winter's eve by erin trezise

better late than never, i think.

the simplest ideas can often be the best. food and friends is always a good thing. add candles and copious amounts of foliage, and you've got yourself an evening. 

a few weeks ago i was asked to help dress the venue for the Sisterhood seasonal supper, by Lou, this venue The Forge just barely ready for us, bare bricks and steel, beautiful and stark. working with Hannah the space became warm and homely, bodies moving, lifting, tying, stirring. nothing a few wreaths and pots full of food can't fix, these things always say 'welcome' to me. 

i always like the work in progress better, i like the mess and moment, and rough edges. hosting a class, sharing a skill, sharing a love for flowers. and it was so loud, so full! and then suddenly you are bumping along home in a taxi, and it's all happened. 

and these ladies! so ready to greet, and learn, and share. i couldn't believe my luck. 

photos below from the talented Xanthe Berkeley Photography.

sea air by erin trezise

the grey has come in, this past week. a low mist and a never quite reaching sun.

but also a sensible middle ground, knowing sense of change. here it all comes, the winter.

i spent the summer in a flurry, but a single trip in cornwall keeps coming back to me. a weekend right at the bottom, st ives and gwithian. and so these photos give me something to hold onto as the sky keeps getting darker.   the white studio of barbara hepworth meets the green shores of the sea, my little haven.

winter song by Erin

mid week day off, managed to push ourselves out the door.  it's all for the sun really. we explored cold gardens, getting ready for spring, bare all. 
february is going to be a good one, i can feel it already. proper weekends, like normal people, at least for a while.


















And if it gets rough, it's time to get rough by Erin

walking towards my local high street today, a walk i used to do daily for work, a tight row of houses, it made me think.
i am the queen of nostalgia, moving to a new country does that to you. or at least it does it to me. but regardless, you really never know what might be coming on the horizon. and so i keep thinking, don't look back. these phrases seem dull and obvious, but sometimes we need reminders.

this is always something that he does well, telling me, if something is wrong, we'll fix it.

december was busy, two new jobs, hiking across town, travelling on the train. freelance is tricky. january feels still, eerily quiet. like i'm waiting. and that's okay. maybe more time to write. maybe any time.


to do list:
don't cut hair  (longhairdon'tcare)
learn manual
do taxes
go to egypt on tuesday !!

low sun by Erin









last monday, the sun came out and we went into the woods. perfect light and leaves, and just warm enough for a pub lunch outside. all that good British stuff, wellies and tea and chat. a much needed escape, and it's been raining ever since, so that was it, it's winter now i think.

with more hours in my week, as of late, i feel tired. a fretful tiredness that is hard to shake. so i swim. or i walk. some movement, head clearing action. and order books.
but then things might change again, just like that, i might change them. and so i take back my time, gladly. 

tarte aux pommes by Erin

so i didn't make those recipes the other week. i got sick, and then spent six days in bed/couch.

my oven is forever 10 degrees off, so my tart got a little bit crispy, but oh well. i figured i would eat the whole thing, no germ spreading. and my Cereal magazine came, so there you have it, my afternoon last thursday.

the house smelt all warm and toasty, and it helped me feel like a real human being again, capable of completing a task away from the couch, sans laptop.  i think it looked pretty nice really.