Be joyful, keep the faith and do the little things.

Yesterday morning we packed a picnic while pondering whether it would be a good idea as intermittent showers (or miniature deluges) sped across the skies and soaked the green outside our house - but a picnic can be eaten in the car so we packed up and headed across to St David's; me, husband, daughter and dog.  I'd suggested taking the short, narrow lane down to St Non's Bay as although I've walked that stretch of coast before, I'd never stepped off the coastpath to explore the sacred spring (or holy well) or ruins of the chapel.

There was no rain on arrival, the sky was blue and the clouds were dispersing  We squeezed together to enjoy the picnic in the car before heading down towards the well and the chapel ruins.  There's a small shrine with a statue of the Virgin Mary situated just to the north of the well  and water flows as a stream from underneath.  When we visited there was also a picture of the Pope propped on the ground beneath the shrine, I'm assuming it's the current one and R wanted to know who the strange man in the picture was!  The problem with trying to explain a picture of the Pope to a four year old is it ends up being more than you anticipate.  "He's the head of the Catholic Church" inevitably leads to the question of what is the Catholic Church, basic explanations regarding a section of Christianity/group of Christians leads to questions about who Christians are, further explanations relating to belief in God are then met with "What God?".  Ah, good question, uhhhh - we'll leave that one for her to work out for herself when she's older.  My husband just laughed  and declared her a natural born Atheist ;) 

Shrine to the Virgin Mary

The spring itself exudes a sense of peace - it's sheltered below the lie of the land and catches the sun; add the sound of flowing water and you have the perfect place to be caught in a moment of meditative reflection.  The story goes that when St Non gave birth at this spot (to the baby who would grow up to be St David) the spring water suddenly started flowing from the ground.  It's very much a place to pause and reflect - although with R, husband and dog charging off through the kissing gate into the adjacent field where the chapel ruins stand, pausing and reflecting was carried out in a very short space of time.  I would like to go back some time by myself, to spend a bit more time in that quiet place - and although it is said to be one of the most sacred wells in Wales, I suspect the spring was a sacred place long before the Christian Church dedicated it to St Non.

There's not much left of the Chapel - it passed out of use after the Reformation and over time fell into ruin.  Regardless, R enjoyed exploring it.  The slab in the corner (in the photo) is inscribed with a cross within a circle - St Non's Cross - it was originally found in the same field as where the chapel stands but may not originally have been part of the site.  It's about 12-1300 years old!

Ruins of St Non's Chapel

Scattered around the field where the ruins stand are a number of small standing stones (most, less than three feet high).  Most of the information I've found suggests it may or may not be a stone circle, but probably indicates bronze age habitation.  I'm inclined to lean towards the idea that it *is* the remains of a circle as looking at them from above the field (where we parked the car) they form a rough circle, with a slightly larger stone further north reminiscent of the position of the outliers at Gors Fawr Stone circle near Mynachlogddu in the Preselis (I'll have to write about them sometime!).  It's suggested that the position of the outliers (which are north-east of the circle there) is possibly connected to the midsummer sunrise - maybe the original layout of the stones at St Non's means the same.  It's another reason it feels like the area was sacred long before the Church found it - after all, it's well accepted that churches were often built within areas already considered sacred.   

R Checks out one of the standing stones - seeming less than impressed.

Beyond the field we wandered the coast path for half a mile or so - the rain of the past few days making it a little treacherous in places but mud is half the fun.....

Even when you're a grown-up! .......

And although explaining geology and geography and coastal processes to R was possibly a bit beyond her age.....

Coastal erosion in action - check out that arch ;)...

....And that stack formation ;)

You don't need to understand it to be able to appreciate the scenery.........

Nothing beats Pembrokeshire on a sunny day - though I may be biased!

