Words of Wisdom - -

The lovely Shimelle is once again encouraging us. As you probably know dear readers - I am an alumni of many of Shimelle's classes - and my most recently completed class - Beyond Blogging for Scrapbookers has been an enormous boost to my confidence and I hope improved some of my blog content - (and I really would highly recommend it to anyone who hasn't taken the class) so today - thanks to Shimelle who has so kindly invited us to participate in her latest sortie into blogland - it's 10 on the Tenth.
Oh cool thinks I - so exciting - I can share my holiday snaps - er no! - still taking some of them!!
I can scan 10 pages from my last album - er no! not at home - remember???
I can list the books by my bed - er no! on that one too - can't remember ten titles!!
so all these ideas are not too practical for this month -  so being on holiday - today I share with you - -

Wise words - - - that I would like my children to remember. I have been collecting words all my life and those of you who have visited me more than once will probably know of this passion of mine. Sadly I am not sure I have passed it on to my children but I have included these quotes (along with lots of others) here and there through the albums recording their lives that we call scrapbooks - in the hopes that  they may just take the occasional note of them, enjoy the scraps of poetry or just the music of the words themselves. I hope you enjoy some of them - feel free to make use of them in your own albums if they appeal to you.

• A Bag of Tools -

Isn't it strange that princes and kings
And clowns that caper in sawdust rings
And common folk like you and me
Are the builders of eternity.
To each is given a bag of tools,
A shapeless mass and a book of rules;
And each must make, ere time is flown,
A stumbling-block or a stepping-stone.. RL Sharpe

• Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.. Albert Camus
• Reach for the moon, for if you fall you will land amongst the stars.

• Friendship isn't a big thing - it's a million little things.. Anon
• Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.. Henry Van Dyke
• Never look down on anybody unless you're helping him up.. Jesse Jackson 
• Sing as if no one is listening, Dance as if no one is watching,  Laugh til you ache with mirth, Love like there's no tomorrow and live as if heaven's on earth.

• You can dance anywhere, even if only in your heart.. Author Unknown 
• Music is what feelings sound like.. Authur Unknown
• Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.. Maya Angelou 

I am sure there will be many more interesting posts on this today in blogland - find them here. As always, its lovely to have you stop by.
'til later
Bannaghtyn J x

Tea Party at the shop -- Storytelling Sunday

The shop was busy - it often was on a Saturday morning - and the small girl trotted purposefully after her granny as she went from the kitchen to the shop to serve her customers. She watched shyly from the doorway, wide eyed - as granny weighed potatoes, sliced bacon, weighed sugar or added home made cakes to paper bags for the women coming in for their weekly shop.
A steady stream of customers meant that cheerful banter was tossed back and forth over the counter - the housewives wanting groceries, men buying cigarettes and tobacco, children with halfpennies and pennies for weekend treats - Black Jacks, Fruit Salad (8 for a penny), Spanish and Kali (2oz for tuppence), Cadbury's Chocolate, Frys Five Boys, Shoelaces or 2oz of peardrops, sarsaparilla tablets, Uncle Joe's mintballs or caramels. To the little girl watching from the doorway between the kitchen and the shop it seemed like whole world came to granny's shop on a Saturday morning.
Soon it would be time to close - when she knew she would be able to have friends come to play with her in the backyard of the shop. It was a very large backyard - a rarity amongst these narrow streets surrounding the land which had once housed the mill - now blitzed -  and the little girls of the neighbourhood loved to play there, even though they were all older than J-------. They were accustomed to skipping on the cobbles, or making swings on the arms of a lamp post, however the yard was flagged - smooth and level - where they could play "house" and have tea parties, in what felt like luxury! There was a very large gate - it kept the boys out so they couldn't tease or get in the way with footballs!!
The shop bell tinkled and the door opened again to reveal two children, a fair child about 8 years old and a younger dark child with black curls and deep brown eyes, perhaps about 5,  followed by a smiling woman, her hair in a turban made from a scarf - "Here they are Janey." she said pushing the children forward slightly. "Oh hello Nellie" said granny - "come on in then" she beamed at the children as they scampered round the counter to the back of the shop and through to the kitchen. J------- squealed with delight to see them and hurriedly gathered together her dolls, crayons and a miniature tea set - thrusting them into the older children's hands as all three scampered outside - to find a small table and chairs already waiting for them.
The table was soon set - and much fun was had on that Saturday afternoon over fifty five years ago, as the three little girls, 8, 5 & 3  played with dolls, teddies, colouring books and crayons and had a tea party - totally enjoying the sunny afternoon, the sanctuary of the yard - (the boys with their football could be heard at the other side of the gate) whilst the gap between their ages just disappeared. . . . .

