What Inspires Me To Write?

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

" Don't forget—no one else sees the world the way you do,

so no one else can tell the stories you have to tell. "

CHARLES DE LINT

What inspires you to write? This was one of the questions a writing colleague posed to me in a short interview a couple of years ago. She required short responses for the article she was writing, but I found her questions opened a floodgate of musing that I wanted to explore further. I recently came across my notes with her questions and my responses and thought I should do something with them. How about a nice Friday post? So, today it is something a little out of the usual; I do hope you will enjoy.

" Poetry (writing) comes to me like breathing. I inhale and breathe

in the fragrances, flavors, emotions, sentiments, and feelings

of people and places and breathe out poetry (writing). "

AVIJEET DAS 

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful World

1. What is your main source of inspiration for your writing?

In a word, it is Beauty, in all its many forms: beauty in the natural created world, beauty in the creative handiwork of people, and beauty in the simple pleasures and details of every day life. I am always on the look out for what I term glimpses of heaven in unexpected places. These gifts make me feel alive. They make me sing. And they fuel my desire to write.

The beauty of the natural world - I often think of Vincent Van Gogh and how he once sat looking out his window at a 'watery twilight, a thin lamp post, a star', and how he suddenly longed to share it with his brother, so he sketched it in a letter he was writing at the time. I look at the natural world around me and marvel at all that is beautiful in it. Like the artist, I have a longing to share what I see and experience. I want to show you so we can delight and marvel together at what is around us.

The creative handiwork of other people - Whether it's poetry, beautiful prose, music (playing, singing or composing), art, crafts and needlework, architecture, photography, landscape and garden design, I get more creative in my own work when I soak in the artistic beauty of others. Certain turns of phrases, unusual words, fresh ideas, photos set in ways I had not considered before – these set my imagination on fire. My beauty loving friend, Sandra, said yesterday on her Facebook, 'You never know whose heart you might be inspiring'. How true.

The beauty in the details of our ordinary lives - I am always on the lookout for what makes life beautiful for me in the smallest details of everyday life. Even something as small as watching the lace curtain catch the summer breeze at an open window—this billowing beauty catches my breath and sends my fingers scurrying to the keyboard.

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

2. What is your key to inspiration?

Definitely quiet time and solitude to be alone with my own thoughts. I need that quiet space to let my thoughts drift and wander. To think about what I really want to say about a certain subject. It takes time alone to get to the nub of things.

I spend time being quiet to read my Bible and other inspirational books, to meditate and listen for the still small voice of Jesus speaking in my heart. Many years ago, I used to always ask the Lord what He wanted me to say. And then one day He started turning the question back to me: What's in your heart, what do you want to say? At first I was upset about this, because I'd always been taught in the tradition that we lay down our lives and let him live through us. But he began to show me that He wanted me to grow and develop and the way to do that was through being allowed to think and create and dream what my heart desired. So He and I work in tandem now. Sometimes there are things He wants me to say, and I'll feel those times gently or strongly as the need may be. Other times, I just run with what's beating inside my own heart and mind. And, sometimes I don't know what to say, and He's there to help me with that too.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

3. What places do you turn to for inspiration that always works?

٭My favourite coffee shop that's alive with conversations, clattering cups, the fragrance of coffee hanging in the air, people reading books and writing in their notebooks or keyboards. There is a cheerfulness to the place that lifts me up. Hopefully one day soon we can return to that environment.

٭Spending a couple of hours at the library with a notebook and pen or my iPad (depending if I want to hand write or type). Surrounded by books and patrons (in the pre-Covid days), I feel excited to sink my teeth into getting something written. 

٭Taking a morning or evening walk that leads to the pond where I can sit a moment and let the peacefulness wash over me.

٭Sitting at my desk in my study. I love being surrounded by my pens, paper, and inspiring books, looking out the windows that overlooks my back garden filled with trees and flowers. This is probably my favourite spot in our house any season of the year. My desk is here, my books are here, my window to the world is here, my computer is here—I am in my happy place.

