Archives for posts with tag: home-making
Image via PixGood. With thanks.

Image via PixGood. With thanks.

For some, the endpoint comes.
For those, it expresses as a deed.
For some, how to paint a Mason jar.
For those, it is possible to attach a stencil with a seasonal theme:

there could be a star for Christmas
or a pumpkin outline for Halloween.
Overhead hums a carrier on the flightpath.
For some freedom comes as the endpoint.

A painted Mason jar for flower arrangements,
home-baked cookies and forgetting this is not
how you imagined it would be.
For some the endpoint is a gun.

I have been ill for the last week or so, the world is going down on all sides and in the sidebar of advertisements on my Facebook account I’ve been targeted by craft videos.

Painted Mason jars, perfect in their new incarnation for displaying flowers on one’s kitchen table, must be the perfect salve to my ailment and the world’s disquiet.

Twitter: @BeadedQuill
Facebook: BeadedQuill
Books:
In the Ocean: a year of poetry
Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys
Shining in Brightness: Selected Poems, 1999 – 2012

Image courtesy of the Old Design Shop.

Image courtesy of the Old Design Shop.

The dark encroaches earlier and the temperatures drop. September heralds autumnal change. This time last year I was already battening down by spending more evenings in with the creaking heating, baking and feeling the quiet life.

Responsible. Spring cleaning. Light-bulb.

In mid-January 2013 I wrote about the ordinary routine of a quiet creative. I wrote about the things I accomplished during a week and the chores left undone. “The hooded empty eye-socket of the desk-lamp stares at me. A year since moving in, it still needs a light-bulb. ”

Since writing that post, the bulbless light has been in a cupboard. After nearly two years, I had finally felt I could spare the cash (all £2,29 for the two 60W bulbs) and make the commitment. Today was the day I bought a bulb! I screwed in this symbolic purchase.

And then – tada! – the light didn’t switch on.

This was meant to be a home-making triumph. How could I have erred in something as simple as putting in a light-bulb? I stared at the dead, bulb-eyed light in woe.

Things are always easier when you have knowledgeable friends. A friend versed in DIY had come come over today to fix two collapsed drawer-runners and a doorknob which had come unstuck.

“Oh, it’s probably the fuse.”

My friend was now excited, “While I’m here, I can have a look at that, too.”

He was  enthusiasm for the new found problem diffused my disappointment. He disappeared to the local hardware and knick-knacks haven to find a replacement.

This lamp still protrudes like some sort of space-eye on my desk.  Now it’s an eye that’s finally emitting light.