trimmingthesails

October 15: Month In Numbers

It's thanks to Julie's inspirational Month In Numbers (waving, Julie!) that I have gathered up October fragments and snippets before they faded into oblivion and brought them together for a double-page spread in our This Is Life 2015 photo-book. I think it'll be fun to look back on these in years to come - a kind of miscellany. Given the glorious riot of colour in our autumn this year, I was a little surprised to find myself wanting something more subdued and tranquil - perhaps it's the influence of the November mists this week! (Click on the image for a new window and clearer text).

And for any of you who have embraced Project Life, this would be completely do-able in paper and card too; Julie has some great ideas for getting started in her tutorial here. Oh, and wouldn't it also be a great feature in a December Daily? Food shopping costs, numbers of presents or cards bought/received/made, how many ornaments on the tree, visitors across the threshold - I think I'd better go and make a list myself :).

It's rather more fun ...

 ... than I thought it would be! And although it is sometimes said in the scrapbooking world that 'being caught up' is unimportant, I have to confess that I rather like the feeling of keeping pace. After all, when you're trimming the sails to make the best of the prevailing winds, you really don't want to be weighed down or get caught in an undertow. And making sure your log book is up-to-date is essential :).

Keeping it simple and flexible, like the design, I'm not planning to have set periods of time for popping photos and text together; a page or a spread might be a few days, a weekend, a fortnight, or anything inbetween. I think I'll just see how it flows ...


So far, so good: photos get taken and edited, quick notes made, and stories written. Nothing very earth-shattering or profound. But I think I'm getting the hang of it :).

 

Memory-keeping: a diary with a difference ...

Where has the year gone? seems to be the global refrain this month, as we sail past the Summer Solstice and settle into July. With six months of the year behind, I've been flicking through my own version of The Documented Life Project started in January for simple memory-keeping. (You'll find the official project here at Art to the 5th.) Should you be toying with the idea of something similar, or wondering about an alternative to Project Life, I have some information and reflections for you today on this kind of memory-keeping ...

The structure

• I loved the concept of the tip-in pages: these are additonal sheets of card or paper fastened along the outside edge of a diary page with washi tap to create a flap.

• Choosing a cheap shop-bought diary and taking it apart to make a six-month diary with a spiral binding (using the Bind-It-All) was a good decision - otherwise I'd have ended up with an unwieldy Moleskin which was thin on the left at the spine and hugely thick on the right at the outside edges.

 

The contents

• The two-days-to-a-page format was just enough space for helpful memory-keeping: recording the events and the flavour of a day. Yep, there are blanks, but I'm OK with that - it takes time to make diary-keeping a habit!

• In the original project, the tip-in pages were added in advance. As I didn't follow all the mixed media prompts, a number of mine were unused; in future I'll add them as needed. What else did they get used them for? Oh, all sorts of things!

            - freebies from magazines were turned into pockets and more flaps, with additional stories inside
            - little drawings by my daughter or samples of pen-and-paper games with the grand-children
            - hand-painted booklets holding thoughts and observations
            - journalling for Ali Edwards' One Little Word project
            - snap-shots that probably wouldn't make it onto a scrapbook page but were redolent of the moment

            - dollops of mixed media experiments from a variety of on-line classes
            - postcards and special cards from family and scrapbooking friends
            - memorable quotes and pieces of poetry which took my fancy
            - any other fragments of my life I wanted to collect and hold together in one place

• It was perfect for more substantial booklets too - this recent holiday journal is the first I have ever managed to complete en route and in the field, so as to speak. It will be invaluable when I come to scrap the hundreds of photos, and contains receipts, leaflets, tickets ...

In the light of experience ...

• I'm trying a few modifications. This next one for July to December is spiral bound at the top, like a Reporter's Notebook, to make writing from left to right easier and smoother: that spiral can get in the way!