٭Browsing through my collection of beautiful and creative magazines that are filled with wonderful photography, artwork, catchy titles, and fascinating quotes in the sidebars. Magazines like Victoria, The English Home, Fine Gardening, Romantic Homes, Country Home, and La Vie Claire. Although I'm not a quilter or a painter or woodworker, I will browse magazines from other genres, because inspiration crosses over.

٭Going to a museum or art gallery. I marvel at how creative people really are, and my own inspiration levels rise exponentially. I want to go and do likewise.

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

4. Have you ever paired random words or other ‘odd’ methods for inspiration?

I guess one thing that might be a little odd is that I will often imagine my favourite authors in their studios working on a project. I do like learning about how writers work and what their creative spaces are like.* I feel a creative kinship in that, and I also feel a certain delight. For, even if time, distance and not knowing each other personally separates us, there is still a sense of being in this together, creating something we hope readers will enjoy. 

Years ago, when I first started thinking about writing, L.M. Montgomery was my mentor. I used to imagine her sitting and working away on the Anne stories. Of course, I think I used to mix up the description of LMM's room with Anne's imaginary one. Regardless, I was pumped to write.

I once downloaded a photo for my desktop of Jan Karon (the Mitford series) sitting in her writing studio. Every time I opened my computer, there she was smiling at me from her desk. I found that inspired me to keep faith in my own writing space.

Then, there was the time I found a photo of Alexander McCall Smith's comfy-looking writing studio in his Scottish home, his writing desk next to a large window overlooking the water. I could have moved into that room. I met this author, well known for his No 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, when he visited Edmonton a few years ago. It was easy to imagine this gentle writer working on his next novel in that lovely room.

Let me wrap up this question with one more favourite. I don't know how many times I have imagined Susan Branch getting up early every morning to work in her lovely art studio. Once in a very rare while, we both end up having a tiny chat on Twitter because we're both up at the same time (for her it's early, for me it's really early). She tells her girlfriends that she makes tea and pets Jack the kitty before she gets down to business. I do neither, as I prefer coffee in the mornings when Rick gets up, and we no longer have kitties (sad). But I imagine two creative women living on opposite ends of the continent, in different countries, each working in her own studio, each trying to make the world a more beautiful place with her creative work. It makes me feel connected and alive with possibilities.

*You might want to take a look at this interesting book Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey. It was my creative sister Kathy who told me about it. 

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

" We write for the same reason that we walk, talk, climb

mountains or swim the oceans - because we can. We have

some impulse within us that makes us want to

explain ourselves to other human beings. "

MAYA ANGELOU

* * *

Wishing you a beautiful day and a safe weekend.

Heart Hugs,

Brenda

xox

♥

 Other posts where I share more about my writing:

Beautiful Words in Troubled Times

My Joy in Writing

Gardens In My Favourite Books

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

" Flowers lead to books, which lead to thinking and not thinking

and then more flowers and music, music. Then many more

flowers and many more books..."

MAIRA KALMAN

Alongside the heart wrenching world events happening at this time, closer to home I am immersed in gardening—flowers mainly, with a few veg and herbs in pots as well. It's mostly happening between winds and rain, mind you. I had to rescue a sun loving vine the other day; her roots were about to drown in the rivulet pooling beside it. Rearrangement of a few rocks to form a tiny ditch and the water was happily diverted. I do hope the vine is drying out in the sun now. It's true what they say....working in a garden and creating beauty, taking care of something certainly helps to keep the mind and heart quiet these days.

Since gardening is on my mind and I have not done a book post in a while, I'm merging both subjects in today's post: I am gathering eight favourite books in which gardens are part of the story. I sometimes find myself pining to wander through some of these storybook gardens—some are so delightfully described that they take a life of their own in my imagination. Many English novels seem to know how gardens can be what Penelope Lively calls 'an atmospheric ingredient' in the tale. Especially with their descriptions of heroines walking in the garden on a warm summer evening or experiencing the scent of lilacs wafting through an open window or arranging irises for the dining room table. I don't know about you, but sometimes these fictional gardens seem so real so as to create living memories of a place I have only ever visited in my imagination. I think of it as a joyful mingling of life and art.

