Books: Journal of a Solitude by May Sarton

 

 

 

 

“Whatever peace I know rests in the natural world, in feeling myself a part of it, even in a small way.”   (Sarton, May: Journal of a Solitude, W.W Norton & Company, New York 1992, p.16)

"There is nothing to be done but go ahead with life moment by moment and hour by hour - put out birdseed, tidy the rooms, try to create order and peace around me even if I cannot achieve it inside me. [...] And here in my study the sunlight is that autumn white, so clear, it calls for an inward act to match it... clarify, clarify." (ibid., p.33)

Best known for her poetry, this is one of the journals May Sarton published, of a year in her life in the early 1970s when she was approaching sixty and living on her own in New Hampshire. It is a beautifully written account of life in solitude, her inner world, her connection to nature, the changing seasons, her love of gardening and animals, her writing process, ageing, depression and the meaning of home.

Sarton is honest about her flaws, such as anger and being difficult, but her self-criticism is tempered by compassion and serenity. She writes movingly about the redemption (and the restrictions) of  friendship and love, and her journal includes reflections on politics, race, feminism and literature and extracts of her correspondence and from other writers’ works.

I love her descriptions of simple pleasures and how she imbues everything with a sense of wonder. I am obsessed with observing the changing light around the house and the pattern it forms and was delighted to see Sarton detail this play of light and shadow in a lot of her entries. She also creates a vivid picture of the various ways she brings nature into her home - each of those still lifes is seen through her poet eyes. 

As I mentioned here before, the theme of home has been a big one over the past year, and so many of the books I read in 2020 happened to have the houses we live in and the homes we leave or lose as well as those we create for ourselves as a central theme, or perhaps I was more attuned to it in the year my childhood home was transformed and I wasn't able to visit my family. And of course I have spent most of the past ten months at home, and the fabric of the house (with all its issues!) has become interwoven with nearly everything I do.

Journal of a Solitude is the perfect read for level 5 restrictions / stormy weather / any time, especially for introverts. I read this over a stormy couple of days during one of the lockdowns and wanted to re-read it straight away – it is one of those books that you want to revisit and that reveals more layers each time. 

 

Natural beauty: skincare and dental

The contents of our bathroom cabinet are not all 100% plastic-free, but where possible we buy and use natural products in sustainable packaging or homemade versions.

I have been using a menstrual cup for around 15 years, since my early twenties, and more recently got some period underwear as well - and a portable bidet as a gift from my mum after my sister recommended it (that's all for another post - no taboos here!).

I don't buy cotton wool or similar. For taking off make-up I use muslin cloths that I store in a glass jar beside the basin. They also work well as a hot cloth for cleansing (I love Dr Hauschka's cleansing milk. The smell reminds me of my mum - it is the only product I currently have that has that white creamy scent idiomatic of so many lotions - something redolent of baby care and sunscreen and very comforting).

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Another cleanser I bought a good while ago (a little goes a long way) and use as my main face wash is a Dublin Herbalists one that comes in a 'jam' jar. The consistency is like something between honey and liquid wax, so when you massage it into your skin you can almost feel it drawing out dirt and impurities. Adding water then turns it milky, and I take it off with a muslin cloth and warm water. As the brand name suggests, this is an Irish product.

I still use the frankincense and geranium moisturiser my sister made for me, and for sun protection I either use REN's SPF 30 or, when I want something akin to foundation (I rarely use foundation; I prefer a bare face), Ginzing SPF35 Hydrating Prettifying Finisher by Origins. It has a subtle glow and shimmer. I used to have Dr Hauschka's bronzer, which was nice and light. 

I tend to sleep with nothing on my face, but I do love Dr Hauschka's Night Serum, which goes on as an imperceptible layer. My skin feels softer and plumper and overall healthier the following morning. 

The Ben & Anna toothpaste comes in a jar with a wooden spatula. The charcoal dental floss feels tougher than conventional floss, but you get used to it. I never bought the dispenser; I just get the refills - we simply use scissors to cut off the length we need (it's crazy that the floss by the main dental care brands is mostly sold in plastic dispensers). We have Mable bamboo toothbrushes, and I like that they have a 'heavy bottom' and thus stand on their own, which means they don't get gunky sitting in a glass.

My sister also made me a jar of deodorant over a year ago that is still half full (at the moment I use it every day, but for a while I alternated with a geranium one I still had - also natural - which I used for exercise and when I expected fear sweat, as the jasmine one is not heavy-duty - but it still works well. I must ask her for the recipe).

