Posts Tagged With: inspiration

A Bubble Staycation in a Tiny House

Sounds like a toddler’s picture book;-)

I’m lying here with my knees 14 inches from the ceiling. I can almost touch the bed on the other side of the loft and my entire family is less than 6 feet from me. I literally had no idea tiny houses were this tiny! My family thought I was crazy to book this, but they always look so big in social media pics. Anyway, I like it.

It’s throwing me back to the one hotel room we all shared in Edinburgh, the little trailer in Italy, the countless hours spent crammed in a car together. I’m feeling so nostalgic right now for that togetherness. I’ve blogged before about how space creates space…literally and figuratively. When everyone has their own room and there are three levels and three bathrooms in the house, you can go all day without seeing each other. Sometimes that’s nice, but sometimes I don’t love it.

COVID-19 has pretty much shut down travel, but the Atlantic provinces have next to no cases, so we are allowed to roam freely. Ish. So we are roaming!

The pandemic, despite our fortunate situation, has been hard on everyone. And it will be for some time. I think we all feel a bit trapped. I mean, we may not have travelled very far anyway in the last 6 months, but there’s something about not being able to travel that feels different. It’s restrictive.

So even though we are not roadschooling with our three littles, I feel so fortunate to be on a Cape Breton weekend vacation with our three young adults. And not much has changed to be honest. The youngest is complaining, the oldest is reading and the other ones are trying to find a way to get Netflix to appear on the tv with no wifi.

Space is tight. It’s raining. The tiny house is shaking just a little in the gale-force winds. But I love it. All of it.

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Daddy/Daughter Stuff

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The other night, we went to the Banff Mountain Film Festival. I’ve been before, and these extreme adventure films usually do one of two things – they either make me feel depressed and inadequate because I don’t do any extreme adventure things and I’m not outdoorsy enough, or they inspire me to get outdoors, travel more, and spend more time with the kids.
This year’s crop of films did both, as usual, but weirdly, the one I found most inspiring was Spice Girl – a film about a little blond UK rock climber. I say “weirdly” because rock climbing is something I would never do. But I always loved to watch Dev rock climbing, and I love the places in the UK where the rock climbing happens. Almscliffe Crag, Otley Chevin, Stanage Edge, Ilkley, Malham Cove…places like these are so stunningly wild and beautiful that you don’t need to be a climber to enjoy and appreciate them.
Rock Climbing is a fascinating sport that demands such physical strength and agility, but also an incredible amount of mental clarity, stamina, and courage. Because if you fall off, you get hurt. I guess thats why it provides such an adrenalin rush, and pushes people to do things that are more and more difficult and dangerous. I really admire that in climbers. But the other thing climbing does is inspire a love of nature and the outdoors. And I want that for our kids, whatever their interests.
Anyway, I think part of the reason this film moved me so much was the unexpectedness of this hardcore traditional climber being the pretty little blond – gotta love smashing the stereotypes. And also, the relationship she had with her father through climbing. It makes me think of our middle daughter, and the relationship she could have with her dad through climbing. If we lived near any rocks. Or even a climbing wall. She has always loved the idea of climbing, and unlike her mother, she has no fear of heights whatsoever. She had a little bit of an opportunity to experience climbing while we travelled, and even a bit of what I would call “extreme hiking” at places like Carancas Gorge in the Pyrenees (when she was the only one brave enough to follow her father around a crazy ledge about 1000 feet up).
Our little Island does not offer much in the way of rock. Sandstone cliffs are a bit on the crumbly side. Don’t get me wrong – it offers many many things, and that’s why we live here, but it definitely limits any fulfillment of a passion for climbing. So, what to do? How to help cultivate that climber/climber’s daughter relationship in our own family? I’m thinking we might have to take a few road trips to The Mainland this summer! Find some rocks for our own little Spice Girl to climb with her daddy!
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Thank You

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I remember leaving Paris last November early in the morning, taking the cab to the secure parking lot on the edge of the city where we had housed our car, then realizing that in the very rushed exit from our apartment, we had not loaded the map onto the ipad. We had no paper map, and we knew that if we didn’t get out of the city now, it would be “rush hour”, and I was pretty sure we didn’t want to be trying to navigate the spaghetti-like roads in that! We managed, though, but again, it seemed a lot more stressful than it should have been…in retrospect, we should have chilled a bit more.