• the Leuchtturm elasticated pen-holder, bought in a stationery shop, was perfect and stayed stuck to the back inside cover like, well, glue - I am sure they could hold shelves up with whatever they used. This time, I've moved the pen-holder to the foot of the pages, rather than at the side, and it's hidden by the front cover.

• I'll be experimenting with mini-scrapbook pages: watch this space!

• More drawing/sketching would be good. The next series of Sketchbook Skool is about to start :).

What's it good for?

• It holds memories. I like capturing at least some of the details of the day. When I look back, it brings what has happened freshly and vividly into view again. And, of course, as Gwendolen remarks in The Importance of Being Earnest: “I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.”

• It nourishes creativity. When days are full, a small page does not seem so very daunting. Even just making a quick pocket or flap from a bag of marshamallows keeps creativity flowing.

• It lets you try things out without lots of fuss. A quick dab of a new ink on a letter stamp to begin a paragraph; a five-minute play with a stencil and a bit of paint and you have a pretty flap to add; a technique you've read about on a blog and are not sure where to use - well, there'll be somewhere in your diary for it, and it'll be there to refer to for the future.

• It acts as preparation for other forms of scrapbooking, or digital photobooks. Stories and bits of realia are already safely stashed away and even if you never do anything more with them, you have captured and documented life as it happened, through your own eyes.

As you can probably sense, I have become an enthusiast. This diary-with-a-difference, in the midst of busyness, fractured days and unpredictability, is proving a lifeline - in more ways than one!

Hoping there's been something to grab your attention or to interest you today, and that you have a lovely weekend wherever you are ...

When simple isn't ...

... quite so simple, what's a scrapbooker to do?  I have been following all your thoughts and creative plans for this year with great interest and enjoyment ... My one-sie solution last year was for everything in the same place - digital pages mounted on card, mixed with paper scrapbooking and the odd bit of fabric fun, all in a spiral-bound album. Well, it didn't work out. I found I was wondering why I was sticking whole printed but digitally-designed pages onto high quality mixed media paper, and feeling intimidated by the same expanse of beautiful surface when it came to dropping colour onto it, or doodling. Longing to keep a record of my days, a handwritten diary just looked so boring that even I couldn't summon up the interest to turn a page. There were avidly-read books on journalling and drawing, and a descent into near-paralysis ...

And then there was Project Life. Everywhere. I umm-ed and ahh-ed, and ooh-ed with admiration at the lovely pages I saw - but, you know, I have not quite been able to feel my way into it. Finally, the penny has dropped: there are two of me in here,  and the simplest solution is to give them each something different. So, here are the 2014 plans for ...

The Would-Be Artsy One
She has a souped-up diary, with inspiration from The Documented Life Project on Art to the 5th. Over there, you'll see that a Moleskin is being used as a planner-cum-art-journal. Mine has a few adaptations ...

          The Documented Life Project                                                   Me

          a Moleskin, Week-to-View                                                        a cheaper two-days-per-page diary
          'tip-in' blank water-colour pages added to every spread          'tip-in' pages every couple of spreads
          curved with the additional pages: slim at the spine,                 lies flat, pages removed from hard
          fat at the outer edge                                                                 cover and rebound with a Bind-it-All
          acts as a daily planner as well as art-journal                           not a planner, more a record of my days
                                                                                                           and a reflective journal, including One
                                                                                                           Little Word etc.

I have prepared mine to last six months, and will see how it's going by June; it also needs to fit it into my bag! Should you be interested in The Documented Life Project, there is a useful short class, costing twelve dollars, which has several videos, instructions and ideas for decorating the Moleskin cover - but it is not essential. The 'tip-in' pages are fixed in place along the outside edges of the Moleskin/diary pages with washi tape, opening outwards, so you can make your planner as colourful or as subdued as you like. And so far, so good; my Would-Be Artsy feels it's quite manageable and ticks all the boxes, with plenty of room for additional expansion if needed. 