And so I mingle gardens and books today. Not to get too complicated, I'll share the book titles with suitable excerpts from each. I had great fun putting this together—I do hope you enjoy! 

Image by dtaylor77 from Pixabay

Pride and Prejudice

by Jane Austen

"Will you tell me how long you have loved him?"

"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know

when it began. But I believe I must date it from my first

seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley."

A very good reason to fall in love with the man, don't you think? After all, a man who appreciates such beauty around him must have beauty in his soul as well. No wonder Mr. Darcy lingers long in our imaginations.

* * *

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life, 2016
Wakehurst, West Sussex, England

The Secret Garden

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

"Where you tend a rose a thistle cannot grow."

"It was the sweetest, most mysterious-looking place any one could imagine. The high walls which shut it in were covered with the leafless stems of climbing roses which were so thick that they were matted together. . ."

"All the ground was covered with grass of a wintry brown and out of it grew clumps of bushes which were surely rose-bushes if they were alive. There were numbers of standard roses which had so spread their branches that they were like little trees. There were other trees in the garden, and one of the things which made the place look strangest and loveliest was that climbing roses had run all over them and swung down long tendrils which made light swaying curtains, and here and there they had caught at each other."

* * *

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life, 2016
A garden in England

The Scent of Water

by Elizabeth Goudge

"Mary waved to her and went back to the garden. She walked slowly along the moss-grown path beside the jungle that had once been a herbaceous border, her thoughts busy with Michaelmas daisies, golden rod and peonies. In the shrubbery on the other side, when she crossed over to it, she found among the weeds, japonica, guelder rose, escallonia and actually a couple of laurels, all of them grown into trees."

"She went down to the end of the lawn and sat on the edge of the empty pond, close to the pink and white blossoms of the crab apple trees, and looked up at the boy with the bow and arrow, remembering the glimpse she had had as a child. He had waited for her a long time. She sat by him lulled almost to sleep by the birdsong and the bee hum and the warmth and scents of spring. Then twelve o'clock struck from the church tower."

"They crossed the road to the orchard and leaned on the gate, the scent of apple blossom coming to them on the light wind. From the crimson of the unopened buds to the white of the fully opened petals, every gradation of rose color was present in flights and drifts on the lichened branches. The apple trees were old and it seemed a miracle that such misshapen age could support this airy lightness."

* * *

Image by Nick Stafford from Pixabay

Rebecca

by Daphne du Maurier

"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. . ."

"I wondered why it was that places are so much lovelier when one is alone. How commonplace and stupid it would be if I had a friend now, sitting beside me, someone I had known at school, who would say: 'By-the-way, I saw old Hilda the other day. You remember her, the one who was so good at tennis. She’s married, with two children.' And the bluebells beside us unnoticed, and the pigeons overhead unheard. I did not want anyone with me. Not even Maxim. If Maxim had been there I should not be lying as I was now, chewing a piece of grass, my eyes shut. I should have been watching him, watching his eyes, his expression. Wondering if he liked it, if he was bored. Wondering what he was thinking. Now I could relax, none of these things mattered. Maxim was in London. How lovely it was to be alone again."

* * *

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life, 2016
Scotney Castle and Garden, Tunbridge Wells, England

The Blue Castle

by L.M. Montgomery

The Blue Castle doesn't have a garden exactly, but when Valancy moved with her new husband to the woodsy island where he lived, she found paradise. And so I had to include it in this collection. I have loved this story since forever.

"Barney knew the woods as a book and he taught their lore and craft to Valancy. He could always find trail and haunt of the shy wood people. Valancy learned the different fairy-likenesses of the mosses—the charm and exquisiteness of woodland blossoms. She learned to know every bird at sight and mimic its call—though never so perfectly as Barney. She made friends with every kind of tree."

