I've decided my great grandmother Isobel had it right. She tendered her garden, raised her own chickens and gathered her family together each day. I was always inspired by the prettiness of her era, the embroidered tablecloths, the fine bone china. These days though, I'm more inspired by her way of life, her simple, homespun everyday. I wish I could ask her how to keep the snails off my broccoli, which breed of hen will be hardy and lay well and what the secret to her shortbread recipe is.
I crave simplicity in my kitchen, my craft room, my wardrobe... in my whole life. I no longer want a cupboard full of teacups, a basket of unused yarn and box full of pretty fabrics. I want to be practical rather than just crafty. So I make things to warm us in winter, cloths to keep the house clean, toys for Tallow to play with. I embrace the tea cup rings on my dining table, love my gently worn, thrifted jeans and yearn for meals made entirely from our own garden.
I'm no longer searching as much 'out there', in the commercial world for inspiration, I find it just where I am. In the willows that overhang the river and the cockatoo feathers we find on our slow afternoon walks. It's at the stalls of the local farmers market and in the vibrant marigold blossoms that dance about my garden. They tell me stories and fill my days with colour and possibility.
Now I look for the artisan in the everyday. The serepe draped around my shoulders, the hand turned mug I saved at the tip shop, the chard and spinach I lovingly tend to in my little veggie patch. It's those pieces of everyday that add up to shape a simple and beautiful homespun life.