Finally, rosewater is lovely as a toner or a hydrating mist and, of course, being rose, it is linked to the heart chakra. After everything that lung cancer and treatment did to that area of my body, I take extra good care of it, so one of my rituals is to spray rosewater on my chest. I used to buy this for other people and hadn't bought a bottle for myself in a while, and then, last year, in one of those examples of synchronicity, Angela in our local healthfood shop put one into my bag as a present, and now it is part of my routine again. And it is an Irish product.

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Retreat

"Time is a box formed by thoughts of the past and the future. When there is only the immediate now - when you’re not dwelling in the past or anticipating the future, but you are just right here, right now – you are outside of time."

Ram Dass

The first photo above is from October when we were dogsitting Georgie and my nephew stayed with us, but it is a good reminder to be in the moment, and it captures multiple sources I draw strength from: the unconditional love from my family; the pure affection and trust from animals; books; plants and sunlight; and lying down on the ground, connecting to the Earth. I was happy in that shot, even though I look - and probably was - exhausted.
 

After the good scan results in December I thought that I would be able to relax a bit until the next scan (which is now only a month away), but so far the beginning of the year has been tough. As much as I like to focus on oneness with all beings, there are times when this is a very lonely road.

The unanimous advice from healthcare professionals was to prioritise self-care and to make the return to work as gentle as possible and keep stress at bay. Instead I have reverted to people-pleasing and spread myself too thin and put the (perceived) needs and expectations of others first, running around and becoming breathless and frazzled.

I have come to realise that I have been trying so hard to function at a time when I need to mind myself and process everything. Then there have been pains and other symptoms, lingering chemo brain and the fatigue hitting me after a long day, and I neglected my routines, so it is no wonder that I haven’t been coping well.

In the past, this time of the year involved working crazy hours preparing for a festival. This year I am overwhelmed by my inbox alone. A lot of tasks feel like wading through treacle.

One of the most enjoyable mornings recently was during a storm, when the electricity went and I sat at the table reading and writing by candlelight and attempted to heat water on the stove. It seemed like a clear sign to slow down.

So it is back to basics again. I have been talking to people who have been through similar and to therapists and mentors, and what emerged was the need to retreat and to come back into my body and give myself a break. One exercise that is often suggested for grief and trauma is to gently hit or tap your body with your palms or fingertips, and you can do it throughout the day.

For a more passive practice, I often just lie on the floor, either on my front, propping up my hips on toilet rolls in the absence of chiropractic wedges (homework given to me by one of my healers), or in a legs-up-the-wall pose. Both are very soothing for the nervous system. 

Going to work is easier on several levels when I wear thermals and have a flask with ginger in hot water, two simple grounding things my healer also recommended. She also advised me to use oil all over my body. I like to add in warming essential oils such as chamomile.

The books I am reading at the moment are a good mix, though mainly non-fiction, apart from William Trevor's short stories (usually I always have a novel on the go as well). I keep getting the right recommendations at the right time. Joel Goldsmith is a revelation. The Source is further evidence that neuroscience is finally catching up with what Eastern wisdom has known for a long time (though I feel conflicted about some aspects of the Law of Attraction, as they seem to ignore the large proportion of people who are not cushioned in privilege).
 

I am doing Oprah and Deepak’s current 21-day meditation course ‘Perfect Health' and started writing Morning Pages again (I bought Julia Cameron’s book years ago and did some of the exercises in The Artist’s Way for a while, but never kept them up. I am about to join a local course on it). After several nudges towards A Course in Miracles, I am now doing the workbook via Paul Babin's Youtube channel The Abundance, at my own pace. His deep, calming voice has accompanied me on and off over the last two years. He also has new meditations specifically for women with major health challenges.

John gave me a sustainable yoga mat from Eco Yoga as a present, and it is so much nicer to use than the PVC ones. I had a standard mat for nearly 15 years that my sister's cat once used as a scratching tree and am keeping it for when somebody joins me (my nephews!), and I was shocked to read that some studios dispose of mats after three months. This Jute one also has much better grip, and when you are face down on the mat you don't get that plastic smell that never seems to disappear from PVC.

Slow and simple

Nearly two decades ago, in a secondhand bookshop, I came across a book that had Voluntary Simplicity in its title. I put it back, resolving to buy it a few days later, but when I wanted to do so, it was gone. I never found that particular book again, but of course there are thousands of similar books, and the topic remained on my radar and eventually became a passion.

