As someone who already grew a business out of doing something I loved, I am very aware of the danger of making that thing you love seem to too much like work and waking up one day to find you lost the creative and personal connection with that very thing.

So with no real intent to do so, I find myself embarking on a photographic Project 365.  It’s not the first time.  I’ve begun a good few of these over the years.  Back in those early days of sharing images on blogs and Flickr, the Project 365 was such a popular shared experience.  For me, it was the start of a regular photography habit and I learned and grew so much along the way.  Perhaps even more importantly, it was the point when I realised that there is always – and I mean truly always – something worth recording every day.

And sometimes that moment won’t be staring you in the face.

Sometimes you have to purposely look for it.

But it will be there.  If you seek it, you will find it.  Even on the darkest (metaphorical or actual) of days.

The practice of picking up my camera every day with this small purpose is very much like a gratitude journal of sorts.  In the same way that many people record three small, happy moments or things to be grateful for, the Project 365 can provide a similar sort of therapy.

The images themselves do not have to be perfect or beautiful, it’s that act of pausing to press a button that matters perhaps.  A memory recorded, a moment observed.  The act of stopping to catch breath and frame a thought.

I’m not going to post these images daily on Instagram but I will try to gather them here on my blog every week.  I won’t beat myself up if I miss a day, maybe I’ll just look for an extra moment on another day.

The post A Project 365 appeared first on Poshyarns.

I’m not one for dark corners and shady spots.  I’ve never had a conservatory but if I did you wouldn’t find any blinds in there.

Every morning I rush to pull the bedroom curtains wide.  I’m the person who is forever opening doors and windows, on a summer’s day you will find me lying flat in the open, my face upturned to the sun, soaking up all that light.

My mother suffered from some sort of, mostly undiagnosed, mental illness for most of her life.  Belfast in the 1970s was probably not the most enlightened of places when it came to mental health and there were plenty of periods of functioning normal.  Other times there were quirks.  We called them Personality Quirks. As time went on those quirks became more dominant.  Quirky days became weeks, became months and perhaps later, years.

We learned to live with her quirks.  To some extent they became normal. Indeed we all seeked to normalise them, because of course that seemed easier than thinking about what they might actually be if not ‘quirks’.  Her strange behaviour was excused. Bemused.  Other reasons sought.  Blame laid elsewhere.

Weather Watching

One of those quirks was an extreme fear of thunder.  On an especially quirky day she might scour the weather reports for any possible indication of impending thunder.  Searching for signs of high pressure, low pressure, humidity, or even just a little rain.  Any of those things might mean storms ahead.  We lived in Northern Ireland.  If you studied the weather hard enough there was almost always the chance of a thunderstorm somewhere on the Emerald Isle.  Hells bells, sometimes in 1970s and 80s those skies above Belfast just groaned and grumbled with the sheer weight of all that lay below them and frankly, if my mother was in a mood to watch for thunder, there were more than likely storms ahead whether the weather delivered or not.

Should the forecast show the merest chance of thunder our curtains would be immediately drawn tightly shut.  The beautiful bay windows hidden behind the thick, dark fabric.  The once airy rooms plunged into a clammy darkness.  Appliances were unplugged, no television or radio to distract.  No metal to be used.  We would sit in the quiet space.  Oppressed by the weather, or rather the possibility of the weather.

Some days the curtains were hardly ever fully opened. Sometimes those days became weeks.  During especially ‘quirky’ periods we lived life mostly prepared for the possibility of thunder.

As we ticked off time in the shadowy room I would search for glimpses of light. I remember how sometimes a shaft of sunlight pushed tantalisingly through a crack in the fabric.  I remember how the dust would sparkle and glitter upon that narrow beam of light.  As though it were magic.  A mystical, magical dancing path of light.  Light leading upwards and outwards.

Seeking Light

And so.  From the moment I left home I’ve been seeking the light.  Never for one moment taking it for granted.  I will record it with my camera, I will pause to let it wash over my soul.  I will throw those curtains wide wherever I go.  In fact sometimes I don’t even bother with curtains at all.  Keen not to shut out one single grain of magical light.

And right now.  Right now the light is so good.  Even on a gloomy day the sky is wide.  The light plays somewhere.  It hits the wall just there or sparkles on the sink over here.  It fills the space, it fills my soul.  I breath it in and I’m so very thankful.

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I never realise quite how much the winter months supress me until spring blows in.  As the sun climbs a little higher in the sky each day, I feel myself begin to unfurl and stretch upwards.  Exactly like those soft leaves beginning to uncurl on the trees outside my window and the fresh green shoots pushing up through the cool dark earth.

Spring’s life force begins to flow through my veins, her energy radiating through my physical and mental well being.  The projects I’ve procrastinated and fretted over suddenly start to take life, their heartbeat quickens and I wonder whatever the problem was, why did they sit quietly stagnant for so long?

Last week I finally set live my Photography and Film Packages.  I’ve fumbled over this for weeks.  People have asked about costs, even booked me for shoots and yet still I couldn’t quite commit to making it all real and official.  As April arrived I suddenly sprinted into action, spurred on the by the sight of the tulip leaves suddenly pushing impatiently through the muddy ground.  It’s not perfect but as the sun climbs higher in the sky it somehow lights the way.  I can now see quite clearly that done is so much better than perfect.  I can tweak and add as I go along, it can and should evolve along the way.

