year word

Realising that I'd been working too hard in 2014 I gave 2015 the word FUN, and lived with that in mind during the year. In 2016 my word was SHARE, as I'd recognised a trait of self sabotage in negative self talk, gaging myself in expressing thoughts and ideas. So, in 2016, whenever I had an idea, wrote something, had a response to someone, positive or challenging, I shared it! Praising and naming qualities admired in others, calling others out if their behaviours were destructive in any way. Professionally, the result is 30 posts on this blog, 30 news updates on my website, a successful application for a residency, exhibiting in four exhibitions and developing a new body of work.

Emotionally, in telling my truth I've not allowed assumptions to be made. It was uncomfortable at times and in this discomfort was a new experience, of pushing against a boundary, of misbehaving and not being the good girl. Some friends have drawn closer, others become distant.

December was a relief, as I'd begun to tire of speaking my truth and will relish not telling. Not telling will feel different, it will be my choice if I allow assumptions to be made or allow the emotional intimacy of sharing my inner life, this is me - who are you?

1916

My dad was born on the 11th of March 1916. To commemorate this I traveled to Scotland, walked to the cottage he was born in and planted daffodils by the front door. Soft rain fell, garden birds chirruped in the hedgerows and squawked my approach from the treetops. Snowdrops in their prime lit the way, turning my thoughts towards hope and renewal. Standing in the garden of the derelict cottage I felt very at home, though my father left this home in his youth the place echoed him. A shed full of rusting nails, bare gnarly apple trees, a slab path running the length of the cottage. HE was palpable.

I knocked on the door and considered time, of my grandmother Alexina birthing her last born on this day 100 years before, of me peering in the windows, haunting ghosts. Crouching down to dig I found rich dark soil, the sword like spikes of the daffodils pleasingly green against this earth. I left a note written in green ink, knowing it would wash away as rain pattered down, spreading, erasing my heartfelt words. I think of these daffodils now, hoping they bloom brightly, a token of life lived now as I acknowledge my father, my roots.

 Elgin

 Plant associated with Clan Logan - Furze (Gorse)

 Road to Easter Calcots

 Joynters Cottages

 Falkland Islands penny

 Haunting the long dead and gone...

 Geese

Memorial