have a look here.

And some other people's homes that have been inspiring me here and here.

I have no doubt that my taste is completely influenced by the house I live in. Some day I'd love to see what living in a modern house would inspire in me!

A Home.

The annual summer fete was on down the road from my parents today. We just had to make a stop of course. We got there kind of late but still manage to pick up a couple of nice things. My Dad found this beautiful book which he generously gave to me. The illustrations are by Carl Larsson. Aren't they just gorgeous?

You know by now we love books.

The Notebook.

I love notebooks. I have a silly amount of them. I recently had a conversation with a friend, Annah, about notebooks. She collects them too. I write in mine, she doesn't. Though very few of mine are actually full, they all have something in them. If I see a really gorgeous one I have to buy it. This is what is currently in my bag. Mmmm...
It's by Roger la Borde. I love his sense of colour and pattern. Some of it reminds me of the illustrator Jane Ray whom I LOVE.



The cover is FLOCK. Oh joy, so luxurious.



And there's about five or six different pages. Here's some examples.



Now, just what to fill it with?