Anyway, the point was, leaving Paris in such a state – we briefly considered driving straight to Brugges rather than trying to find our way to Vimy Ridge, and then on to Belgium that same day. This very humbling poem that Darragh wrote yesterday for the local Legion’s Remembrance Day Poetry Contest makes me so glad we didn’t give in to our rather pathetic impulse to take the easier route.

Thank You

Last November, I was at Vimy Ridge

As I walked up the gravel path

The huge memorial appeared through the mist

Tall and graceful yet strong and powerful it stood.

On it were precise carvings – people in cloth,

Looking up to the sky.

Names carved in marble, names of soldiers who have died for us.

As my dad lectures on about wartime, I imagine:

Soldiers crawl up the bombed trenches

Aiming and shooting

Guns fire

Mud squelches under their boots as they run

Sheltering their heads with their hands

Escaping.

A bomb drops and the earth erupts in a torn explosion

Faces.

Some dead, some wounded, some dripping with tears

All expressionless, waiting for good news.

Hope.

A soldier yells as one of his friends is taken by a bullet.

He ducks, but I can feel his tears. Feel his pain.

Rain parades onto the dead landscape

As more guns fire and bombs explode.

I look up at the huge memorial.

Strong and Proud.

A small ray of light breaks through the fog –

That ray of hope soldiers waited for and never got.

That ray of light I now look at freely.

“Thank you”, I whisper to the breeze.

But I am really whispering to the soldiers who

Saved my country and my life.

Because of them, I see this sunlight.

Because of them, I have this hope.

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The Pencil Museum. Yes, that’s what I said.

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I’m back in The Lake District again. Because I couldn’t leave it without telling you about the Cumberland Pencil Museum. Don’t scoff – it’s really interesting. Yes, it is.
So, on a cold and rainy afternoon in Keswick, when we don’t really feel like hiking, we decide to try out this place. It’s exterior is pretty uninspiring, just on the edge of the town centre with the actual pencil factory as its backdrop. And when we first go in, it doesn’t seem that much better, really. But we pay our entrance fees, and the kids are offered a quiz to complete as well as a sketching contest to do on the way around, and we are off and running. We go through into the first room, which turns out to be the only room, and I wonder how long we will actually be able to stay out of the rain – it doesn’t seem like it will take more than half an hour to get around everything.
I am wrong.
The kids explore the first display and learn about graphite mining and the actual process of making a pencil, spurred on to learn more by the quiz they have been given. Legend has it that after a huge storm in the area, Borrowdale farmers discovered a black material under some uprooted trees which turned out to be graphite. And the rest is history. A cottage industry materialized, and eventually led to the UKs first pencil factory in 1832. Then we look at the way coloured pencils are made, which is actually pretty fascinating. In fact, the whole place is pretty fascinating.
And because we are not in a rush to get back out into the rain, we explore it in great detail. We see the jewel encrusted pencil made for the Queen’s recent jubilee. We watch a video of how Raymond Briggs created his famous Snowman animated stories with Lakeland coloured pencils. And perhaps the most interesting of all, the WWII exhibit which tells the tale of when the craftsmen at this pencil museum were commissioned by MI 9 to create a pencil the looked at functioned like a regular pencil, but that contained a tiny compass in the eraser, which could also be unscrewed to reveal a map of Germany!

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The other great thing about this museum (besides the Guiness Book’s largest pencil in the world) was the fact that little tables full of different types of coloured pencils and watercolour pencils were scattered around, and you could just sit and draw or paint, something most of us would never take the time to do. And when we had finished looking around, there was the Techniques Room, filled with even more art supplies and video tutorials so we could have a crack at some of the more impressive techniques. The kids spent at least an hour in here while we enjoyed a nice cup of tea in the cafe, which also had art supplies on the tables!
And at the end, when all that was left was the gift shop, all those fabulous art supplies were available for sale!
And yes, I do see the connection there, but surely buying fabulous art supplies is ok, right? I mean, it is educational.
And creative.
And useful.
We did buy, and I am happy to say, those supplies made painters of us all. Inspired by the beautiful surroundings of The Lakes, we became artists. Really. We did.

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by Mairi

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by Darragh

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