may photo journal ♥ day four ♥ journal-keeping

journal-keeping ...

For today's prompt, I am allowing you into my journal for a little peek inside. A couple years back, I shared a glimpse inside my previous journal. That journal is filled up and the cover won't even lay flat anymore...it's so full of stickers, cutouts, papers, etc. You can check that out here, if you're interested.

My previous journal was just a completely random conglomeration of a bunch of different things. There wasn't any specific meaning or purpose behind any of the pages, other than the fact that I was simply putting pages together that I liked. My new journal, which is featured here today, is something I am being a bit more intentional about. This is a journal that I wish to be very personalized to me and my heart and soul and my loves and interests and all the things that bring me happiness and spark magic and whimsy in my life. I am going about this journal much slower than I did the first, as I am being very particular about what I want on each page.

In this journal, I want it to be and feel and look like "me". I'm choosing quotes or bookish excerpts that I either relate to very much or ones that speak to my heart and soul in a special way. I want words that reflect me, even if I'm not the one who originally wrote them. The above spread is my latest addition, and it features a quote that I came across that spoke directly to my soul.

It's no secret that I'm a lover of stickers...it's quite obvious when you look inside my journals. I have grown a collection of stickers that feel like me, and I love choosing just the right ones to put on each page. And, as you can see, the page on the left is still a work in progress. Previously, it would have driven me crazy to leave a page "undone"...I simply would not have done it. But now, I'm going at this journal in a very laid-back, leisurely, no-pressure sort of way. It's one way I'm practicing being gentle with myself.

Journaling, for me, has become one of the coziest hobbies and ways to nurture myself. I find that there are few things as wonderful as putting on a comfort movie or show of mine and sitting down with all my journal supply boxes out on the coffee table and couch and just have an hour or two of relaxing fun in the evening. It's a good way to settle down before bed, at least for me. {{smiles}}

Along with this journal, I keep several bookish journals (each one for a specific purpose), as well as a couple hodgepodge-y sorts of journals. I find that there is no way I would be able to keep just one at a time, and it's fun to bounce around to this one or that depending on my mood. It keeps me feeling creative, and that is a good thing for me.

What sorts of journals do you keep? I'd love to hear about your journal-keeping!

from my commonplace book ♥ more bookish extracts to warm your soul

from my Commonplace Book to yours...

along the same themes as my previous entries... 

~ h o m e ~ a · m a g i c a l · l i f e ~ a u t u m n ~

 I present to you...

a collection of bookish extracts to warm your soul ♥

May these delight you as much as they did me!

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October was a beautiful month at Green Gables, when the birches in the hollow turned as golden as sunshine and the maples behind the orchard were royal crimson and the wild cherry-trees along the lane put on the loveliest shades of dark red and bronzy green, while the fields stunned themselves in aftermaths...

Anne reveled in the world of color about her...

'Oh, Marilla,' she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, 'I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it? Look at these maple branches. Don't they give you a thrill- several thrills? I'm going to decorate my room with them.'

It was October again when Anne was ready to go back to school- a glorious October, all red and gold, with mellow mornings when the valleys were filled with delicate mists as if the spirit of autumn had poured them in for the sun to drain- amethyst, pearl, silver, rose, and smoke-blue. The dews were so heavy that the fields glistened like cloth of silver and there were such heaps of rustling leaves in the hollows of many-stemmed woods to run crisply through. The Birch Path was a canopy of yellow and the ferns were sear and brown all along it.

It was nearly dark, for the dull November twilight had fallen around Green Gables, and the only light in the kitchen came from the dancing red flames in the stove.

~ the above extracts were taken from Anne of Green Gables

by Lucy Maud Montgomery ~

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On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. 

~ the above extract was taken from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

by J.K. Rowling ~

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But Sally did not want to be set free for anything, for it was living itself that she enjoyed. She liked lighting a real fire of logs and fir cones, and toasting bread on an old-fashioned toaster. And she liked the lovely curve of an old staircase and the fun of running up and down it. And she vastly preferred writing a letter and walking with it to the post to using the telephone and hearing with horror her voice committing itself to things she would never have dreamed of doing if she'd had the time to think. 'It's my stupid brain,' she said to herself. 'I like the leisurely things and taking my time about them. That's partly why I like children so much, I think. They're never in a hurry to get on to something else.'