I was that 3 year old - and I can no longer remember any further details of that afternoon captured in this photo - I only remember that Aunty Nellie lived across the street from my granny's shop and that she was Elaine's mummy and that Kathleen lived next door to them and her parents were - I think - Irish. My granny's shop is no more -  - nor is the mill land - not even the streets remain - yet I was aware of such a strong sense of community there. I remember Maydays, the May Queen, a Maypole, costumes made from crepe paper, Whit Walks, Bonfire Nights - all community activities that all the street seemed to be involved in - yet I moved away from this area when I was 5 years old.
What a street party there would have been for that Royal Wedding in April this year!

Thanks for stopping by - this post is brought to you courtesy of Sian's Storytelling Sunday
and this months stories can all be found here.  

'til later

Bannaghtyn J x

Remembering Rhymes -

- - do snippets of nursery rhymes ever float into your head when you least expect them to? They do mine and today I found myself thinking back again to times in our campervan. If you have ever had one you will know that the VW Camper really rather "plodded" along rather than zipped by - so getting to most destinations always took some considerable time. With children in the back I am sure you guess that keeping them entertained was a rather important part of our travel! One of the games we played was - see how many nursery rhymes you could remember. We all had to take turns and no one could repeat one that we had already sung! Oh how funny it was  - the Artisan was hopeless - well his children thought he was - because he always got the words wrong (deliberately? you ask - No he genuinely didn't know the words!) - and as for me - they would never let me finish mine! They always said I knew too many :(
I don't actually know how many such rhymes there are - but we did once get to a 100 before the game palled and we moved on to I love my Love with an A - - - but that's another story.

How do you entertain yourselves whilst travelling? And how many nursery rhymes can you remember?

Thanks for stopping by
'til later


Bannaghtyn, J x

A Mini Album - -

- - which now belongs to my elder daughter.

The theme is home and family - and the photos inside are a random selection of family photos.

A bit of detail.

There are lots of pockets with tags - with photos and journalling scattered through the album.

And this lady was the inspiration - she shared it on You Tube quite a long time ago now.


I was pleased with the way it all came together. - the papers are all 7 Gypsies - but I can't remember the collection - sorry!

'til later

Bannaghtyn Jx

I seem to have spent - -

- a considerable amount of time in the small square of earth outside the cottage door this last weekend - this small woodland clearing has felt like my own secret garden since we moved here. It is tucked away - enclosed on three sides - and is a flight of ten steps below road level, warm and sheltered, full of bluebells, aquilegia, california poppies and lavender - it is my own small sanctuary of tranquility and always full of birdsong. All the little birds were in and out of the hedges - but robin was flitting and bustling about so busily, feeding nestlings I suspect, cocking a bright beady eye at me to make sure I was behaving quietly - that I found myself thinking of this -

- - - " and there, lo and behold, was the robin swaying on a long branch of ivy. He had followed her and he greeted her with a chirp. As Mary had skipped toward him she felt something heavy in her pocket strike against her at each jump, and when she saw the robin she laughed again.
"You showed me where the key was yesterday," she said. "You ought to show me the door today; but I don't believe you know!"
The robin flew from his swinging spray of ivy on to the top of the wall and he opened his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show off. Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off--and they are nearly always doing it.
Mary Lennox had heard a great deal about Magic in her Ayah's stories, and she always said that what happened almost at that moment was Magic.
One of the nice little gusts of wind rushed down the walk, and it was a stronger one than the rest. It was strong enough to wave the branches of the trees, and it was more than strong enough to sway the trailing sprays of untrimmed ivy hanging from the wall. Mary had stepped close to the robin, and suddenly the gust of wind swung aside some loose ivy trails, and more suddenly still she jumped toward it and caught it in her hand. This she did because she had seen something under it--a round knob which had been covered by the leaves hanging over it. It was the knob of a door.
She put her hands under the leaves and began to pull and push them aside. Thick as the ivy hung, it nearly all was a loose and swinging curtain, though some had crept over wood and iron. Mary's heart began to thump and her hands to shake a little in her delight and excitement. The robin kept singing and twittering away and tilting his head on one side, as if he were as excited as she was. What was this under her hands which was square and made of iron and which her fingers found a hole in?
It was the lock of the door which had been closed ten years and she put her hand in her pocket, drew out the key and found it fitted the keyhole. She put the key in and turned it. It took two hands to do it, but it did turn.
And then she took a long breath and looked behind her up the long walk to see if anyone was coming. No one was coming. No one ever did come, it seemed, and she took another long breath, because she could not help it, and she held back the swinging curtain of ivy and pushed back the door which opened slowly--slowly.
Then she slipped through it, and shut it behind her, and stood with her back against it, looking about her and breathing quite fast with excitement, and wonder, and delight.
She was standing inside the secret garden."

