tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27885928775077106092024-03-05T08:43:30.946+00:00Lunar HineStory-scribbling, free-dancing, skip-dipping, pond-gazing, bowl-licking, paint-splatting, land-marveling, book-gorging, stone-whittling, fire-starting, moon-bathing soul-singing warrior mama.Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12649116426473034929noreply@blogger.comBlogger147125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-43595757177473286982023-05-16T15:26:00.003+01:002023-05-17T11:37:13.498+01:00What Lunar did next (and where to find her)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-HVK4iSP-A0wihlIBlC0eO_Bm8ynRTnZQnkaODq4E2m7n9DO08LfC6ZlMnyyVf6-_rGOv_oqfxLU0umKLzEKIlNbIT4bPZ999edz3q3qKi_UsvDKAsn3oKu0k7ECp3REgLSVbBNNAUuwu_RVMdYzkXxalLzzAQsb--qtbEoBSzv4wl3aXs0ml7tamw/s3088/Me%20in%20scarf.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-HVK4iSP-A0wihlIBlC0eO_Bm8ynRTnZQnkaODq4E2m7n9DO08LfC6ZlMnyyVf6-_rGOv_oqfxLU0umKLzEKIlNbIT4bPZ999edz3q3qKi_UsvDKAsn3oKu0k7ECp3REgLSVbBNNAUuwu_RVMdYzkXxalLzzAQsb--qtbEoBSzv4wl3aXs0ml7tamw/w480-h640/Me%20in%20scarf.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">Hello, hello! It has been so very long since I wrote to you all here, although I have thought of you, and your love and encouragement, many times. This interweb place can be awfully cross and shouty, but please do not imagine that your quiet kindnesses go unfelt. They are a powerful medicine.</p><p style="text-align: left;">This post is really to redirect you to the places you can find me these days.</p><p style="text-align: left;">The main place for longish form writing on my daunted but continual attempts to live a joyful, creative life is on my <a href="https://www.patreon.com/user/membership?u=4451035" target="_blank">Patreon</a>. It's not free, but the blog-type posts are all accessible for £1 a month and it's probably the best place to have a conversation with me.<br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">There's more if you want it: book reviews; shortish essays on the practices, books, podcasts, thoughts, whatever which truly help me live creatively; discounts off my art and writing tuition; writing dates; editorial help; plus more if you're wildly generous.</p><p style="text-align: left;">But this isn't a sales pitch. You can find me for zero pennies on <a href="https://twitter.com/Lunarhine" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lunarsolargaia" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/lunarhine/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I still have my <a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/lunarhine" target="_blank">Etsy shop</a> for art, and I also now have a <a href="https://www.redbubble.com/people/LunarHine/explore?asc=u&page=1&sortOrder=recent" target="_blank">RedBubble shop</a> too, which prints my artwork onto a world of giftable and practical things.</p><p style="text-align: left;">And for those good souls who held my virtual hand as I navigated my first years as a mother and then as a widow, I will quickly tell you that life continues to throw spanners in the works (mostly medical, and all for me - the girls are fine), but life is also very good.</p><p style="text-align: left;">We are still in beautiful Chagford, although much closer to the river now, and I am still writing and painting and hanging out with trees.</p><p style="text-align: left;">7yo is made of springs and giggles, with a surprising ferocity when crossed. She dangles off trees, loves her streetdance classes, plays endless board games, and writes stories in her special notebook.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FYUQVUWgRux7S0VSCdGVMHmYtSrqlMa9KosdW9orY19OaBj3-PNJQXAGQmKiwTbg4VM3O_-zt2Ado2RUZnMgxwtRvmrbmBWer4BPDujmo6OTG6f68nFzkJpScozwkfkcWSezw9ts1eJwz2KDi7iUI3hHIpBpQ3xtMdZ7tRxV1k39Hwq8baIQZb6FlQ/s4032/Manna%20writing%20stories.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4FYUQVUWgRux7S0VSCdGVMHmYtSrqlMa9KosdW9orY19OaBj3-PNJQXAGQmKiwTbg4VM3O_-zt2Ado2RUZnMgxwtRvmrbmBWer4BPDujmo6OTG6f68nFzkJpScozwkfkcWSezw9ts1eJwz2KDi7iUI3hHIpBpQ3xtMdZ7tRxV1k39Hwq8baIQZb6FlQ/w480-h640/Manna%20writing%20stories.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;">13yo is in a lovely secondary school (after a false start in an unlovely one) where she can still do forest school. She is loving musical theatre and playing piano and draws with more skill than she will believe. I see Thomas in her sometimes, and that is a healing thing, but mostly she is her own gentle, wonderful self. Teenagehood hasn't gone beyond eyerolling and living in her bedroom yet, and only recently she came home covered in mud from rolling down hills with her friends, so I feel we're both getting off lightly.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlHkwUYoRrKh49hmkq5x8iPJI9JQQoLr8lHtNjVLenWfx82oIkj57-wWFuHK7dkfd5unTmXwsB9n04JgPnKrrVTirzhQx0ry3YfDpDrrFatDDCNI1lJHMRtGCmYJ1ytMPCi5VSQ2XONQkXniI81T3RI6ZKs5CGm6nFnFcytAqJQds56vsVGDK2VptCw/s4032/Ember%20on%20Meldon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqlHkwUYoRrKh49hmkq5x8iPJI9JQQoLr8lHtNjVLenWfx82oIkj57-wWFuHK7dkfd5unTmXwsB9n04JgPnKrrVTirzhQx0ry3YfDpDrrFatDDCNI1lJHMRtGCmYJ1ytMPCi5VSQ2XONQkXniI81T3RI6ZKs5CGm6nFnFcytAqJQds56vsVGDK2VptCw/w480-h640/Ember%20on%20Meldon.jpg" width="480" /></a></div> <p></p><p style="text-align: left;">Do please reach out and find me. I would be delighted to reconnect with you - or to meet you, if you are new here.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Thank you all,</p><p style="text-align: left;">Lunar<br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-70727165484864094192019-10-31T13:15:00.000+00:002019-10-31T13:15:07.976+00:00That text message<div style="text-align: justify;">
On this day, thirteen years ago, I babysat my friends' twins. My friends came home late, jolly and keen to continue the party. What's a girl to do? Drink too much wine, is the answer. Except, although it definitely felt like too much wine the next morning, I now think it was exactly the right amount.</div>
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Stumbling home I realised I'd received a text from Thomas. Nothing unusual in that; we'd been friends for years and had been in regular contact since he'd moved to Wales to study a couple of months before. I was very pleased to receive this text. I was very pleased to receive every text from Thomas. In fact, I had been trying to conceal how very much I was missing his presence in my life.</div>
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I'm blaming/crediting the wine for what happened next. I sent this message:</div>
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'I think I'm in love with you.'</div>
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He replied:</div>
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'If you say that again I'll have to come home.'</div>
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'I am in love with you.'</div>
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Cut to me loitering by the bus stop, feeling slightly terrified and weirdly shy, waiting for this scruffy, leggedy, joy of a man to come home, where he had always belonged, by my side.</div>
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Samhain blessings, everyone.Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-18449948811969486902019-10-08T22:37:00.001+01:002019-10-08T22:37:08.689+01:00Cheers!<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's been an intense week.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I can now drive round a roundabout, even a complex one with weird lane changes or traffic lights or an overturned trailer of hay or all of the above, without breaking a sweat. I mostly even take my intended exit. So now my driving lessons comprise two hours exploring the shortest, blindest, deadliest slip roads known to West Devon. And then, when I am so tired I can barely think, I drive through Chagford and run the gauntlet of horses and double-parked delivery lorries and roads created for tinners' sleds. Ah, the joys of rural life :).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The final year of my degree's up and running now. I am jogging alongside trying not to look winded yet, although the truth is I'm already developing a stitch and when I peeked ahead at the essay questions I almost fainted. But everyone and their dog's running now, it seems, so this is my version and I won't quit until I get to the finish line, whatever state I'm in by then.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">My little job has begun, which has already meant I got to have coffee with <a href="https://www.terriwindling.com/" target="_blank">Terri Windling</a> and <a href="http://www.ellenkushner.com/" target="_blank">Ellen Sherman</a> while they discussed writing. (<a href="https://www.terriwindling.com/tilly/" target="_blank">Tilly</a> was of course in attendance, but chose on this occasion not to join in the discussion.) At one point Terri mentioned the Jean Rhys quote:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">'All of writing is a huge lake. There are great
rivers that feed the lake, like Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky. And then there
are mere trickles, like Jean Rhys. All that matters is feeding the lake.