"‘The woods are so human,' wrote John Foster, 'that to know them one must live with them. An occasional saunter through them, keeping to the well-trodden paths, will never admit us to their intimacy. If we wish to be friends we must seek them out and win them by frequent, reverent visits at all hours; by morning, by noon, and by night; and at all seasons, in spring, in summer, in autumn, in winter.’"

* * *

Image by Kerstin Riemer from Pixabay

The Shell Seekers

by Rosamunde Pilcher

"A long rope was strung between three of these trees, and here Penelope pegged out her washing. Doing this, on a bright fresh morning, was one of her deepest delights. A thrush was singing, and at her feet, thrusting through the tufty damp grass, bulbs were already beginning to shoot. She had planted these herself, thousands of them; daffodils and crocus and scilla and snowdrops. When these faded and the summer grass grew deep and green, other wildflowers raised their heads. Cowslips and cornflowers and scarlet poppies, all grown from seed that she had scattered herself . . . (she'd) pause by her little tree of Viburnum Fragrans, its twiggy stems smothered in deep pink blossom that smelled, miraculously, of summer. She would fetch her secateurs and clip a spring or two, to scent the sitting room. . ."

"The garden, when (Penelope) came here, was a wilderness, but that had been part of the fun. She was a manic gardener and spent every spare moment of her days out of doors, clearing weeds, digging beds, barrowing great loads of manure, cutting out dead wood, planting, taking cuttings, raising seeds. Now, after five years, she was able to stand there and gloat over the fruits of her labour."

* * *

Image by Lara Hughes from Pixabay

The Enchanted April

by Elizabeth von Arnim

Four women, a castle in Italy, wisteria, and solitude

"All down the stone steps on either side were periwinkles in full flower, and she could now see what it was that had caught at her the night before and brushed, wet and scented, across her face. It was wisteria. Wisteria and sunshine . . . she remembered the advertisement.

Here indeed were both in profusion. The wisteria was tumbling over itself in its excess of life, its prodigality of flowering; and where the pergola ended the sun blazed on scarlet geraniums, bushes of them, and nasturtiums in great heaps, and marigolds so brilliant that they seemed to be burning, and red and pink snapdragons, all outdoing each other in bright, fierce colour. The ground behind these flaming things dropped away in terraces to the sea, each terrace a little orchard, where among the olives grew vines on trellises, and fig-trees, and peach-trees, and cherry-trees. The cherry-trees and peach-trees were in blossom—lovely showers of white and deep rose-colour among the trembling delicacy of the olives; the fig-leaves were just big enough to smell of figs, the vine-buds were only beginning to show. And beneath these trees were groups of blue and purple irises, and bushes of lavender, and grey, sharp cactuses, and the grass was thick with dandelions and daisies, and right down at the bottom was the sea. Colour seemed flung down anyhow, anywhere; every sort of colour piled up in heaps, pouring along in rivers. . ."

If you haven't read it, you might want to also seek out Elizabeth's semi-autobiographical novel Elizabeth and Her German Garden. It's entertaining reading on a summer afternoon.

* * *

Image by Beverly Buckley from Pixabay
Heliotrope smells of cherries and vanilla, hence also known as cherry pie plant 

Nemesis

by Agatha Christie

Anyone who knows Miss Marple of St Mary Mead also knows, when not busy solving murder mysteries, she's in the garden tending her roses and doing battle royal with bindweed. In Nemesis, however, she is advised to leave her garden to go on a Famous Houses and Gardens tour to see scenery and visit gardens in a part of England she's not visited before; it's all part of a master plan to catch a murderer.

" 'Miss Marple said, looking at the flowers near her, 'How beautiful peonies are. That long border of them—so proud and yet so beautifully fragile.' . . .

After luncheon she was taken on a tour of the garden. It was Anthea who was deputed to accompany her. . .They had come along a grass path and were pausing in front of a kind of hillock that rested against the wall at one end of it.

'Our greenhouse,' said Miss Anthea mournfully.