This extract for The Secret Garden - by Frances Hodgeson Burnett was still is a favourite book of mine - it is still in print but if you might like to read a bit more it can be found online here

Do you have a favourite book from your childhood which you still class as a fovourite? Please tell me I'm not the only one!

Thanks for stopping by.
'til later

Bannaghtyn J x

Simple Pleasures

Such a beautiful day - treated myself to a few bluebells fmom the garden. The cottage now smells wonderful!

'til later

Bannaghtyn Jx

Twenty years ago today

She really didn't feel like herself at all - fretful, worried, tearful - not what she should be feeling like anyway. Why, oh why she asked herself, before finding tears welling yet again - no reason she could think of - she should be filled with happiness - she knew that, - it wasn't as if this was the first time she had been in this situation. So why did she feel so low?? Perhaps because the 4 year old was so obviously wanting mummy - and he couldn't have cuddles here, perhaps it was because the older one had been so ill just recently? She only knew she didn't feel right being here - she needed to be at home.
The woman with the trolley was suddenly at her side - "Are you OK J-----?" she asked gently. Her wise eyes took in the younger woman's face - the brightness of the unshed tears, and the tension in her body, and she nodded to herself before smiling kindly at the woeful figure "Milk in your tea?" she said pouring a cup and placing it on the table in front of the girl, adding two biscuits to the saucer. "Drink your tea and have your elevenses" she said "I'll be back shortly".
The younger woman stared at the tea cup - maybe it would make her feel a little better - she picked up the cup and moved over to the window. Trees filled with blossom and blue skies - it looked like it was going to be a beautiful Bank Holiday tomorrow - and here she was, stuck in this room! She sipped her tea - "I want to go home" she thought again and once more tears welled in her eyes "I want to go home". A murmer of voices caught her attention - - looking up she saw two figures walking towards her - the woman from earlier, with a man. Oh dear - I wonder what he wants this time, she thought - she made a effort to smile - really he was very kind - "Good morning J-----" he said , "How are you today?" J----- answered in as cheerful a manner as she could - "Doing quite well I think". The man picked up a clipboard and began to study it carefully - he looked again at the older woman with him - "Are you sure it would be the best thing to do?" he asked her. "Absolutely certain" she answered briskly.
The man put the clipboard down - "Well - since it is such a lovely day - and as Sister assures me that this is the best thing to do for you - I think you should call your husband and get him to come along to collect you and your new daughter - and take you both home" he smiled at the young woman sitting on the bed, holding the new baby in her arms. "But make sure you get plenty of rest now" he said as he turned away.

Sister looked at the young woman and smiled - "I think this just might prevent the Baby Blues" she said shrewdly - "Let's get baby dressed now shall we?"

She was quite right - it did prevent the baby blues - which I hadn't suffered from before with my other children - and I am eternally grateful to Sister M---- not only for recognising its start - but for persuading Mr C-------- that I really should be sent home. Because you see - the older one was just recovering from, and the 4 year old was just starting with - the chicken pox. And much as they both loved daddy - they both wanted mummy as they hadn't been allowed into the maternity hospital to see her.

