Unleash the Picasso Child

A recent conversation with a friend turned to how much more enjoyable it is to go to work when there is something to show for it at the end of the day. And yet so many jobs do not give us something to 'put on the fridge' so to speak. Long, sometimes boring, hours at work can filter down into our lives. Everything becomes drab. So what to do?



Why not embrace the inner child and actually make something for the fridge door? Making something that didn't exist before is a great way to feel alive and re-energise. Perhaps this is why children embrace creativity with such abandon.

Somewhere along the line as we grow up we become too sensitive about what others think of what we do. This inhibition then stifles our basic inclination to create and do something new.

So I am thinking that like my son at his chalkboard, it would do us all good to just grab some colour pencils, pens, paint, or chalk and tell a story with passion. Scribble if you like! Make it up as you go. Enjoy the process. And then do it all over again!

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Kit used is Janet Carr's Make Believe - Pirate's Plunder from PxlCafe. It is treasure chest of fun piraty elements to make you go Arrrr. Check it out!

Random Acts to Treasure

A few of my friends have told me of being on the receiving end of a 'random act of kindness' or a 'paying it forward' experience. Most occur in a drive through when they learn a stranger ahead of them has paid for their drink or their meal - and there is no way to thank them. How lovely.

There is something really nice about giving anonymously. Just to bring someone pleasure.



So I am featuring a layout that tells of when we were surprised by a thoughtful soul. Another reason I am posting this layout is because it illustrates how to create a page without a photo of the event. In this case I used another photo that served to illustrate an aspect of the story.

While scrapbooking is highly visual and features our photos (and the products we use to display them) too often the big stories of our lives are not told. So use photos that remind you of a special memory and tell the story. Or just tell the story - plain and simple.

Then your albums and books will contain some 'hidden treasure' too!

(Click on the layout to see it bigger.)

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Kits used are Janet Carr's Pirate Plunder series found at PxlCafe with the background paper and shells from Little Feet Digital Design's Serenity of the Cape kit.

Sage Advice?

Have you ever wondered what bit of advice you would give your 20 year old self, from the wisdom of a few decades down the road? To trust yourself more, and others less? To let go of hurts and disappointments and embrace as much of the goodness as possible? To pursue God with wholehearted devotion?

Yes, all of these. And for my artistic self, this one:

I came across this 'poster' of Ira Glass's YouTube talk a few days ago and immediately thought, "YES!" This was exactly what I needed to hear when I was 20 and feeling like I was travelling down the wrong road. I had been chasing an art degree for several years. First at a local university and then, to my amazement, I was accepted into a premier design school. In California, no less!

I arrived and discovered I was one of the younger students there. Many had their undergraduate degrees already. Some even had Masters degrees. And a few more had years of work experience under their belts, too! I was just a wide-eyed ingenue far, far from home. And excited about the adventure ahead!

The downside of being on my own was a lack of counsel. So when my coursework didn't match my high expectations (in spite of high marks), I became disheartened. There is one afternoon of painting with a friend that became pivotal for me. He was painting, as usual, a vibrant, realistic, highly conceptual illustration. I was struggling to get any semblance of spark into my piece. Frustrated, I said, "I don't think I can be an artist. My work doesn't breathe life like yours does. It might be technically sound, but it is missing that extra something." My friend, ever the encourager, said, "Maybe you could be an Art Director then. You always steer me in the right direction when I can't put my finger on what to do. Just because you can't do it doesn't mean you don't know what needs to be done."

And that was pretty much the end of it. It was not his fault. His words made so much sense to me then. I put away the drawing pads, and retired the paint and brushes soon after a final attempt to complete the degree. Universities and art schools do not 'talk' the same language and didn't (at that time) credit the work done at the other. So after 5 years of full-time study, and advice from an instructor and design studio guru (Jerry Herring) that I was ready for a career, I quit on the degree just short of completion and got a full time job.

I was hired as a production artist for a small book publisher and within months had eagerly learned to do everything from typesetting to production to book design, illustrating several projects along the way, and given a new title of Art Director. So it seemed my friend - and Jerry - had been right. For the next decade I worked in a variety of environments and had clients of my own, mixing with other creatives and those in the graphic arts trade. They were fun and challenging years.

And yet decades later I often wake in the night and begin wondering what might have happened had I kept drawing and painting. Fruitless thoughts - but the kind that fill the darkness nonetheless.



I pulled out the old student portfolio the other night. Part of me could not believe the work I saw was mine, and part of me remembers each stroke. There was nothing masterful there, but coming from a more objective place now, I couldn't help but wonder why I stopped. It looked like I was having fun and ... had potential as a fine artist after all.

What would you tell your 20 year old self?

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The layout features papers from Design House Digital by Agnes Biro, "Flower of Naturalness" plus recoloured paper from a discontinued kit by Anne Quade's Fishbowl called "Just Green". The title paper strips were pulled from Janet Carr's "Love Papers".

The self portrait drawing was a class assignment when I was 19 and the photo is of me sitting with my artwork before submitting it as part of my application to the Art Center College of Design. Sadly, I wore paint splattered overalls and flannel shirts much too often at this stage of life. But that is another discussion for my 20-year-old self!

Everyone has a story

The image of Navajo children gathering around to listen to an elder tell stories resonates with family bonding and identity.

According to tradition, the stories took the listeners on a journey to the past where memories were preserved for future generations. Evidently, the story telling sessions took place at the close of the day. Whether stories of a long past hunting trip or a tale of the search for a great leader or a quest for love, each generation saw to it that the oral traditions were passed on virtually unchanged, over the years. This Native American tradition is commemorated by Storyteller images like this pottery figurine I purchased on my last trip to Arizona.