'Oh, yes, where you had such a delightful grapevine.'

'Three vines,' said Anthea. 'A black Hamburg and one of those small white grapes, very sweet, you know. And a third one of beautiful muscats.'

'And a heliotrope, you said.'

'Cherry pie,' said Anthea.

'Ah, yes, cherry pie. Such a lovely smell...' "

* * *

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life, 2016
Sweet Peas seen in an English Country Garden

" There are few pleasures like really

burrowing one's nose into sweet peas. "

ANGELA THIRKELL

* * *

Any favourites you would add to this list?

Here's wishing you a beautiful day.

Heart Hugs,

Brenda

xox

Five Little Things

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

" ...in the dew of little things the heart finds

its morning and is refreshed. "

KHALIL GIBRAN

I hadn't a clue what to post for Five on Friday today. Until I noted in my journal five little things that happened this week. Well, I could share that, so here we go:

ONE

A few odd squawks in the yard and suddenly a Pileated woodpecker flew into our mountain ash tree. Not one of our usual birds in town, we are getting more sightings of these dashing birds with their flaming crests. It's always a thrilling moment when they do show up. According to Audubon field-guide, the Pileated normally excavates deep into rotten wood to get at the nests of carpenter ants. Yesterday he was deep into our suet feeder. Sorry, I didn't have my camera with me.

TWO

The wind has been gusting for days. Let's just say, we're tired of it. It makes me think of Sullivan, our beautiful grey kitty from years ago. One year, we'd had such intense winds for about two weeks straight. I mean, it howled and shook the house for days. Sullivan finally went to the window and yowled at it. He was fed up. We haven't yowled yet, but we're so ready for a calm day that feels like summer.

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

THREE

The Peace Rose is off and running—her first rose opened a couple of days ago. A sight for sore eyes. The garden is starting to catch hold. Every day there's something new to enjoy in it. A deep purple iris opened. Anemones are now dancing in the breeze. Rick and I paired up yesterday to get the rest of the annuals--zinnias, marigolds, alyssums, evening-scented stocks, ganzias--planted in the garden. The pair of us do make a good gardening team.

  

  

FOUR

Got a call from the library yesterday afternoon. They are carefully, slowly opening the library again. People still cannot go into the library, but if they had placed requests for books prior to Covid-19 isolation, they can now arrange to curbside pick them up. I'd completely forgotten I had anything on hold. My appointment to pick up Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens is set for next Tuesday between 12:40 and 12:50 pm. Don't be early, don't be late. I'll be there, can't wait.

The rules include isolating the book for 24 hours when you bring it home (the virus lasts on paper for 24 hours as I understand it). Wash your hands before and after handling the book. Don't touch your face while you read; and for heaven's sake, please don't sneeze or cough on the book while you are reading it. Do not return the book until further notice. I think those are good rules even when there isn't a deadly virus going around.

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

FIVE

A tiny blossom on my desk. It had broken off in the planting.

" It's the little things that make happy moments,

not the grand events. Joy comes in sips, not gulps. "

SHARON DRAPER

* * *

As the morning dawns, I'm happy to report there is no wind today. Yah! It's calm and quiet this early morning; the sun is shining, the birds are singing, the coffee is perking—in my little corner of the world the weekend is off to a good start. Thinking of those whose hearts are aching today.  

Here's wishing you a beautiful day.

Heart hugs,

Brenda

xox

Notecard Set: Double Flowering Plum

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

" You have a touch in letter writing that is

beyond me. Something unexpected, like coming round

a corner in a rose garden and finding it still daylight. "

VIRGINIA WOOLF

About ten or more years ago we bought a lovely double flowering plum shrub for our garden. We so looked forward to watching it bloom in spring. Although a hardy plant, some years a late frost would kill the buds and the flower display would be oh! so disappointing. But, there was one spring when all the elements were in harmony, and it was spectacular. You can well imagine our joy.