My Would-Be-Digital-Diva is, however, champing at the bit, so I am off to give her something clean and simple to be getting on with - and I''ll share that next time :).

Once upon a creative time ...

I have a story for you today. A true one. It really happened, this week ...

On a high-up window ledge and given to me by one of the most creative young women I have ever met, it was just the outline of the orchid I could see. And my heart sank. "Look after it!' she had admonished with a merry and teasing smile, as she said goodbye. "I'll know if you don't!". It had bloomed beautifully, as slender and graceful as its giver; then settled down to two green leaves.

I watered it gently from time to time, and there it remained, in natural light and out of direct sun as the instructions required, doing nothing, week in, week out, month in, month out. Just sitting, dull and uninspiring. I know how you feel, I used to tell it. We're not alone, you know. Last Saturday, I looked at it closely. Perhaps, I thought, it needs a really good soak. So I gave it plenty of water ...

"I am so sorry", I whispered. "What has happened to me, has happened to you". I could hardly bear to look at it. Did she know, I wondered, the giver? Somewhere along the creative ether could she sense it?

I couldn't leave it there forever. Yesterday, I took a deep breath, lifted it down, and carried it out to the recycling bin. Over the shelter of my curved hand swooped a gust of wind and sleet, whirling away one of the crisp, dried-out leaves. And there, underneath, I glimpsed this ...

It is back on the window-ledge, high up, in natural light and out of the sun. I have hopes for it, and for me. I'll keep you posted :).

Simply A Moment (August 13)

Welcome to this month's Simply A Moment! and hoping that you will enjoy reading both mine, and those of others across the world who may also share their moments through the Linky below. Here is a little glimpse of part of my day today ...

Time for Tea? (July 13)

 Hello and lovely to see you! If you were popping in today, I'd be glad. "I've got the kettle on already!", I'd tell you.You'd probably smile and we'd laugh at how here in Britain we drink tea whatever the weather. And I'd add that as it is still so nice today, despite the recent sharp rain, I wondered if you might like to sit outside? There's a little bit of a soft breeze but we should be sheltered on the little veranda of the summer house - and we'd walk down the side path and into the back garden. I'd gently pull the leafy branches of the head-high maple to one side as we threaded our way through to the bottom of the garden and you'd settle comfortably on one of the old and slightly creaky wicker chairs ...

When I returned with the tray and some fruity nibbles, you might be looking into the wood, listening to the raucous squawk of the pheasants down by the stream, or smiling at the young squirrels chasing each other up and down the bark of the willows. Or you might be turning round and peeping through the window behind you. "Would you like to see inside?", I'd ask. "I'd love to show you! It's one of my most favourite places". As you reach for the old Bakelite handle of the left-hand door, I'd have to explain that, counter-intuitively, the right-hand one will open - one of Himself's little quirks, I would say, and we'd smile :). Then we'd go in ...

If you wanted to know, I'd tell you a bit about how it has changed down the years: from a simple wooden hut with a platform at the end where our children and their friends played and had sleepovers, to the insulated and pine-lined space it is now. I'd point out Himself's latest addition: the double-glazed panel (saved from an old back door when we had the renovations) inserted with hard graft and love into the roof above the desk in order to give me more light for crafting in the summer. I might teasingly explain it has leaked once or twice in the recent heavy downpours, but you would hear in my voice how truly grateful I am to him and how much he means to me, as we celebrate our thirty-fourth wedding anniversary this weekend. As we wander further in, you might wonder about the prints on the wall, and I'd tell you how they were originally illustrated pages from an old book which my librarian Mum rescued from a pile tossed onto a skip ...

