"Momma, I'm a woman now. I know, baby. I replied with tears. I brushed the stray hairs from her brow and wiped away tears trickling down her peachy flush cheeks.

With my wrinkled, opaque, vanishing face of freckles, I returned, "I am so very sorry dear Zoë Kennedy; I love you so much. I never meant to hurt you. Please forgive me, will you forgive me?

"Yes, I do, Momma." She replied.

The emotions flooded me like a damn that finally broke open. No longer a desire to run, stance with defensiveness, nor fear fleeing from the rejoice of our mending hearts. No one else existed, just a mother and daughter, reconnecting, healing and closure after five long years.

I kept holding onto her as an overwhelming yet fleeting thought surfaced like a swift gust of strong wind, "will this same embrace be my last one of mortality duplicating itself as it did with Sawyer on Mothers day of 2019?" Will, I become childless without her pup once again." Those thoughts cross over a mother that's lost a child to travesty. I restrained the enormous impact of my pounding heart. I quickly diverted my thoughts. No, I said to myself. That is fear attempting to drive a wedge from my flourishing and blossoming newfound relations with my daughter of womanhood.

I slowly turned around, walked inside the cottage and leaned against the nine pane window cottage door of chipping rust paint, peering out, watching her leave, yet allowing myself the consent to feel uncomfortable for the moment. I gave myself the gift of release and the washing away of an olde chapter in my life that has now page turned. If you were to cut my chest open, that scar remains there carved into my heart, but today no longer a wound of injury and sadness. It is now a memory of a mother nicely tucking away a moment in time for safekeeping as you would treasure gifts in a young girls hope chest awaiting anticipation of a never-ending reopening of learning and discovery. Lodged deep within us all, we can see our life stories as beautiful tales with winding roads patched together in love.

How will your story end?

Sharing From My Heart

Might I share a little piece of my heart with you? I shared this on my Instagram feed yesterday, and I felt it lent nicely in what I was trying to convey without spoiling my desire for grace. 

My first marriage is now a faint memory to me, and divorce was the only approaching antidote of something on a grander scale. One can only live for so long on a one-sided love; two hearts were passing like ships in the night. I fought for the eternal element, which made my desire to remain together for decades much more fierce. But, to put it gently, we could not abide together.

During those years, I would return to my writing and painting. When the mire of my thoughts became too much, I would collect my diary and walk to the pond laden with beautiful swans. Essentially I was going home; each time I fled, I was home, living in my words; writing, pondering, meditating, reading and questioning. In those fleeting moments, I never felt happier. To keep it brief, he created within me a fierce drive to find my own truth that otherwise external traditions of religious, generational conditioning would have contrarily silenced. That element of searching has been absent from my life for many year's now. I am on solid and anchored footing. I am complete, but not by the world's standards, such as clockwork with no magic. My God is not your God; my God is in my details. Just as you see the wonder in a long stem red rose, I know that similarity in a dewy fragrant petal of the white gardenia.

When I opened up this space (rejoining Instagram) with you initially, and truthfully, I was pinpricked, wounded and shattered. Yet, I am slowly beginning to reignite and illuminate the light from within myself. Each time I write a caption, portions of my soul resurface. I believe my purpose is revealing itself, and I'll continue forth, dreaming, breathing and wondering. Something will come of it; undoubtedly, something will emerge.

Victorian Fashioning After My Lifestyle Icon, Tasha Tudor

“I was very insecure as a girl, though I'm quite bold now. I was different, teased in school because I was so connected with the past, wore old-fashioned dresses, and wouldn't cut my hair. I didn't give a darn about that. I only wanted to work in my garden and milk my cow.” ~Tasha Tudor

When I first began wearing victorian clothing (comprised of the corset too) every day (which was October of 2019), I long had the notion since childhood. I needn't remind you how often I've spoken about wearing old-fashioned clothing when I was a young girl, along with the wild impressions that would fill my brain to the brim of happy endeavours with being an artist and author precisely like my hero and victorian girl Laura Ingall's Wilder. However, just as with everything we take on as a new voyage will take a bit of planning and implementation. So I've begun this feat as an experiment whilst living at my folk's and transforming their olde' storage house into a victorian one-room cottage. I've left out a few things to make this story (blog post) cohesive, such as the many flubs I've come up against. For example, I attempted to sleep all night in the cottage (without a small air unit) but had to return to my folks (big house) because I nearly fainted with a heat stroke. (Remember, this is a journey of experimentation, but I have implemented the lifestyle to the best of my ability (with where I am circumstantial, which is living with my folks), and I plan to keep it up forever. I'm not going back. However, I will note that I will be rather tickled to move into my very own authentic victorian with massive land. Now, won't that be something of extraordinary measures! Everything in due time. 