I remember delighting in storytelling times on my grandparent’s porch during our annual visits with them. There was something particularly comforting in hearing their stories as the sunset and darkness washed over us. As the light waned, the voices became all the more important as they guided the visual imaginings of my mind.

And that is why I scrapbook. Passionately. Because our family and friends are scattered and the voices and the connection and the sense of belonging to something bigger than ourselves or our nuclear family has suffered. Scrapbooking provides a way to recapture and reconnect.

Creating a connection to my family, culture and values by recording them not only affirms us, but also declares that everyone matters, everyone belongs. It develops a social conscience and a sense of responsibility to others as we see how each life impacts on another. In spite of the distance, we do not live in isolation.



Recently a fun online poll by the Minneapolis St Paul Business Journal pitted various high profile Minnesota brands against one another to determine which was the best. The marketing experts behind the poll predicted that Creative Memories would fall in its first heat, but instead the company dominated the exercise, defeating such heavyweights as Target, Arctic Cat, Wheaties, Mall of America and finally Mayo Clinic.

As the dust settled the marketing experts began to realise that while CM is not necessarily a household name brand, it has a firm hold on the households in which it is known. Not because of its product per se, but because of the value of the memories that these products help to preserve. There is nothing closer to our hearts and identity than our memories.

Why? Because telling our stories define who we are and how we fit in to the bigger picture of life. Do you have memories of listening to family stories from your elders? Have those stories been documented? How do you keep your stories alive?

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Top layout of my Storyteller figurine - will probably be the cover page of a Book of Family Heritage stories. Fonts: Text: Arial; Title: Archeologicaps and Dinstik; Papers and circle embellishment: Deena Rutter, Maybe; Borders: Lorikeet Design (me!).

Bottom layout for my son’s 21st birthday album which will contain many favourite family stories from his life. Font: DreamScar; Papers and photo stitching: Karen Funk, For the Boys; Other Elements: Flags/RicRack: Little Feet Digital Design, King of My Heart; Vertical stitching: Creative Memories , Vintage Romance; Baby blocks from a photo at a fun site for new mums); and the Teddy Bear was extracted from a photo

Cycle of Love

Tonight, I almost hit a cyclist on my way home from work. The shock of seeing his blurred spokes in my headlights as I entered the roundabout will haunt me for a while. It also got me thinking about my love/hate relationship with bikes.

Actually, I wouldn’t be in Australia if it wasn’t for my bike – and possibly the accident I had when riding it. I had decided as a young single woman that cycling would be ‘my sport’ and I bought a periwinkle Miyata 18-speed from Daniel Boone’s, an iconic bike shop in Houston. Or so I was told by my then boyfriend who loved his bike and wearing the corresponding lycra and talking about the Tour de France - but I never actually saw him ride the thing!

Even so, I spent a few years or so riding long, boring hours on the flat streets of Houston, longing for hills, but not sure how to change the gears to ride them without killing myself. Eventually, when I decided to get serious I bought some cycling gloves and a thingy to tie back my pants leg. Wow. Watch out.

So, when my future husband crossed my path in his racing gear, pedal cleated shoes and spiffy bike I was ... not impressed. I’d fallen for that before. In fact, I told him that if he were truly serious about cycling he might want to check out a cycling adventure poster in the church foyer (yes, we were at church, back in the days when people still dressed up on Sunday – and he was self consciously standing out in the crowd having ridden across town for the service; he was a grad student living tough without a car).

Anyway, long story short, turns out he was the one who had placed the poster on the wall. In fact, he was the contact person for the Christian Adventures Tours cycling group! Gulp. Well, then, ahem, perhaps he would be so kind as to show me how to change gears on my swift bike??? *flutter eyes and blush*





Eventually, our schedules meshed and I was all set for some tutoring, except that on the very first corner I turned too sharply and too quickly and came off the bike. Yep. What was it that he said just before we started our ride? Oh yeah, something about how I should wear a helmet. Nah. I told him, I didn’t need one because I didn’t race like he did. Yep, he was into road racing. Serious Cycling Man. The real deal.

There I was, a few seconds later, proving him right. I was sprawled on the concrete sidewalk, face down and not moving. He thought I was dead. Scary way to start a first date, don’t you think?

I sat up. He told me to stay put and quickly rode back to get a neighbour who could drive me to the hospital. Meanwhile, I dutifully began wandering up the middle of the street wondering if the strangers I saw would know where I lived. Really. Thankfully, he and my neighbour were quick to come and rescue me (now I know why people wander off after accidents).

Next stop was the hospital. By this time I had an egg embedded in my forehead. Just like in the cartoons. The doctor thought he was my husband and gave him instructions for how to care for me for the next 24 hours. He paid the bill, and then took me home and fixed a meal. No wait. We stopped at the grocery store first for some ingredients. The folks there looked at him with disgust. And then we realised they probably thought he had beaten me. By this time my eye was swollen shut and blackened and I was still woozy and unsteady on my feet. Surely this is the stuff of romance!

While he cooked dinner I put on a record (showing my age now) of Big Band music – the kind of retro I liked. At the top of my Bucket List at that time were two things I wanted to learn. How to ride a bike on hills so I could do a Bed and Breakfast bike tour of New England in the Fall, and how to ballroom dance.