The concept wasn't new to me, either. We were taught to care for the environment from a very young age, and Germany had a green wave during the late eighties and early nineties - on our holidays in England we were surprised at the ubiquity of plastic bottles and bags. A lot of our paper - from exercise books to toilet paper - was grey recycled paper, and plastic folders and the like were banned from school.

Even though it took a few years before I seriously started committing to a simple life (I was never a maximalist, but in my early twenties I was so attached to some of my belongings that I travelled with a 20kg suitcase when visiting home, just so I could bring certain CDs, books and clothes with me), I always felt drawn to it. There are several aspects to Voluntary Simplicity, and I am far from mastering them all, but living with less, more sustainably and at a slower pace, has been immensely satisfying and freeing.

Since my diagnosis simplicity and slowing down have become even more significant. I feel I am shedding anything superfluous, making space for what really matters. My need for tidiness may partly stem from anxiety and a need to control something that I can control, but it is so much more than that: Japanese Buddhism, for example, sees cleaning and tidying as a way to cultivate the mind, a spiritual practice - a view that has been popularised by Marie Kondo.

Through my meditations I have been accessing the observing self, often with great difficulty, and I am spending much more time in nature and can hold yoga poses for several minutes without getting agitated. Sometimes I schedule too much in a day, and it leaves me flustered, overwhelmed and reactive. That's when I am reminded of that proverb "You should sit in meditation for 20 minutes every day, unless you are too busy - then you should sit for an hour."

Holly recommended the unusual and wonderful book pictured above (The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Elisabeth Tova Bailey) and I got it from the library a few weeks ago. The book charts the author's observations of a woodland snail while bedridden during a mysterious illness. I could relate to so much of what Tova Bailey had to say about being ill, the isolation and alienation, though her illness was completely different (and I was lucky to only be bedbound during the worst of the chemoradiation. Incidentally, I was delighted to see that the author 'photograph' in the book is a painting of the author on a couch with her dog by her side. Last year I had painted myself and Daisy on the couch when I was unable to move due to side effects. Synchronicity!). The writing is lyrical and philosophical with a unique voice, and the writer and reader learn a lot about molluscs, and from them. 

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Here is an interview with Elisabeth Tova Bailey.

Natural beauty: Hair, skin, eye make-up

The less time I spend in shops, the less frazzled I feel, so I love finding things that work and sticking to them. Unfortunately, with hair care, the perfect product eludes me, and it may well be true that it is necessary to switch products every now and again anyway. Since I try to use only natural beauty products, this criterion narrows down the choice, thus simplifying the process, but of course that also means fewer options. On the rare occasion that I use non-natural products, my hair looks and feels better, but this is short-lived, and I would rather not use shampoo and conditioner with a long list of questionable ingredients. In that sense I am happy to pay the price in the form of sub-optimal hair.

I finished up the Trilogy shampoo and conditioner and don't think I will repurchase, as they did not do much for my frizzy hair. The castile soap I use for many of the 18 uses listed I haven't trialled for long enough on my hair, but according to my sister, the result is not satisfactory.

Now I am using Sukín, and so far, so good. My hair feels more manageable, though I got it cut shortly after I started using Sukín, so that is probably a contributing factor.

My Green Angel moisturiser was running low, and while I loved it, especially the jasmine and neroli scent, I had always wanted to try Egyptian Magic, which is all-purpose and therefore satisfies the minimalist in me (I also like Trilogy's Everything Balm). It is practically scent-free (the ingredients are honey, beeswax, olive oil, royal jelly, bee pollen and bee propolis), and while it doesn't sink into the skin completely, I have been applying it during the day (some people only use it at night for this reason) and haven't noticed an unwelcome oily sheen. You can also use it as a lip balm and on your hair and in numerous other ways. Daisy the cat has skin cancer on her nose, which manifests as a permanent scab-wound-scab cycle, and apparently some pet owners used Egyptian Magic successfully to make the scab disappear, so we might give it a go.

Going natural with make-up means I can avoid all the make-up counters and the accompanying indecision and just buy the products in a health food shop, where choice is definitely limited. I was out of both eyeliner and mascara and got Lavera for both. The eyeliner is probably the best I have ever had, and I don't have strong opinions on mascara. This one, while not giving an awful lot of volume, is great for everyday use.

