...in my beatiful, my beautiful balloon! After a cheery bunch of helium filled pink ones arrived in our house for Mother's Day I've concluded that within each can be found the essence of life. Kids get this.
In the bedrooms of both of my darling children reside hundreds of toys. There are umpteen noisy, flashy, whizz bang ones. You know, the annoying kind that are given as presents by Aunties, Uncles and Grandparents in which you never, ever replace the batteries for the sake of your sanity? Alongside these sit many beautiful, clever and challenging ones we Mums and Dads buy for their educational wholesomeness (and prettiness!) Then, filling the gaps and providing insulation are piles upon piles of books.
Despite their play-thing wealth, both my kidlets can be absorbed and entertained within the simplicity of a balloon for hours on end. For the last couple of days my son has been doing everything with one of my helium balloons tenderly towed beind him at all times. He talks to it, tugs it down gently so it can journey with him beyond the door frame and whisks it in to his bedroom to sleep with him at night.
It's the simplicity kids appreciate in a balloon, like the simplicity of a cardboard box, or a stick or a handful of dirt and a piece of string. They don't like it when life gets busy and complicated. After a few days rushing here, there and everywhere my children are desperate to stay home and hang out with a balloon and when I'm truthful with myself, deep down I want the same thing. Well, minus the balloon because if I get bopped in the face one more time, I'll lose it.
I got a bit high on newspaper ink on the weekend and came face top face with my own desire for simplicity. I love my life in the middle of town with plenty of places within walking distance to eat, drink, shop or procure hardware items for DIY projects (Bunnings is two blocks away). But when I clapped eyes on my dream home in the real estate guide, I went there in my head.
In reality, I was sitting at my table with a luke warm cup of tea and several plates of toast crust surrounding me, but in my mind I was at my desk in the loft of this "charming cottage, twenty minutes from town." I was industriously working away at some buntyandsars thing or another while the kids ran around in the garden below my window, gumboots on and covered head to toe in mud. The garden itself was a cottage style affair with lots of pretty flowers and secret corners combined with all kinds of vegies and fruit trees. Our currently captive chooks pecked and scratched free range amongst the foliage and my imaginary goat (lets call him Steve) quietly munched on grass in the adjoining paddock. The best bit was the peace. All I could hear was the joyous squealing of my kids and the occasional goat noise from Steve. I sat contentedly in my dream house for a while, feeling no desire to get out amongst the suburban life and not having to listen to idiots in cars drag racing up and down the street.
I saved the picture and have lapsed in to my fantasy life a few times since, it sounds idyllic, doesn't it? I'd love to make a crazy decision, buy the place and move there. But, I'd probably miss the convenience and bringing the kids in to school, sport and friends houses would be a hassle. Then again, we'd still be hooked up to the internet, we'd have running water and I'm sure the telly would work. We'd stay out of the shops and save money while being further away from the busy-ness of town would shift the focus back to home. We'd want to spend more time in the garden and I'd be forever pottering around in the kitchen. It would be simple and beautiful and I'd be as happy as a kid with a balloon.
Creatively, I function best with simplicity, too. The other day, I toddled down to Lincraft with a 1970's fluffy jumper pattern in hand. It's really sweet, with a wide, ribbed collar and several big, flat buttons at the neck. I thought, seeing as all the knitting Nanna's make things for the kids, I'd whip up (over the course of several months, or years) something for myself. But, there I stood dumbfounded, amidst a sea of different wools in a rainbow of colours. Before long, after comparing the labels and my pattern for tension and needle size, I started to hyperventilate and eventually gave up, leaving the decision to my three year old. He picked red and fuzzy, and I'm happy.
But this says a lot about how I create. I like to start with the materials and take it from there. If I'd found a bundle of wool in an op shop I'd have been home quick smart to scrounge around for just the right pattern to suit it. When I find a piece of gorgeous fabric, I lay it out and contemplate the size and feel of the piece before creating a one-off piece of super cute for my daughter. It always turns out better this way.
The same thing applies with buntyandsars. I'm always sourcing materials, rather than ideas, because it is from the materials that my ideas evolve. Starting with the materials gives me parameters to work within, it applies a bit of pressure and I work best under pressure.
So, on my first full buntyandsars Thursday for several weeks I think I'll spend the morning doing some of the business-y stuff like e-mails, ordering and printing. Then I'll set myself up with some ink, a pen and paper scraps along with a bit of quiet and a cup of tea and see what happens. Can't wait.
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