Now, this Cycling Hero Man-who-did-not-run-when-the-doctor-thought-he-was-my-husband-or-when-people-thought-he-was-a-scumbag, looked up and grinned from ear to ear and asked me if I liked to jive. Seriously. I told him I didn’t know how.

After dinner he drove me to my Mother’s house and after she put me to bed, he entertained her and her husband until the wee early morning hours with stories about life in his homeland of Australia.

The next morning as I hobbled downstairs for breakfast my mother said to me in a tone I’d never heard before, “I don’t want you to move to Australia.” I laughed it off ... but a mother knows.

Once I recovered and my shiner was gone, the Cycling Hero Man suggested we go dancing at Paul Berlin’s, a nightclub known as a live Big Band and dance venue (mostly for the older crowd). Wow. He said he’d teach me how to jive. When I picked him up – remember I was the one with the car – he was standing on the curb with the biggest corsage box I’d ever seen. And I began to worry. Oh, no. I didn’t want flowers and stuff. What should I do? This was too much, too soon!

He urged me to open it, with the same twinkle in his eye that he gave me in church that morning when I suggested he call the tour group organiser listed on the cycling poster. I opened the box. Inside? A most romantic gift. More welcome and delightful than flowers. Perfect in fact. I laughed.

A bright yellow bicycle helmet laughed back.

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Layout created using 'Maybe' and 'Hotel California' kits by Deena Rutter from Design House Digital.

Camera Overboard

In July 2001 my husband took me to Cairns where he was running a seminar. While he worked, I drove around and hiked in the Tablelands and the Rainforest. Once he was done, we headed for our main destination: the Great Barrier Reef, where he was excited to go for his first Scuba dive. Having recently re-embraced scrapbooking the year before, every picture I took was with a page layout in mind, so you can imagine my dismay when our camera accidentally slipped overboard and had to be fished up from the ocean floor!



Being without a camera for the next month or two reminded me of the importance of responsibly storing our family's photo history and it also fueled my passion to help others to do the same. Without proper care, our grandchildren would inherit photos not much better than the pink, water-streaked pictures that were salvaged from our ruined (film) camera.

In the decade since I have worked diligently to gather, organise and transfer our photos from potentially damaging environments to safer storage. Taking time out to create pages and albums has been a form of reward for the organisational effort. While I started making albums to ensure my children had a good record of their family history, more recently the emphasis has been to enjoy the process more.

Maybe that is because I can see that the task is unlikely to be completed in my lifetime and I have begun to release that pressure. Maybe it is because it has been called 'work' for over a decade when it drove my business income. Maybe it is simply just time to relax a bit. Whatever the case, I am already thinking, "why didn't I begin playing sooner?"

It is wonderful to know that my hobby is also something that others can enjoy, too. While cutting and pasting has its charm, playing digitally has certainly increased the fun factor on several levels. And hopefully, those who visit with me here find it fun to look at the layouts, too. And if it inspires your own memories, then that makes it all the sweeter.

Isn't it wonderful to live in an age when it is so easy to capture the moment (past or present) and share it with those who share our interest and excitement. This blog has been a great motivator for me to try to feature at least one memory a week. Both the layout and the writing challenges are good for the creative juices and the fact that it is 'just for fun' makes it, well, all the more so!

Having someone drop by and leave a comment just increases the joy.

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Kits used in layout: Creative Memories Primary Digital Palette and Primary Vacation.

Stirring the Pot

Sometimes I can take life too seriously, so I had a bit of fun with my layout this week after writing this post, just to keep things in perspective! Various recent discussions with friends about the creative process have prompted me to share some of my cyber travel this week.

First off, is a stop at Laurel’s blog and her insight on the place of patience in the creative process. Learning to see this virtue as an active commitment to your belief and hope in positive outcomes is indeed a survival skill all creative people need to hone to battle the negative voices that can easily overwhelm and drown confidence, and ultimately the creativity itself.



Secondly, after discovering and browsing around Spoonflower, a DIY fabric printing service, my mind was opened to new possibilities – regardless of whether they are actioned or not. Just learning of a new way to express myself, should I wish to employ it, opened a window and let some fresh air into my rather stale mental studio! My cousin, Barbara Woods, an amazing silk screen artist, confirmed her own excitement in how digital printing has worked its magic in her business.

Thirdly, another Barbara suggested I take a look at this blog post featuring a renowned male quilter. She liked the featured work. Me? Not so much. But it stirred me deeply, anyway. I was intrigued by his creative process which emphasised how we are often inspired by the simple things around us. As he worked to implement his ideas into this quilt a new avenue of expression opened up for him. Wow. That is just what I needed to hear this week as I have been packing away my business and wondering what will replace it and also a little nervous about some new options and opportunities on my plate.

We have all been told to get out of our comfort zones – to think outside of the box. This is why. Without experimentation there is no opportunity to travel new roads. So what if we fall over – if we learn something about ourselves in the process we grow.

‘From little things, big things grow’, the song says. Every misstep, every mistake, every failure has in it the potential for improvement. Growth cannot exist without it. Creativity thrives on change and the growth it brings. It is just easier to have a bit of control over the change!

One last link follows an extreme example of finding new direction when hope may be lost - and is as inspiring as any I’ve seen recently. This lovely tune is sung by the Iceland entry of Sjonni's Friends, in this year’s Eurovision song contest. I was charmed by its musicality, upbeat tone and heartfelt lyrics. And then I learned that the songwriter had died unexpectedly days before he was to perform it at the national contest. That could have been the end of it. But his family determined that his ‘voice’ would be heard and a group of his musical friends quickly banded together to take it to the local stage in tribute. To their surprise, it won and they were sent on to compete internationally this week where it has now made it to the Finals. There are many hoping it will win the contest this year. Have a listen and I am sure it will make you smile and remind you of what is important in life. Grab hold of that.