After our muddy trek along the cliffs and back to the car we headed for home - with a brief stop in St David's to visit the Cathedral.  It's another favourite place of mine.  It nestles in a shallow valley, so unlike many other Cathedrals which seek to claim a high spot.  And although I've visited many that have been awe-inspiring in their architecture, and the skill that went into their construction (Wells and Salisbury Cathedral are two that spring to mind) St David's Cathedral is comforting in it's simplicity and feels more connected with the landscape around it.  For me it reflects it's construction in faith - the more impressive Cathedrals often seem to be more about power and suppressing those at the bottom; combined with something a little more presumptuous that seems to compete with the God it's built for.

St David's Cathedral

We thought to spend a little time hunting inside for the hidden green man in the arches above - I've seen him before but had forgotten where.  Sadly, on this occasion the only green men we found were the ornamental ones for sale in the Cathedral shop and as R was growing tired by this point we thought it time to head home.

R's too tired to walk ;)

One thing did strike me as we ambled among the vaulted ceilings - there was a display near one of the internal chapels relating to repairs carried out, and written within the display were the words I've used to title this blog entry: Be joyful, keep the faith and do the little things.  They refer to the last words of St David's and I think, for me they epitomise the best way to live (regardless of how you might define 'faith' - even if it has no spiritual or religious meaning we all have faith in something).  Yesterday was a day  of joy, and today carried on the theme with walks down to the river and splashing in muddy puddles.  And the little things?  I guess that's the day to day bits that might make another person smile - and it's not just the doing, it's the noticing the little things too :)

Noticing the beginnings of spring.

The things they say...

I can never keep up with all the little things that R says, and the odd little conversations we have - sometimes cute, sometimes profound, often vaguely insulting!  I regularly wish I could grab those seconds and record them for ever, sometimes I update them as my Facebook status because it's the quickest way to make a note.  So much happens and it's so easy to forget.

So far this morning we've had.....

R:  How did it go last night mummy?

Me: It was lovely, we had lots of yummy Chinese food.

R:  Did you use chopsticks?

(that was one of those moments where I wonder how she knows things - She's four and we've never used chopsticks at home or been to a Chinese restaurant as a family.  I know she must have learnt things from Cbeebies, or stories we've read or nursery but it's still one of those "Oh!" moments, that delight in learning something about R that I didn't know before).

We've also had the cute....

"Mummy!  I've got chicken wrinkles again!"

(she meant goose bumps!)

The slightly gross.....

"Mummy, my poo looks like a wolfs head"

 (I know we like to avoid shame associated with bodily functions but maybe that's going a bit far - although at least this time she didn't request I take a look!)

And finally, the typically insulting.....

"Mummy, your breath smells like dog food"

Thank you so much fruit of my womb!  Although, the comparison was probably fair as at that point I hadn't cleaned my teeth.  At least you can trust small children to be completely honest (blunt!) about things.

I hope I can capture those little moments through the years.  Not just the words, but the pictures and the stories that go with them.

Cake!

I really need to motivate myself to shower and get ready for the day, but after a very enjoyable Chinese meal out last night with friends for a 50th birthday I'm suffering an incredible MSG hangover which does nothing to inspire me to get moving! I knew there was a reason I rarely ate Chinese food.

On the plus side - the birthday cake was enjoyed by all. A Big Bang Theory inspired chocolate sponge. I rushed it a little so I felt it was a bit scrappy but still. Mmmmm......cake!

The Selkie Mother

The night air is surprisingly warm, not what I'm expecting as I stand here on the shore line with bare shoulders and feet.  The shift in air currents, barely enough to be called a breeze, lifts the hairs on my arms as I bury my feet in the soft pale sand feeling each grain trickle between my toes.  I have my eyes closed for what only seems a minute, taking in the sensations around me and I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with the sweet tang of ocean drenched air.  Yet when I open them again the moon has risen, hanging huge and full on the horizon, it's luminescence nearly overwhelming the softer twinkle of the surrounding stars.

As the moon steadily rises higher above me, it's silver moon path stretches across the lapping waves, their gentle rush echoing my breathing and the twin heart beats in my body - my own and that of the child I carry.  Beyond the moon path occasional cresting waves, or maybe sea creatures I can't see, disturb the surface of the water and spread a soft green fluorescence that seems to flicker and die before I'm even fully aware it is there.  I look up to the moon again and for a moment, held within it's glow I see my child, curled as though in the womb, sleeping in the moons embrace - my embrace.