I don't matter. The lake matters. You must keep feeding the lake.'</span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">and I realised that's part of why I'm loving this work. Jean Rhys is talking about one's own writing - and, next year, yes with a hallelujah on top to that - but it's how I think about assisting a writer and artist too. I may not be pouring my own words into the lake, but I am removing obstacles so other words and art can get there. It seems a very humble thing, but actually feels important and deeply satisfying.</span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I feel Rhys has set the bar uncomfortably high for 'trickle', so I'll say I've added a puddle-splash to the lake. It's just one poem, but it's my poem and I'm proud of it and it's (soon to be) <a href="http://www.secondlightlive.co.uk/artemis.shtml" target="_blank">published</a>, so I'm very happy about it. </span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Meanwhile, there are still those girls to raise. 3yo is having a dressing-up phase. Here she is on the way to collect her sister from school:</span></span></span></h1>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwLg-KbSPL6D2VbnQN1tqNqzVyMQZKGoO2cqWKim8m8390kc5A5XoNkpQeHbdR4jVexC0S7dPDBnJMZ2UjIy2bsR5u9ELY42uuMuRdvrO2Mr70z9_snkR-4v-eHYatNxiNApGFKbIa5-CW/s1600/IMG_3130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwLg-KbSPL6D2VbnQN1tqNqzVyMQZKGoO2cqWKim8m8390kc5A5XoNkpQeHbdR4jVexC0S7dPDBnJMZ2UjIy2bsR5u9ELY42uuMuRdvrO2Mr70z9_snkR-4v-eHYatNxiNApGFKbIa5-CW/s640/IMG_3130.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">and I am feeling quite emotional about 9yo's decision to learn the fiddle. I've bought her a half-size one, but I still have <a href="https://lunarhine.blogspot.com/2012/03/he-is-gone.html" target="_blank">Thomas</a>'s and it would be a wonderful thing if she could play it one day.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3V-z5y49DTSfQy0Zl3so7KmlBeSIQW6E0mkOJNXeevP96sYAB0O0neYXKlpORKYAbsuSdm2uF8PfXfKuNico3ZQ1TZVo_n36nNuVrtvP39PEIDJBH9TQKX9ALHrPbUKKY1d0D_JC7VkjY/s1600/IMG_3112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3V-z5y49DTSfQy0Zl3so7KmlBeSIQW6E0mkOJNXeevP96sYAB0O0neYXKlpORKYAbsuSdm2uF8PfXfKuNico3ZQ1TZVo_n36nNuVrtvP39PEIDJBH9TQKX9ALHrPbUKKY1d0D_JC7VkjY/s640/IMG_3112.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Last Friday was the ten year anniversary of our wedding.</span></span></span></h1>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfo9cclSU7S9thqwEvh6WWT5Qv_az9HvOKb5VWqLsQTWdrcG8DtGTRkRqKSry79FmYMak3abvxcPgvpDNdWjBd-CTU22dWbmwX4imHDsS-rrruHe1Efzhm6Dz6oSRA69Niq2XrZUmqRCx/s1600/CNV00028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfo9cclSU7S9thqwEvh6WWT5Qv_az9HvOKb5VWqLsQTWdrcG8DtGTRkRqKSry79FmYMak3abvxcPgvpDNdWjBd-CTU22dWbmwX4imHDsS-rrruHe1Efzhm6Dz6oSRA69Niq2XrZUmqRCx/s640/CNV00028.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I manage these powerful dates a little better each year. We were given some homemade mead as a wedding present, to be drunk in 2012. We had planned to celebrate our second wedding anniversary with it, but of course that didn't happen. It has just been standing miserably at the back of the teas cupboard all this time. So, as our women's group gathered so near my anniversary, I risked the possibility of explosion and/or poisoning and opened it. It didn't explode and it was surprisingly drinkable (in tiny quantities - it's definitely potent!). Even 9yo had a sip, and although she pronounced it 'disgusting' and went back to elderflower cordial, I'm glad she tried it because she was at the wedding too :).</span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am definitely not a writer who can work whilst drinking alcohol, but I'm raising a virtual glass of this mead to love in all its forms and to the next ten years. Cheers!</span></span></span></h1>
Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-22768655533641085032019-09-23T12:24:00.001+01:002019-09-23T12:33:51.739+01:00Fast slow worm videoI'm not expecting this video to break the internet or even be of great interest to anyone. Really this is just me playing with tech and choosing a video which has the great advantage of not displaying my face. It does have a very handsome young slow worm and 3yo cutely finding it a 'home' (it was a leaf), which was rudely spurned.<br />
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Enjoy :).<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/TdALSUNIMEM" width="480"></iframe>Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-82723455823603939052019-09-05T22:27:00.000+01:002019-09-05T22:27:35.154+01:00One good thing<div style="text-align: justify;">
The ticker tape streeling through my mind in various shades of urgency does not stop. I need to just accept that it has not and will not ever stop. Except, of course, it might. But for now, while there's just me and the girls and the meals to prepare and the house and the garden and the study deadlines and the driving lessons and and and and See? Endless streeling which can quickly become strangling if I don't keep snipping at it like it's some enchanted forest of briars with something worth having in the centre. There is nothing in the centre. All this effort to snip off this task and that task, get as much done as I humanly can...if I could magically make it all done; then for one shining, bleak moment I would have nothing. And I've never liked nothing. I've done a lot of workshops but they've never won me round. (It's <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.com/2019/08/on-hens-and-enlightenment.html" target="_blank">the hen thing</a> again.)</div>
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So I am left with the doing, but a deep need to be doing less frantically and more gracefully. Maybe I could go at my ticker tape thicket with a scimitar instead of shears. Maybe I could stop sometimes and look back at all I have actually done. I get so determinedly focussed on what I have yet to do that I forget I have achieved at all.</div>
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I have raised an exceptionally lovely human all the way to nine and a half. Here, she is industriously making granola balls for everyone at the <a href="http://www.woodandrush.net/courses/courses.html" target="_blank">outdoor skills camp</a> the following day, wearing <a href="https://lunarhine.blogspot.com/2012/03/he-is-gone.html" target="_blank">her Dada</a>'s T-shirt which has been her nightie for seven and a half of her years. I have just confiscated the maths workbook she was doing in bed by torchlight. Kids these days...</div>
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And another wild and wonderful human all the way to three and a half. Here she is on her daily forage for breakfast, still in her onesie :).<br />
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I have, through both luck and judgement, come to this spectacular place to raise myself and my children:<br />
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So far so loved-up and homely, but what gnaws at my bones is the writing I have not done. And I don't know why, when it's the one thing which brings me OUT into the world with a ferocious courage I can barely believe when I am unwriting. Yes, the time lost feels like time unwriting work which now will never be. It is a tragic loss, if only to myself. Every circumstance I could stutter in mitigation matches that of someone who just wrote anyway.</div>
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'Tis as 'tis. No more unwriting. Poems have been coming, which is new and surprising. I have sent some of them out with sturdy boots and knapsacks to see what they can make of themselves. The final year of my degree starts very soon. It mercilessly chomps at my time, but also makes me read good writing deeply and so fills the wordwell. And a tiny but perfectly formed job has been placed in my hands. I keep looking down at it like it's a bird's egg. It feels fragile; it has not yet begun; it may only last a short while. <a href="https://www.terriwindling.com/blog/" target="_blank">Terri Windling</a> has asked me to be her assistant. We will discover the exact shape of the role as we go, but basically I'll do some of the non-creative work which is intrinsic to the business of writing and editing. I'll learn a lot and get to spend time in the happy company of Terri and <a href="https://www.terriwindling.com/tilly/" target="_blank">the famous Tilly</a>.</div>
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Sometimes you just need to achieve one good thing:</div>
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In the spirit of which, I have cut my own hair. Again. So here I am looking very pleased with myself despite 3yo quite painfully getting her foot caught in my earring. And, yes, I do know filters exist.<br />
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<br />Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-31283625579113361562019-08-16T22:58:00.001+01:002019-08-16T22:58:58.465+01:00On hens and enlightenment<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://www.terriwindling.com/info/" target="_blank">Terri Windling</a> recently wrote a <a href="https://www.terriwindling.com/blog/2019/08/tintern-abbey.html" target="_blank">blog post</a> which included <a href="http://www.couragerenewal.org/parker/" target="_blank">Parker J. Palmer</a>'s
thoughts on 'the admonition to 'keep death before one's eyes daily''. I
started to write a comment but it became too much and so I returned,
the prodigal blogger, to share with you my thoughts on death and
enlightenment, through the medium of hens. (Did you miss me?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There
was a time when death was 'before my eyes daily'; I couldn't escape it.
Perhaps it is a lack of courage in me, but when I lived with a
moment-to-moment consciousness of my mortality and that of all the
people I love; looking to the future became impossible. I literally
couldn't plan, even a daytrip, even a meal. Life was difficult. And
terrifying. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I
think of that time when people talk of 'being in the moment': I just
couldn't make it work in my actual practical life. I was like the chooks
I cared for when I lived in a commune. One would suddenly flutter over
the gate. She'd peck about for a bit, then notice how far she was from
the others. Bocking in alarm, she'd hotfoot it to the gate and flap and
fluster there indefinitely, living quite perfectly in the moment, having
forgotten that with just a short run-up she could easily fly back over
the gate, and not possessing the imagination to plan that in her future.
Eventually I would walk pass and scoop her up, mutter some insulting
words of endearment and chuck her back over. By the time she'd landed
she'd have forgotten there even was a gate. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There
is a real wisdom in letting go of the constant planning and organising
and controlling the minutiae of our lives. I get that. And a lot of the
past is best forgotten just to free up a bit of brain space for poetry
and PINumbers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But
the years I spent at the gate, so close to death I saw it every time I
blinked, they remind me to keep life, too, 'before my eyes daily'. I
like to plan good meals for my girls, and it is a blessed relief to be
able to imagine them older than they are now so we can plan many happy
days together.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span>Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-5441932409661160012018-02-04T22:56:00.001+00:002018-02-04T23:05:16.408+00:00Working for Love<div style="text-align: justify;">
The third essay's been handed in and the house isn't a total hazard to the senses, so I've snuck in a bit of actual earns-me-money work! Specifically, four new cards:</div>
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'<a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/591517841/hearts-and-moon-valentines-card?ref=shop_home_active_1" target="_blank">Moon and Roses</a>' (bring your own Becherovka); forever shining in full bloom:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtccKjpYp5JTnIQL1irvPxE1jlWcwep6WSDY4uWLI-gRIS1egEEVBz9-kqecAJl_NNFEcvhLBSp6XgYIUZIJA01jHTWdBHpWYPJUMTMUIiinbmxvKBetDZMEvRiS7_DGkgxuBDYapZbN_/s1600/Self+Portrait+card.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtccKjpYp5JTnIQL1irvPxE1jlWcwep6WSDY4uWLI-gRIS1egEEVBz9-kqecAJl_NNFEcvhLBSp6XgYIUZIJA01jHTWdBHpWYPJUMTMUIiinbmxvKBetDZMEvRiS7_DGkgxuBDYapZbN_/s640/Self+Portrait+card.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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('The Rising Moon' card to the right is taken from Danielle Barlow's wise and wonderful </div>
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<a href="https://www.daniellebarlowart.com/green-wheel-oracle" target="_blank">Green Wheel Oracle.)</a></div>