As many of you know or have watched my evolution from when I first began my transformation, you can quite clearly see my transitioning from average dress to living as a victorian as much as I'm am capable of doing. Unlike many folks, I have decided not to remain quiet as my conscience has prompted me to share my voyage openly with you, my dear readers. Furthermore, I think it's a lovely opportunity to share the various phases of a process. Understandably it's not for everyone. I think the theory is lovely for most eccentrics or artistic folks, but to actualise such a feat, it's not for the weary, I can assure you of that. I am the kind that never does anything by halves. I've held this trait my whole life long. I truly immerse myself in an aspect. It's the perfect way to sharpen my writing skills and, most importantly, for me to live my dream life as in olden times. What better way to write than having lived aspects of the stories I've written and will write. I can share details that make for a much more enriching tale. However, as I've spent these last two years living at my folk's little cottage, I have understood many beliefs about myself. I now know this was always my truest self, but because of limiting beliefs and lacking self-confidence, I faltered and began subjecting myself to other folks theories of how I should live. The lovely quote I jotted down on my Instagram page yesterday (above) is something Tasha Tudor stated in a book once, and no truer words were ever spoken. It's precisely my sentiments verbatim.

The below quote from one of my secondary sources is a wonderful explanation of what dress has the power to do for an individual.

"Dress, then, is something more than a necessity of climate, something better than condition of comfort, something higher than elegance of civilisation.  Dress is the index of conscience, the evidence of our emotional nature.  It reveals, more clearly than speech expresses, the inner life of heart and soul in a people, and also the tendencies of individual character."

—Sarah Josepha Hale, 1866.

Manners, 1866, p. 39. Quotations of Quality  

I am having such a delightful time with each new day of implementing more and more pursuits into my everyday. I thought I would give you a scant version of my daily schedule, sharing what I do each day as a victorian. This will not be a sharply detailed schedule, but you comprehend my objective, surely. If you enjoy watching me, you can follow me on Instagram, where I publish videos and post IG lives so you can actually watch the process. I make pies, loaves of bread, and all sorts of things on my live Instagram. It's rather delightful. 

Morning: I get dressed and make a cup of tea. I then put on my wellies and head out to tend to the farm animals and water the gardens. Next, I prepare my two buckets of boiling water to carry to the cottage (Scarlette Rose) to use for the whole day (washing, cleaning, cooking and drinking as there's no indoor plumbing, water or privy.) I then brush my teeth, fix my hair and put on a little makeup. I then apply my oils and do my morning meditation. I'll spend the next portion of the day reading, doing research for one of my manuscripts, painting and writing. When I have a fun project (sewing, altering an antique, or building something), I'll also add that in while it's daylight.

Midday: I stop for a bit of lunch, tea, make some bread or dessert, take some photos, plan supper, run errands if needs be and then have a lie-down. I strongly encourage naps. Tasha Tudor was known to take a nap every single day as well.

Evening: I pull the curtains, light a few candles/ lamps, set soft music and wait for my gardener to arrive home from his employment. Once he's settled in and comfy, I'll cook him a hot meal. We will eat, I'll clean the kitchen, wash down everything and put the kettle on for a cup of chamomile tea and a scone. I will head out at the start of the moon and close up the coop and collect eggs. I will take my tea and light a candle, and settle in for the night. After my tea, I'll wash my face, check on Sir Oliver, put on my nightgown and slip off into a slumber.

Do you think you could live as a victorian? I know I would miss two things for sure, living in the victorian era, which is dentistry and indoor running hot water. This I have learned most thus far. Do you have any questions? 

 

Cheers!