Walking away from the confusion and stirring a new pot of paint, so to speak, can also settle a discouraged soul and lift the spirits. It opens a window – a way of escape. When we were little it was called playing. And it was fun. Remember that?

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I took the 'play perogative' seriously today and so I am not all that sure where all my source material came from in the layout. However, I do remember that I used Creative Memories 'Serenity' papers and the quote comes from 'Wishes and Dreams'. The Word Art "ART" was created in Panstoria's Artisan software a while ago when I trialled the software but I cannot remember the paper used to create the alpha.

Snapshot Memories

Seems time for a bit of fun. When I came across this photo of my mother it made me giggle. It seemed perfect for a Mother's Day post.

As I worked on the layout the photo began talking to me (a perfectly normal experience!). The camera in her hands was probably carefully placed there by her father, a professional photographer. Cameras were a rather rare household item at that time, so one would think that her life was well documented on film, right? Well, not exactly.



My grandfather gravitated away from newspaper coverage (of people) and toward wildlife and nature photography. By the time she was 12 his photos rarely featured people, and then usually for scale in landscapes. The family snapshots were taken by, you guessed it, my grandmother!

So even in the days when cameras were considered to belong to the technical man's world, the candid family moments were not only seen, but captured by the women - usually on Brownie box cameras which came on the market in the 1900s! At least that was how it worked in this family anyway!

Women document their families. They write about them. They talk about them. They photograph them. They celebrate them. It seems largely in the domain of the women doesn't it - this task of family identity.

There is something wonderful about celebrating our memories with photos. If we can preserve the memories by writing about those photos, too, then the joy extends. Do you have a favourite photo of your mother? I wonder how many of them are snapshots rather than studio portraits! Perhaps a good exercise this weekend is to find one and write about the memories and feelings that it evokes.

Happy Mother's Day! Celebrate it with a photo memory.

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This layout is created with Creative Memories papers and elements from Vintage Romance Digital Kit and Romance Digital Power Palette. Title Font: Kelly. Text Font: VI University.

Living in the Light

Like Eeyore, sometimes the clouds of life overwhelm me. Clouds of disappointments, clouds of trouble and loss, clouds of fear or confusion. Even clouds of change.

Travelling down this long lonely road into West Texas from Arizona for my mother's memorial service in Big Bend National Park was one of the most difficult journeys I have faced alone and it was travelled literally under a Dark Cloud.



I had finished weeks of sorting through her things and was bringing some of them to distribute to family members, so the rental car was loaded down with many of her most precious possessions: her memorabilia: family scrapbooks, journals, manuscripts; as well as her craft projects: quilts, dolls, stitchery wall hangings, cards; and boxes of geneological research. It was like my last time to be with her.

The trip was long and required a night in El Paso. A night which was comfortable enough but outside terrible thunderstorms raged and I worried about the precious cargo in the car.

The next day the rain was falling so heavily that I had to pull off the highway several times because of zero visibility. Eventually I drove out of it to learn of major flooding in the National Park. The storms had been stirred up by Hurricane Ike which was due to make landfall in Galveston/Houston that night. Relatives coming in from that direction were also stressed.

And yet when we all woke up the next day, the Park weather was beautiful and allowed many in the group to take a day hike up to the summit of a popular trail and almost all of us made it up to one of Mom's favourite lookouts for a time of remembrance. We were so thankful for the glorious weather that day. I couldn't help but feel her smile in the sunshine.

God reminds us over and over again through nature that after the storm comes the sun. Clouds of life come and go, but there is always light beyond them. Today, as I mark the end of a richly defining era in my life, and hang up my CM consultant badge, I am looking beyond the clouds of sadness knowing that there will be new doors to open and more delights to discover as I live in the light.

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The Layout: With so much more media coverage we are now aware of every tragedy around the world in depth and almost as it unfolds. I feel privileged to share this kit, Hope for a Brighter Future, by way of this layout. Some lovely designers at For the Luv of Art created it to raise funds for Red Cross Japan and New Zealand. Please pause to take a look at all the goodies it contains and purchase it for yourself and for a good cause.

A Real Buzz

I grew up with the Space Program. It was in the air we breathed in Houston and being so close to it all made the cartoon, The Jetsons, seem like a look into a future we would actually experience in our lifetime.

Recent news that my Space City hometown was denied one of the shuttle orbiters for display at the Johnson Space Center was dumbfounding.

Who in this wide world does not equate the Space Program with Houston? I am far outside of all the real and perceived politics of the decision, and do not wish to engage in that dialogue here. It just seemed the decent and obvious decision to grant one of these aircraft to the place that trained its astronauts, managed the missions and designed the craft and the program in the first place. A no-brainer.

Phew. Now that I have had my vent, I want to share another of my wonderful memories triggered by the shuttle's last flight. As a girl I used to wonder if I would bump into an astronaut as I moved around the city. Once I thought I had taken a phone message from Neil Armstrong! I did, but it turned out not to be THE Neil Armstrong. Sigh. Many trips to what we locals called "NASA" punctuated those years. But never an actual astronaut in the flesh.

So I had no illusions that anything would be different when we brought the kids to America for the first time, and to NASA for the first time. No real astronauts are there for tourists to meet.

Well, I was wrong.