It was wonderful driving home with the last glow of the sunset lingering in the west and the hedges black and mysterious on either side. There were lights in the cottage windows, and sometimes they had forgotten to draw the curtains, and one saw the flicker of firelight, the bright heads of children sitting round a table munching their 'cooked tea', a man reading a paper with a pipe in his mouth, or a woman with a head bent over her darning. This, too, was new to Caroline, used to the years of blackout. It was lovely and most magical, like turning the pages of a storybook, each fresh window a fresh story.

She did not find the waiting irksome, for she had been born one of those fortunate people who are never in a hurry and never restless. She had never felt restless in her life. In all that she did, in all that she saw, she was aware of a deep upspringing wonder, as though she did it or saw it for the first time. She was blessed with a mind neither retrospective nor anxious; the past and the future did not pull her two ways with remorse or dread, and the lovely freshness of each new made moment was apparent to her focused vision.

~ the above extracts were taken from Pilgrim's Inn

by Elizabeth Goudge ~

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Yes, in spite of all, I am in love with life. There is more beauty than we can measure in this old world of ours. There is surely more beauty than we can measure in a single night.

There is a kind of enchantment about a tranquil blue morning. I feel as if something wonderful might happen at any minute; and on the other hand, the day itself is a wonderful happening.

We would do well in a world like ours, to go back to the simple thankfulness for the things that make a family life possible. I am thankful for the things we still have, despite the atom bomb. The terrible ingenuity of man may wipe us out in time to come. But now, on Thanksgiving, we still have the November sun, and the clear deep blue of the sky, and the white glory of the stars, and the loving-kindness of friends, just as our forefathers had. If only we can preserve the real things- the love of man and woman, the peace of an evening by the fire, the sweetness of music, and the gay sound of children's voices- we shall not have to hear the sound of the world disintegrating into chaos.

This year I cannot bear to see the leaves go. Early in the morning when I cross the frosty grass to let the spaniels out, I smell the leaves. I never noticed before how sweet they smell on autumn mornings. It's the kind of odor that quickens the heart, a clean, bright-bladed smell.

The house was warm and inviting when we got home, and smelled of bayberry and burning apple wood. And white moonlight began to sift through the windows. This time of year has much comfort in it, when all is said and done.

The earth keeps her seasons. Sun and wind and rain are vouchsafed humanity. Nothing can take away the security we have in the earth herself. And no mad dictators can lift their iron gloves and wipe off that delicate lilac color above the dark hill. The earth endures, her strength restores us.

I took a last look at the sky above the great maples. The sky and the maples and the darkness made the house seem very small. The house belongs to us, and we are allowed to work on the earth around it. The earth is bigger, the sky and stars and moon and sun are too big to belong to man. 

Thankful I was for the enduring things, and that I, such a small finite creature, have been allowed to recognize the beauty of the world in my small and finite way.

~ the above extracts were taken from The Book of Stillmeadow

by Gladys Taber ~

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It was a perfect fall day, and there was no better place to take it all in than from the porch of the B&B. The sky was bright blue, the only bit of white coming from the waxing crescent moon, the crickets were singing, and the deep pink roses that lined the front of the house were still blooming, filling the air with their rich scent.

I gazed at the silvery moon peeking over the tips of the trees visible through the open window in the tower room of the attic. The cold night wind made the apartment pretty chilly, but it was nice where I was bundled up by the antique stove.

Our street was a lovely old one. Tall maples lined both sides. Houses sat far back from the road, which provided plenty of room for kids to ride their bikes in looping figure eights. Birds and squirrels flew and scurried about in abundance, and the unique scents of the changing seasons always seemed to fill the air. The overall effect was friendly and relaxing. In short, it was the perfect street to amble along, taking your time to chat with your neighbors.

