February 2018


Integrate…my guiding word this year. A word I don’t really care for the sound of and haven’t been able find a prettier, more beckoning synonym for. A word, tho’, that best describes the work going on inside me. Work that is wanting to express itself in my actions as well, but that is always much slower in coming into being for me.

It is still Winter, and I continue to take my days gently. It is the best medicine for my nights, which are broken so often now with hot flashes. I smile to think of the last year when mild, warming waves came to me regularly. Strong enough to keep a fan nearby, in case, but so easy. How Lesley-like, I thought, thinking I was getting off lightly. That all changed a few months ago. And even more recently, deep chills have been added to the mix. And goosebumps so powerful there should be another word for them…ostrich…emu? But they feel more wondrous than scientific. And I feel as tho’ I am being rewired.

And I suppose I am…in body…in mind…in soul. In deep ways and everyday ways. But it’s so easy to keep doing and being in the same old ways. My word is there to keep my attention on actually weaving the understanding and experience I have from all of these years on the planet into some new ways. And I have a feeling that will be the work of more than just a year! The closest poetical word I found to describe the process I am in is ripen. The rosehip metaphor that has accompanied me since the beginning of this menopause journey gave me that one.

I am glad the growing of a rosehip woman is less straightforward than it is for the rose. There is so much sustenance in the seeds I hope I am nurturing…for myself and my world. Or so I whisper to myself as I grow…

from the archives…redecorating

*I am writing this on Monday morning, after a lovely solo business retreat I had upstairs in my sons’ bedrooms over the weekend. It was so fruitful. And also very sweet to be in those rooms again, with room to spread out and ponder and plan. I’ve know for awhile that I wanted to get back to blogging, to be a part of a blogging renaissance (what do you think? Shall we try?) and designed a pattern of posting to follow that I believe will make it possible, amongst all my other creative, business endeavours.

Today’s post is from the archives (with twelve years of posts, there is much to choose from) which is one part of my new pattern…and there will always be a monthly recap of my reading and watching…a post from the heart of my days…and a joining-in sort-of-post focused on the small, domestic discoveries and ways we are finding to live more gently upon the earth. Delivered each Monday to this post-office-in-the-hedge.

Deeply glad to have sorted this out! If you would like to receive these weekly posts in your inbox, you may sign up at the bottom left of the page. And to take first steps towards that blog renaissance, there is a new link at the bottom middle of the page to my archives and my own blog roll…

P.S. I chose this post in honor of the just-passed St. Brighid’s day…goddess of the hearth. And because I am a Hestia at heart…and because it is winter and the finest place to be is by whatever hearth we find or make.*


…seems the best course of action, at this time of year when action, in general, is not at the top of my list! And as it is too cold in the house to do much real redecorating, I’ve decided that my online homes will receive some refreshing for the next while. So don’t be surprised to see things come and go in this space until I find a place for everything and then put everything in its place.

When I began my online journal nine years ago, I called it my “bower”, which is an old word for home. I’ve casually called this newer space my “rosehip bower”, but just lately I’ve felt that this is more my Rosehip Hearth…a place to come and warm yourself…stare into the fire…be in each others company.

I wrote this last October, when we were reading the book Serving Fire together at Wisteria & Sunshine…


“Honoring the hearth is a state of being that radiates outward, nourishing other parts of our lives. The hearth keeper holds both the inner and outer worlds simultaneously. Daily actions, thought, and feelings provide kindling for the fire of the hearth.”

-Anne Scott

Serving Fire

“Tending the hearth”…one of those thrilling phrases for the domestic heart. But what does “the hearth” actually signify, for each of us? In Serving Fire, it mostly means the kitchen and cooking and nourishment….but before we move more deeply into our book, I wanted to get clear on what, and perhaps, where, our hearths really are. I have a fireplace, a woodstove, an oven and stovetop in my home…are one or all of them my hearths? Or is the hearth mostly a spiritual thing?

Does the hearth begin once you cross the threshold of home? Or does it revolve around warmth and sustenance…material or not? Like so many things after mothering, it is harder to put my finger on, now that our home is so much emptier than it used to be. How can one tend the hearth in solitude? And what might that look like? If “hearth” means center, does it reside within me?

-October 2014


I suppose I shall be trying to answer those questions here, in and amongst all of the “tragedies and cravats, poetry and pickles, garden-seeds and long letters, music and gingerbread, invitations, scoldings and puppies.” (Louisa May Alcott’s words about the post office in the hedge in Little Women, which I’ve long likened blogs to.)

Now I am going to get back to creating some new corners, moving some pixelated furniture and putting a cosy chair to two near the fire…