I'd probably joke about my annoyance on noticing that I hadn't ensured the top of the pictures were perfectly aligned before your visit and we'd giggle about how our character traits tend to show up in our creative endeavours too. And if you asked whether we ever use the sofa bed, I'd tell you, yes! When my brother is able to come and share being with Dad for a weekend, we can hand over the intercom at night and sleep looking up at the stars. Our dearest daughter likes to be down here sometimes when she visits, revelling in telling her office colleagues that she sleeps "in the shed at the bottom of the garden"! We might sit for a while, you and I, as we sip our drinks, looking across the lawn - and I'd ask you where you like to scrapbook or journal or do your artwork. Always in the same place? In different places according to the seasons? Or the time or day? And I'd share with you how much I marvel at the wonderful skills I see in my blog-visiting, how crap I am at card-making, and how thrilled I was to have been sent these from Becky (Becky's Scrapbook Burblings) and Yvonne (Do More with Less) ...

Your eye might fall on the window ledge, and your hand gently pick up the tiny little wooden boat as you ask me about it. I'd explain how special it is, for its recent voyage has taken it halfway around the world. It has belonged to Deb (over at Paper Turtle) for a quarter of a century and, on finding it recently again, she thought it might enjoy sailing with me :).

As we go back out and sit on the vernada in the warm sunshine again, I'd be keen to know if you were doing any online classes, and whether you take them to consolidate skills and explore more of what you have, or to try something unfamilar and new. And if you seem interested, I'd share with you how I find myself longing to be able to draw - just simple things to add into my scrapbooks, and to include more of my own handwriting. You'd probably laugh when I told you I was practising different styles, just like I did on scrappy pieces of paper when I was thirteen! And I'd love to know if you have any hang-ups about your handwriting, or whether you are quite at ease with it ... Before long, we'd probably hear the Town Hall clock striking and you'd be exclaiming about the time. We'd shake the fruity crumbs off our laps onto the (weed-filled) lawn for the birds, and wend our way back along the paving stones and past my bike ...

As we rounded the corner, I'd be telling you how I am determined to get back to riding it regularly but am ashamed of having to get off half-way up the hill and push - and at the moment it's either that or burst a lung. I'd be hoping you'd either reassure me that you're not incredibly fit either or, if you are, give me words of advice and encouragement :). By then we'd be ducking under the hanging baskets in the porch and perhaps stopping to look at the wall-pot of gerberas by the front door ...

Then we'd be saying goodbye. I'd be telling you how much I'd enjoyed our time together, thanking you for coming all this way, and wishing you a safe journey. I know that inside that I'd be hoping very much you'd like to come again, already looking forward to seeing you again even as you turned to wave ...
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With many grateful thanks to the lovely Abi, who is hosting this wonderful meme over at Creating Paper Dreams. If you are still thirsty, or you find yourself just needing a cup over the next few days, do pop over and see her. There are also lots of delightful places to go from there!

A bit of a comic touch ...

 "Comics and bars" -  that's what it was known as in our house. On a Sunday evening, once school bags were packed, shoes polished, and kit sorted for the next day, my brothers and I would settle down round the fire as Dad brought us that week's edition of the comic or magazine we'd each chosen as a regular order, along with a chocoate bar. There'd be the rustling of pages, the scrunching of wrappers and - mostly - silence for an hour ...

I realised later, of course, that it was a resourceful way for my parents to ensure some peace and quiet for themselves, but we loved it. At some point, we'd all swap. My brothers weren't so keen on Bunty or Judy, but the Dandy or the Beano was always good for some rumbustious entertainment ...

I've always loved the look of those comics; and what fun to experiment with making a page with one's own photos! A caption across the top of the frame, some sound and visual effects, the mottled and dotted effect of the background, plus some photos of Himself ...

... hello HalfTone App! Sixty-nine pence well spent. "If I'm going to star in a scrapbook comic", said Himself, peering over my shoulder, "I think I'm going to want some rhyming couplets too". I duly obliged. So for those of you who remember the opening sequence to this story, here is the sequel ...

And it printed out beautifully too. Now, cardmaking does not come easy to me, but I'm seeing possibilities!