~ the above extracts were taken from In the Company of Witches

by Auralee Wallace ~

from my commonplace book ♥ bookish extracts to warm your soul

from my Commonplace Book to yours...

along the same themes as my previous entries... 

~ h o m e ~ a · m a g i c a l · l i f e ~ a u t u m n ~

 I present to you...

a collection of bookish extracts to warm your soul ♥

May these delight you as much as they did me!

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What Beatrix loved more than anything else were tiny cottages with crooked roofs, their stone-flagged  floors brightened by rag rugs, the ceilings hung with braids of onions and fragrant herbs, the rooms furnished with old-fashioned oak sideboards and grandfather clocks and chairs with woven rush seats. Farmhouses with no pretensions to grandeur, with mullioned windows and thick walls and narrow passages turning and twisting every which way...Homes that made her want to reach for her pencil and draw.

Perhaps it was her artist's heart that coveted the warm glow of firelight reflected from copper-bottomed pans, or her artist's soul that longed for shafts of dusty sunlight falling through windows bright with blooming flowers. She sketched these whenever she could, and in a way, these sketches of cozy rooms and sunlit windows and comfortable furniture, peopled with cats and mice and little dogs, substituted for a home of her own and a family that didn't sulk and glower at her. But Beatrix knew that she could never be entirely happy until she lived in her own house, a real house, exactly the right house. It was worth the world to her.

It was a pretty October morning, cool and crisp, with the fragrance of autumn. The golden trees seemed to shimmer against the blue sky and the blackberry briars along the lane were covered with red and yellow leaves, making brave patches of color in the sunshine.

But she could make Hill Top into her own domain, a house of her own, with everything in it just as she wanted it. The house would be the house of her dreams, the house where she belonged, where she could imagine herself leading the kind of life that would make her, at last, content. And all around her would lie her own land, fold and fallow, garden and green meadows and pretty patches of the woods. 

~ the above extracts are taken from The Tale of Hill Top Farm

by Susan Witting Albert ~

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Loaves of fig and pepper bread, of course. But there was also lasagna cooked in miniature pumpkins, and pumpkin-seed brittle. Roasted red pepper soup, and spiced caramel potato cakes. Corn muffins and brown sugar popcorn balls and a dozen cupcakes, each with a different frosting, because what was first frost without frosting? Pear beer and clove ginger ale in dark bottles sat in the icy beverage tub. They ate well into the afternoon, and the more they ate, the more food there seemed to be. Pretzel buns and cranberry cheese and walnuts appearing, just when they thought they'd tasted everything...

The family brought out lanterns and halogen heaters when it got dark, and put them all around the garden. They lit candles on the table, all while the apple tree shook and blossoms continued to fall. When the petals hit the flames of the candles, they hissed and popped into ash, leaving behind a scent that was so beautiful and sweet that it smelled like both yesterday and tomorrow.

There was a discernable chill in the air now, and wet leaves were everywhere- in yards, in the sidewalks, in the street, stuck on cars. It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.

~ the above extracts are taken from First Frost

by Sarah Addison Allen ~

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It was important to Caroline to do things right, to do whatever she did to the best of her ability. She saw beauty in ordinary little things and took pleasure in it. She took pleasure in a well-made cake, a smoothly ironed napkin, a pretty blouse, laundered and pressed; she liked to see the garden well dug, the rich soil brown and gravid; she loved her flowers. When you are young, you are too busy with yourself- so Caroline thought- you haven't time for ordinary little things, but when you leave youth behind, your eyes open and you see magic and mystery all around you: magic in the flight of a bird, the shape of a leaf, the bold arch of a bridge against the sky, footsteps at night and a voice calling in the darkness; the moment in a theatre before the curtain rises, the wind in the trees, or (in winter) an apple branch clothed with pure white snow and icicles hanging from a stone and sparkling with rainbow colors.