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Finally an '<a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/576657738/im-loving-you-valentines-card?ref=shop_home_active_4" target="_blank">I'm Loving You</a>' Valentine's card. Apologies to those who have been asking for this for ages:</div>
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and a couple of <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/he-is-gone.html" target="_blank">Thomas</a>'s prints which have also been requested as cards:</div>
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the ever-popular <a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/577707370/bagpiping-angel-greetings-card?ref=shop_home_active_2" target="_blank">Bagpiping Angel</a>:</div>
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and '<a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/590466609/the-last-human-greetings-card?ref=shop_home_active_3" target="_blank">The Last Human</a>', which is my favourite because it is full of such faith in humanity:</div>
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See, I don't just muse about Victorian gothic texts and desperately try to keep up with all the new ways to do maths homework and help small people blow the noses of inanimate creatures. Sometimes everyone else goes to sleep and I do some actual work! I love those times :).</div>
Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-5317266592566414852018-01-28T21:54:00.000+00:002018-01-28T22:52:25.976+00:00Storms are ForecastChristmas was good! We sang carols in a big barn. We hosted friends at our house. We had a very good time with all my family and I enjoyed the sense of holiday I always get when I'm at my parents' house. We gave and received lots of presents and ate lots of good things. I even did a bit of studying in quiet moments, not that there were many of them.<br />
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Manna and my dad reading '<a href="https://www.bookdepository.com/Press-Here-Herve-Tullet/9780811879545?ref=grid-view&qid=1517175245111&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Press Here</a>' for the tenth time:<br />
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Ember ice skating for the very first time (my dad on the left, about to crash into the barrier and my nephew and sister on the right helping not at all):<br />
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About halfway through present-opening, the girls hit a lull and got engrossed in one new thing. Ember drew an intricate tesselating design for a tree in her notebook ("It's like your art, Mama") and Manna made colour-sorted cog towers. I had a cup of tea :). <br />
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One of our loveliest gifts has been Manna's very own quilt, made my her great grandmother. It's toddler-bed-size, but so lovely I couldn't wait and she's using it in her cot already. Everyone in the family has one of these. They are all different and represent hundreds of hours of work. We are very lucky.<br />
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And we have been doing some 'normal' things too, things which we know make us very happy. We have been to our lovely mum-run forest school and marauded about with sticks.<br />
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Ember has done more rushwork with <a href="http://www.woodandrush.net/" target="_blank">Linda Lemieux</a>, who worked a lot with <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/he-is-gone.html" target="_blank">Thomas</a> and taught him all he knew about weaving and basketry. It is special to both of us to see Ember showing such enthusiasm and aptitude for this. Here she is, happily engrossed in a basket, with splendidly muddy trousers :).<br />
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My mum showed me some 'lovely' photos of myself. I was appalled and cut my hair at once!<br />
So instead of this:<br />
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I now look like this:<br />
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Well, actually right now I'm in my pyjamas, but I won't inflict that on you.<br />
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We have enjoyed the bracing Dartmoor weather (read: sideways rain) and taken advantage of milder days to scramble about outside and, of course, splash in all available water.<br />
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More storms are forecast; internally too. I have made it through the sixth anniversary of Thomas dying. Usually I hide in my house behind the biggest bag of crisps I can find, but this year I experimented with going out. A friend had organised a clothes swap (very hard to resist on any day), so I got a babysitter (another thing I 'don't do') and had a good evening seeing how I look in clothes I might never actually buy. Fatter than expected, is the first answer (those damn <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2017/12/life-on-steroids.html" target="_blank">steroids</a>!), but also pretty good. So I have a selection of the kind of clothes I love...and a bright yellow miniskirt which hasn't been out yet, but definitely will.<br />
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On Monday 29th, Manna will be exactly the age Ember was when Thomas died. I cannot hug either of them enough at the moment. I cannot look at them enough or say enough prayers of thanks that they are mine and they are here and that, <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/brca1-lunar0-still-in-play.html" target="_blank">thanks to my mum</a>, I will be here for them for a very long time.<br />
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Storms are forecast, but if you're dressed right, you can cope with anything.<br />
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<br />Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-22475895240553643602017-12-18T20:31:00.001+00:002017-12-18T20:31:08.726+00:00Life On Steroids<div style="text-align: justify;">
This week my blood crashed. I ran out of platelets, which means I basically stopped clotting - quite a whoopsie, medically speaking. After a day of hanging around hospital trying to study while my wonderful friends and family cared for my children, I was put on an 'astronomical' (my GP's term) dose of steroids to sort me out. Which has worked, pretty much. I need to stay on them for a while, which is not a fun prospect, but I am learning a lot about myself in the process.</div>
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For a start, I am not - and never have been - lazy. Sometimes I look at other people's lives and wonder why I can't summon what it takes to achieve what they do. I can really blame myself for that, especially if I imagine my girls are missing out on something. But it turns out that as soon as I have energy I use it to do all those jobs I have been planning to do 'when I have a minute'. When you can't sleep, you have a lot of minutes. So once I am off these drugs, I will endeavour to be kinder to myself. My autoimmune stuff comes with fatigue and that is not a moral failing - just a fact.</div>
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Right now, for example, it's 11:45. Downstairs is a wonderfully enormous spread of presents I am giving this year, in the process of final organistaion - last wrapping, checking siblings have a similar pile, double-checking everything I ordered has arrived...but I am not downstairs. I am upstairs with Manna who has woken as her chicken alter ego and is lying in her cot, requesting "book, book, book". Normally I would stand by her until she slept again, or sit on the bed and read if it took ages, but tonight I have seized this chance to write the thoughts I couldn't capture earlier. The difference between being glad I can get something done rather than relieved I can do nothing for a few minutes has an enormous cumulative impact. I wonder if I can teach myself to be more productive after this.</div>
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I am also less careful, less particular, less afraid on steroids. If I haven't got time to clean something properly I will give it a quick wipe - much more effective than my usual perfectionist ploy of leaving it until I have time to be thorough...which can take a long time. Bish bash bosh is the way forward.</div>
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And the fear: I had a spider encounter which would usually have put me into a phobic state, but I barely flinched. I still needed it out the house, but I could put it out gently and pragmatically. I have since learned that my cortisol is suppressed by these drugs, which makes perfect sense.</div>
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And I am not sleeping enough. I have a body knowledge of a deep exhaustion, but I am restless. I cannot stop or sleep like I need to. It is 1:15 now. Manna is silent and wide-eyed. I am much the same. I understand why they wean you off these so slowly - a crash now would be from a dangerous height.</div>
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So it is good to be achieving things - I don't know how else I would have got ready for Christmas - but this is not sustainable. The biggest loss is being unable to match Manna's pace. She wants me to read the same book over and over, but not even read it - just point at the pictures and repeat the names and noises of things and play Boo with the flaps and then do it all again. This is how I spend hours of every day. This is how I don't vacuum much. Now my whole house has been thoroughly vacuumed, but I don't feel I have spent enough time just being with my daughters. I built one Megablocks tower, but then I'd finished so I moved on and left Manna to crash it by herself. These days are precious; I can vacuum for the rest of my life but I don't have many years left of children young enough to sit on me and sing action rhymes.</div>
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And I can't cry! I keep wanting to. I feel a pain in my throat and face and heart, but I cannot release the tears. It reminds me of the first phases of grief - at times I could not stop crying and at times I could not start.</div>
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I have been thinking of those times a lot over the last couple of months because the other big thing happening in my internal world is a dire countdown to the day Manna is as old as Ember was when Thomas died. Their birthdays being only four days apart, it is all too easy to flashback to when this bright and plumptious child in my arms, full of delight and secure in her world, was Ember. It is all too easy to flashback to how that security quaked terrifyingly; how she would freeze, motionless, at a sudden noise or unexpected touch. Only breastfeeding could reassure her on a deep enough level then, and let her howl like she needed to. I felt I was literally giving love into the centre of her body.</div>
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And now I still sometimes see that scared little girl in my eight-year-old Ember. I get heart-tearing flashes of how that deep peace and unshaken confidence in the world will never return for her. It is hell to be unable to give her that and all I can do is just keep loving her - when she's screaming while I brush her hair, when she won't get ready in the morning, when I find her still reading at 9:30 after she's been weeping with tiredness all day...just love, as much as I can manage, all the time.</div>
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So this Christmas is going to be mixed. It will be the first year Manna will really participate and I will love her enjoyment, as I always love Ember's. I will be with my family and I am looking forward to giving out presents. But in my mind will be a photo my sister took at Christmas six years ago:</div>
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Ember, holding a card, looking healthy and happy, meeting the eye of the camera;</div>
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Thomas, horribly pale, visibly exhausted, watching her with huge love;</div>
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and me, also pale, watching Thomas and looking very worried.</div>
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We didn't know. We were assured he would be okay until he was in his fifties. We didn't know...but there is no denying the fear in my face that last Christmas together.</div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/188080592/still-falling-for-you-8-x-8-print?ref=shop_home_active_5" target="_blank">Still Falling For You</a></div>
Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-28603187807591770832017-05-04T21:31:00.000+01:002017-05-04T21:31:47.942+01:00Make Me a Match<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Walking home from school drop-off this morning, one eye on Manna's remaining shoe, idly planning tea, I suddenly realised I could quite comfortably spend the rest of my life in romantic solitude and celibacy simply because I hadn't explored the other option of dating someone. That doesn't seem a good enough reason. If I'm going to be alone I want it to be an active choice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Next I realised how terrifying the prospect of a date feels. I haven't been on a date for...takes off socks...fourteen years! I mean, within that time has been a whole start-to-finish marriage, but we had already been mates for years, so we skipped the dating bit. And there's been no-one since Thomas died, which is much longer ago than it sometimes feels.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Then I realised I would have to try this anyway or I would always be wondering and feeling a bit cowardly. Damn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I have no idea how this can possibly work. In fact, I have lots of ideas about why it can't work:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- I have so much emotional baggage I may have to bring a Sherpa to each date. I just still love Thomas and I think I always will. I'm not very good at falling out of love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- Like I said, deeply out of practise. I can't imagine myself being anything other than shy, awkward, flustered, garrulous/struck dumb, sweaty, embarrassed, hysterical and generally weird should a date ever actually happen.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">-I'm all about my girls. Just running my parenting, home-making, tiny business life leaves no spare time, energy or emotion. How could I possibly fit a partner in?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">-I <u>still</u> can't drive (sore subject), and who wants to come all the way to my tiny town every time they want to see me?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- Childcare. This should have been at the top of the list. I do attachment parenting as if anything else would result in the immediate death of my children (because a small, traumatised part of me believes it would). So I find it hard when I am not with my children, particularly Manna because she's still just a plumpet. I can leave them with other people (and will have to regularly for the flippin' driving lessons), but it gives me a background anxiety which will not aid the trying-to-look-sane-on-a-date mission.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- I can't remember how to do sex. The whole idea is quite horrifying, although I definitely remember it seeming like a good idea in the past.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- And even if I did remember what goes where, I can't possibly make babies now <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/brca1-lunar0-still-in-play.html" target="_blank">I don't have ovaries</a>, so I need someone who's happy I have kids but doesn't want any (more) of their own...but I think I'm getting a bit ahead of myself there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- Oh, and I forgot that <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/brca1-lunar0-still-in-play.html" target="_blank">I don't have breasts</a> either! So we're looking for a straight man or gay woman who is somehow not particularly into breasts! My Flat & Fabulous sorority report that they're out there, but it does seem like a big ask.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Gosh, all that doesn't look good, does it? Ho hum. On the plus side:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- I'm awesome! I am kind, clever, honest, loving, fun, creative, witty, courageous, confident, loyal, interesting, strong and bold.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- I look fine, if you can get past the no-breasts thing. My body does its job beautifully and my face suits me - it really refelcts who I am - so that's good too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">- I'm not picky because I don't have a clear idea of a 'type' I'm looking for. I can't even specify a gender. I would just like to meet someone who is kind and clever and fun, not too short and has a respect for my family and my work. There must be some of those, surely.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So, that was today's big thought. Now I need you good people to scour the land on my behalf and send me hoards of admirable suitors, or, even better, just the one who will make this seem like a really good idea. It'll be fun...I hope.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I'm scared of putting this out into the world. I'm scared that nothing will happen and much more scared that something will. I'm scared, but I'm doing it...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Two sides of me:</span></div>
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<br />Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-77490921296594209172017-05-02T14:41:00.000+01:002017-05-02T14:51:07.152+01:00Happy Mummyversary!<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Four days! What with Manna being a <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/the-result.html" target="_blank">magic science IVF baby</a>, you would think I could have planned things better, but that is the magic in the science: actually it is just as impossible to know when you might become pregnant via a petri dish as it is when making a baby in the traditional manner. So, I became a <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2016/07/manna-manuka.html" target="_blank">mum for the second time</a> four calendar days (and six life years) after the first time. Having done the double birthday week once I can see pros and cons. All the stress, planning, expense, shopping, wrapping, inviting, cooking for both celebrations all in one week - but also all the fun and memories and opportunities to celebrate these gorgeous girls I get to live with. I felt a bit harrassed and very proud. I thought of my mum and wondered if my birthday is still a source of pride for her. Does she still take a moment to think, I made that person. Blimey, I must be awesome! I hope she does, because she is. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To raise a child is the most ridiculous and magnificent adventure. The first moment you really feel like a parent - at the birth, as soon as you know you're pregnant, the day you bring your birth or adopted child home, whenever it is - that day needs celebrating. I have made <a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/528379047/happy-mummyversary-card?ref=shop_home_active_1" target="_blank">a card full of forever flowers</a> to honour the day a normal, muddling-along woman became a superhero. Hooray for us! We may still be muddling along, but now we are doing it with so much love for another person. We mums are truly heroic.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhWY_xFoWsu4Us6Az4PkZPT86xFWUHrCIdz64NrCoZg9Pfv_NM32-UwHuLvfSfgUn_qUNg2100-DRACIZlwqFTaHryHxJ1eNafuDuig3B28aAYktnGg58yoE-mhwpk8XCrlZOoHcmKZXi/s1600/Mummyversary+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhWY_xFoWsu4Us6Az4PkZPT86xFWUHrCIdz64NrCoZg9Pfv_NM32-UwHuLvfSfgUn_qUNg2100-DRACIZlwqFTaHryHxJ1eNafuDuig3B28aAYktnGg58yoE-mhwpk8XCrlZOoHcmKZXi/s640/Mummyversary+001.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/528379047/happy-mummyversary-card?ref=shop_home_active_1" target="_blank">Click here to see this card in my Etsy shop.</a></span></div>
Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-74790131696546111692017-02-08T12:29:00.000+00:002017-02-08T22:33:32.986+00:00#peoplearegood - Patreon<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I use the #peoplearegood hashtag often on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lunarhine/" target="_blank">my Facebook page</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/Lunarhine" target="_blank">Twitter</a>. It is something I passionately believe. I am convinced that, if we all had more faith in the essential goodness of ourselves and each other (we are, after all, a natural animal, a product of the Earth the same as all others), we would live up to that more and create a better world. But sometimes people doubt my claim. It's easy to despair of humanity after watching the news. So it's good to have some examples up my sleeve. Here are three:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The first, and most exciting for me, is the existence of <a href="https://www.patreon.com/user?u=4451035" target="_blank">Patreon</a> and, in particular, the existence of real, live people who have decided to support my work like arts patrons did in the good old days. Sadly I don't have a billionaire philanthropist extravagantly funding my life (although I am open to the idea), so instead Patreon offers people a way to give whatever they can or want to give and those collective coins in the hat add up to a few more supplies, or go towards hiring an exhibition space, or just buy another jar of coffee, which certainly couts as 'basic equipment'. But it isn't just about the money. It feels like such a brilliant way of saying, <b>Yes! I love what you do! Please do more of it. The world needs you to keep going, so I will help you do that.</b> Patreon is one of those ideas so good it now seems ridiculous that we haven't always had it. It is fun to click about and see what people are doing and why, but to start you off, here is my page: <a href="https://www.patreon.com/user?u=4451035" target="_blank">Lunar Hine</a> and two pages I support, due to excessive awesomeness: <a href="https://www.patreon.com/abinielsen/posts" target="_blank">Abi Nielsen</a> makes wonderful craftivist art and <a href="https://www.patreon.com/hedgespoken/posts" target="_blank">Hedgespoken</a> travel the land in their beautiful truck, scattering stories and theatre at the feet of communities as they go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My second example of the very goodness of us is a comment left on a <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2017/01/it-is-day.html" target="_blank">previous blog post</a>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Dear Lunar - We just want you to know that another little bit of Thomas
lives on in an unlikely place here in Scotland. My husband is a
conservation forest ranger, and after reading all about Thomas here
having flown from <a href="http://intothehermitage.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=The+Elf+with+the+Upside-Down+Heart" target="_blank">Rima's blog</a>, some time ago he decided that a very good
way to honour this man that he has never met but would have loved to
share a pint and music with is to help the children who visit the forest
to make elf doors, so that they can peer into the kingdom where
Thomas's spirit and imagination still live. Please know that there are
little portals in the forest in the West of Scotland that open
children's dreams, and that Thomas the Elf has guided them - a very
special elf with an upside down heart.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">How wonderful - and how exactly right - to celebrate my Captain by offering dreams to children<i>.</i> I would like to meet these people and peer through one of their doorways myself one day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My third example is a video. It is three minutes long and it is such a simple idea. I would love it to be used in assembly in every school, every year. If we can learn this as children, so much more is possible for us.</span></div>