Today is the twentieth anniversary of that day - when we brought our new baby daughter home - the day before the May Day holiday. This post is also part of Storytelling Sunday - hosted by Sian at From High in the Sky.
Full details can be found here
Thanks for stopping by
'til later

Bannaghtyn J x

A Royal Wedding Day - -

- - I had no plans to watch, we had no street party or celebration planned - as I had got completely fed up with all the hype that seemed to be surrounding it - and I always feel that weddings are family occasions, I wasn't going to bother - - however I did watch, from just about the time Catherine Middleton arrived at the Abbey - and she looked so serenely beautiful - - aglow with happiness - - that I watched in spite of myself. When she arrived at his side - and he told her she was beautiful (I can lip read) tears welled in my eyes. I really didn't expect that I can tell you - since I have never been tearful at previous weddings ever! However I do wish both of them much joy & happiness. I also hope that any of you who had parties had a wonderful day.
I really like Carol Ann Duffy's poem written in honour of the occasion - she has to of course - being the Poet Laureate - you know of my passion for poetry. She visited our local Art Festival in 2009 and it was wonderful to hear her read her poems and put the emphasis where it mattered. I heard her voice when I read this in the paper today.

 

Thanks for stopping by.
'til later.

Bannaghtyn J x

Thursday Thoughts - -

As I took part in the communal - My Day in Photos in my Beyond Blogging for Scrapbookers class yesterday - Wednesdays Words had to go on the back burner - so this week - just for a change - we will have Thursday Thoughts instead.

If you have visited here before you will know already of my fondness for poetry -and just occasionally I scribble a few rhymes of my own. I'm not especially good and I rarely - in fact never, share them - but after the post yesterday showcasing my island home I thought of this which I did for National Poetry Day this year - the pupils had to guess which staff member had written it and we displayed it in the Library along with other information to be discovered in a small competition - with a prize of course. It's not Shakespeare - but the children particularly like the rhythm of rhymes - and it does express my own thoughts of what makes up Home - so I hope you also quite like it also.

HOME
Home is where the heart is,
Isn’t that what they say?
It doesn’t have to be a house,
If you think another way.

New baked bread’s aroma,
The taste of apple pie,
The sound of a gurgling baby,
In daddy’s arms so high.

For home can be an empty beach,
Standing looking out to sea,
Watching for that lonely boat.
Bringing you back here to me.

Or a crowded shopping centre
On a Saturday afternoon,
Spending time with special friends,
Stirring tea with a silver spoon.

It's flickering flames of firelight
On a winters day,
Or family hugs and laughter,
When silly games you play.

And barbecues and picnics,
On a sunny weekend walk.
It’s Christmas, birthdays, happy dreams
And candle light - and talk.

Home is never just a place,
Whatever you may say.
Home is where the heart is
Near - - or far away!
J.M Hall


'til later
Bannaghtyn J x

A Day in Photos

See more photos here.

Easter Sunday

a beautiful Easter Day greeted me when I woke  - - blue skies & sunshine - warm air and birdsong - not the kind of day for staying indoors. The Artisan struggles to entertain himself indoors at any time - but there is no way he would want to be indoors on such a lovely day. Usually this would mean he would be off climbing but today we took a picnic to Ni-ar-byl for lunch. He did have an ulterior motive - because the first basking shark of the season was seen at Ni-ar-byl only a few days ago - but of course he doesn't think I'm aware of that!

 We took the coast path

 

 The drop to the shore is incredibly steep in places - and the path very narrow but the views are breathtaking

The sun is warm on our backs,  the gorse scents the air with that spicy, almost vanilla aroma, whilst under the hedges  - shy purple violets, delicate lemony primroses and sea pinks peep out through the grasses - as we climb the path to the headland the first swallow I have seen this year skims the path just in front of us, almost touching the small lavender stars of squill. The path turns sharply and below us is the beach. Steps lead down through the field of grass, which I think they use for thatch, to the hush of waves on the empty shore. It is quite some time since we came here, and a commemorative bench has appeared in between times - so we take advantage of its perfect position to eat our lunch, listen to the sound of the sea and watch - hopefully - for basking shark.

Sadly we watched in vain - but nevertheless Troie Vane is a perfect picnic spot - only a short way from Ni-ar-byl  - and from here it is very easy to see how Ni-ar-byl got its name - translated it means Road of the Tail of the Rocks - they really do look like a dragon or lizards tail in the water - favourite place for us to come even in winter - though we never come to this beach in winter as I don't find the path easy even at this time of year.  A lovely way to spend Easter Sunday.

Thanks for stopping by.