~ the above extract is taken from Vittoria Cottage

by D. E. Stevenson ~

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But day by day there are slight changes, subtle alterations in shape, in the mood of the season, it is as though everything is slipping and sliding very gradually downhill, like some great high hayrick sinking softly into itself as it dries. The year has turned and it is autumn, though we do not fully acknowledge it.

There is a smell in the air, the smell of autumn, a yeasty, damp, fruity smell, carrying a hint of smoke and a hint, too, of decay. It fills me with nostalgia, but I do not know for what. It is a smell I love, for this is and has always been my favorite season. They said that as I grew older I should recoil from it, the winding down of another year, the descent towards winter, the end of summer pleasures, that I would begin to shift my affections towards spring, when all is looking forward, all is blossoming and greening and sprouting up. But I do not do so. Spring so often promises what in the end it never pays, spring can cheat and lie and disappoint. You can sit at the window and wait for spring many a weary day...

But I have never been let down by autumn, to me it is always beautiful, always rich, it always gives in heaping measure, and sometimes it can stretch on into November, fading, but so gently, so slowly, like a very old person whose dying is protracted but peacefully, in calmness...

And I love the wild days of autumn, the west winds that rock the apple tree and bring down the leaves and fruit and nuts in showers, and the rain after the days of summer dryness. I love the mists and the first frosts that make the ground crisp and whiten the foliage of the winter vegetables....

Soon, perhaps over one wild night, the last of the leaves on our magic apple tree will be sent swirling away, and on the bare branches there will hang here and there, the last few, shriveling fruits, and finally, those, too, will thud to the ground and burst open and rot gradually into the soil, or else be taken away by birds, getting hungrier, now that the cold has come, and on that morning, whenever it comes, the autumn will be over.

~ the above extracts are taken from The Magic Apple Tree: A Country Year

by Susan Hill ~

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It was a fine autumn. The blackberries were ripe, and the nuts were ready, and the mice of Brambly Hedge were very busy. Every morning, they went out into the fields to gather seeds, berries, and roots, which they took back to the Store Stump and carefully stowed away for the winter ahead. The Store Stump was warm inside and smelled deliciously of bramble jelly and rising bread, and it was already nearly full of food.

Primrose found the tiny front door and went inside. It was very cozy. There was a thistledown carpet on the floor and the neatly-woven grass walls were covered with books and pictures. The two elderly harvest mice who had lived in the house were very glad to have a visitor. They sat Primrose down, gave her a slice of cake and handed her their album of family portraits to look at.

Primrose was nearly asleep by the time they got home. Lady Woodmouse carried her up to her little room and took off her wet clothes. A clean nightie was warming by the fire and a mug of hot acorn coffee had been placed by the bed.

~ the above extracts are taken from Autumn Story (Brambly Hedge)

by Jill Barklem ~

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I will be doing a Part 2 to this post tomorrow...

so be sure to come back for that!

 

from my commonplace book ♥ quotes for . . . autumn

from my Commonplace Book to yours...

a collection of quotes for A U T U M N ♥

May these words bring delight to your heart and a bit of magic to your days.

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I just remembered it's the first day of autumn and my soul melted into a chorus of hallelujahs and this picture here seemed a fitting way to mark our entrance upon the season of mighty trees and falling leaves and child-hearted awe at all the change and beauty. Let us rejoice in the most soulish and vivid of seasons. Let the cider making, cake baking, hill walking, boot wearing, scarf swathing, leaf collecting, storytelling, fireside kindling, candle lighting, soup making, berry collecting, pumpkin piling, and long novel reading days begin.

~ Sarah Clarkson ~

Fall: bright flame before winter's deadness; harvest; orange; gold; amber; cool nights and the smell of fire. Our tree-lined streets are set ablaze, our kitchens filled with the smells of nostalgia: apples bubbling into sauce, roasting squash, cinnamon, nutmeg, cider, warmth itself. The leaves as they spark into wild color just before they die are the world's oldest performance art, and everything we see is celebrating one last violently hued hurrah before the black and white and silence of winter. Fall is begging us to dance and sing and write with just the same drama and blaze.