Much to my utter amazement Buzz Aldrin was there that afternoon launching his (then) new book! We bought a few copies and then stood in line to get them signed. There was no way that our children, at 3 and 6, could appreciate the magnitude of the moment or the man they were meeting. Their conversation with him was brief and much like most he probably had with children coached by their parents. In fact, our youngest was much more interested in playing with the Buzz Lightyear figure that was on the table with Aldrin! (Yes, my research says that the character was, indeed, inspired by the astronaut.)

My husband, typically, entered into a brief engineering chat with him about something and I took photos of it all with our malfunctioning film camera. Why do cameras never work when you most want them to? I was shaking so badly that it is a miracle that we have any photos at all.

When I had a chance to say something to Buzz I had no tongue. In fact, I flatlined in brain activity. It was at least 10 minutes before I came out of my stupor.

In spite of my inabilty to speak and reluctance to take a photo with him myself, it was one of those wonderful moments deeply embedded in my memory. I had finally met an astronaut - and probably the most famous of them all! After all, it wasn't Neil Lightyear, was it?

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This layout was created with a range of kits from MaryAnn Wise, Little Feet Digital Design and Creative Memories. Sometimes it is just fun to mix it up! The rocket is clipart. The "Buzz" word font is "Showcard Gothic," text is "Complete in Him".

Lessons from the Eagles Nest

A few days ago I was told about a live feed to the nest of an American Bald Eagle. Inside the nest are three eaglets, hatched on March 13, 15, and 17th respectively. It has been enthralling to wait for a head to pop out from under the mama. To see the careful, sharp and piercing gaze of the mama keeping watch over the nest. To coo with delight as the babies are fed one by one.


When I tuned in this morning, (it is nearly dusk in Virginia when I start my day down here) the eaglets were all alone in the nest and the camera was zoomed in tightly. Delighted, I took a few screen saves and monitored the activity (mostly the eaglets clamboring over each other) while creating a page to urge others to check out this wonderful site (hint, hint).

Volunteers man an A/Q feed that accompanies the video, informing us how to tell a male from a female; how eagles build nests; how the babies are kept warm, etc. Do yourself a favour and check it out. (The camera is turned off at night.) Be prepared to become addicted! There is something quite wonderful about being in the moment with nature. Evidently 4000 people visited the nest today, alone. Isn't that virtually amazing!

So, while we won't grow feathers and learn to fly like these eaglets, it will be fascinating to watch them over the weeks ahead. And maybe, just maybe, all of us who do will take away a greater appreciation for the world around us and our place in it. While we are not meant to fly, we can find ways to soar - even with our feet on the ground.

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Kits used: 'Oh Baby Boy Papers' from PxlCafe. The eagle element is from Little Feet Digital Design's 'God Bless America' kit. I extracted the wreath frame from a photo.

A Royal Memory

Two things prompted this post. Firstly, the well deserved praise for the film The King's Speech. And secondly, the mounting excitement in anticipation of his great grandson's wedding day in April. Both have reminded me of our own royal experience over a decade ago, and it seemed a good time to share it. A touch of happy (I hope) in the midst of such heartache in the world.


click on page for clear enlargement

A Boy, A Rose and A Queen

(from an email to Mom. 6 April 2000)

You are probably unaware that the Queen of England is currently visiting Australia and has spent some time in the Canberra area. One of the benefits of living in the national capital is that we have dignitaries visiting here regularly, but because of our small size it is easy to get around and the crowds that form are usually small. For this reason it was decided to pull the boys out of school this Monday morning so that they might possibly get an up-close view of the Queen. With the on-going republic debate, her days as the Queen of Australia are probably numbered, so this may well be her last visit (as monarch) to this country. Her last visit was in 1988 to open the new Parliament House (as part of the Australian Bicentennial celebrations). Warren and I were out cycling on that day and realised that we were near her expected route, so we dismounted and stood along the median in front of the Prime Minister's Lodge with a handful of others. It wasn't long before she and the Duke rode past smiling at us and waving for the camera. I had thought that was a special moment.

We convinced the boys to give up school (they really wanted to be in class) and stand around in the hot sun in hopes of a glimpse of the Queen passing by. In the off-chance of a close encounter I clipped a few lavender stalks and Austin chose the best rose bud from our best rose bush and we made a posey. Austin cared for and carried it. Alistair couldn't be bothered and didn't want me to make up one for him. With shining faces and combed down hair we left home with posey, a mid-morning chocolate chip muesli bar snack, hats and camera in hand.

Parking was said to be limited at the Centre for Christianity and Culture, the venue for her scheduled appearance this morning, so we arrived early. She was coming to plant a Reconciliation Tree in the gardens. The building has yet to be built, but will be quite grand as an open venue for outdoor concerts etc. At the moment, however, it is a small cluster of open-air wooden buildings next to a small theological college. The crowd was smallish, only about five to seven deep around the perimeter, behind the orange plastic "security" fence. On the other side of the fence were chairs for dignitaries and a group of Girl Guides, a group of young girls in historic dress and a group of primary school children and several police.

While we were waiting, Warren noticed that there was room and access into the Press Area and we relocated there. From this position we were only behind a rope and next to several huge television cameras, but the boys could see better. It also proved to be a good spot because the children seated on the ground in front of us were instructed to stay seated upon the Queen's arrival so that the cameras would not be obstructed. Imagine that! I thought she would not be amused to see such disrespect!

It was hot in the sun and a rather long wait holding our spot. Finally it was time for the boys to have their morning tea. Austin carefully set down the posey he had nursed all morning. When the kids had finished, Austin agreed to allow Alistair to hold it for a bit.

