5 min read

commonplace vignettes

commonplace vignettes

Hello Wednesday. Hello friends.

I’m thinking about clothing for slow days. Ones in which i can sit and meditate, or stare out the window into the garden. Ones that aren’t too tight, or feel like I’m wearing uncomfortable scaffolding. Ones that embrace me as i am praying for peace & understanding to leave a mark on this burning world. Like so many other people whose words I’ve read in the past few weeks, life feels complicated and sad and full of horror. But there is light and warmth and grace and pockets of undeniable beauty too, so I’m clinging on to those as a lifeline and wanting to celebrate things that bring joy to people. I hope you find some here.


an abiding and deep-rooted friendship // we recently had a visit from our best friends who stayed for just under a week. We ate warm sourdough bread with smoked butter, took a trip to the local market and got a special order of locally made bread. We found joy in soul reviving chilly ocean swims, spicy cider, and generally lazing about in various supine positions across the quiet refuge we lovingly call our home. We threw the jaws of the bi-folding door wide open, welcoming the sun and the breeze into every corner. It was a blissful, restorative time with just the right amount of activity and a much needed amount of idleness.

pied-a-terre // in the garden, the trees are feeding the birds and providing twigs & spiders webs for nests. There are piles of branches providing shelter for insects and nourishment for the soil, and every day I’m out there i discover a new little self-seeded native of some kind. It’s a magical gift when plants start to reproduce and multiply all on their own and it never ceases to get me excited. I’ve also recently built a new vegetable garden using mostly repurposed materials: offcuts of decking timber, plastic from a mattress for the lining, layers made from branches gathered off our property, cardboard collected from our local supermarket and mulch from a pile on our driveway. The only new purchase we’ve had to make was the soil that’s being used for the top layer. Today, it welcomed tomato + chilli seedlings that I tended into being from seeds raised in the greenhouse.

emergence // spring brings with it an emergence from the drowsy energy of winter hibernation. It’s a time to revitalise the body, releasing it gently from that slow winter energy into the vibrant and welcoming arms of the warmer seasons. This year, wanting to give my liver a helping hand, I make a tisane of ginger, schisandra berry, dandelion root, milk thistle.

endorsing myself // for the past few years, I’ve been making my own intution cards. These small cards are a gift to myself, inviting me to trust my inner wisdom. I pull them out before mentoring sessions or when I feel the need for a prompt for self-reflection. Today, I visited a favourite local cafe and store and spoke to the owner about running a workshop to guide people through the process of making their own set. All signs point to a favourable outcome and I’m excited to have taken the first step in making this happen after many many (many) bouts of procrastination and doubt.

Aperitivo hour, Cocoa Wine Bar in Bologna Italy: One of my few remaining photos from a walking tour in 2013 • All my photos have disappeared, leaving me with just a handful shared via this blog and other places online.

aperitivo hour // there’s a small wine shop down at Palm Beach (our favourite place to swim) that stocks an eclectic and interesting range of beverages. We often stop there after a swim or a hot day in the garden to grab something refreshing to drink. Befriending the owner, and often stopping to chat about food or what we’re reading, we philosophise about the Italian’s original, unhurried and elegant happy hour, capturing a centuries-old approach to the end of the work day. We wonder aloud if weaving this into the social fabric of everyone’s lives might make for less fighting and more recognition of each others’ humanity and goodness, and becoming a vehicle for inviting empathy.

inspiration // new creative parts of me are clamouring to be heard, and atrophied creative muscles are being developed once more. Specifically as i’ve been joining the creative fuel collective: wednesday sessions. This is a weekly art hour, hosted by Anna Brones, conducted via zoom. so much creative goodness and community crammed into the hour. It keeps me sustained and nourished throughout the week until I join the next one.

also inspiring me //

  • how to: draw a 360 degrees map by the travelling bookbinder. I love this idea and it is very similar to a warm up exercise Anna Brones led us through in a creative fuel Wednesday session a couple of weeks ago.
  • this short video of the marimekko weather diary collection, inspired by Finnish weather patterns, is mesmerising
  • a lovely soundbath meditation by Sara Auster
  • an emotive poem by Raymond Carver called At Least that reads like an inventory of wants. He writes I want, and then lists the things – to get up before sunrise, before the birds, to throw cold water on his face, to be at his work as the sky lightens. I want, to watch waves break on the rocky shore, to see the ships pass, to watch for the pilot boat, to see one man leap from boat to boat. I want, he writes, to spend the day watching. Then in the wanting he pauses, says he hates to seem greedy, for he has so much already:
  • But I want to get up early one more morning, at least.
    And go to my place with some coffee and wait.
    Just wait, to see what’s going to happen.

  • (I would too. Wouldn’t you? Though I would also hate to seem greedy. Perhaps the world would be a kinder place if we simply waited a little more instead of springing into action.)

Until next time,

x Leonie