~ Shanua Niequist ~

Tonight I'll be venturing into the attic, pulling down our sweaters and blankets, and preparing the house for the colder months. Homemaking is like embroidery; small stitches come together to create a beautiful piece of art. Every homemade meal, hand-picked bouquet, or second-hand find is another detail woven into our home's tapestry. The change of seasons always reignites my love of all things home.

~ Samantha Lindsey ~

For as long as she could remember, she had the thought that autumn air went well with books, that the two both somehow belonged with blankets, comfortable armchairs, and big cups of coffee or tea.

~ Katarina Bivald ~

A wood cook stove burning, a good kind of clutter that fills the rooms with abundance and life, the kettle always ready for hot drinks, cozy colors and decorations...it's cold outside, but the warmth of the home is inviting and rich, bringing joy and comfort to all who gather.

~ Homespun and Harvest ~

October is cinnamon embers, earl grey tea slowly steeping into swirls of amber, sunshine kissing the edges of braided clouds lined with purples bruises, confetti leaves, crushed wild apples slipping under your boots, and an ageless giddiness that leans in deep and lingers in your hair like spidery tendrils of smoke. November is fog peeking from between groves of skeleton trees, frost nibbling your fingers, film noir and Victorian novels piled on your bedside table, brewed coffee swirled with dark chocolate, heavy wool rainstorms, and burning greyscale photographs.

~ The Wandering Rose Child ~

 Autumn inspires so much hope and optimism. Here we are, another year, teetering on the cusp on seasonal change, the late summer sweetly clings on until the autumn arrives to duly allay her of duty. The fall offers those who are willing to embrace- contentment, encouragement, compassion, and solace. She is a gentle soul, a comforting blanket with a familiar scent, a patchwork of deep crimson and gold; every stitch, heartfelt and affectionate. She is a fine tapestry, a mosaic of homespun wonder, draped tenderly between two worlds, gifting endless opportunity to repair hearts and atone mistakes. She is calm and subdued yet still provides a sense of spirited liberty. Each year with a loving heart, she relinquishes all our feats and grants us the strength and courage to start over again.

 

~ The Little Wildflowers ~

Autumn evenings are drawing in. It's that time of year when we light the fire and enjoy our teatime together listening to the crackling of logs and watching that warm glow.

~ Remembering the Old Ways ~

I am made for autumn. The low slanting light, the crisp mornings, the chill in my fingers...moody hues and subdued palate punctuated every now and again by a brilliant orange, scarlet, or copper goodbye.

~ Alys Fowler ~

I'm so, so, so ready for autumn where everything is covered in brown sugar and cinnamon. The air smells of woodsmoke and the leaves fall like glittering jewels. A mosaic of red and gold leaves, brisk October nights, pumpkin pie and apple cider, and Halloween scenes of jack o' lanterns and grinning children dressed as ghouls and ghosts and beasties.

~ Poems for the Moon ~

I love the chill of October days, when the brown leaves lie thick and sodden underneath your feet...the evenings in late autumn time, when the white mist creeps across the fiends, making it seem as though old Earth, feeling the night air cold to its poor bones, were drawing ghostly bedclothes round its withered limbs.

~ Jerome K. Jerome ~

The crackling of the fire, pull up a seat, and warm yourself. Sunday roast with friends. Late afternoon countryside walks. Long shadows at golden hour. Breathe in deep. Crisp air and rich earth. Changing leaves and windfall apples. These are a few of my favorite autumnal things.

~ Kyle Campbell ~

Those chilly mornings have been so soothing to my soul. Pulling on my coat and hat for the morning's walk, watching the windows fog around the edges as I wash up the breakfast dishes, hot cups of coffee of which chilly fingers wrap. I could wax on, but I think my point has come across...I'm a cool weather person.

~ Sarah Dockery ~

October, baptize me with leaves! Swaddle me in corduroy and nurse me with split pea soup. October, tuck my candy bars in my pockets and carve my smile into a thousand pumpkins. O autumn! O tea kettle! O grace!