And then....tatada... The Queen of England arrived with our head of state, the Governor-General and the Speaker of the Senate in tow. She walked slowly over to the tree where she ceremoniously shoveled a bit of dirt. Job done. No speech. From there she walked to the Girl Guides at the far end and began a slow walk past the children's groups, stopping for an occassional bouquet and a short chat here and there.

She came closer and closer.

I was getting some great pictures, as were the big power cameras positioned over each of my shoulders! Suddenly, for a slow moving lady, she was right before us. Warren instructed Alistair to hold up the posey that Austin and I had made that morning and then he called out, "Your Majesty!" She looked at Warren, who drew attention to the posey, and I went to adjust my camera and accidently shut it off! Fumbling to get it back on, I realised that she was speaking to our boys! She was calling them to her! Oh, hurry up camera!!! "Come under the rope," she said, "It's easier for you to come to me than for me to come to you." Alistair, now holding Austin's posey, obeyed, walking through the seated school children, and handed it to her. Coming back toward us I snapped the only picture of the exchange -of the top of his head*.

I became aware that my hands were shaking. I don't think it was from the nerves of being singled out, as much as it was from the frustration of not being able to record it on film. Even so, I was thrilled for Alistair and the memory that he now holds of being summoned to stand before a queen (and sad for Austin that he had not gone forward because he didn't think she meant him to come since he was empty handed at the time). Alistair reported that she said, "Thank you very much." as he looked up at her and handed up the flowers. When asked if he had said anything in return he replied, "No". It was all over and done in a matter of seconds.

I gave Alistair a big hug as he told me that he thought she looked and sounded a lot like his Gran. Then I knelt to study his face for the first time since we had left home, looking for some spark of understanding or excitement. What I saw suddenly caused me to realise that it didn't matter any more. He was just another little boy with flowers in a long succession of such occasions to her. But to me, his mother, he was a little boy that could melt my heart with a smile...especially of the kind he offered me now: rimmed with the leftover chocolate from his morning snack!

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The layouts above were created with several kits from Little Feet Digital Designs: 'Where I Long to Be: Calm of the Water', 'Dear Sweet Friend', 'God Bless America', 'A Little Luck' and the soon-to-be-released 'Love is in the Air'. I created the rose, lavender and chocolate embellishments from photos.

I usually do not post layouts which are mostly journalling, but sometimes it is good to be reminded that our memories are best enhanced by telling our stories with words as well as pictures. My mother always urged me to keep a journal and I told her, "My letters to you will be my journal." I am so glad now that I took the time to write out some of these stories in such detail. Mom was on the road a lot and so was not always available by phone. This made our correspondence all the more important in maintaing contact over the ocean.

*The smaller 'action' photos in the layout are stills taken from TV video that we managed to locate after the event by contacting the TV stations who were filming - one had zoomed in on the exchange. It certainly pays to ask!

2011 Creative Team Announced

I am very pleased to be invited to contribute to the Digital Creative Team at For the Luv of Art. This is a very inspiring and talented group of women, and to work with them will be a sweet treat.

The Power of a Picture Book

Hot, dry and dusty afternoons in West Texas don't have much in common with cool, misty days among the green rolling hills of the English countryside. Unless, of course, a book connects the two.

Neither place was my home. My home was in the bustling, big city of astronauts, of air conditioned sporting venues and of freeways and skyscrapers.

But here on my grandmother's screened front porch, I felt most at home, perhaps because in the shadow of the windmill, it felt as far away from the world as if I were on the moon. From there I could go anywhere and be anyone. Here, when not between the pages of my books, I could count grazing cattle or horses, let thoughts drift with the tumbleweeds, or gaze at the mountains piercing the sky. And when the distant lament of the 4 o'clock train whistle blew, I knew it was time to get back to the 'real world' and offer to help fix dinner or set the table ... or something useful.

Until the train whistle sounded, though, I could get lost in books - guilt free. My grandparents loved to read and encouraged it as a beneficial exercise. Regular trips to the small library in town were a treat during the special lazy summer days I spent in their 'tumble down house' during childhood.

However, for many years the most treasured books at Nana's house were not in my grandfather's library or in the library in town. They lived in a special box in Nana's wardrobe, to be removed upon my arrival. Tiny little books with glossy pages and grown-up dust jackets. Their very size seem to whisper that they held valuable secrets too special to shout about. And they did. Inside each one were the most delightful watercolours and simple stories of naughty rabbits, silly ducks, clever foxes, mischevious squirrels and their misadventures.

Beatrix Potter's soft watercolour illustrations are mesmerising in their blend of naturalism and fantasy and were able to pull me into her world - like Jane and Michael into a sidewalk chalk drawing.

Her books were a complete package of escape - balanced with gentle reminders to be careful, mind your mother, and to be sensible when having fun. Between the magic of Beatrix, fairy tales and Disney I was thoroughly convinced during childhood that animals had feelings, dreams and disappointments - just like me. Somehow it seemed easier (or perhaps safer) to connect to these feelings through whimsical animals than through human characters in a book.


click on pages to enlarge

This affinity for books has been inherited by our oldest child who at first was entranced by Pages, then Pictures, Stories, and Words. By the time he was three he had a nice little library of his own. He rarely went anywhere without at least one book in hand. He was even known to ask total strangers to read to him - and to his delight some obliged. When we moved from America to Australia he was only 18 months old and already a booklover. So much so, that every couple of hours of the gruelling flight, we gave him a new book to unwrap. It made the trip much easier to bear for all of us!

