Thursday, 29 May 2014


a bit of a new beginning , a more simple format a broader approach.the simple beauty surrounding us that never fails to catch my eye . staged or spontaneous , film to instagram and the beauty and inspiration of others .

By Tuesday its curling petals had begun to collect at the bottom of the vase, infusing the room with the faint but unmistakable sweet odor of corruption and imminent death. ... In Tick's opinion there was something extravagantly excessive about the peony from the start, as if God had intended so suggest with this particular bloom that you could have too much of a good thing   .Richard Russo  Empire Falls

.                                                                          my insta feed

Thursday, 16 January 2014

things I love

i used to have the biggest weakness for design magazines , and baking ones , and the occasional fashion mag too . they piled up in my home and I couldn't wait to put my feet up with a cup of coffee and rifle through or go to bed with it after the kids were asleep. these days my dreaming/inspiration time is taken up almost completely by Pinterest . cultivating a from the offerings on Pinterest is like creating a magazine tailored EXACTLY  to your passions.

these are some things that caught my eye this week.

my pinterest

Wednesday, 11 December 2013

summers eve

on a summer evening we chased the sunset to celebrate Bronte` and her graduation .

 , she is...

a dreamer

a baker

a fastionista

a beauty

a scholar

she is , girl

If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together... there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart... I'll always be with you.”
― A.A. Milne

Thursday, 31 October 2013


“Babies are soft. Anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger's touch. But when you live with them and love them, you feel the softness going inward, the round-cheeked flesh wobbly as custard, the boneless splay of the tiny hands. Their joints are melted rubber, and even when you kiss them hard, in the passion of loving their existence, your lips sink down and seem never to find bone. Holding them against you, they melt and mold, as though they might at any moment flow back into your body.

But from the very start, there is that small streak of steel within each child. That thing that says "I am," and forms the core of personality.

Sunday, 14 July 2013


“It's just that the thing you never understand about being a mother, until you are one, is that it is not the grown man - the galumphing, unshaven, stinking, opinionated off-spring - you see before you, with his parking tickets and unpolished shoes and complicated love life. You see all the people he has ever been all rolled up into one.
I look at him and see the baby I held in my arms, dewing besotted, unable to believe that I'd created another human being. I see the toddler, reaching for my hand, the schoolboy weeping tears of fury after being bullied  by some other child. I saw the vulnerabilities, the love, the history.”
― Jojo MoyesMe Before You

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