Sadly we no longer have that shrub, but I found a handful of photos that would, I think, make a lovely quartet of notecards. So, in keeping with that thought, I pair them with quotations about writing letters. I hope you enjoy!

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

" I consider it a good rule for letter-writing to

leave unmentioned what the recipient already knows,

and instead tell him something new. "

SIGMUND FREUD

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

" Always be a poet, even in prose. "

CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

"A letter is never ill-timed; it never interrupts. Instead

it waits for us to find the opportune minute, the quiet moment

to savor the message. There is an element of timelessness about letter writing. "

LOIS WYSE

* * *

It's rainy today, so it might be a good day to dash off a note
and surprise someone's mailbox.
I hope you have a beautiful day. Stay safe.

Heart Hugs,

Brenda

xox

The Simple Woman's Daybook: June Edition

Spring Blossoms (photo from a previous season)
Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

"The old woman paid no attention . . . until that morning,

when a fleck of pink caught her eye. The single saucer-size

blossom was more magnificent than she could ever have imagined.

More beautiful than any rose she'd ever seen, it swayed in the

morning breeze with such an air of royalty, the old woman felt

the urge to curtsy in its presence."

SARAH JIO, The Last Camellia

Welcome June....we've been waiting for you!

Someone on Twitter yesterday quipped in response to pandemic conversation, 'After nearly three months, today is the last day of May.' Another replied, 'I'm not looking forward to June, who knows how many years next month will go on for.' And then a third added his response, 'A few more weeks and the nights will start drawing in.' First, we chuckle; then, we get that look on our face 😲. My mom and I shall do our darnedest not to dwell on that last thought. It seems we wait all year for this pinnacle day when the sun frolics late into the night.

There has been so much sad, terrible news this past week. Pandemic, murder and mayhem but totally unlike the cozy Miss Marple variety. I am sick of heart, and I know many of you are as well. I hardly know what to write for our June Daybook edition. It hardly seems right to carry on as if nothing has happened. What does a person do? In my personal world, we're well and doing fine. So I shall share what I had planned originally, not to pretend the woes away, but rather to offer a moment of respite and sense of what is still beautiful on this first day of June.

Today I join with Peggy for June's edition of The Simple Woman's Daybook.

FOR TODAY

Outside my window... This early morning the sun shines on a fresh new day after a night of rain and wind. Although it is cool out and still windy, I notice just how delightful those soft new buds look against the mature evergreen branches. The dear trees looked so worn earlier in Spring, and as you know one died and had to be removed, but this bright green growth makes them look so fresh and alive. And, I feel my heart lift in praise to the One who first dreamed up summer mornings and chartreuse evergreen buds.


I am thinking... of the prayer I read in my Common Prayer book. I wrote it in my journal:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you: wherever he may send you;
May he guide you through the wilderness: protect you through the storm;
May he bring you home rejoicing: at the wonders he has shown you;
May he bring you home rejoicing: once again into our doors. 

I am thankful... that everyone I know—family, friends, acquaintances, as well as blogging and social media friends that I know of—are still all safe and healthy in these days. I know that's not the case for everyone, and I am sorry from my heart it is not well for them too.  

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

"I was especially perceptive to all things beautiful that morning—

raspberries in blue china bowls were enough to make the heart sing.

IRENE HUNT

One of my favourite things... Raspberries in summer. I only have to pop one into my mouth and immediately I'm a girl, with a pail tied to my waist, picking raspberries on a summer day at my grandma's house. Grandma, mom and us kids sometimes visited her friend, Mrs. Triechel, on her farm, who had rows of raspberries as far as the eye could see (at least that's how it seemed to an eight-year-old). We'd pick buckets of berries, some to eat fresh with farm cream, and the rest turned into canned fruit and jam. To me, raspberries are summer, and when my writing friend, Kathleen, calls them God's candy, I have to agree, Oh yes! 