Within six months of arrival, we moved house again, and the continuing changes were taken in stride, partly I believe, because he always had his best friends (his books) with him. They gave him reassurance and constancy: their stories stayed the same and were always there when he wanted them. New books with new stories became a bridge to help him embrace all the other newness around him, too. We recorded some of his favourite books on cassette tapes so that he could 'read along' with familiar voices - while also becoming more familiar with those of his Australian family members. (His favourite part was making the noise in each recording to indicate when it was "time to turn the page"!)

Prompted by writing this post, I asked him what his favourite children's Picture Book had been as a child and he said, without hesitation, that it would have to be the clever and graphically bold Mr Men series. He remembered scrawling notes to Roger Hargreaves suggesting new characters, but which were never posted. We 'discovered' the Mr Men/Little Miss books in a grocery store soon after we arrived in Australia, and over time he collected most of them.

His favourite single book was "Imagine" by Australian author/illustrator Alison Lester. This book helps identify Australian animals and their habitats, but even more importantly its illustrations and lyrical poetry engage the imagination, showing how a bedroom or backyard can become a rainforest or wetlands with just a few basic props and some creative play. It became a launching pad for countless hours of fanciful thinking and theatrical flair. As a 6 year old he held his older American cousins (and their parents and grandparents) in awed silence as he launched unexpectedly into his own lyrical version of this story using a Steve Parish re-positioning sticker diorama to illustrate. His presentation underscored the power of a picture book in educating, enthusing and empowering children to express themselves and connect with the world around them, even as they use them to escape from it.

Thank you Megan for setting up this topic for a Blogfest, for hosting it, and for this opportunity to be reminded of the power of a picture book. There are few things more wonder filled than escaping into the chalk drawings of early childhood literature.

Please check out other posts on this topic at My Favourite Picture Book Blog Fest . Thanks for visiting with me! Is there a picture book you love or that springs to mind when you think of your childhood? I'd love to hear about it before you go. :)

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The scrapbook layout above was created with the kit "All Roads Lead Home" from Pxlcafe. It also features a coordinating FREEBIE overlay which can downloaded from their blog. I had so much fun using this kit - it is chockers with bits and pieces. I even cut up some of what was there to make my own bits and pieces. The look of this kit fit our Children's Picture Book theme so well, so it was a perfect choice to add some picture book whimsy to these photos of my son's early fascination with books.

Love is in the Air

For about a year I have been creating layouts for my good friend Janet Carr and her label Little Feet Digital Designs. It has been such a rewarding experience and in some ways has kept me to task while also giving me a happy place to go when I needed to play. Sometimes her kits inspired me to travel down a different road than I usually go, or in a different way than I usually travel. So, thanks Janet for letting me be part of your joyride!

And speaking of joy, Janet's soon-to-be-released kit "Love is in the Air" is filled with it! (One of the perks of being on a creative team is having access to kits before they are released.) I just have to share this one with you all now. Can't wait a moment longer!

This weekend I spent three mind numbing days scanning prints and negatives from 1994 in preparation for a book for my son's 21st birthday. One of the benefits of digital scrapping is that you can spruce up your old, faded photographs in the process! Anyway, after I had listened to the scanner for hours on end, I rewarded myself with this layout. It came together so quickly - almost without any effort. I think it was because I was so inspired by my memories and because the kit is chockers with papers and embellishments! Rest assured I will announce when it is out for sale. You won't want to miss it!

The Written Word

Words. We use them without thinking. They flow from our keyboards and phones and fill our lives. Lately I have been wondering whether they have more or less impact on us than they did in earlier times when lives were not as bombarded with them.

Several years ago I went to see an Illuminated Manuscripts exhibit at the National Gallery. I stood in a long queue behind at least a hundred people waiting for my turn to gaze for a couple of minutes upon a few pages in the Book of Kells. It was more than worth it. The detail and the care that went into each letter of each word, and all the embellishment represented hours and hours of painstaking commitment to the communication of the gospels. Very few words were seen in those days, and it seemed that it made the written word all the more powerful...and beautiful.



This is just a small taste of the treatment of the basic text. This liturgical book of the Gospels from around 800 also contained exquisite gold leaf illustrations of the most vibrant colours and intricate Celtic design. Truly a masterpiece of artistic expression and communication.

Fast forward to today and our wonderful world of electronic and social media. Words are everywhere. We filter them constantly. Are we at risk of loosing the ability to communicate succinctly when we have so much to say and to hear and to read?

I hope not.

My sister once commented as we were browsing in a kitschy shop that she preferred images to hang on her walls, whereas I was always drawn to quotations. I had not realised until then that words were that much more important to me. Below is a photo of a corner of my home. On display are two of the most meaningful quotes in my life. The crosstitch was made in tribute to my first child, lost in miscarriage. It was the verse I read on the morning of that loss, before any sign of trouble presented. As I stitched the words, they were able to take root in me, and I believe their impact assisted my grieving toward acceptance and deeper faith and trust.

In the smaller frame is a verse by Goethe. It propelled me to succeed in establishing my direct sales business. There were many times that looking upon these words and thinking about them re-focussed flagging spirits and motivated me to do what was necessary. I found the beautiful word art when visiting the shop gallery of Dave Wood, a calligrapher/illustrator, who at the time lived on the South Coast in Australia.




We had stopped by Dave's gallery while on holiday and I soon found myself talking with him. When he discovered I was a graphic artist he invited me into his studio and my family and I were treated to a behind-the-scenes look at some of his works-in-progress and a peek at some of his paper art experiments. Today I googled him to see if he had an internet presence and found his blog and a lovely video of him at work. Do take a look.