~ Rainbow Rowell ~

The magic of autumn to winter - my absolute favorite thing about these seasons is the way it feels like being a part of a grand celebration surrounded by dancing fairies.

~ Poems for the Moon ~

October is crisp days and cool nights, a time to curl around the dancing flames and sink into a good book.

~ John Sinor ~

The sudden chill in the morning air tells me that fall has arrived. It's time to move my coziest clothes to the front of my closet and light a few of my most delicious smelling candles. Soon, dinner will be simmering on the stove all day while countless cups of tea will be sipped.

~ Christen Hammons ~

 

from my commonplace book ♥ quotes for . . . a magical life

from my Commonplace Book to yours...

a collection of quotes for a M A G I C A L ♥ L I F E

May these words inspire and encourage you and may your heart be filled to the brim with beauty.

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The nicest things in life are often the simplest everyday things. Fresh bread, a wildflower posy, washing hung on the line and harvesting and preserving from our garden brings me contentment and joy. There is nothing more comforting to place on the table for family than a fresh loaf of sourdough bread and some local butter.

~ Remembering the Old Ways ~

Beauty is vanishing from our world because we live as though it did not matter.

~ Roger Scruton ~

Beauty reminds us that we are more than mere matter and that we long for meaning from outside ourselves and that is why modernity hates it.

~ Dean Abbott ~

Never let anyone tell you magic doesn't exist or that fairies aren't real. It isn't cynicism that will change the world. Do your best to believe in yourself, and even if you don't, keep trying to and never give up. If all else fails, use your imagination and pretend.

~ Susan Branch ~

Each day I stop and thank the wildflowers, the world for turning, the stories and books, the bees and the honeysuckle. The tree. The tadpole. And just like that, I am a little happier.

~ Paola Merrill ~

Romanticize your life. A simple but meaningful life. True, but full of dreams. Natural, but handmade. Real, but full of magic.

~ Indoora World ~

Remember your magic. Your bones vibrate with wisdom. Your heart knows love and compassion. Your intuition always knows right from wrong. Your story is waiting to be told. Your voice needs to be heard by others. Your friendship changes lives. Your strength is an inspiration. Your soul knows the way. Remember your magic.

~ Nabalo ~

Beauty is quietly woven through our days. Everywhere there is tenderness, care, and kindness, there is beauty.

~ John O'Donohue ~

It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good and we must hunger after them.

~ George Eliot ~

Be solar lights - coming to light as darkness falls in ordinary places, casting comfort and cheer to ward off fear and to remind those to see that light - the light of home. Twinkle brightly, friends. The world needs you.

~ Lancia Smith ~

These are the small graces, the little moments when the miracles come. These are the small graces, small graces leading me to the larger ones.

~ Bob Bennet ~

A quiet and modest life brings more joy than a pursuit of success bound with constant unrest.

~ Albert Einstein ~

It is the most ordinary, yet sacred moments that create the thread with which we weave together a lifetime of days, savouring all of them.

~ Whole Woven Home ~

Isn't that the only way to curate a life? To live among things that make you gasp with delight.

~ Maira Kalman ~

Of course, I believe in magic...I can see it on the pages of a book, in the yellow and porous paper of a love letter, in the citrus aroma of the orange tea and in the steam coming out of a handmade teapot.

~ Indoora World ~

Beauty matters. It is not just a subjective thing but a universal need of human beings. If we just ignore this, we find ourselves in a spiritual desert.

~ Roger Scruton ~

Nowadays, people are so jeezled up. If they took some chamomile tea and spent more time rocking on the porch in the evening listening to the liquid song of the hermit thrush, they might enjoy life more.

~ Tasha Tudor ~

You must not ever stop being whimsical. And you must not ever give anyone the responsibility of your life.

