corner view: box of tricks

On a day that started out as an emotional rollercoaster in our home, and everyone needed a change of scenery...

....a bourgeois patch of well tended grass, benches and ponds turned out to be just the trick we needed. After we crossed the bridge, that is.

A forgotten bicycle helmet at the other side of the stream (on the tree stump!)...

A drum set!

A waterfall..

A colosseum in the making...

A tin roofed birdhouse...

A tree covered with sap filled 'warts'...

Hard work getting rid of the sap...

Forgotten pathways...

The Mother Tree of the Forest (click it, then click it again, and imagine yourself up there)...

An avine aquaintance...

The inevitable empty beer cans...

Not bad, huh? That Mother Nature is full of tricks. 

And they work - we left for home feeling at ease, happy, loved and loving.

For more tricks, check out the comment section of Francesca's box of tricks.

green grass of tunnel

corner view: positive thought for bad moments

This is it. A blank page in a notebook. Because I have no positive thoughts for bad moments. I simply sink into the swamps of negativity. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to reading everybody else's cv's today - go ahead - encourage me. I'll be sitting here, notebook in lap, ready to take notes!

(P.S. See that little piece of yarn on the floor? It's attached to a ball of yarn, which is attached to a sweater I'm knitting for myself. Well, there's a positive thought. Being creative, in some way. And oh, there's so many ways :) )

rite de passage

                            

In Norway, as in many other countries, teenagers go through a coming of age ritual to mark the leaving behind of childhood. In the old days, this was a ritual to mark the entrance of adulthood; a 'passage' from childhood to adulthood.

That was before James Dean cemented the teenager into our culture forever; a period of time which seem to expand (in both ends) with each new generation. People don't seem to become grown-ups anymore.

Anyway.

The jewish Bar/Bat Mitzvah, the hindu Upanayanam, the christian Confirmation, the japanese Seijin shiki, even the U.S.' Sweet Sixteen; within different cultural contexts, they all mark the same transition. In Norway, there are two options; the christian and the humanist, which both take place the year the teenager in question turns 15. 

Our soon-to-be 15 year old son chose the humanist ceremony. Once a week for 6 months he met up with other teenagers and a group leader to discuss all kinds of subjects related to ethics, humanism, human rights, alcohol and drugs, immigration and class, sex/abortion/homosexuality etc. 

The whole thing culminated in a solemn ceremony, and a family party. Speeches were required. So I took the opportunity to tell my son how lucky he is to be born here, now, and receiving applaud, gifts, and cake, instead of all the other things he might have had to endure were he born in a different culture or at another time. For instance (and yes, some of them are hard to believe, hence the photos - they were all shot during the speech):

He didn't have to get undressed and cover himself in ash.

He didn't have to spend several days and nights in a cave, deprived of food, sleep and water.

He didn't have to be attached to a pole through hooks penetrating his skin, and he didn't have to drink the blood of the male elders of the family. 

He didn't have to cut his private parts, or otherwise receive the power of manhood through means one would be imprisoned for in our culture.

He didn't have to get tattoos or get tied down in an anthill.

He didn't have to kill a lion or sleep naked in the snow.

We have lost a lot between the blood drinking and the cake. Comfort is not one of them.

corner view: on my wall

shadowplay on my bathroom wall; the light coming through the lace curtains.

i've joined corner view again. hopefully, this will inspire me to get back on the blogging track again, which i kind of fell of somewhere along 2010.... a list of participants will be added to my side bar soon.

nightmare + book = dress

she woke up before dawn, crying; a nightmare. dead tired, i grabbed a blanket and a random book from the shelf and tucked her in close to me. an hour later, she'd looked at each and every one of the pictures in the book, and 'decided on this one'.

ooops! i'd handed her mark ryden's 'the tree show'. some of the images in there are quite disturbing for little people. but she never mentioned any of that, only The Dress.
alright. i didn't have a pattern or an even remotely similar fabric, but that didn't get me off the hook. she dug into my fabric stash and found one of her old sweatshirts, size 6 (repurpose, you know!) 'so there's no problem, mummy!'

she decided on another fabric that she liked, and i spent the entire day trying to stitch the two pieces together without loosing it. my conclusion is, that as with knitting, a pattern is required. if no pattern, then at least a plan.

i managed to make it appear like a dress, all in one piece, at least (or, should i say, so far). and she's happy. and i want a pattern for a real 50's dress.

(yes, i did ask her if she wanted me to do something about those, but she opted for the spaceship look)

so there it is. inspiration moves in mysterious ways.