I am drawn to the sea and step forward, the sand behind me so soft it collapses into my footprints obliterating them as though I never stood there.  At the water's edge the tiniest of waves  curl around my feet, as warm as the night air, drawing me further in.  I wade deeper and the ocean waters support me, in much the same way as the waters of my being support the new life growing inside.  I sway with the movement of the tide, the ebb and flow of water, of blood and breath, heartbeat and life.  Suddenly all is one and I'm am lost in the water's velvet darkness   I am the seal mother, the selkie; the waters open for me, embrace me and welcome me in, swirling spirals within spirals.  I am both chasing the spirals of life and cocooned in a watery sleep where time has never been and holds no meaning.

And then, somewhere beyond now, the Moon's song calls me back and I hear her and respond, the salt waters releasing their hold and carrying me back.  Still I feel embraced, but I float on the waves now, carried gentle to the shore.  And now, I find myself lying under the night sky as the ocean recedes behind me.  My sealskin caul fades and I am here again, feeling the warm damp sand rough on my cheek.  The moon is gone for now but I still feel her, as I still feel the rhythm of the ocean.  All is connected.  I breathe deeply and close my eyes.  I am home.

The above is inspired by a meditation I carried out on Tuesday evening, as part of a group of pregnant ladies, under the direction of a lovely lady called Nikki.  The meditation itself lasted nearly an hour and the guided visualisation was only a small part of it - and even then, the imagery suggested was simple; standing on a beach under a night sky then entering the sea and floating for a while supported by the waves before returning to the shore.  But, as often is the case when I follow guided visualisations, I found my inner being creating a much greater picture.

Through my 20s I was what might be viewed as 'left-brain' orientated - or at least, that's what I aimed to be.  I was a scientist, my bachelors degree being in Biology/Ecology and my Masters being in Ecology.  I tried to be logical, think only practically, I questioned everything and facts were the priority.  I treated my pregnancy with my first daughter in much the same way -  wanted to understand the biology of pregnancy, researched how it all worked, how labour worked, what could go wrong and the likelihood but I never allowed myself to imerse myself in the emotional side of it and I never created a bond with my unborn child.  In part because my daughter was unplanned and part of me was in denial (perhaps until she was maybe 3 years old - the PND I suffered didn't help) and also because I didn't have 'time' to be pregnant.  I was commuting 60miles each way to work, I was studying for my Masters degree, I was busy. Work was a priority because I never wanted to be a mother, motherhood damaged children, I was safest with a career.....

As a child I was much more 'right-brained' - I was artistic, created fantasy worlds, allowed my imagination free reign.  Somewhere between childhood and my 20s I came to believe that part was wrong - and I denied it, even though it was always there, you can't remove what's innate.  I'm not sure whether the depression I suffered through the latter part of my teens and my 20s was in part, a result of that.  You can't be whole if you deny the aspects of yourself you believe to be 'wrong' and if you can't be whole then you can't be helathy....or happy.

So now, over the last 12-18months - from when I entered my 30s - I've begun to re-embrace what was once a massive part of who I was.  I'm rediscovering the joy in intuition, in imagination and I'm letting go of the shame I've always associated with being 'emotional'.  And because of this, my current pregnancy feels very different to my last.  I feel connected to it, and I'm looking for ways to strengthen that connection and the bond with the baby I'm carrying - which is where the pregnancy meditation comes in.  And a side effect of this is I feel like I'm forging a better shared space with my daughter, I'm learning patience (slowly) and I'm learning to accept the bad days with the good (very slowly!), without feeling like I've constantly failed at a task that I was never prepared for.

I am the Selkie Mother, chasing spirals within spirals since the dawn of time.  Singing the pull of the moon tide of emotions, drawing me to the life within.

Christmas is Coming....