I've been wearing... wool socks of late. The wind is cool out again right now and I feel the chill of it on my feet first. There was a season in my life when I was always hot. If you are a woman of a certain age reading this, you will understand. Although I never had hot flashes or night sweats, my whole body temperature was warmer during that season. I wore sleeveless as much as possible, even in the wintertime. With that changeover long history, things have shifted and I find myself easily chilled. I finally clued in one day that I should exchange the sleeveless tops for long sleeved ones, and save the sleeveless for the really hot days. When I realized wool socks make me feel generally more comfortable on chilly days, well, I feel like an old granny with my wool socks on, but my toes are happy now. And they go well in my garden boots too. A girl has to do what a girl has to do.  

I am creating... a small creativity project list for June.

• Reread The Elements of Style (Strunk and White)....more about it below.
• Practice my pencil sketching every day.
• Finish Erica Bauermeister's new memoir House Lessons (her experiences renovating an old house along with a bit of architectural history) 
• Finish working on my stalled England photo album, volume 2.
• Complete essay on the village that figured in my growing up years.
• Work on guest post due July 12. 

I watched... the three-part television movie on Acorn Alibi with Michael Kitchen (Foyle's War) and Phyllis Logan (Downton Abbey). It's a thriller, but not a horror. You'll be sitting on the edge of your seat as you wonder whether he's telling the truth or not.

I am (re)reading... an old writing standby, The Elements of Style by William Strunk and E.B. White. The odd time I have entered a writing contest, I get similar feedback from the judges—I am often too wordy (well, you wouldn't know about that, would you). And, my punctuation is a bit sketchy (where should those darn commas go anyways, and what about those ellipses and dashes and ems, are you using them correctly....and such). Taking their remarks to heart, I have done a bit of research with the aim to improve my proficiency. There is an element of fun to finally settle in my own mind, once and for all, some of those rules I never quite got straight in my mind. On social media, it gets easy to let some of those things go, but I don't want to, do you?

I am listening to... the advice of E.B. White when he says, 'Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.' Indeed, and I also wonder what that guy down the street is up to, haha.

I am hoping...  to put this advice from Samuel Johnson into better practice: 'What we hope ever to do with ease, we must first learn to do with diligence.' Thinking about my pencil sketching, in particular.

I am learning (reminded)...  of a gardening tip that well-loved Alberta gardener, Lois Hole, once offered. At least I think it was Lois who suggested it. When deciding what perennials to put in your garden, as they are usually a higher investment, why not first plant annuals of a similar nature in those spots to help you figure out the various micro-climates, e.g. is this spot sunny enough, too shady, too windy, too dry and hot, etc.

In the kitchen... we have a hankering to make these yummy Spicy Oatmeal Crisps. These cookies have black pepper in them, which seems an odd ingredient for cookies. But the unexpected twist hints at something just a little out of the ordinary. And they are hit in my family. We could tell the first time I made them; there were only crumbs rattling in the tin the next time I reached for one.

Spicy Oatmeal Crisps

Preheat oven to 350 F

3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground allspice

1/2 tsp grated whole nutmeg

1/4 tsp ground cloves

1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 tsp baking soda

1 cup packed brown sugar

5 Tbsp butter, softened

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 large egg

1/2 cup regular rolled oats

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1. Lightly spoon flour into measuring cup; level with a knife.

2. In medium bowl, add flour, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, cloves,

pepper, salt, baking soda. Set aside.

3. In a large bowl, beat brown sugar, butter and vanilla until fluffy.

4. Add egg; beat well.

5. Stir in the flour mix and the rolled oats.

6. Drop by level tablespoons 2" apart onto greased or sprayed baking sheets.

7. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until crisp.

8. Cool on pans 1-2 minutes. Don't leave longer - they'll break,
so finish cooling on a wire rack.

10. Store in cookie tin.

Yield: 2 dozen

Shared quote... "I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." ~ E.B. White

A moment from my day... deciding where in my garden to plant this 'pop of colour'. They are called Osteospermums, also known as African daisies.

Image by Brenda @ It's A Beautiful Life

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Wishing you a beautiful day. Stay safe.

Heart Hugs,

Brenda

xox