I would prefer to use Irish products where possible and will look into it, and I will buy from Green Angel (the only Irish company mentioned here) again, but I think Egyptian Magic, like castile soap, is here to stay.

Filtered water, no plastic

Years ago a friend gave me a small piece of charcoal for purifying water. She was using this centuries-old Japanese technique and got her charcoal from her Japanese friend. I was excited to try it out with a small bottle and research it, but then I never got around to actually getting started on a bigger scale and buying more.

This summer I visited her and saw that she had taken it to another level by having two 5-litre Kilner dispensers of water with charcoal on the windowsill above her sink, which provide enough water for herself and her two children each day. She had me do a blind taste test comparing purified water with water straight from the tap, and the former tasted so much better. I told John about it, and he promptly bought one of these dispensers, even though he was sceptical, but he likes a project and unlike me, he is a doer.

I then ordered binchotan charcoal from this website, and we said good riddance to our plastic Brita jug with its wasteful and expensive filters - the jug was relocated to the potting table in the shed to use for watering plants. Each night we pour any water we haven't used into a glass jug and refill the dispenser with fresh water, so it is purified by the next morning. After three months you reactivate the charcoal by boiling it in water for ten minutes, and after a further three months you recycle it (there are various uses for old charcoal, from deodorising to gardening), so the sticks last for six months. We use three sticks (each approximately 12 cm and long and 2cm thick) in 4.5 litres of water.

Apart from all the above benefits, it is aesthetically pleasing - I never liked the look of the plastic jug sitting on the counter.

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Two new-to-me songs I added to my playlist this summer:
"Going home (Mythical Kings and Iguanas)", a strangely haunting song by Dory Previn, which was another late-night-radio-while-driving discovery

"A Rose for Emily" by The Zombies - I found this via the podcast S-Town, which I binge-listened to while painting rooms

Things that work | Silk and lace

I get overwhelmed by too much choice and too many decisions to be made, which explains why I can be found skirting the deli counter nervously (and possibly walking away hungry) and why our house will be all-white on the outside when the external wall insulation is completed.

While I doubt I will ever resort to a 'uniform' that eliminates the need for deliberations on what to wear - I love clothes too much for that level of minimalism - shopping leaves me frazzled, so finding well-made things that work and knowing that in the future I won't have to wander around countless shops before emerging with the item I need simplifies things.

I prefer my clothes to be made from natural fabrics*, and one of my favourite materials is silk. Currently about half of my underwear consists of silk and lace sets from this range. I don't care that it is a celebrity line; it is beautifully designed and the sets are extremely comfortable and light, so suitable for everyday wear. They are machine-washable, and they last. I am sure there are various other silk options online, but I can buy these locally, which is a bonus, and the old-school department store assistants are always so lovely and chatty.


 *though I have a few polyester pieces that are years old but still look like new, so I don't rule it out

Natural skincare | Hydration, soaps

On the one hand I am becoming more and more minimalist when it comes to beauty products (and pretty much everything else), on the other hand I have added eye serum to my routine...

The hotel we stayed in in London had one single bottle of organic mint body/hair wash in the shower, and I loved the simplicity of it - nothing else cluttering up the shower. I used to take a bottle of Dr Bronner's castile soap with me when travelling, which is for everything from brushing your teeth to washing the dog and apparently even for removing your eye make-up. My sister has started using it as shampoo, and I got a large bottle (the lavender scent) to have by the kitchen sink for washing dishes (as that lovely lemon balm one we had seems to have been discontinued at our supermarket) and will decant a bit into a bottle for the bathroom.

I have combination skin and still get minor breakouts at age 33 (nearly 34), but my skin can also get dry. When I ran out of my Weleda rose moisturiser I thought I would try something else.

I have been giving Green Angel products as gifts, as they are a great Irish company and stocked in the shop at the bottom of our road, so I can shop local. I am halfway through the moisturiser, which contains two of my favourite essential oils, neroli and jasmine. Since using this I haven't had any problems with dry skin, and my skin is clearer as well.

As for the eye serum, this is from another Irish company. I am a bit sceptical when it comes to eye products, as products for the face often do the job just as well (and when using olive oil for removing eye make-up, you are simultaneously caring for the area around the eyes), but I thought I'd give this a go, as I like the ritual and this has a cooling roller. I have only used it for about two weeks, but already can see and feel some improvement, with plumper skin that doesn't feel tight. It can leave a bit of a residue that looks like dried tears (or maybe I used too much), but as long as you blend your moisturiser or concealer into the edge, it becomes invisible.

