I’m blogging you today from my garden office, as we’ve suddenly been gifted with summer weather. So much of it in fact that I realize in a minute I’ll have to step inside for shorts and a lighter t-shirt!
I’ve decided to avoid the labour of lugging the laptop down the ladder from my studio (also of finding the wifi signal 30 m from the house) and embrace the hassle of writing this by hand to be typed in later. I also wanted to test whether I’d somehow express myself differently as well as getting to grips, quite literally too, with the deterioration of my handwriting. Future generations, possibly even some of the current ones, won’t be able to read any kind of running script, so I’m doing this purely for myself. As a means of torture for my brain who has to wait while I form the letters with intent.
I’m entertaining a guest here at the table, under the next chair; the slight wind demanded a tripod for really clear shots (I had wanted to poke it a bit and make a film) and that went beyond my level of hassle readiness after already carrying outside the coffee, notebooks, sketchbooks, a library book, pens, camera, licorice, bow and quiver. But you get the general idea.
In the meantime I’ve forgotten what I wanted to tell you today. So that’s how #slow-blogging works, automatic culling if not editing. I find it hard to imagine writing Crime and Punishment this way – but of course in those days they didn’t have hours of Netflix to go through every night.
No computer means I also don’t have a clock out here. I rarely bring my phone and stopped wearing a wristwatch when I began weaving, it gets snagged on threads and heddles. And resting in a corner in turn made it give up entirely, as I found out recently when I got the whimsical notion of changing the battery.
Anyway, it’s a beautiful quiet day, a stillness in the very air which isn’t disturbed by a breeze ruffling the leaves of the birch tree or my neighbour put-putting along in his old Massey Ferguson 135 a few hundred meters away. It’s that special quiet reserved for dusk and late summer days. I try to suck it up for storage and times ahead.
So is this stillness numbing my brain or energizing it? It doesn’t feel like it induces a lot of inspiration, I just want to sit here and listen to nothing. Which isn’t bad at all, just not very productive.
We’ve been waiting these past couple of days for the next chapter of our lives to be determined*. As you can imagine, such a thing also does not favour a steadfast concentration, I seize it as an opportunity to practice just that among all the other little daily distractions. Pick marigold flowers to dry for papermaking. Some of those hollyhock too. Treat two cats for ear mites (where do they pick up such things?). Remember to get small brown pony from grass in time so he doesn’t founder. Hang up laundry. Check on bread dough. Drink water. Hello Hannibal!
Later it’s the grind of a combine harvester a long way off but just as loud as the tractor. The elderberries will be ripe any minute now. I forgot to have lunch, fat girls can live on water, licorice and one cracker, right?
* As I’m typing this, reply came in the negative form. We certainly live in interesting times!
22 thoughts on “A day in the life of”
This is so idyllic, beautiful and charming, Pia. What a lovely way to get those creative juices flowing.
😀 I thought I’d better seize the moment before we’re locked in by winter (usually just wind and drizzle, but I’m no polar bear). This summer has been disappointing in the terms of hammock time.
I don’t blame you at all, we have to make the most of it here, too.
Except for the negative news (I hope it wasn’t awful!) it sounds like a peaceful wonderful day. That cat is much cuter than the spider. 🙂
Yes, Hannibal my old friend is quite the looker, isn’t he. It was love at first sight for both of us when he was just 6 weeks old, now he is a portly gentleman of 14 years.
As for my news, well, we’ll see what happens. Worst case scenario is leaving all this and living in a camper, but we’ll leave those thoughts aside for now.
I hope it doesn’t come to that – you just got that beautiful studio done!
Exactly – I can live in a broom closet, but to lose all my gear now that I’m finally on a roll, that would be pure misery.
I also have the same issue with legible handwriting. My western European and American friends swear I’m writing in cyrillic. My Russian friends think it might be Arabic. My Arabic friends suggest Korean. My Korean friends agree with my American friends…….
I hope the negative news isn’t too bad..
Used to be just doctors who wrote that poorly! 😉 Perhaps in my case it’s something genetic then… I used to have nice handwriting in school, now it has personality!
I like that – yes – personality!!! That’s exactly what it is.
A mirror of myself then – more personality than nice! ROFL
Det ser herligt og idyllisk ud. Håndskrift er afgjort en uddøende kunst. Jeg lærer mine børn det, og vi kan næsten bruge det til hemmelige meddeleser 😉
Negative nyheder er jo ikke altid dårlige, men jeg frygter jeres er. Held og lykke.
Tak, vi får brug for det. 🙂
I like your idea of going off-line for awhile and just enjoying the outside and the animal visitors. I need to do the same, I think, and get back in touch with myself. Your comments about your hand writing rang so true . . . mine has gone to hell, too.
Today is a lot less relaxing, I’ve hauled out a bunch or stretcher bars only to find that my canvas stretcher is missing as well as fresh staples for my gun. Thought it would be nice with some larger canvasses, ready to grab from a pile when inspiration strikes…
I really enjoyed this post, I felt like I got a glimpse of a different part of you. Writing by hand does change things, IMO
I will try to do so more often and cull my impatience when my hand can’t keep up. Find out what I have to say when I’m not speeding.
Our different parts. A curious and interesting subject (and large). I’m not one for naming various identities inside me for instance. But yes, I do keep sections less visible than others I suppose.
this is gorgeous : )
I write in journals and write letters by hand and often observe the difference between the rhythms and “voices” that emerge. My handwriting has always been unreadable, even before I’d been anywhere near a keypad. But I’m the wrong kind of doctor to have any excuse ; )
I hope whatever is on the horizon for you works out to be in your favour, and to your liking.
Oh, and Hannibal is handsome indeed : ) x
My video ended up having more purr than leaves and cooing pigeons.
I really liked the soundscape in your blogpost and combined with your writing and photos it really brings across the summery feel of that day. We had lovely weather here too in the past few days, even warm enough for a swim last weekend! Deteriorationg handwriting is probably a common phenomenon. They will have to have extra school lessons for handwriting in 100 years time. It may become an art/craft then?
Sorry to hear that you had negative news, not knowing though what this news is about. I wish you all the best and creativity when dealing with whatever lies ahead.
Today’s scape would have been kachunk-kachunk-kachunk-kachunk-kachunk-kachunk from a strawbaler under my window but I was melting at 30° in the studio, coolest room on the premises, so didn’t bother fetching the camera. 😉