....or Yule, or Midwinter, or whatever you fancy calling it.  OK, it's still a few weeks away but I ought to consider getting into gear.  So far I've made the Christmas Cake (about 4 weeks back) and it's sitting, tightly wrapped, in the bread bin waiting to be marzipanned (sometime at the start of December) and iced (a week before Christmas) and I'm pondering making a Christmas Pudding this year.  I haven't tried before - mainly because I find the thought of hanging around waiting for a pudding to steam for 8 hours is a bit off putting - always a first time.

Normally by this time of year I'll also have my sloes soaking in gin in time for Christmas gift giving ( *hic* ), but the sloe harvest has been shockingly bad.  No exaggeration here, we went out last month and found a grand total of five! Five sloes?! That's not even enough for a thimble full of sloe gin.  It's not just the sloes that have been lacking....the horse chestnut out the front of the house has no conkers (every year previously there's been large quantities scattered across the ground ready to be gathered for conker fights), the blackberries were either rotten before they were ripe or, if they did survive, were bitter and watery and I've not seen any elderberries either.  The birds are going to be hungry this winter - which reminds me, I need to stock up on seed and mealworms.   Birds deserve a happy Christmas too, in the same way we really deserve our Christmas sloe gin ;)  Seeing as we're lacking in that particular department I thought I'd have a go at making a sort-of spiced mead as an alternative.  Although I doubt it'll be ready for Christmas it's another one of those things I've fancied making for a while (although I won't be able to enjoy it myself for at least another 7 months but shhhhhh, the reason for that is still a bit hush hush - at least until we have the first scan next month!).  I used a recipe for a mead in a book I own called "The Real Witches Kitchen", which I bought years ago as it had various interesting recipes in (for cosmetics, incense, food, all sorts).  I didn't have all the ingredients needed but I adapted it a little and this is what I came up with.  I used:

• 1 and a half large oranges, chopped up, pith removed.
• 2 large eating apples, chopped up
• Large handful of currants (or raisins)
• 12 cloves
• 2 large cinnamon sticks
• Roughly 1inch piece of dried ginger
• 8 pints of water
• 4 jars of honey (weighing 454g each, which is roughly a pound - so 4lb of honey)

The orange, apple, currants, cloves, ginger and cinnamon sticks went into a large stock pan with half the water.  I brought that to the boil and left it to simmer - supposedly for half an hour but I got distracted by other things so it was probably a lot longer (if I'm honest I got distracted by guinea pigs - we have two; R's 4th birthday present and a lesson in responsibility. Both boys - she's named them Holly and Dave).  After the appropriate simmering time the mix came off the heat (all the spices and fruit simmering away produced a beautiful Christmassy smell, reminiscent of mulled wine) and the rest of the water was added as well as the honey which was stirred in until it dissolved.  I then mixed in a sachet of wine yeast (a 5g packet which is what? About 0.2oz? Probably around a teaspoon give or take I imagine) and then strained the whole lot via sieve and funnel into a 2 gallon demijohn.  Added a bung and airlock and voila!.......

Now it's just a case of waiting for fermentation and maturation and I'll unfortunately have to use my husband as taste tester.  Exciting! (Note - I remembered to sterilise everything I used.  Had some sterilsing tablets left from when R was a baby....well, I had a full unused packet as we never bothered with bottle-feeding.  Far too much hassle!).

Now to plan the family Midwinter Feast (I have parents, in-laws, grandparents and siblings around for a three course monstrosity on or around the 21st December) and ponder whether I've got the time to make some new Christmas decorations with R.  Pass me the glitter! :-D

Birthdays and families

I'm exhausted!

It was my daughter's (R) 4th Birthday at the weekend and I had Parents no.2 staying for a few days (my parents divorced when I was a child, both my mum and dad remarried, so I have two sets of parents besides my parents-in-law.  Parents no.1 live two doors down and are mum and stepdad. Parents no.2 (dad and stepmum) live a couple of hundred mile away and they visit, or we visit, as and when we can - depends when my dad's home from sea as he works in merchant shipping).  They headed back this morning so we've got the house back and I can take some time to recover from the last week.