And thank-you so much to all of you who popped in for a cup of tea  last week, and to Abi for the inspiration; it was just lovely to see you! And it was especially nice that so many of you shared what you might want to talk about too - it really felt as if we were having a conversation :).

Up here, the glorious weather for a day or two has broken, but I am singing in the driving rain - for this weekend will be sparkling with the sunshine of time with our dearest daughter. There'll be photos! Looking forward to seeing you soon ...

Just lovely to see you! Do you have time for ...?

... a cup of tea with me? That's what I'd say if you knocked on my door, delighted that you'd taken me up on my invitation. I'd take your wet coat and offer to hang it over the radiator for you, so it was warm and dry when you were ready to go, for our winds are still very cool. I'd ask if you'd mind sitting at the table in the corner of the kitchen - Himself is deep in the middle of a work teleconference on the half-landing with his headphones on and for some reason it makes him speak louder, I'd teasingly say. And I'd explain that my Dad has a carer with him right now for an hour so we might not see him, but that if the district nurse calls to visit him, I'd have to leave you for a few moments. And then we'd go through ...

On the way past, we'd stop so I could introduce you to Gladys, just on your left. You might have glimpsed her before on my blog, but you might not have seen her in all her, ermm, fullness :). You might ask me where she came from, and while we are pulling out the chairs to sit down, I'd explain about seeing her at a Flower Show ten or more years ago, and being smitten by her lovely wide-eyed expression. I'd tell you what a wonderful therapist she is: that I can just sit and tell her all about my day, and she'll unfailingly supply all the "Well, I never(s)!", or "He said what(s)?" that are needed. We might laugh together, you and me, and - being the creative people we are - come up with a string of ideas for other things she might say, especially if we'd just had a crafting disaster at the table beside her ...

And while I was lifting things off the tray for us, I'd explain how, in my part of the world, we were all trained to lay a tray for visitors with a proper linen cloth from as soon as we were big enough to carry a cup, and that this was one of my Mum's quick-crocheted-edge ones. While filling the teapot and bringing it over, I'd be hoping you'd tell me a bit about your childhood: who sewed or embroidered, glued or painted in your family, where your own crafting inspiration comes from ...

There'd be the offer of biscuits, of course, and some gluten-free ones too, nestling inside the lovely tin sent to us by our German family-in-law in December, full of wonderful traditional Advent lebkuchen, a cross between delicately spiced biscuits and gingerbread. There's still a little box left, especially for favoured visitors like you :). And as you nibbled one, we'd comment on how appropriate for a scrapbooker this tin was, and ponder the serendipity of English title, for they don't know about my scrapbooking ...

We'd turn it round and round, oohing and ahhing at its vintage feel and thinking of uses for it when the edibles are all gone. Fill it with mini-books? Make a thick journal for it? Photograph the sides and make digital cards? And I'd enjoy hearing your thoughts and ideas ...

We might keep talking about scrapping and what we each like and enjoy about memory-keeping. I'd explain how I wasn't really a digital scrapbooker: I just like to use what the computer offers to produce something I can hold and touch, and turn the pages of. I'd rest my elbows on the table and cradle my cup in my hands and would be keen to know what is exciting you in the scrapbook world right now or what leaves you cold, and how you manage to weave your creative pursuits into your days ... As we paused companionably to look out of the window at the rain, I'd tell you how glad I am to see the budding leaves on the little maple, and how anxious I have been that in the long and searing cold it would not survive. And how that speaks to me ...


And as we poured some more tea, I might - if I knew you were following along with Ali Edwards' One Little Word - ask you how you were finding it, what it was meaning for you. And I might, in turn, tell you a little about how mine, 'Sail', is helping me navigate my own life. I might even share with you how much I am enjoying my 'log-book', with its pockets and flaps, fold-out pages and hidden bits, receipts, tickets, photos of texts, copies of emails, and slivers of doodles, drawing and painting. And what a surprise it has been to find myself at this point, for the injunction from my primary school days of never starting a sentence with "I" still rings loud in my ears. I (!) might say something about my iPad and how it is enriching the way I work, but there'd be a hesitancy in my voice and a tentativeness in my observing in case it really wasn't your thing. And I'd wonder aloud: if I popped into your home, what I might see on your own work desk? Would it be like mine, or very different? Do tell me more ...


