Dans mes cartons

Hello Lovelies!

 From Pia's book

This post's title is a pun: it means I am both "in my cardboard boxes", sorting things out and decluttering, as well as having interesting stuff in my paper files, waiting to be published here. Simply because "cartons" means both "cardboard boxes" and "paper files". ;-)

So, what's up? I'm not perfect, but I feel at home, despite the mess that is going on right now in my house. Don't declutter like I did: avoid taking all of your possessions at one out in the open to be sorted. Be patient, work one room at a time. Maybe I feel good during difficult times because there are 2 or 3 things I know about wabi-sabi, or happiness.

Hearing about Seamus Heaney's death, this end of august really feels like the end of an era. Maybe we all need new beginnings - and ask to be given light.

On another note, I've been thinking about sharing my own version of the hummus recipe. Soon. and end of summer doesn't equal the end of dipping one's toes in the nearby river, either. Ditto:

 

photo, my own.

Links in this post will all lead you to lovely posts on blogs by people I admire (found through Pia's blogroll. Pia's book is very high on my want list right now, too.

Enjoy!

-Alix of TeaButterfly.

Perfect morning

This image/collage (all from flickr faves) shown above is called "perfectmorning.jpg" and I'd really love to find the blog where it comes from. ID, please!

This poem is by Billy Collins.

Morning
Why do we bother with the rest of the day,
the swale of the afternoon,
the sudden dip into evening,

then night with his notorious perfumes,
his many-pointed stars?

This is the best -
throwing off the light covers,
feet on the cold floor,
and buzzing around the house on espresso -

maybe a splash of water on the face,
a palmful of vitamins -
but mostly buzzing around the house on espresso

dictionary and atlas open on the rug,
the typewriter waiting for the key of the head,
a cello on the radio,

and, if necessary, the windows -
trees fifty, a hundred years old
out there,
heavy clouds on the way
and the lawn steaming like a horse
in the early morning

poem found at ill seen ill said blog right here