'til later,

Banaghtyn J x

Good Friday in the garden - -

- - beautiful sunshine greeted me today - - dragging me outside to breakfast in the garden. I love the small woodland clearing at the head of the glen that constitutes our little hamlet. This small cluster of dwellings has been here at least 200 years and show as buildings on the oldest map in the local museum - from the early 19th century. I feel they were all built as crofter's/fishermen's cottages with the exception of the tiny one-up, one-down which adjoins our cottage - as we believe that it was once the stabling that our property had according the deeds.
The small outside space which calls itself my garden is encircled by trees, high hedges, is well below road level and is always filled with birdsong and the soft whirring of small wings as sparrows, robins, chaffinches, blackbirds and thrush all go about the business of keeping the occupants of the many nests in the high hedges well fed. When I sit alone in the garden - as I did today - they soon ignore my presence and flit amazingly close to me in their hunt for food for their chicks. I feel priveleged indeed for this trust they show me.

Sheltered as it is we rarely know know if it is windy - and is probably the only place on my windswept island where you can peg washing out on a dry day before going to work - and it will still be damp when you get home at teatime!! It is still a bit of a mystery to me even after 10 years here! Only in the height of summer can I be sure it will be dry. Here is a small enclosed sanctuary for those little birds - we rarely see anything larger than the pair of ring-necked doves who nest in the glen, but who often sit together on my gate, and it is filled with a deep tranquility and peace.

A quiet hour in my garden refreshes my spirit after hectic working days and for that I am truly thankful.
Hope your Easter weekend is all you wish for. Thanks for stopping by.

'til later.
Bannaghtyn - especially on this day. J x

Shimmering Spring - -

- - it made it, the island is frothy with blossom - today it's shimmering pink & white and misty green - only days ago it seems it was golden, trumpeting daffodils and delicate primroses - and on the headland it still is - as the natural world bedecks herself in beauty after a long winter. Long shadows and hazy sunlight, soft white blossom on the blackthorn hedges, newly unfurling leaves on the hawthorne, lambs gambol in the fields - and freshly ploughed furrows are a rich brown as the morning sun stretches long silvery fingers to stroke them with warmth.
Every garden I pass  - abundant, lacy, pink petals on the flowering cherries, cushions of purple aubretia and waving scarlet heads of tulips whilst beneath the trees in the Glen - a haze of blue - wild hyacinths - - bluebells - - whose perfume later will make me heady with the joys of spring. It's days like this which remind me why I wanted to live here, and why I am so grateful that I do.

The Bluebell - Anne Bronte

A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.

This is the only the first few lines lines from Anne's poem - and since really trying to focus on what the theme of my blog is I am very concious that I write awfully long posts! As I am not sure, dear reader , if you get bored half way through and move onto somewhere snappier I have only included the opening stanzas - if you would like to read the reast of the poem you can find it here

Hope your day is a beautiful as my flowery, bowery island.

Thanks for stopping by.
'til later

Bannaghtyn Jx

A new class - -

- - well a continuation class really - Beyond Blogging for Scrapbookers run of course by the lovely and inspiring Shimelle - who always gives me confidence to do more so much than I ever thought I could. I have read the first prompt several times through-out yesterday, and pondered over what the theme of this blog is. I have found it quite hard to come up with a simple answer - as I think my intention when  I created it was purely as a place to share the crafty items I made - mainly papercraft. However I have come to realise that for me, words have at least equal - if not more -  importance in my world, and so it seems to me to be "neither fish nor fowl" without a real focus or direction. I am thinking hard about what the theme is - - -
One of my favourite things about blogland is the fact that I can link right around the world with a blog, that I can stretch out a hand - and greet - a new friend in Australia, America, Scotland, Scandinavia, Africa or China - - and the reason we connect is a shared experience - of womanhood or motherhood or scrapbooking or baking or whatever - - So here I am - again asking myself - what is the theme of my blog ?? Is it Words?? Crafting and a place to share my makes?? Is it purely to communicate with others who share my hobbies in some way?? 
I really want to use this class to improve my blog - to give it a real focus, be more professional yet still be pretty to look at - (I do SO want to keep my poppies), to still have a place to share my "makes" and my passion for words, so would appreciate a little help from anyone who drops by. Perhaps dear reader you might have a moment to check out the poll? Thank you - or Gura mie ayd.





Thanks for stopping by.
Bannaghtyn J x