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Good, yes?Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-72169232093828691052017-02-03T14:13:00.002+00:002017-02-03T14:24:36.967+00:00Love in Various Forms<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Well, we all need a bit of cheering up after <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2017/01/it-is-day.html" target="_blank">my last post</a>, don't we? So here is some love for you, in various forms.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I am making art, or writing, or wrangling a riverdancing baby into a highchair, love is generally what I am musing on, at some level. It's <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">an important subject and also more interesting than wondering what I'll make for tea.</span> Plus, if you have emerged into 2017 for even five minutes, you will have noticed that, not only has it been nearly Easter since Boxing Day, it also has been almost Valentine's Day <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">all year</span>. So here are some works of love and ink:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSEDY6BRvq-4olcsE1wEYtHfJ-IV4wiu6KLSCcmCSU0F47KnScXU4OltVBlkchzGzVKwAdPzijv9zcLLhkrwIdsHNxevGl_QgImBYJu_rEO7ltXVymdh8CL3iaTiM8i_qhDaHy1UK0EOV/s1600/Falling+For+You+600+001+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibSEDY6BRvq-4olcsE1wEYtHfJ-IV4wiu6KLSCcmCSU0F47KnScXU4OltVBlkchzGzVKwAdPzijv9zcLLhkrwIdsHNxevGl_QgImBYJu_rEO7ltXVymdh8CL3iaTiM8i_qhDaHy1UK0EOV/s640/Falling+For+You+600+001+%25282%2529.jpg" width="446" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/208023160/falling-for-you-original-inks?ref=shop_home_feat_2" target="_blank">Falling For You original inks on card</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyPnMHVHtBqgc7j6oiac_1mKxuJ7h36mSiBg5k5Tn_VQuf2SyORADYKIA7VoK5RUOmYc1J_3KiOe-OigJxQiwaCsSKpTSKfdP_SpphB157Hnd0gvO6ZptcyOPdetm0JGUKZscD-kSxIfj/s1600/Do+You+Know+How+Beautiful+You+Are+001+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyPnMHVHtBqgc7j6oiac_1mKxuJ7h36mSiBg5k5Tn_VQuf2SyORADYKIA7VoK5RUOmYc1J_3KiOe-OigJxQiwaCsSKpTSKfdP_SpphB157Hnd0gvO6ZptcyOPdetm0JGUKZscD-kSxIfj/s640/Do+You+Know+How+Beautiful+You+Are+001+%25283%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/238040902/do-you-know-how-beautiful-you-are?ref=shop_home_active_1" target="_blank">How Beautiful You Are original, unique greetings card</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJm_Vkj_PMACfSuF5EaBSok_Msitjom5Jxx_IwvTKFj0xT1WYU3JlSHgrXhS2YhXhZdRb8eSiP0PGOcWs6WYcrVY7XANxIyPCbzLrkWHl4sAg0sN3l-wf0RZTQLjujHFprgQLaLYEs0gRg/s1600/Every+time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJm_Vkj_PMACfSuF5EaBSok_Msitjom5Jxx_IwvTKFj0xT1WYU3JlSHgrXhS2YhXhZdRb8eSiP0PGOcWs6WYcrVY7XANxIyPCbzLrkWHl4sAg0sN3l-wf0RZTQLjujHFprgQLaLYEs0gRg/s640/Every+time.jpg" width="452" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/160524640/every-time-postcard?ref=shop_home_active_89" target="_blank">I'm Loving You postcard</a></div>
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These have gone all over the world :)</div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/238414230/bee-paradise-original-greetings-card?ref=shop_home_active_48" target="_blank">Bee Paradise original, unique greetings card</a></div>
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Saying it with flowers :)</div>
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Good. Wares duly flaunted; now for an update on the people who benefit from and inspire my work. Currently, they are going by the names of Trumpet and Plumpet.<br />
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They are really enjoying each other, which is mostly down to Trumpet
being very tolerant of Plumpet's new ability to be a danger to herself
and others all of the time: </div>
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I am very proud of them both:<br />
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Trumpet has been taking lots of Thomasesque photos of stones and shadows and herself:<br />
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Having bought Trumpet a marvellous witch's hat to go with her lovely dress, she announced, with less than an hour before her school Hallowe'en disco, that she wanted to dress as a spider. We agreed on a Spider Witch, hence the eight eyes:<br />
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(Do you see that little desk all covered in books and boxes and a tangle of wires? That's my 'studio'; that's where I hunch right now.)</div>
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She has had some spectacularly bonkers moments. One night I found her sleeping tied to a balloon:<br />
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The mornings are so much easier :).<br />
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Following on from our potato-balancing fun, we have all enjoyed Plumpet playing Where's My Wafer?:<br />
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Trumpet has been spreading the love too. She made some beautiful cards with endangered animal designs and sold them at our local cafe. She raised enough money to adopt a snow leopard for her class and a mountain gorilla for herself with the WWF. They send a toy version and now she wants to wear her dressing gown all the time:</div>
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So, all good here. Art is actually happening, depending on how long Plumpet sleeps for (this post has taken four days worth of nap!) and other things are afoot (apen?) which I will share with you soon.</div>
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Thank you for all the love after my last post. Spring is coming!</div>
<br />Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-72368940133566185222017-01-25T12:10:00.000+00:002017-01-25T12:26:13.219+00:00It Is The Day<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dear Thomas,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It is the day. I hate this day. I would redact it from the world if I could, the way I once had to redact you from the electoral roll, as if you had never lived.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It feels like a bomb has exploded inside me and all my hard-won resilience has particulated into the air. It is lost in this shockingly beautiful day, and I am stripped to my devastated core.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am glad you cannot read this. Much as I am desperate to tell you, I do not want you to know how it really feels to be your widow. I want you to think I am missing you in a wistful, romantic way, taking long walks alone to think of you and fondly wrapping myself in your oversized jumper.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well, I am wearing your jumper, but the sleeves are annoyingly long. They unroll into the washing up water and I don't have time to keep rolling them up again. I have children to care for! have a house to run! I need to make art and earn and keep finding a way to live without your help and I'm cross with you and your jumper's stupid.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I was always so far from the cheerful pixie bride I imagined would suit you best - some smiley, fey woman who could play the fiddle or at least honestly enjoy you practising. But you chose me. I still don't really understand why and it still feels like the biggest compliment. I was stompy, snarky, a smoker, a meat-eater. I wanted to dance, but only by myself. I wanted to listen to music, but not more of your twiddly folk albums. Somehow you loved my Johnny Rotten T-shirt and my bad cooking, the way I would laugh and laugh at slapstick while you worried someone had got hurt. Somehow you loved me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This fantasy (my fantasy, not yours) fey bride would now be weeping prettily and looking at photos of you. I want to take the photos down - they make me sad - but Ember wants them up, so they stay. And I'm not crying - not right now. In a minute I will read and eat crisps until the baby wakes, then I will do my best not to be miserable and grumpy with her all day. And all the long night.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Nothing is as good without you, my Captain. I had no idea it would be this hard for this long. I feel the scar tissue on my heart thickening every year, just as it did on yours. I can only hope that, unlike you, I will survive.</span><br />
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More twiddly folk music</div>
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<br />Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-64999668792176540172016-07-15T13:12:00.000+01:002016-07-15T13:14:58.499+01:00Manna ManukaSeveral times I have stalled a post because I still haven't told you about this:<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Manna Manuka is out in the world! The labour was fast and wonderful. Ember (Pickle has decided I should use her real name too) was my birth partner for the first three hours, copying my 'funny movements' while I managed back-to-back contractions, fetching clean pants every time my waters broke (there was an ocean in there) and phoning Granny to let her know. Regardless of age, I couldn't have asked for a better person to be with me. She was calm but excited, did everything I asked and even made me laugh. With a big grinding crunch (yes, ouch), Manna spun round to the perfect position and the contractions got much faster, but also much easier for me. Gappy came to play with Ember and my excellent friend and neighbour <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Silverandmoor" target="_blank">Miriam</a> came to take over as birth partner and get me to the hospital. Her husband drove us and we spent a looooong time in a traffic jam (tip: don't go into labour on a Saturday morning) while I tried not to groan too alarmingly, but we got there in time and Manna was born an hour later, weighing 8' 6". She was grey and floppy in a way which makes my heart tremble as I write. The midwife couldn't get her breathing, so the neonatal superheroes flooded in and after just a few puffs of the oxygen mask she was breathing fine. I lost a very messy amount of blood, which is why I can never have a homebirth - way too much cleaning to do afterwards, but I didn't need a tranfusion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Once I had been stitched and had a cursory bath (why do my daughters feel the need to cover me in meconium at first sight?), I fed Manna her first bottle. I was sad I didn't have a <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/against-all-expectations.html" target="_blank">breast</a> to offer her, but the way she guzzled it down then looked so content afterwards reassured me this was good enough. And I knew I had milk from some wonderful women in the freezer at home. Ember wanted to be the first to know Manna's name, so I told her over the phone and she announced it to Gappy and my parents. This is the sisters' first meeting:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ember has been such an amazing big sister. I didn't imagine she would be so unfailingly tender and understanding. I feel I am falling in love with Ember in a new way, as I fell in love with <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/he-is-gone.html" target="_blank">Thomas</a> in a new way seeing him with Ember.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Manna herself is awesomely contented and smiley. She even sleeps! In the night! She had bad reflux and took a while to get her birthweight back and she struggles with colic still, but generallly she looks like this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">She is cute in both ways, always watching, learning; now grabbing whatever she can. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When she was three months I had my final <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2013/09/brca1-lunar0-still-in-play.html" target="_blank">surgery</a> - ovaries and fallopian tubes out. It is a big relief to feel safer, although it has been tricky getting the HRT balanced, but I think I'm there now. I didn't have to stay in hospital overnight, so Gappy had a day with Manna. It was very painful to leave her for so long, but of course she was quite happy:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So now she is splendidly plump and already very keen to be up at the table with the big girls. She is so pleased with herself and merrily teeths on bell pepper or carrot, grinning all the while.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am so happy with both my daughters. Of course it isn't always easy being a single mum with two children and there have been times of deep grief for the loss of Thomas too, but we feel like a complete and loving family, which is all I ever wanted. Our next adventure is to find a new home, but we'll stay in Chagford and maybe it will be a strengthening thing, in the end, to get some distance from the memories which overlay this house and garden for me. There are so many more memories to be made and I will do everything I can to make them very, very happy.</span></div>
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Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-12290623162907825902016-01-06T14:36:00.000+00:002016-01-06T14:38:26.442+00:00Baby Face<div style="text-align: justify;">
Happenings abound. Our annual Artisan Fayre was splendid as ever and very welcome as a dip in energies prevented me doing extra markets before Christmas. The big day itself was good and happy. Pickle and I stayed with my parents in a very damp and lovely part of Somerset for a few days. I was not permitted to leave the sofa (to be honest, I didn't put up much of a fight) and Pickle had a great time amassing wonders. Mum was a bit twitchy every time the phone rang because my sister-in-law was due to have their first baby on January 1st. Luckily she has stayed put well past National Hangover Day and we're all now impatient to meet her, particularly her mum.</div>