~ Mary Oliver ~

 

I can't get enough of romanticism. The concept of turning simply forgettable moments into little bits of sweetness that you savour on your tongue like caramel. How much slower the days turn and the seasons stretch into love letters that you slice open each morning and tuck into your favorite novel before bed. You start to realize how much more you begin to enjoy living. And how much less you depend on emotional highs or holidays to feel like you're breathing more clearly again. You start to notice how lovely the sun looks as it spills onto your floors, how it makes the steam of your coffee swirl and dance between your fingers. You begin to slow down on your walks to anywhere instead of fighting to reach the end. Sunsets, meals you prepare, rain showers, getting ready and unready for the day, clouds that drip down between the hills, your commute, the winding whooshing through the grass and trees, and errands become little snippets of poetry that you can't ever seem to quite weave onto paper. Romanticize your life. It's not silly. It's how you live and love all the more fiercely.

~ The Wandering Rose Child ~

As the world becomes increasingly ugly, callous, and materialistic, it needs to be reminded that the old fairy stories are rooted in truth, that imagination is of value, that happy endings do, in fact, occur, and that the blue spring mist that makes an ugly street look beautiful is just as real as the street itself.

~ Elizabeth Goudge ~

Let me offer you this bit of encouragement. Many of the best things, the most wonderful things, happen without any input from you. Moss creeps. Fireflies light up the fields. People do good all over this wayward world. The moon says goodbye and hello again. Chickadees sing. Acorns transform into giant, gnarled oaks. Just do your best as long and as often as you can. But toil not, dear one.

~ Unknown ~

I think everything in life is art. What you do. How you dress. The way you love someone, and how you talk. Your smile and your personality. What you believe in and all your dreams. The way you drink your tea. How you decorate your home. Or party. Your grocery list. The food you make. How your writing looks. And the way you feel. Life is art.

~ Helena Bonham Carter ~

I very much believe that if we humans stopped at least once a day, twice if suffering with anxiety, to watch the light dance through the trees, the world collectively would be a calmer, more peaceful place to call home. It costs nothing but a few seconds of time and attention.

~ Amanda Watters ~

Maple syrup. Molasses. Honey. Nectar. These things are sweet and slow. You can be, too, precious soul. You can be, too.

~ Jaiya John ~ 

from my commonplace book ♥ quotes on . . . home

from my Commonplace Book to yours...

a collection of quotes on H O M E ♥  

 

May these words bless your soul and bring light to your heart.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

 It may seem like a silly little old thing to think about putting the time into making mundane tasks beautiful. Things like thrifted wicker baskets instead of plastic. An old picket fence next to the clothesline with hopes of flowers next spring and the intentional placement of the clothesline so I can see the bees and the garden. Maybe it is silly because some may see it as yet another chore of the day. Yet, if you take the time to create a space you love with beauty, the daily tasks of the day just become enjoyable.

 ~ Rocky Hedge Farm ~

We have our own small square of life on this planet, and it's our choice to do with it what we will. We can bring order and beauty to that place we have been given. We can touch the people who come into our sphere of influence with love and care and comfort. 

~ Claire Cloninger ~

 The comfort and honesty of a good family supper should never be underestimated. You don't have to be in a fancy dining room, have the best fine dining etiquette, or feast on luxurious ingredients. You just need good food and good company.

 

~ Life at Number Ten ~

I firmly believe that it is homemaking that empowers all else. We all need home. Without it, we are both unmoored and rudderless.

~ Elizabeth Foss ~

Home. I always am apologizing for the shabbiness of my home, but I really love it, especially this kitchen. It's where I spend most of my time and it is located in the very center of the house. It's a natural spot for congregation and it can get loud, stuffy, and cramped pretty fast, but I tell myself there must be some level of comfort in it because people keep coming back to it. I hope when I'm dead everyone who has ever dropped into this kitchen remembers it fondly, as a happy place, if not sleek and clean.

~ Annie Hatke ~

Home matters and can be a source of joy and outlet for creativity, unlike any other. Whether yours is four walls, a bed, a desk, and a window, or a big house full of rooms and a kitchen and a garden in the yard. Simple or elaborate. Home, a place of comfort, of safety, of peace, of magic made up of little thoughtful details, of joy, a place to welcome in and to love, a place of memories cherished and order kept, a place where creativity can flourish, a place that looks and feels and smells and tastes like "me" and "you" and "our family", a place that's all yours in the big wide world. 