R had been excitedly looking forward to her birthday for weeks and had been chopping and changing her mind about her birthday cake.  Originally she wanted an alien cake (last year she wanted a blue dinosaur), but after a short space of time she entered the girly-fairy-princess stage and decided a fairy toadstool cake was the only way to go.  I bake fairly regularly, and make a Christmas Cake every year which is fairly basic in terms of decoration, but I thought I'd give her birthday cake a shot.  It took a few days, handful of hours here and there in between 101 other things, and it would have been a lot cheaper to just pay someone else to make it I suspect, but not nearly as much fun!  Mind you, after hunching over the kitchen worktop, fiddling around with fondant icing, my lower back was killing me!

It seems it was worth it though - not bad for a first attempt....

Actually - who am I kidding? I thought it was damn near brilliant!  No false modesty here, I was so, so chuffed with how it turned out. So chuffed in fact that I could just about ignore the niggling voice of perfectionism in my head telling me that "that bit's wonky" or "the icing has been pulled too thin there so the cake is showing", or "I don't like the smudges/marks/lumps/bumps here - you do know this is nowhere near good enough don't you?".  I'm definitely better at ignoring the voice now, compared to when I was 13 and would throw a teenage strop if something I did wasn't exactly, spot-on, perfect.

And what matters most is R adored it, her excitement was catching! The most fearful part was transporting it on my lap in the car (husband drove) to her birthday party on Saturday.  The internal voice in my head was screaming "don't brake suddenly!" as I stared maniacally ahead on the watch out for unexpected oil spills, small animals running in front of the car or traffic lights ;)

Parents No.2 arrived on the Saturday morning. Birthday party was held Saturday afternoon (I opted for the vaguely sensible approach of  having one of those birthday-party packages at a soft-play centre where they also provided a birthday tea afterwards.  There were 14 children and the same number of parents so I doubt our house would have survived the influx otherwise!). R's birthday was actually on Sunday so we had the whole family over after lunch and I did another birthday tea; Parents no1, Parents no.2, In-laws, godfather, great grandmother no.2 (great grandmother no.1 had my handicapped aunt home for the weekend so couldn't come by sadly), uncle & uncles girlfriend, plus husband and myself.  Not the whole family but a good chunk of the immediate family. R has 3 godmothers and 2 godfathers, only one lives locally, the rest are scattered between Cardiff, Essex and Glasgow - we're not Christian's, the christening was just carrying on a family tradition in the village church; my mother was Christened their, as were my brother and I.  I was also married there (originally it was going to be a registry office wedding but a change of plan for my gran - long story!).  We're very lucky in that respect - family wise, that is.  I also suspect I'm quite unusual to have divorced parents who are remarried and everyone gets on well (when I walked down the aisle I had my dad on one arm and my stepdad on the other).

While Parents No.2 were staying we had a bed made up of the seat cushions from Lola (our excessively tatty VW monster-Bus - she's a 1986 LT31) in the living room as we don't have a spare bedroom and it always seems a bit mean to ask your guests to sleep on the floor/airbed/sofa; so Parents No.2 had our bed.  The makeshift cushion bed was comfy enough but I'm looking forward to our bed tonight.....

......And the calm after the storm........

......My family are wonderful, child-induced birthday chaos is great fun, and it's always a pleasure to to have people to stay but it's nice to breathe deeply in the silence afterwards. Light some incense, listen to some gentle music, and have an early night ;)

Memories

The hedgerows are rich in memories at this time of year; memories I can touch and memories I can taste.  I can watch my daughter run to me with a sycamore seed clutched in her hand.  I can show her how it spins in the golden autumn light, nature's helicopter, inducing the dizzy, giddy joy of watching them fall from the sycamore tree outside the crumbling Victorian school I attended as young child.  I can see her excitement too and I recreate the memory in the current time.

Purple stained lips, purple stained hands, we seek out blackberries together and I am her as she crams them into her mouth.  And I am me, scratched and battered, reaching for the biggest, ripest berry beyond the highest thorns in the thickets of brambles that filled the field at the end of the housing estate where I grew up. The field is gone, more houses stand in their place, but the memories live in the here and now, in my daughter and in hedgerows.