You go down a road you've never been before, a horse quietly munching away makes you stop. All you can hear is the wind, some birds, and the sound of grass being ripped out of the ground. 
He pays no attention to me at all, never raising his head to see what I am doing or how close I'm getting. It's spring and there is new grass to enjoy and that is all he is thinking about.
Our favourite part of the day - a walk through the village. The creek is running swift and brown, tulips everywhere we look, and the magnolias are drooping in the rain, their wax-like petals strewn about the ground in pink and white piles. 
An empty lot with the remains of someone's garden - the clusters of tulips enduring even though there is nothing left of the home. We pause in the rain and wonder.
Down by the lake, the firepit is waterlogged, the benches wet and lonely. 
The newly painted chairs patiently wait for a sunny day, a day of relaxed conversation while the world walks by.
At the play school we spot three peacocks perched on the porch railing, having heard their cry even before we saw them. Dozens of quails bustling about from one side of the road to the other. Ducks in the park enjoying the downpour. A walk in the rain does not dampen our spirits, it actually has the opposite effect if you take the time to observe all that benefit from the warm spring shower.
I have been collecting boxes and containers since I was given two music boxes for my 16th birthday. Most boxes in my collection are just plain square or rectangular. Some have drawers and some are made of my favourite wood, oak. But this heart-shaped container caught my eye not because it's hand carved but because of the idyllic scene painted on the lid.
We will be away for some r and r travelling country roads hoping to find some peace and quiet.
Some people look at my craft room and tell me how great it is ( notice there are no photos of this so-called great craftroom) and marvel at all the shelves filled with jars of buttons, game pieces, wooden beads, old keys, stamps, and a million other collections. There are bins full of fabric and bags of yarn bought because it was too good a deal to pass up. In an effort to clean-up and de-clutter and re-organize, I have started knitting scarves. There are no fancy patterns, no circular needles, and no cable stitch holders. I'm not even purling. I'm simply knitting scarves in a sort of patchwork design. The first one I made, which my teddy bear Persimmon is modelling, is a mixture of three different shades of pink for a very special someone.
The second scarf is extra long and done in my favourite cotton, acrylic knubby yarn. And the one I am knitting at the moment is a combination of a Swedish yarn of mohair and wool and the other yarn is from Switzerland and it is a cotton-acrylic mixture with a tiny bit of silk thrown in. The colours are blue and white.
Yes, it's getting warmer every day and knitting scarves just doesn't seem the thing to do at this time of year. But winter is coming and by then I will have a stockpile of scarves to giveaway.
My no-spending week (for the record I lasted eight days) ended the moment I heard the words ESTATE SALE. At first I had no intention of going, I don't need anything, and I wanted to keep this experiment going for as long as I could. But my curiosity got the better of me and I ended up going to not one but two estate sales and on the way to the second sale there happened to be a couple of garage sales in the same neighbourhood so I thought it wouldn't hurt to have a quick look-see.
This is what I would have liked to take home to add to my collection but the large ceramic containers were priced at $100 each.
My splurge for the day was this harvest basket from New Brunswick made by a Mi'kmaq. It was priced at $25 but all I had was $15 and they accepted my offer but they told me to take it and run before the owner realized what I had paid for it.
At the second estate sale, I almost regretted buying the basket. Everything in the house had to go. Some of the kitchen drawers were still full of all sorts of gagdets, utensils, and there was even a junk drawer. The closets were bursting with clothes; underwear, socks, and belts all neatly organized in the dresser drawers. The basement had piles of boxes of craft supplies, christmas ornaments, and tools. The beds were all nicely made up with duvets and blankets, the dining room hutch was filled with china and pottery,
and the sheet music was all set up on the organ as if someone had just finished playing.
I have been to quite a few estate sales but they have never bothered me as this one did. I think it was the leather belt that did it. In the master bedroom I found a wonderfully tooled leather belt with a silver buckle depicting a cowboy on a horse. I thought it would be perfect for my cowboy but as I turned it over in my hands, I saw that the owners name had been written on the back of the belt. I quickly rolled it back up and put it back in its place with all the other belts.
I quickly left, it wasn't fun anymore even though all around me people were walking out with armloads of stuff and talking about what a great deal they had just gotten.
Are we, with all our buying and accumulating, just preparing for a huge estate sale?
As of tomorrow, I am back on the no-spending routine.
If I laid all my fabric end to end it would circle the globe (an exaggeration) and I have more then enough plates to feed an army ( an estimate) but I could not resist this wonderful Vallance pottery plate that I found at my favourite junque store. I have been collecting Vallance pottery for some years now and am always surprised when I find a piece to add to my collection. Will I stop buying this pottery? Not likely. But I am going to make a concerted effort not to purchase anything unless it is absolutely necessary. These photos document my last visit to my favourite junque shop. 
Tea towels are another one of my obsessions and this one, besides being 100% linen, is a wonderful example of Haida art.
In the next six months I will endeavor to not spend any money on needless stuff but will continue to post about the many, many collections that I have accumulated over the years.
Who said you can't go home again? This is what was waiting for me after a gruelling seven hour busride (in which I'm sure we broke all sorts of speed limits) home to visit Mom and celebrate my birthday and Easter. It has been a long time since I have had a cake baked for my special day by my Mom so I felt like a little kid again. Cake for breakfast? Why not? This cake was so good - light and lemony. My favourite part - the sprinkles. With a double espresso, this was a most pleasing way to start my birth day.
My no flour, sugar or caffeine regimen will resume after all the festivities are over.
You go down a road you've never been before, a horse quietly munching away makes you stop. All you can hear is the wind, some birds, and the sound of grass being ripped out of the ground. 
He pays no attention to me at all, never raising his head to see what I am doing or how close I'm getting. It's spring and there is new grass to enjoy and that is all he is thinking about.
Our favourite part of the day - a walk through the village. The creek is running swift and brown, tulips everywhere we look, and the magnolias are drooping in the rain, their wax-like petals strewn about the ground in pink and white piles. 
An empty lot with the remains of someone's garden - the clusters of tulips enduring even though there is nothing left of the home. We pause in the rain and wonder.
Down by the lake, the firepit is waterlogged, the benches wet and lonely. 
The newly painted chairs patiently wait for a sunny day, a day of relaxed conversation while the world walks by.
At the play school we spot three peacocks perched on the porch railing, having heard their cry even before we saw them. Dozens of quails bustling about from one side of the road to the other. Ducks in the park enjoying the downpour. 