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Meanwhile I have been working and readying our home for my new daughter. My laptop is going through a tricky patch in its relations with my external harddrive, so I can't access photos, but I do have this scan picture:</div>
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I had an extra scan because her growth chart looks disasterous, but it seems that is because she is trying out a new position every time she's measured. I've told her my preference for head down, but you know how hard it is to get kids to listen.</div>
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So all is well. Pickle has gone back to school having not had enough holiday to really recover from last term and the excitement of Christmas, but she is happy to do so and I, while predictably tired and experiencing mild versions of various pregnancy ailments, am basically hale and hearty and deeply grateful that my family is growing in this beautiful way.</div>
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Wishing you all joy this year - not simply happiness (although go ahead and have a bunch of that too), but the kind of wriggling, skipping joy which makes it nearly impossible to behave sensibly.</div>
Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-12278448798092023392015-10-08T14:06:00.000+01:002015-10-08T14:06:39.288+01:00Still Reaching For The Light It is done.<br />
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It was a very happy thing to create (see <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2015/09/reaching-for-light-supersized-and-iron.html" target="_blank">my last post</a> for earlier stages), but already Christmas is making demands and the baby is also making itself known with much writhing and thrashing about. So preparations for both are underway. </div>
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Keep Saturday 5th December clear if you can get to Chagford because our Artisan Fayre is back with another wonderful mix of talented artists of all ilks, not to mention the music and teas and cakes and those very nice mince pies and... but really it's all about the art and not at all an excuse to hang out with some really lovely people in a sort of all-day party/market way. Do come!</div>
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The first load of very tiny clothes have been washed. Pickle and I had an unashamedly squealy time hanging them up to dry and it was fun to see her amazememnt at how very teeny some of them are. I'm not sure she really believes me that she was once just a loveable lollable blob of blubber which fitted into these clothes.</div>
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And space is needed (as it always is in our house), so I have taken radical action and offerred one of our sofas to whoever could carry it down our twisty stone steps on their head. No Gappies were harmed in the making of this photo.</div>
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There is a sadness in this crisp autumn air. Two young women friends, both with particularly warm hearts and generous natures, have died within the last month and another is very ill indeed. Also, I have recently made it through another wedding anniversary - a day I hope to celebrate rather than suffer at some point. Death brings gratitude to the living, as well as sorrow, and I am making the most of this gift each time I step outside, following Pickle with her new dinosaur backpack, to meet a new day. We continue to find ways to reach for the light.</div>
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For Bea. For Ella.</div>
Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-12426850379818132412015-09-30T14:54:00.001+01:002015-09-30T15:01:49.868+01:00Reaching For The Light Supersized and Iron in the BloodThe sun is shining, the hips and haws are out and there is iron in my blood.<br />
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I realise there should always be iron in one's blood, but it transpired the reason I was struggling to cope with even the basics of our lives was that I had too little. I don't yet feel like <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0571226132/?tag=ecosia-20" target="_blank">The Iron Woman</a>, but the house is less of a midden, some paperwork has been achieved, my current commission is progressing (more of that later) and I am here, reporting my emergence to all you kind souls who were so lovely after <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/the-blooming-and-bud.html" target="_blank">my last post</a>. There is still some way to go, as this morning there was a moment of Mama-fail when there were no clean 'Wednesday' socks. Pickle has such high standards!</div>
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The school wheel is turning again and this year Pickle is balancing beautifully in its centrifugal spin, skipping up a reading scheme (a relief for me too) and generally benefitting from the calmer, more focussed atmosphere. She was particular about having 'proper shirts' (no comfy airtek for this girl) 'with wrist buttons'. See what I mean about standards? I'm tempted to buy her cufflinks for Christmas - they will blow her mind!</div>
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You can't tell from that picture, but Pickle's beautiful ponytail...<br />
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has become a beautiful squirel tail.<br />
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She is very happy about this and brushing her hair is a much happier time for us both.<br />
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Having felt so grim all during the holiday and only taken Pickle on daytrips (which were brilliant) and a few days at my parents' (which were also good), I was sad we hadn't managed a real holiday while it's just the two of us. That's the only reason I can come up with for why I agreed to go camping whilst pregnant in September. I'm very glad I did. We went as part of a gang of families from Pickle's class and my lovely friends put up and took down our big bell tent (which I currently can't even lift) and we totally lucked out on the weather, so a delightful weekend was had by all.</div>
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My sand angel found innovative new ways to become filthy</div>
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while I admired the view of blue sky and other people in really cold water.<br />
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The children were very proud of the crab they found<br />
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and at the end of each day Pickle and I snuggled up and did lots of this:<br />
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Chagford has been temporarily renamed Chaiford for the Bangra finale to Chagford's famous film festival. An Indian/Bangladeshi restaurant has serendipitously just opened and their stall scented the Square and made me miss India. Pickle and her best friend (and fiancee) had had a sleepover at ours the night before and been mostly awake since 4:00am, so we didn't drag them round stalls for too long. We took them to the park and then to the pub for chips where our young friend smashed his apple juice bottle so spectacularly that the waitress smashed a tray of hot chocolates. We haven't been back. Bellies finally full of chips and children placated with hot chocolates and relay wees (why can't they all go at once?), we staggered blindly into the sun for the Bhangra flashmob and amazing elephant, which lead the procession.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10bMOvu1VpkhV5gTntzQ6_0ibg6TEMRKjXmhBpU6gvKljHkz5KSn1bBUwQb0pUSbxTRw8hQEvErxqEKSG1WVL76zfzG_Mq2LV_UAKPtyXYUN0oQ68YQvnhnsyDDQm8LE0d55MdJZ3jBae/s1600/GEDC2645.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10bMOvu1VpkhV5gTntzQ6_0ibg6TEMRKjXmhBpU6gvKljHkz5KSn1bBUwQb0pUSbxTRw8hQEvErxqEKSG1WVL76zfzG_Mq2LV_UAKPtyXYUN0oQ68YQvnhnsyDDQm8LE0d55MdJZ3jBae/s640/GEDC2645.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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And during all of that, in half hour bursts while I was confident I wouldn't vomit and Pickle was alseep and I had enough concentration, I have been slowly Reaching Towards The Light again. Someone saw one of my <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/237723539/reaching-for-the-light-greetings-card?ref=shop_home_active_4" target="_blank">greeting cards</a> and wanted the original, but it has long sold. So she commissioned me to do the same (I gave her the speech about how it will never come out exactly the same), but bigger. It's still not finished, but the Light is in sight. I had planned to take a smooth series of photos, but you will see I have forgotten for patches of time.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpWpwIN1j0BSbIrrT-90ZdestdY36WUbWWIulvFJfdLzOW6VumIoY80PjMZCCd_rEs9iuuWy6cl8-lFVdIG4Z20DsxX7Pn-ZJyXXs_KK5oGHD20lPb-DQVPyNkvzeyYlMdUTDHT8dp-LSg/s1600/GEDC2522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpWpwIN1j0BSbIrrT-90ZdestdY36WUbWWIulvFJfdLzOW6VumIoY80PjMZCCd_rEs9iuuWy6cl8-lFVdIG4Z20DsxX7Pn-ZJyXXs_KK5oGHD20lPb-DQVPyNkvzeyYlMdUTDHT8dp-LSg/s640/GEDC2522.JPG" width="486" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3c33OG3_OubqV83IjJJo1m86TtzXpohDnSJa6veKjwe16a6jHGr9bKYB9C21zOFIUjT1Mw5OFBoQbdWdk0uztFTBr9__Bn1reGg3m8lOrsv2cmd9KfO1YY7MTiQNRslPr1y7bvzgblcmz/s1600/GEDC2541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3c33OG3_OubqV83IjJJo1m86TtzXpohDnSJa6veKjwe16a6jHGr9bKYB9C21zOFIUjT1Mw5OFBoQbdWdk0uztFTBr9__Bn1reGg3m8lOrsv2cmd9KfO1YY7MTiQNRslPr1y7bvzgblcmz/s640/GEDC2541.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuEMdt3fugCnv-cAOxpAu0hi8PSsZrtIHwIGE1SocciO-GYYl437uSqRCxsxsEGx0C18tPaMrBrMLPhgvGQcSKs11lAZmZpys-WvAnK8C_K9wpJOwUegUFAmoARVhR5uQCgA3D_jOr22oj/s1600/GEDC2659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuEMdt3fugCnv-cAOxpAu0hi8PSsZrtIHwIGE1SocciO-GYYl437uSqRCxsxsEGx0C18tPaMrBrMLPhgvGQcSKs11lAZmZpys-WvAnK8C_K9wpJOwUegUFAmoARVhR5uQCgA3D_jOr22oj/s640/GEDC2659.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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More greenery needs to shoot up and those flowers are no good to the bees without nectared centres, but it will be done soon and brightening a new family home, which pleases me very much.</div>
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Meanwhile, my new family member is growing apace (as am I). Lots of reassuring kicks and an anomaly scan in only a couple of weeks. Pickle and I can't possibly wait to find out if she will have a brother or sister. The citizens of Chagford are making their guesses. Add yours here if you have a hunch. I do, but I'm not telling...</div>
Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-50352747647247138192015-08-23T21:54:00.002+01:002015-08-23T21:55:43.759+01:00The Blooming and the Bud<div style="text-align: justify;">
There is so much I haven't said.</div>
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The seven-week scan with the two blinking heartbeats. Two! The horror in the eyes of friends as they congratulated me. The planning for two of everything. Pickle's pride and excitement at being a big sister to twins.</div>
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Then the weeks of rolling nausea and exhaustion which left me barely able to care for Pickle, myself and my two growing beings, and entirely unable to to do any housework or stay awake for an entire day. Pickle has been amazing. I am very grateful for how she accepted and adapted to my less fun state.</div>
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The 12-week scan, my first chance to see them properly. <span data-offset-key="5kn4v-0-0" data-reactid=".11.1.0.1.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$5kn4v.0:$5kn4v-0-0"><span data-reactid=".11.1.0.1.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$5kn4v.0:$5kn4v-0-0.0">But... one heartbeat. Just one now. One healthy and very active baby; one sad forever-bud adrift within me. No heartbeat and no future. We will never know who it would have been if the folds had been crisper or the edges more neatly aligned and the whole wonderful origami of evolution had - Ta dah! - made a baby, a human instead of this tiny cloven-brained frog with no jump. We will never know.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="5kn4v-0-0" data-reactid=".11.1.0.1.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$5kn4v.0:$5kn4v-0-0"><span data-reactid=".11.1.0.1.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$5kn4v.0:$5kn4v-0-0.0"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="5kn4v-0-0" data-reactid=".11.1.0.1.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$5kn4v.0:$5kn4v-0-0"><span data-reactid=".11.1.0.1.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$5kn4v.0:$5kn4v-0-0.0">Very, very much (I have pinned my sanity on this), I hope we will know who this other baby will be as it and I bloom together towards birth. Because I am still carrying my little frog, there is a risk of losing both, but I want to spend all the time we have together, 70 more minutes or 70 more years, believing in this life and preparing myself for the full-frontal heart collision that is motherhood again. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="5kn4v-0-0" data-reactid=".11.1.0.1.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$5kn4v.0:$5kn4v-0-0"><span data-reactid=".11.1.0.1.0.0.$editor0.0.0.$5kn4v.0:$5kn4v-0-0.0">It is time for something really spectacular and wonderful to happen to Pickle and I. Twins seemed the miracle which promised us happiness and joy. One baby is miracle enough. </span></span></div>
Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-39449344650896024492015-06-26T12:11:00.002+01:002015-06-26T12:12:54.463+01:00Bee ParadiseWell, I have been a busy bee. I have finished another original greetings card. This one took aaages (but happy ages) and you can see why:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDthrb_Ml-_7qlDWbojplPD7X3v6yQMO45M6mVeDrlfND6zrSnl-o432TJbVyTcfyRNAsRlqI9kwdDs3G8fGUnXPMHtnvfvB02k6fwkle8jXO0OeEKCzVP8UF7HMfFeuffOh7jEqPE02cw/s1600/Bee+Paradise+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDthrb_Ml-_7qlDWbojplPD7X3v6yQMO45M6mVeDrlfND6zrSnl-o432TJbVyTcfyRNAsRlqI9kwdDs3G8fGUnXPMHtnvfvB02k6fwkle8jXO0OeEKCzVP8UF7HMfFeuffOh7jEqPE02cw/s640/Bee+Paradise+001.jpg" width="452" /></a></div>
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It's called Bee Paradise (again, no prizes) and is listed in my Etsy shop <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/238414230/bee-paradise-original-greetings-card?ref=shop_home_active_1" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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Meanwhile, I have sold <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/the-mission.html" target="_blank">Reaching For The Light</a> (still available as greetings cards <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/237723539/reaching-for-the-light-greetings-card?ref=shop_home_active_10" target="_blank">here</a>) and received a commission for a much bigger version which I'm already looking forward to starting. I'll show you its progress as I go.</div>
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<br />Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-56346198403645435122015-06-24T11:48:00.000+01:002015-06-24T11:48:09.734+01:00The People Have Spoken<div style="text-align: justify;">
A while ago I had the bright idea of selling all my <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/lunarhine?section_id=13913014&ref=shopsection_leftnav_6" target="_blank">postcards</a> in bundles of five, instead of posting then out one at a time for little profit. I thought it was a great idea and actually many people were already buying several at once, enjoying combining their favourite designs, so what could go wrong?.</div>
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Well I'm still not sure what went wrong, but wrong it did go. Sales dwindled immediately and, despite me trying to make it clearer and easier, they stayed at a pitiful trickle. The people have spoken and the people must get what they want, so yesterday I spent hours changing all my <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/lunarhine?section_id=13913014&page=1" target="_blank">postcard listings</a> back to how they were a few months ago. See how good I am to you?</div>
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Now, and forevermore, if you want to buy just one postcard, please do. Having seen that the alternative is selling almost none to almost nobody, I will be delighted to package up your one favourite postcard and send it to your home. All profit is good profit!</div>
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Here are just a few of my favourite designs (there are 57 to choose from!):</div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/160526008/those-who-sing-pray-twice-postcard?ref=shop_home_active_23" target="_blank">Those Who Sing, Pray Twice</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2-IJ-63vGmxLkTMqjM2RcVTdYKZElC6CK1qVnBgrVwUeQVzE7b7Dvc1zKSj1BDMSbgWd0njgrkNMMZBclj3ekqPTajsZq9sFRAU0yxQ3iKn1cMGzcg7KLEZwMZxxlQMzbmRj1sY-u-Zki/s1600/Those+who+sing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2-IJ-63vGmxLkTMqjM2RcVTdYKZElC6CK1qVnBgrVwUeQVzE7b7Dvc1zKSj1BDMSbgWd0njgrkNMMZBclj3ekqPTajsZq9sFRAU0yxQ3iKn1cMGzcg7KLEZwMZxxlQMzbmRj1sY-u-Zki/s640/Those+who+sing.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/207965959/the-tendril-tree-postcard?ref=shop_home_active_6" target="_blank">Tendril Tree</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpIk9Ix_5vjzwT6V4TDsenx9FNa9fC34IiJRoDHTSOwT_z1-9iigF9fbrcdrYnYGFL0ruXx2GWvPVYGiZo9w2MpuFa-I2sFPfJNf6Bin_tTn5Sq6CorzaEUh-IxDNZ0SKuHdhq7RY_Ckle/s1600/The+Tendril+Tree+PRINT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpIk9Ix_5vjzwT6V4TDsenx9FNa9fC34IiJRoDHTSOwT_z1-9iigF9fbrcdrYnYGFL0ruXx2GWvPVYGiZo9w2MpuFa-I2sFPfJNf6Bin_tTn5Sq6CorzaEUh-IxDNZ0SKuHdhq7RY_Ckle/s640/The+Tendril+Tree+PRINT.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/156776566/oak-reflected-postcard?ref=shop_home_active_7" target="_blank">Oak, Reflected</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkFiMiQMJoMRzPCh_TK4zPZKVVnFF2A6zBOTgPSpmz7wRW6aWH2WWVFtbCI9KRib8Hfqgv1sjdVEX-dExAedfVHRWVOuXoDJopZChn8_1qziWIcMLN9RFuziSqHn8g3T73Md0GAZL7FwV/s1600/Oak%252C+Reflected+postcard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkFiMiQMJoMRzPCh_TK4zPZKVVnFF2A6zBOTgPSpmz7wRW6aWH2WWVFtbCI9KRib8Hfqgv1sjdVEX-dExAedfVHRWVOuXoDJopZChn8_1qziWIcMLN9RFuziSqHn8g3T73Md0GAZL7FwV/s640/Oak%252C+Reflected+postcard.jpg" width="496" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/160527041/i-wish-postcard?ref=shop_home_active_21" target="_blank">I Wish</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohlfMS4a61Z0SOKZef_fzAOSEp93WlVf4y9WmZtTW80lrn5oGhjmRRGFtwUzvX7H1GrMper8GKi2ka4gzWWQVaVh9kq1jU1knpD8dK7ekKroM6esXiQZ9Ye95YgxI9dZukB84KgKNGmNh/s1600/I+Wish+with+border+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohlfMS4a61Z0SOKZef_fzAOSEp93WlVf4y9WmZtTW80lrn5oGhjmRRGFtwUzvX7H1GrMper8GKi2ka4gzWWQVaVh9kq1jU1knpD8dK7ekKroM6esXiQZ9Ye95YgxI9dZukB84KgKNGmNh/s640/I+Wish+with+border+001.jpg" width="464" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/207965421/tulip-field-postcard?ref=shop_home_active_3" target="_blank">Tulip Field</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjhuReeoGHtejA-SD_6HKzCKQqH1FE1EtJ5bWLbtKFS3WLMkaAwqyYWlpHh_Si4s9zM3BqoCrF9RGtbsZhiR5gScT9XmlmxGAcim43GaAEXdNXUzSJJY2C1xztkUx8d4i7kXDF6yto0x6/s1600/Tulip+Field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjhuReeoGHtejA-SD_6HKzCKQqH1FE1EtJ5bWLbtKFS3WLMkaAwqyYWlpHh_Si4s9zM3BqoCrF9RGtbsZhiR5gScT9XmlmxGAcim43GaAEXdNXUzSJJY2C1xztkUx8d4i7kXDF6yto0x6/s640/Tulip+Field.jpg" width="634" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/211123148/cosmic-bard-postcard?ref=shop_home_active_8" target="_blank">Cosmic Bard</a> (my favourite self-portrait by <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/he-is-gone.html" target="_blank">Thomas</a>):<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifrCtBGwnO75BRXk0-XWl-9elCMviupJj-eafnkoz0AbdJs2tip8YDmkXRekh2rH31VeBQ2B4Qyi26tMuNuPpl0TPApqB-sNls4jSiEodrITTbf9zPOjFJT5J5VTXLnzCHpMPYIJKZDOde/s1600/Thomas+on+Pipes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifrCtBGwnO75BRXk0-XWl-9elCMviupJj-eafnkoz0AbdJs2tip8YDmkXRekh2rH31VeBQ2B4Qyi26tMuNuPpl0TPApqB-sNls4jSiEodrITTbf9zPOjFJT5J5VTXLnzCHpMPYIJKZDOde/s640/Thomas+on+Pipes.jpg" width="230" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/160535071/dont-give-up-postcard?ref=shop_home_active_20" target="_blank">Don't Give Up</a> (the one I've needed most recently):<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBi3M2LR1UAwGhR00hJTkfIesRLbkBrDIlCED4r_nZzuoUFey9ZtC0nATKHCe-sA0QWig-0muFJOj4_BVrS-kVGIaEFyq21NjCF0a4Tc-3J0he2xjptiyhO8kV3il4LyRcY2cJiNvhuR7/s1600/Don%2527t+give+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBi3M2LR1UAwGhR00hJTkfIesRLbkBrDIlCED4r_nZzuoUFey9ZtC0nATKHCe-sA0QWig-0muFJOj4_BVrS-kVGIaEFyq21NjCF0a4Tc-3J0he2xjptiyhO8kV3il4LyRcY2cJiNvhuR7/s640/Don%2527t+give+up.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-60607471617487615492015-06-23T11:20:00.001+01:002015-06-23T11:24:28.913+01:00Original Greetings Cards<div style="text-align: justify;">
In time these will be available as printed cards, but for now I am selling the hand-inked original cards, all of which have metallic ink details or even golden words from Hafiz. No reason why you can't frame them, knowing there's a message from a special someone inside.</div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/237941467/tree-1-original-greetings-card?ref=listing-shop-header-0" target="_blank">Tree #1</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRDUB3Vb-Nv_MKTlgh1u7vPaDt3qGCQ4p6Q-cT0tlSNc_hU4IDL6oWbV-4Dqf9Z_VFosIHNPIbe0LJtAXvpNkUqWFW8lr5XFXCqsu77HCIuaSRAY7fRHzIM7eXMLprb4QAw4DX-TM8Yyn/s1600/Tree+%25231+001+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRDUB3Vb-Nv_MKTlgh1u7vPaDt3qGCQ4p6Q-cT0tlSNc_hU4IDL6oWbV-4Dqf9Z_VFosIHNPIbe0LJtAXvpNkUqWFW8lr5XFXCqsu77HCIuaSRAY7fRHzIM7eXMLprb4QAw4DX-TM8Yyn/s640/Tree+%25231+001+%25284%2529.jpg" width="452" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/238040094/tree-2-original-greetings-card?ref=listing-shop-header-2" target="_blank">Tree #2</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmKZe_J8-4r9Sy-ifHkZjQ3HJ7-vHHWNEH2zSg0vQysklny3RVXR-k1DOTD3uoQyY0mrJiIIHBbxF8iTFJ-ubiJsADqRpJiGgDjQvWDfrNhufpYq81zH8m5NSSxSKW5LrMwij1eaoj5SdQ/s1600/Tree+%25232+001+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmKZe_J8-4r9Sy-ifHkZjQ3HJ7-vHHWNEH2zSg0vQysklny3RVXR-k1DOTD3uoQyY0mrJiIIHBbxF8iTFJ-ubiJsADqRpJiGgDjQvWDfrNhufpYq81zH8m5NSSxSKW5LrMwij1eaoj5SdQ/s640/Tree+%25232+001+%25283%2529.jpg" width="466" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/238040902/do-you-know-how-beautiful-you-are?ref=listing-shop-header-0" target="_blank">Do You Know How Beautiful You Are?</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKEZVayNgCzQXruILs-XviOLE9F5GYt5dKFh2gytity9xZC1BVXDGEDQywiY566BiZvbCzk4J6o6fXkcQEJizu54MctHyO7bePfI7XJde8RR_VtndQUxtclBE98yNGiUgnBZ_vbX6T7_hc/s1600/Do+You+Know+How+Beautiful+You+Are+001+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKEZVayNgCzQXruILs-XviOLE9F5GYt5dKFh2gytity9xZC1BVXDGEDQywiY566BiZvbCzk4J6o6fXkcQEJizu54MctHyO7bePfI7XJde8RR_VtndQUxtclBE98yNGiUgnBZ_vbX6T7_hc/s640/Do+You+Know+How+Beautiful+You+Are+001+%25283%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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See? I'm properly on a <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/the-mission.html" target="_blank">mission</a>! We SHALL go to the ball pool!Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-7853685070102995822015-06-22T12:08:00.001+01:002015-06-22T12:08:49.697+01:00The Mission<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have been focussed on little other than meeting Pickle's needs and trying to <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/the-result.html" target="_blank">conceive</a> for a very long time. Now that I have an eyelash being or two meshing with my body, I find myself uncomfortably aware of the silence when I shake the coffers. In a bid to remedy this, I am determined to organise my little business so that it actually produces an income, rather than taking up lots of happy hours and producing lots of art and writing no-one ever sees. So, already I have listed four new things in my <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/lunarhine?ref=hdr_shop_menu" target="_blank">Etsy shop</a> which had previously been languishing in my livingroom. I have been known to sell from my kitchen wall before, but that really doesn't work as a business plan.</div>
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I have a new small ink-on-canvas work called <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/237821010/reaching-for-the-light-original-inks?ref=listing-shop-header-3" target="_blank">Reaching For The Light</a>. The metallic inks do weird things to the light when I photograph them, but hopefully this gives you an idea of the verdant, abundant feel of it:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpux7nVXrYb_eKegPVG7t1ptvWonrGsFHmrs7oU7PT1-MadSTWnsipKVd3KMZ8hxs2i9qWZwSs7I6c7hEoxIaf13WbA6Wrw4p1v7G7yfnTCWWENQOCClPabG2FSdGdirGjeB5MkeVKBNJ5/s1600/Reaching+For+The+Light+original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpux7nVXrYb_eKegPVG7t1ptvWonrGsFHmrs7oU7PT1-MadSTWnsipKVd3KMZ8hxs2i9qWZwSs7I6c7hEoxIaf13WbA6Wrw4p1v7G7yfnTCWWENQOCClPabG2FSdGdirGjeB5MkeVKBNJ5/s640/Reaching+For+The+Light+original.jpg" width="506" /></a></div>
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And I have had three more designs made into greetings cards.<br />
