Day 5

Ok, I was less inspired by today's criterion, but here it is anyway.

From a high angle

Note: One should always have one's knife handy when one is on an iPad. Who knows what might leap out of the screen?

Day 4

 I've always thought it odd that we have one word that is meant to sum up so many shades; green. It's nonsensical, of course, and also not true. English is replete with words that mean green. My two favourites are Cerulean and Chartruse - not because I like the colours/shades particularly, but I love the words. They conjure up images of long-ago-times and far-away-places, of ships and sealing wax, of dragons and swords, of forests and hooded archers, and ever such a teeny-tiny amount of magic and fairy dust.

Sadly, green has evoked a turmoil of emotions in me for many years now. Years of wearing a green school uniform that incorporated every possible unflattering shade of green (unflattering to everyone who wore it), left me somewhat gun-shy of the colour in all its shades and hues. It has taken me nearly 30 years to overcome this aversion and I'm learning to love green again.

I loved this part of the project. It gave me an opportunity to reacquaint myself with green in all its many incarnations, and to truly appreciate how inadequate that humble word is to describe the spectrum.

Day 3

Today's project was meant to be "clouds" but on a day when it's 31C and cloudless... well, this was what I could do. Any guesses?

Day 2: Lest We Forget

What I wore today

Well, I've made it to day 2 of the project. Day 2 is about what I'm wearing. For once, it's not my usual uniform of jeans and a cotton shirt, which is pretty handy really as it's ANZAC day here in Australia.

We have a family tradition of going to an ANZAC service every year. One of the boys wears the Love of my Life's grandfather's medals, and the other wears my grandfather's epaulette. Both of us had grandfathers that saw active service in different countries in WWII (mine saw active service in WWI and some of the Indo-China conflicts too), so ANZAC day is significant and moving for us.

We've made it to a few dawn services, but more often than not, we go for the services that are a bit later in the morning. The services are always moving, current and ex-servicemen and women will tell of their experiences or the experiences of some member of their family. It's hard, when you have boys, not to think of those grieving mothers and wives, those very young men and women who gave so bravely of their own lives in order to preserve the freedoms that we enjoy. It's a wonderful reminder that our lives, the things we take for granted, the freedoms we enjoy were paid for with the ultimate sacrifice of many. And it's an opportunity to honour that and give thanks to those who sacrificed so much.

As a migrant to this country, I find the meaning of the day is in no way diminished. Instead, it has become for me, a day of reflection, of understanding what it is my parents sought when they came here, and of appreciating the liberties and choices that I and my children now have.

Without fail, every year, as the Last Post plays on the bugle, I dissolve into a wash of tears. This year was no different. I managed to hold my emotions in check through the heart-rending stories, through the calls to remember those who had died and those still engaged in conflicts around the world, through the reminders of the luxuries we enjoy and the rebuilding and good works our service people conduct throughout the world. But the first tremulous notes of the Last Post begin and I find great, fat, warm, wet tears snaking their way down my cheeks.

To all of those who sacrificed their lives so that Australia could afford us the freedoms we enjoy, and to all of those who continue to heed the call of duty of our nation, I thank you.

Ode of Remembrance (stanza 4):

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

Lest We Forget

Day 1

I'm beginning another project. Let's see how long this one lasts!

Self-portrait

Another day in Paradise...

So, today I've escorted a random, but super friendly, neighbourhood dog off the property, only to then  break up the ensuing dog fight between random-dog, dog across the road and Shadow the wonder dog. Polly from across the road and Shadow both decided that random-dog had no business visiting us.

That was quickly followed up by having the drains professionally unblocked of tree roots... again... and now there's an unholy stink outside but I can't figure out whether it's from the drain-unblocking or the major road works going on. Oh yes, and we've had the window-shaking rumble of heavy machinery all day as the road we live on is systematically dug up and widened.

Now it's suddenly gone dark and cold and is pouring with rain, so all the washing I've done has to go in the dryer. Sigh. This is not quite how I envisaged spending school holidays.

Walking through the Park and Reminiscing

B1's drawing and my sewn interpretation of it

In the spirit of recent posts, I've been reminiscing again. This time on happier thoughts. It was my sister's birthday a few days ago and while thinking of what to get her (yes, the usual gift card for the bookshop was also obtained), I remembered a drawing that B1 had done of the two of us, when he was only four.

In the drawing, we're skateboarding. This in itself is remarkable given that both of us have severely injured our ankles merely walking along pavement. The very idea of either of us getting on something less stable than a motorised, four-wheeled vehicle is hilarious, to say the least. So the fact that my then 4 year old thought it was a real possibility that we would a) get on a skateboard and b) perform tricks while on said skateboard was nearing hysterically funny.

This drawing, for ever so many reasons, is a favourite of both mine and my sister's. It shows us both scooting along on our boards, (limited) hair flying, manic look on our faces, arms flailing and clearly completely carefree. It is such a lovely insight into how he saw us when he was that age - daring, risk-taking, fun, brave. So much to live up to.

The completed cushion.
I don't think I conveyed quite enough "manic"!

Since we both love this picture, and I'm in the mood for reminiscing, I thought I'd use the excuse of her birthday to make the drawing into a cushion. Of course, since I'm never one to plan too far ahead, all this occurred to me late yesterday evening. I duly dug up the picture from its safe place (it really was stored in a safe place), photocopied it and began copying and sewing it. Thankfully, B1 wasn't a master artist at four, and there weren't too many strokes to copy. I finished it off this morning, filled it and sewed it up. I hope she's as excited to receive it as I was making it.