While on YouTube I also found this real-time video of a calligrapher writing the word Gothic. If you have seven minutes you may want to watch it too. Maybe you will wonder, like I did, if you would have the patience to create such beautiful words. I would certainly choose my words more carefully if each letter took such effort to generate.

Which brings me back to my original thought. When we labour over our words, do we communicate better? Are they more meaningful? Or is our world of immediate and abundant information (and drivel) better serving us.

Knitting Memories Together

As we arrived at the waterfront, the yarn shop called to me from across the street. I felt compelled to go inside and once I did: what a delight. It had been years since such colours and textures had surrounded me! It was as if my mother were beside me oohing and ahhing over each exotic skein and prompting me to rememember long-forgotten words like boucle. As she was fond of unusual textures and effects, I knew she would be especially delighted by some of the newer styles. However, my mom was not a knitter, per se. She was what one might describe as a textile needlecraft artist.

Her love affair with fabric, threads and yarn was so tightly woven into my adolescence that sometimes I wonder how much her enthusiasm has coloured my own. Parents do that, don't they. Mom's enthusiasm took her out of a stitchery class taken to pass the time and into a business of her own which became one of my stepping stones into the wider world. The family liked to say that hers was a cottage industry success story. It literally began at the kitchen table (and under and around almost everything in the house) until it expanded out into its own premises - and eventually into a small warehouse which shipped internationally...even to Australia!


Mom and my little sister on the cover of her catalog.

I stitched up models to sell for shop displays at school (when my classwork was done), enlisting several friends to help. Eventually, I worked with Mom on designs and created her pattern books. Best of all, I went with her to the major national needlework retailer markets. New York, Chicago, San Fransicso, Dallas, Atlanta, and learned sales and marketing techniques from her salesmen. All very exciting for that time in my young life. Surrounded at these markets by other creative entreprenureal men and women was incredibly impacting and rather daunting, too!

By the time I left for Art School I had this wealth of experience behind me, however, I had mixed emotions about it. At art school there was a higher polish, a more professional edge that seemed to look down its nose at the craft industry. To this day I still feel the conflict of the chasm between them - and to some degree feel as though I fell into it and am still searching for my own toe-holds.

But inside this shop and its homely world of spun wool, clicking needles and cozy garments and wraps it didn't matter. This was the world I grew up in. This was the picture I had of creative womanhood. Making things with our hands - both practical and fun.

As I grew a bit older the 'homemade' feel of our home began to embarrass me. I wanted our home to be more sophisticated like those of my friends. Of course, most enjoyed the creative atmosphere of our home, and as time passed my appreciation of these hand crafts increased. Not many children grow up today watching their mother's or grandmother's hands generate something beautiful from a ball of yarn, holding up their arms to help untangle skeins. (Anyone else remember doing that?) My mom even raised a crop of cotton in a backyard garden and spun it on her own spinning wheel to use in a project. She was passionate. There was something magical about watching her finger a project - like a blind person lovingly remembering every detail.



All this to say that when I arrived in Australia as a new bride with very few possessions from my previous 30 years, I cried unashamedly when a rolled package arrived a few weeks later. Inside was this tapestry that I had 'assisted' my mom to create during my High School years. It won Best of Show in its hey day and then had kept watch over our family dinner table. Now it was mine. A wedding gift from my mom. A voice from my past and from my mother's hand.

So, as I spent last week with my knitting needles and so many memories of my Mom and her creative world, I took solace in knowing that, at the very least, I created my own scarf for the winter months ahead. Did Mom smile on this effort? Maybe. But she probably would have also been saying, "now toss the directions and do it YOUR way!"

The clever Woven Scarf pattern in top photo is from Stitches 'n' Things - the shop we stumbled across at Lakes Entrance, Victoria a couple weeks ago. A simple pattern with an interesting effect! Perfect getting re-acquainted project for me during our recent holiday - especially as I wound up ill and stayed indoors a lot. Now to finish the next one, and the other three for which I bought yarn!

Paper Pile Up

I suffer from piles...of the paper kind. So when I took my son to buy school supplies yesterday, I purchased a book called Paper Flow. Have I mentioned before that I love stationery shops? The smell of paper and pencils and all the office gadgets have a way of lulling me into the false belief that I could be super organised if only I had enough shelves in my home with enough containers and colour-coded filing systems.

Of course as soon as I get home and tidy up the area that will display my latest organising gadget I feel great ... until the rest of the house overwhelms me! So I am reading my new book and hoping that if it has even one idea that can relieve my suffering, then the whole family will be all the happier for it.

Thankfully, though, I am not a complete failure.


One thing that I have done is filing and sorting my loose photographs. Creative Memories had the BEST sorters for that. As you can see in my photograph they even look good on the shelf. The sorters come only in shoe box size now, but I loved this double width size. Having all the photos in one place in chronological order is fantastic. It took a few years, but I finally got there!



I still find the stray photo and it may surf through a few piles for a few months before it finds its way into a box, but it has been one of the best things I have done in the personal organisation area. And I feel pretty good about that.

So, as the new year begins I try to remind myself that if I could organise a lifetime of photos (and heritage photos as well) then I can tackle everything else!

Since being better organised is a part of my quest for wholeness this year, I have signed up for the Paper Flow 28 Day Challenge and look forward to seeing some improvement. If you have a hint or tip on how you organise something in your life please feel free to share them with me here!