we are back and it was good!
trying to fit into the routine again
but it feels a little tight  .    .     .



i'll gather a few 'postcards' to share 
soon, hope you've been well!








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καλή ανάσταση σ'αυτούς που γιορτάζουν 

(orthodox) easter sunday tomorrow
so late .   .    .  so hot .     .      .

and then we're off on a journey in the early hours
which will involve, if all goes well, a night train
across europe while it sleeps
a treat for a. but i think her parents 
were just looking for an excuse .   .    .

be very well + until soon












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we woke up disoriented today
summer in april 
the heat dry, penetrating
burning everything
delicate garden flowers torched

it's not that i don't like colour
but at home neutral against white
cools me down, leaves space to breathe 

hope it's fresher where you are!

>  detail of old linen cushion i embroidered many years ago
>  sake jug (used mostly as a vase for the flowers a. picks me)
>  a trivet i made with wooden beads and leather (like here + here)

> flensted mobile in a's room
> a feather from a's collection on the (scratched) stone floor










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a while ago
i saw this flower project on the net
so we spent the afternoon picking wild + cultivated flowers 
from our garden, then the street

but like me she was drawn to the dry grasses

my reluctant model

with a chocolate mouth

and a toothless gap (already!)

i want to remember her

kicking off her wellies and lying back on the bench

by the defunct railway line

her eyes scanning the vast blue 

and her surprise that there wasn't a single cloud in the sky

.

like every year 

our wisteria is the last one to bloom on the block
one flower, here and there a promise of leaves 
it's taking its time to bed in

+ the rain is done, it seems
first day in short sleeves
and a drink with friends in the garden,
old men gather to chat at the crossroads
the long summer, it's almost here

.

still my lilies
but my sister has gone back home, i keep
bright memories of mornings in the kitchen, laughter and complicity











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this book
my tripod
a tiny harmonica

she was 'practising' all weekend .     .        .

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