I love that both these products come in glass instead of plastic, though would advise not to store them at a height it in a bathroom with a tiled floor - the cap of the serum shattered into a million pieces when it fell out of the cabinet.

I didn't own any lip balm for the last two years, at least. At home, when I thought of it, I would apply coconut oil or honey and dry-brush with a toothbrush to exfoliate my lips, and then during the day I would leave them alone or apply lipstick or gloss. But recently I must have neglected them, and I thought it would be handy to have some lip balm in my bag, so I bought the Trilogy one. It works really well, and I love mint in lip products - some energising aromatherapy right under my nose.

And finally, soaps. I know having the Dr Bronner's liquid soap ought to cover that area (another minimalism fail), but I don't have that many bottles I can decant into, and I like using old-fashioned solid pieces of soap. These are as local as it gets, and they don't dry out your skin; I can even use them on my face (one thing I no longer buy is facial wash). They also remain solid, unlike a lot of natural soaps that turn into mush, and they scent the bathroom nicely.

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Warmth and centre

"I have always lived in houses with a chimney, that's also very important to me. 

Always fires because it gives warmth and centre, it gives light. 

I always had animals, cats and dogs." 

(Juliette Binoche in a recent interview with The Sunday Times Magazine)

As the little house I have been renting for the past six-and-a-half years (where did the time go?) begins to show the signs of the extremes in the Irish weather (cracks, damp, failing to heat up properly), I have been tempted to think in terms of need and want (complete first-world problems) rather than gratitude for what I have. I still love this place, but when I came across the above, it brought into sharp focus that the structure she talks about is missing - I felt the absence of a fire, the absence of pets. Both will come when they are supposed to, I'm sure, or maybe they won't, and that'll be ok, too, if it has been ok for the last six years or so.

After the three weeks of the cosiness of blazing fires in my mom's house, I am finding it hard to adjust again. I have been walking around with a hot-water bottle tied to my body; we attempt to curl up under a blanket on my way-too-small hard couch, and when I am on my own, I retreat to bed early because it's the one warm place (after the addition of a hot water bottle). Then I think I am missing out on so much of life by going to bed so early, and I blame the cold. Yes, ALL the procrastinating and ALL the stress is due to living in a cold house.

And yet I love spending time at home. So I am shifting the focus back onto the good things, of which there are plenty. The flowers on the table (each time I am as touched by this gesture as on the first occasion, and I photograph every bunch) are my centre in the absence of a fireplace. Or the gigantic candle with the tall flame on my coffee table, a mini fire. And I am making small, mostly inexpensive changes, because change is good, and while I don't agree with the 'update your home decor every season and buy tons of new stuff!' mentality, I do believe in Feng Shui, and I have found that some of the objects and arrangements that have been the same for years feel stagnant or are actually disintegrating into a state beyond a welcome wabi-sabi aesthetic. New bedclothes (a generous gift), the aforementioned candle, thick towels, buying prints of artwork by friends and framing them.

Even just rotating my books has helped clear some mental clutter and the feeling of being stuck. And mending clothes, sewing on buttons, finally refilling my fountain pen, polishing the coffee jug - nothing earth-shatteringly important, but it makes me feel more grounded. It may all be yet another way of procrastinating (this is how I am spending the limited time I have at home during the busiest time of the year), but it is just what I need, a form of domesticity meditation.

That was a long break...

The weeks are whizzing past me, and I am slowly working my way through an impossibly long To Do list. I haven't shown up here because various work projects have included a lot of time spent creating and managing websites and social media and volumes of e-mail, so when I wasn't working I wanted my eyes to look at green trees and the expanse of the sea, or anything that was not a screen.

There have been so many big and small changes - both in my work and my personal life, all positive for the last two months -, and I am still adjusting to the new rhythm. It continues to elude me how people who work full-time and have families look after themselves and keep their energy levels up. I seem to need a disproportionate amount of time to myself and an early night at least three times a week in order to function, and I am responsible for myself only. I know it's a HSP/introvert trait to be so easily overwhelmed, but there have been too many mornings (especially after working late and/or socialising) spent sitting around in a daze with aching muscles trying to muster the energy to step into the shower. I know a lot of people who would see that as luxury me-time they would kill for, but I just think of all the things I could be doing and the seconds ticking away.