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/237815119/poppy-greetings-card?ref=shop_home_active_1" target="_blank">Poppy</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikrNRTiG0kvZHx4MIBMmOhfmO9449cno7mAx0J0ufw6zYePdFVnD6vgO-tzD9dAHR-BFC7bzRRwcQgP3t31lW437jGZBC_2RgsgZX6eDp4G-SpnnpubgzaH_c55qvlcaAqO0LZqlkZmuyl/s1600/Poppy+card.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikrNRTiG0kvZHx4MIBMmOhfmO9449cno7mAx0J0ufw6zYePdFVnD6vgO-tzD9dAHR-BFC7bzRRwcQgP3t31lW437jGZBC_2RgsgZX6eDp4G-SpnnpubgzaH_c55qvlcaAqO0LZqlkZmuyl/s640/Poppy+card.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/237823366/tree-in-sunny-field-greetings-card?ref=listing-shop-header-1" target="_blank">Tree in Sunny Field</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEgAypg6UzRiBfIkM-FddIYkSm_eeGJ_ZRk5cT5GvGtX0mDjw6viKidQsa8kZwvxiBS1NCz6r_ldKBB1YKhvGtRc4LLiKMoOFHmpusXCCGxIQ5rUf4fPCUxIY162EA6QwKEbxmgdGx_xP0/s1600/Tree+in+Sunny+Field+card.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEgAypg6UzRiBfIkM-FddIYkSm_eeGJ_ZRk5cT5GvGtX0mDjw6viKidQsa8kZwvxiBS1NCz6r_ldKBB1YKhvGtRc4LLiKMoOFHmpusXCCGxIQ5rUf4fPCUxIY162EA6QwKEbxmgdGx_xP0/s640/Tree+in+Sunny+Field+card.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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and <a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/237723539/reaching-for-the-light-greetings-card?ref=listing-shop-header-2" target="_blank">Reaching For The Light</a>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfLiv5ppue55u6CAECpHTpR8kjD0CFpIk3seR6b8CWbkP7CBBG0k5L_HY6U5kr3CUsAfycBeLhND96zu5IBBBzJK8QqyVv_gkaOq_78eu0n6WL6HbxIEZlpPng9-fuFdOmLJ57QS9hiA9/s1600/Reaching+For+The+Light+card.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfLiv5ppue55u6CAECpHTpR8kjD0CFpIk3seR6b8CWbkP7CBBG0k5L_HY6U5kr3CUsAfycBeLhND96zu5IBBBzJK8QqyVv_gkaOq_78eu0n6WL6HbxIEZlpPng9-fuFdOmLJ57QS9hiA9/s640/Reaching+For+The+Light+card.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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My health is better than it has been for a while, so I will keep working and keep posting about my new creations, human or otherwise.</div>
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And thank you so much for all the love and good wishes. It takes a village to raise a child, or do any much, I find. Thank you for being my virtual village x </div>
Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-50567762925673477122015-06-21T11:43:00.000+01:002015-06-21T12:00:59.948+01:00The Result<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JUU7IXRdRQdkBTjlXu-yPwSTBlH1JIQTXCkT0RrazDQcINZNBBpNAw2JwmBAkmrMtTdXSJyBhA4DEXxd6cQWKcwkeOeDi22iOIwb5sLJlx5Cf-Xndpv9-TtKgiM_mNlS54PbIzT2mbob/s1600/GEDC2486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JUU7IXRdRQdkBTjlXu-yPwSTBlH1JIQTXCkT0RrazDQcINZNBBpNAw2JwmBAkmrMtTdXSJyBhA4DEXxd6cQWKcwkeOeDi22iOIwb5sLJlx5Cf-Xndpv9-TtKgiM_mNlS54PbIzT2mbob/s640/GEDC2486.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Three cycles of IVF, nine months, hundreds of injections and pills and bruises and side-effects, two bouts of OHSS, all my money, enormous stress and heartache and many wet pillows: all worth it. At least one little embryo has snuggled in and taken root in my belly, now busy growing and changing and becoming more robust every day. I'll have a scan next month to do a headcount and see if I have a singleton or twins. Gulp.</div>
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So I am very grateful to my sperm donor, whoever he is. Despite the fact that he will never be any kind of a father to these beings, I am thinking of him today, on Fathers' Day, and hoping he knows what a gift he has given.</div>
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Of course I am also thinking of <a href="http://lunarhine.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/he-is-gone.html" target="_blank">Thomas</a>. Pickle made the most wonderful Fathers' Day card at school. On the front is an intricate design of hearts and his violin (relevant to the only true memory she has of him), but it's the words which make it:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ljvqk1AN6_V2ebLM8Rgbs0KAmgLeMrciNcs__Jh8BGdAWqKMkHEZzaVZ9pewXKxTKmsWLZaogYUfqXm7Jhj_k-GLVxfy3qN8W2CX2ki-1BTaWoqyfqFH057MJoG1ESBLjV66nmpAGskB/s1600/GEDC2492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ljvqk1AN6_V2ebLM8Rgbs0KAmgLeMrciNcs__Jh8BGdAWqKMkHEZzaVZ9pewXKxTKmsWLZaogYUfqXm7Jhj_k-GLVxfy3qN8W2CX2ki-1BTaWoqyfqFH057MJoG1ESBLjV66nmpAGskB/s640/GEDC2492.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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For those of you not fluent in five-year-old, the translation is this:<br />
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'Hi Dad. I hope you do survive. I do dear Dad. I want to dig you up. I love you. I love you. I do love you.'<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZKzKh5ihIccHiI-6-Q8m3RM9vL_diUlYDvz-ToZEiz0R-rFEQjMiqy_kalasHzGIZF2vQFWEPktLvXuPKwEUdKbsIJ7WRMVijkYRi8XeVGyTT0VXxGXHMXOUKov0gp-0gqImPeE8FIEw/s1600/GEDC0475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZKzKh5ihIccHiI-6-Q8m3RM9vL_diUlYDvz-ToZEiz0R-rFEQjMiqy_kalasHzGIZF2vQFWEPktLvXuPKwEUdKbsIJ7WRMVijkYRi8XeVGyTT0VXxGXHMXOUKov0gp-0gqImPeE8FIEw/s640/GEDC0475.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2788592877507710609.post-7339817262227646172015-06-18T21:00:00.002+01:002015-06-18T21:02:58.282+01:00The Wait<div style="text-align: justify;">
Much has happened and some of it has been this:</div>
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I have occasionally remembered to photograph a <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/lunarhine?section_id=10538134&ref=shopsection_leftnav_2" target="_blank">name sign</a> before I send it off. This one has gone to Canada to celebrate a wonderful new baby:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpfjMP9d5ZKGrcXogxSE-vkBv0_fIofSmTktyFOVQOSQ1_ooknuYtq6s2eIUi5jbaRRLj26UglkBCVe1O_PNYPXExdjBFqTR3yjRhQryuedgWZYHPs6JDW6WE_IDhMZ5Hm5vxaA9GaNB_/s1600/GEDC2084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhpfjMP9d5ZKGrcXogxSE-vkBv0_fIofSmTktyFOVQOSQ1_ooknuYtq6s2eIUi5jbaRRLj26UglkBCVe1O_PNYPXExdjBFqTR3yjRhQryuedgWZYHPs6JDW6WE_IDhMZ5Hm5vxaA9GaNB_/s640/GEDC2084.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I had a birthday. I don't like having a party for me, but my good friend was having a birthday gathering in their woods, so I came along on the assurance that no-one would sing that song! Fine folk sat about a fire chatting and eating.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghidKTex2QnOvsipOkTpwi74Ea-c8EK7MyXzgbWyEuJr51r3CYIbuF3HRWD9QNLlvLU8kpbQ30itpmIC_vJ87sevNBZR13DaO7rRC-31xPeLkeSj-5EqN-NfgRwaHMFFEYqIw1RsyZWgJ0/s1600/GEDC2166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghidKTex2QnOvsipOkTpwi74Ea-c8EK7MyXzgbWyEuJr51r3CYIbuF3HRWD9QNLlvLU8kpbQ30itpmIC_vJ87sevNBZR13DaO7rRC-31xPeLkeSj-5EqN-NfgRwaHMFFEYqIw1RsyZWgJ0/s640/GEDC2166.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Children did children things<br />
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and a good time was had by all. Here I am, a year older:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX58MHABqEBcVS79v9MsN4dDVvq3O3JIuLd9YhIntgvA5pVp7c69LzEoVLo6puS7ad0FAzbPYNh2daVxAP8LTaVPXrxnw2DOPXuRI139Z37HuAEWN40TVI9LBnvFxHLZuD7VMMGmAHL8Jv/s1600/GEDC2150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX58MHABqEBcVS79v9MsN4dDVvq3O3JIuLd9YhIntgvA5pVp7c69LzEoVLo6puS7ad0FAzbPYNh2daVxAP8LTaVPXrxnw2DOPXuRI139Z37HuAEWN40TVI9LBnvFxHLZuD7VMMGmAHL8Jv/s640/GEDC2150.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Pickle and I have been spending happy hours in our jungle garden. We can get all the way through the woods now! Well, we could, but now the nettles have grown up so only I can again - but that's the deal with jungles. </div>
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Pickle has been angling for inclusion in an eighties public service advert for road safety: <br />
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doing yoga with her Gappy: <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8IRdYFEIXPVDBu5omcRD1NjubLOCfrq7LbXNhFcfgJ-VjRvqapidvJgSV_Dd1RdP66act15C8MkBUvHZ9Ii1eMcEy8ap-alNvbbpanmuwDXzLSNZyGIfse3xThMUfUXk7ODMvDJJT_p4Y/s1600/GEDC2290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8IRdYFEIXPVDBu5omcRD1NjubLOCfrq7LbXNhFcfgJ-VjRvqapidvJgSV_Dd1RdP66act15C8MkBUvHZ9Ii1eMcEy8ap-alNvbbpanmuwDXzLSNZyGIfse3xThMUfUXk7ODMvDJJT_p4Y/s640/GEDC2290.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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and always finding secret places to be. Here she is at <a href="http://www.forestry.gov.uk/westonbirt-trees" target="_blank">Westonbirt Arboretum</a> - a place of tree magic and very much beauty in any season:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyP8-n5JLXwgjwL3COafqwOryrOdyR7XdjpPJA2ietYI_bMLzbeDwwQe5GE7is1YEVbrwMdue9nMDLYmrPEbNr_GtPvB5O5SeIEhTmK01hjL9s9-4EgMN4Gk9a-Cb798Vh63u3eqLyReh4/s1600/GEDC2320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyP8-n5JLXwgjwL3COafqwOryrOdyR7XdjpPJA2ietYI_bMLzbeDwwQe5GE7is1YEVbrwMdue9nMDLYmrPEbNr_GtPvB5O5SeIEhTmK01hjL9s9-4EgMN4Gk9a-Cb798Vh63u3eqLyReh4/s640/GEDC2320.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We were with her cousins and my siblings and their families and our parents - a rare gathering of the tribe. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG66_i-mH-Z6SKePSsFPN91XWbSR1Ut_pmW6YpRYU7IiuXjNrrErkJmy1TDNgfHvUbtk5PJC4cZMdsv1dFHLVuVKEpeEgqZEV4iZUBv_Ojw2uvkLYsx7zF6leciHb0M5Gtjp9fn4PC1hlT/s1600/GEDC2378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG66_i-mH-Z6SKePSsFPN91XWbSR1Ut_pmW6YpRYU7IiuXjNrrErkJmy1TDNgfHvUbtk5PJC4cZMdsv1dFHLVuVKEpeEgqZEV4iZUBv_Ojw2uvkLYsx7zF6leciHb0M5Gtjp9fn4PC1hlT/s640/GEDC2378.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Yesterday was Pickle's first ever Sports Day. We both enjoyed it and I was unexpectedly moved by the sight of her valiantly hopping along in a sack. Here she is, slowing right down during the sprint to smile and wave at me: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXSzE3T6pOTUgflRaIfR1wJ1K1lzSeOcy0hkOHpiTKADRPSVwqM0YB1N-bue6rdhbFWqen54aMFIFsFvcIjN4plpBEsZhOkiZqRUFi76jc3cKt4DIBO-x0Wf7SeDz3gWoEciDzVyDzwiat/s1600/GEDC2480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXSzE3T6pOTUgflRaIfR1wJ1K1lzSeOcy0hkOHpiTKADRPSVwqM0YB1N-bue6rdhbFWqen54aMFIFsFvcIjN4plpBEsZhOkiZqRUFi76jc3cKt4DIBO-x0Wf7SeDz3gWoEciDzVyDzwiat/s640/GEDC2480.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Sometimes the magic of moments happens invisibly, in the heart, and sometimes there is actual magic just hiding down a badger holt if you have eyes to see. Luckily for us, our neighbour has those feyfox eyes and spotted real Goblin's Gold. It is luminescent moss and it's fancy name is <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schistostega" target="_blank">Schistostega</a> and it lives in dark places where the sunlight mosses cannot thrive and overwhelm it. It's not easy to capture the amazing vividness of its glow in a photograph, but this is my best attempt:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjub55Zz_67DVZ23W-E7W4PrqduB6hb486THMh2QKDhYrEShsoNz8A8gDQvkm5DIU47ye4fmyt_iSgKLnf2XBZfQkP2A4nk-mfoWqPj6ZhNUIRcg8EOryjPKeBaTTDULtCM_tMAjx1poXdE/s1600/GEDC2437+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjub55Zz_67DVZ23W-E7W4PrqduB6hb486THMh2QKDhYrEShsoNz8A8gDQvkm5DIU47ye4fmyt_iSgKLnf2XBZfQkP2A4nk-mfoWqPj6ZhNUIRcg8EOryjPKeBaTTDULtCM_tMAjx1poXdE/s640/GEDC2437+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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And that's not even the most magical thing! I am on my third and final round of IVF. This round has been even tougher than the others and for most of it I was in quite a gloom, just going through the motions of injections and pills and scans and waiting. My self-esteem has reached record lows and physically it has been tough too. I now have <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ovarian_hyperstimulation_syndrome" target="_blank">OHSS</a> and, without breasts, that makes me this shape:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh36yppAolgnsxgwL0vtZjP_lvMTKiawAiescgAAcIMP5DdAwRree63Q5kW_EOmc1A-pC62bJ6c6mvkhwrhmIw0lBAgEFogicmguqiTShBVlryKwYEF92igXEcybfYj7pUYRTbp823Duwi/s1600/mrgreedy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh36yppAolgnsxgwL0vtZjP_lvMTKiawAiescgAAcIMP5DdAwRree63Q5kW_EOmc1A-pC62bJ6c6mvkhwrhmIw0lBAgEFogicmguqiTShBVlryKwYEF92igXEcybfYj7pUYRTbp823Duwi/s640/mrgreedy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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However, the epic two-week wait is nearly over and I can do a pregnancy test in a couple of days. Then, hopefully, I will have a happier reason to look like Mr Greedy.</div>
Lunar Hinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12207074565592372992noreply@blogger.com9