Suddenly we might catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall and realise you needed to go. There'd be a flurry of coat-putting-on and bag-and-phone finding. I would tell you how pleased I am that you came, how much being able to connect like this has meant to me, and we'd smile and hope to arrange to meet up again as we stepped over the threshold onto the paving stones outside the front door. Your eye might catch the box of daffodils and yes, I'd say, they're the ones I found a few weeks ago in the lean-to and planted out, and aren't they lasting well?

We'd wave goodbye out on the road, as you set off again in the damp sunshine. I'd turn again to look, just as you went, and raise my hand and smile, full of gladness that we'd met and been together for a little while ...

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With many grateful thanks to Abi, at Creating Paper Dreams, for her lovely invitation to share a cup of tea with her once a month, and for her own delicious writing and sharing. Do pop in and see her if you'd like another cup!

Picking my precious (January)

Thank-you so much to Sian, who is hosting her wonderful Story-Telling Sunday this year on the theme of Pick Your Precious. There are many treasures and stories to be enjoyed there, so do take a cup of tea with you and settle down for a while! This is my contribution ...

We'd seen it a few times, me and Mum, in a local second-hand-cum-antiques shop. "It'd look lovely on top of your old mahogany chest", she whispered and we smiled at each other for we both loved anything with little drawers and compartments. "I know", I whispered back, "But have you seen the price?". We didn't even reach over to look inside. We hummed and haa-d, and went away. Several times. Months later, touching the array of silk threads and buttons my father passed on to me after she died, collections handed down through several generations on both sides of the family, I thought again of the little chest. "Perhaps I'll go and look at it again one day next week", I mused, for my Saturday morning was already full of must-do-todays. Suddenly, I was gripped with an absolute conviction that it could not wait. Within a moment, I found myself in the car clutching my bag, without even a coat in the autumn rain.

The bell jangled as I opened the shop door and, squeezing between the groups of visiting browsers, I breathlessly headed for the far corner. It wasn't there. An old radiogram stood in its place. I looked around desperately. It really wasn't there ...

"Can I help you?" the owner enquired. She smiled a little uncertainly, and I could see she was trying to place me, for Mum and Dad had bought several things there during the year. "I think it's gone", I said, hoping the crack in my voice was not audible and brushing away the drips from my hair. "There used to be a little chest here with lots of drawers ...". "Well, d'you know", she said, "I've had it for years and no-one's ever been interested! That's two of you in one day! This morning a lady came in and wanted to see it. It's over here, look!" and she pointed to the end of the glass-topped counter. "She took it over to the better light by the door". Hardly daring to hope, I asked "She didn't want it then?" The owner waggled her head in a perhaps-yes-perhaps-no kind of way. "Well, she said was going home to measure up, and she'd come back later." She was eyeing me carefully. "But if you are interested ..."

She was going to leave a pause but I jumped in. "Yes, I am", I said clearly. "I'd like to buy it." The shop owner smiled. "Have you seen inside the little drawers?" She showed me: each drawer a slightly different depth, with inner compartments in different sizes, and tiny labels written in a childish hand. "I think it originally held a collection of birds' eggs", she confided. "The other lady was going to rip them out". "I won't be doing that", I said. "I know exactly what I'm going to put in it ..."

And I did. It sits just where Mum thought it would, holding the things she used, loved and saved. Things touched by her hands, and generations of seamstresses and embroiderers in our family before her ... See the lower edge? There's a little space there, under the bottom drawer. Inside, I will tape a copy of the photo and this post, so that my own daughter will one day have this story too. Some things are too precious not to be shared ...