Last week it struck me how much of the low-level everyday anxiety I have been feeling is fuelled by neglecting friendships and not phoning home enough, even when that neglect is not one-sided. So now I am surrounded by half-written letters and cards and e-mails in my draft folder. And of course I acutely feel my sister's absence after her three-month stay here. We had a little farewell party at my house, and Galway Bay put on a spectacular evening sky with a lot of pink and a rainbow. A friend took the photo above of us three sisters in the twilight, and due to the latter and also because I enlarged it from a small photo it physically possesses that blurry nostalgic quality that I have already imbued it with in my mind.

On a less emotional note, my inner minimalist is delighted with Dr. Bronner's liquid soap and its multitude of uses (I haven't tried it as toothpaste or for washing the dishes or laundering clothes yet, though all that and much more is possible). It had always been on my radar, but since I generally prefer soap bars, I never bought it until a couple of months ago. It works really well as a facial wash, and you don't need moisturiser afterwards. I love travelling light, so this, the smallest bottle, will serve as a one-in-all on future trips, and I will get a large bottle for at home. I was going to dedicate a whole post to this soap, but then India Knight reviewed it for the Sunday Times, so I will just quote her: "Come the apocalypse, you want a bottle of this about your person.". Yes!

Being and nothingness and things

Inventory

"She thought of Giacometti, shocked out of domesticity for ever by an early confrontation with death. It began with a chance, brief meeting on a train with an elderly Dutchman. [...] They planned a journey together to Venice, but had scarcely set out when the elder man fell ill and died. Giacometti was twenty. The horror he felt on seeing the transition from being to nothingness would never leave him. In the face of certain annihilation, the clutter of domesticity was, to him, a monstrous lie. Why pretend life is anything other than transitory? Why pretend you are anything other than utterly alone in your existence?" 

(Madden, Deirdre: Nothing is Black, faber and faber, London 2013, p.109)

I have a difficult relationship with 'things'. Seeing interiors that reflect my taste, even collections of things, I can imagine happily inhabiting spaces filled with objects without perceiving them as a burden, and to a certain extent I do so in my house/sanctuary, but at the same time I always crave the freedom of less, and even the relatively small number of my own belongings can overwhelm me, for reasons expressed in the extract above - though I should add that my own view is nowhere near as bleak.

I do derive pleasure from new things and presents and adhere to the 'beautiful and/or functional' criteria (I include 'loving it' under 'beautiful'). And I have noticed that often it is simply a question of feng shui: the dead energy of things I need to let go of that are sitting somewhere with no purpose. Once they are gone, new things are welcomed in their place and used with enthusiasm.

Over the years I have acquired a couple of gadgety items that I like (a handheld blender comes to mind), but overall I keep them to a minimum - as a magazine article I read recently (in the new mindfulness magazine Flow my sister brought back from Germany) said, they can make life more hectic, despite their time-saving claims: when you expect every chore to be sped up or done for you, you don't give yourself the time out to do the task at hand and let your mind wander (or, even better, become absorbed in the task). I may whinge that my arm is sore from whisking egg whites sans kitchen machine, but it is much more satisfying this way.

A few days ago I sold a painting, and mixed in with the usual delight at having someone value what you create was the relief of 'one less painting taking up space in my house'. Art-making always means a lot of objects (both materials and creations), so the secret part of me that wants to be able to move around freely unburdened by material possessions would never be able to coexist with the artist me.

Apologies for the slightly depressing tone of this post just before Christmas (maybe brought on by the sheer quantity of things the pre-Christmas period spews out. Apart from that I love Christmas). I guess it is about traversing this strange transitory existence with these "necessary" lies, as the protagonist in Madden's book calls them, and which can give us security, but in the full knowledge of the truth, and not be weighed down by either. I am trying.

Light and white

 

I am growing mint in a cup (fingers crossed) and looking forward to using these hand-printed napkins (thanks again for these beautiful gifts, Sabrina and Christoph!). Kitchen roll is banned from my kitchen - though I do use it when teaching painting -, and while I keep a packet of paper napkins in the drawer, especially for meals featuring ingredients likely to cause permanent stains, I use proper cloth napkins 90 per cent of the time.

My house has been painted white - badly needed it -, and I have added gladioli and lemon balm (both gifts as well; I am very lucky) to the potted plants outside my door. Everything feels fresh and light and adds to the lovely blank-canvas-feeling of this time of the year.