~ Erin Morris ~

Nature forms a wonderful backdrop to domesticity. It's like an external room with ever-changing wallpaper, rugs and carpets that alter by the month, and lights that brighten and dim with the hour and the season. It's full of colors, textures, shapes, smells, patterns, designs and sheer cleverness. Nature provides space, pleasure, inspiration, solace, and life itself.

 

~ Jane Brocket ~

The girl with the simple clothing, the natural hair, the skin nourished from within. Nothing hidden, nothing pained. She's that girl, with the smile that finds her loved ones and the arms always outstretched. The girl with a heart for turning simple houses into soulful homes.

~ Mother in the Northern Lands ~

For those women...who bury themselves in books, who know the song by heart, whose kitchen is a sanctuary, the hearth a domain. Women who live in dreams and visions, forever striving, forever keeping it just within reach. Funny little Somebody, don't you ever forget how you made all the small things large.

~ Mother in the Northern Lands ~

Sacred spaces are those that ignite our passions and fan the flames of our creative fires. There are many tiny spaces of magic in this home that I would consider sacred in that they are a container for exploring my inner self and depth, and give reverence to the care and intention of the daily tasks of homemaking.

~ Whole Woven Home ~

Only in home life does a woman attain her best development, and that whether married or single, home-keeping hearts are best. Nothing on earth is so divine as a home. It is four walls and a roof, with windows to let the sunshine in, and a door to bar against the outer world, and to open to one's friends. It is a nest full of sweetness and peace. It is an asylum and a refuge and a shelter and a place of withdrawal from storm and tempest. It is a place of dignity and repose.

~ Margaret E. Sangster ~

Traveling is all very well if you can get home at night. I would be willing to go around the world if I came back in time to light the candles and set the table for supper.

~ Gladys Taber ~

Disorder in the society is the result of disorder in the family.

~ St. Elizabeth Ann Seton ~

When we traded homemaking for careers, we were implicitly promised economic independence and worldly influence. But a devil of a bargain it has turned out to be in terms of daily life. We gave up the aroma of warm bread rising, the measured pace of nurturing routines, the creative task of molding our families' tastes and zest for life; we received in exchange the minivan and the Lunchable.

~ Barbara Kingsolver ~

As the family goes, so goes the nation, and so goes the whole world in which we live.

 ~ St. John Paul II ~

What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family.

~ St. Teresa of Calcutta ~

The ordinary arts we practice every day at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest.

~ Thomas Moore ~

Those dreamlike days of going nowhere and everywhere all at the same time. Adventures at home are so wildly wonderful, I hardly ever feel the need to leave.

~ Ivy and Tweed ~

Sometimes the best way to unfurl hope's banners over the war-torn landscape of life is to make a bed with a sweet expanse of clean sheets and set a table with candles and wine glasses and something green from the yard to which the fragrance of earth still clings. Everything matters. Especially the most ordinary things.

~ Lanier Ivester ~ 

Sometimes I daydream as I make my home. I'd like to think Louisa May might have tidied up and scrubbed the floor as I have, or Ma might have baked a few batches of bread that wasn't quite perfect as I've done or that Mrs. Tittlemouse might have had a little cabinet just like this...with dried chilies dancing merrily above a shelf of filled mason jars. The world may feel weird right now, but home is still what you make of it.

~ Jes the Pilgrim ~

a flip-through of my creative journal ♥ a vlog

Morning, friends!

Today I have a special treat for you... 

I have filmed a short vlog of a flip through of my creative journal. 

I began this journal late last year and just finished it late August/early September. This is truly a beloved hobby of mine, and I'm so glad I finally, finally delved into journaling after wanting to for literally years. 

I hope you enjoy this short little vlog! You can watch it HERE.

And do let me know if you enjoy this sort of thing...I'd love to do more of this in the future!

May your day be lovely and filled with magical moments!

 ♥