I wonder if spring is the most creative of all the seasons?  How many projects come to life in spring?  The more I ponder this, the more natural it seems.  I’ve often thought the new year would be much better suited to starting in September, in line with the academic year we are all so familiar with.  A good time to turn the page and make some plans.

I’m beginning to question that idea because right now, at this very moment, I feel myself ready to start anew.   Having emberged from the sleepy winter months rested and re-charged I am now ready to embrace the long growing season ahead.  A few months of energetic growth and plans will then slow gently into summer.  The time to settle that growth, tie in those strong main branches and gently trim the whippy, aimless shoots. The bedding in days.  Time to see what works and what must go.  Feeding up and watering, preparing for the gathering in that will come with autumn.

So right now, as I put my energies into growing a whole new business, with all the excitement and nervousness that goes hand in hand with that, right now, this is my favourite season.  Before all others.  Until the next one.

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My perfect Sunday starts at the kitchen table with piles of books and all the coffee. Then that long walk in the countryside and back home to begin the sort of cooking that Sundays lend themselves too.  Slow pottering, roasting, peeling, simmering.  Nothing hurried.  Food that is as pleasureable to prepare as it is eat.

And we never eat Sunday lunch at lunchtime it’s more of a Linner.  A happy combination of lunch and dinner.  To be eaten at 4ish or so.

This sort of kitchen tinkering requires a cocktail to replace the normal afternoon cup of tea and happily my Technical Advisor Mr L is pretty handy in the cocktail department.

This hot toddy was a definite win, in fact it almost makes me wish winter could last a little longer.

[kindred-recipe id=”738″ title=”Tinkberry Warmer – A Gin Toddy”]

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Running a small business is often a lonely affair.  Now please don’t mistake me, most of the time I’m thoroughly happy sat in my studio with only the dogs for company.  I have purposely chosen to maintain my business and grow in a particular way in order to ensure that other than occasional teenage help, (and thank heavens for helpful teens), I can avoid having to employ anyone else.  I like my own company.  I dislike telling people what to do.  I like to listen to Radio 4, a lot, but can see that this might not be everyone’s cup of tea.  That would awkward.  Imagine the deadly silence that might occur if a team member suggested an alternative radio station.  And all of us armed with scissors!  It could end so badly.

I’m also kind of messy in my studio but I would feel obliged to be less messy if other people were in there.  This would lead to my frantically stashing mess out of sight before anyone arrived for a day’s work and then I would be unable to remember where such and such a thing had been stashed.  This would lead to me suspecting someone else of putting such and such a thing in the wrong place and a bad feeling would hang over us all.

However, when all is said and done …. there are times when the company of like-minded souls is beneficial, in fact down right necessary.  Mr L is entirely amazing at listening to my rambles and offers great advice but I’m exceptionally bad at taking advice from my Mr L and there are some things he just doesn’t quite get.  His corners of the Internet are different to mine.  We don’t ‘know’ the same people and our working worlds are miles apart.

I learned early on in my business just how good it can be to get together with people on a similar journey.  People who ‘get it’.  So when Jane of Snapdragon Studio suggested that myself and Vanessa of The Simpson Sisters plan a DIY business retreat together, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Vanessa found us a wonderful location – a converted gramophone needle factory called The Music Mill in the Derbyshire Peak District.  It had the space we needed to spread out in, soft pillows and the most comfortable of beds.  Excellent food in walking distance.  We liked The Bank House so much we went there two nights in a row.

And from the moment we walked through those big barn doors together we started talking and sharing.  It was the easiest of meetings.  We sparked ideas, gained clarity and laughed.  We laughed a lot.  I’ve come back with such a clear idea of what I want to do next and the first stepping-stones to get there have been laid.  More than that, I have two friends who are quietly cheering me from the sidelines, friends I can rely on for feedback and support along the way and who hopefully I can offer the same in return.  A team of sorts.  But one that doesn’t require you to tidy your studio or switch radio channels.

Some Retreat Resources

Jenny Pace offers amazing business retreats – fully catered (exceptionally catered) in luxury surroundings.  Jenny brings people together in a gentle, supportive atmosphere and offers guidance and experience.  I’ve been twice and I think the fact that so many attendees return speaks volumes.

If you want to take the DIY route, as we did this time, then I recommend finding a location that offers plenty of pockets of space.  It’s really helpful to be together without being on top of each other.  We didn’t follow a particular agenda but we did take time to sit around the table together for some definite business discussion.  Taking turns to talk through specific things we wanted to get feedback on.  Of course the great thing about being together for a couple of days means that these topics are gently threaded throughout your time together.  So there is an opportunity to mull and contemplate.  To follow-up on thoughts and unravel knots.  This is where the real magic happened, those gentle conversations about and around our subjects.  Having the time to ponder.

We stayed in The Music Mill.

We ate at The Bank House

And The David Mellor Factory

The post In the company of women – a slow living business retreat appeared first on Poshyarns.

So I never did choose a word.  I left it to others and watched from the sidelines with a mix of curiosity and a little envy.  Because I did like the idea.  The idea of a guiding star.

Kind – the potluck word

Then two years ago I attended a creative business retreat with Jenny Pace and at that retreat we each had the opportunity to choose a word.  A bowl of engraved stars, one year bamboo, the following year ceramic, was passed around and all I had to do was select a star from the bowl.  No pressure to come up with a word of my own.  This way it was all in the luck of the draw and I could live with that.  A get out card, the choice to embrace the word or set aside as I wished. That first year I pulled out the word ‘Kind’.  I thought about it from time to time as the year went by.  It was a year of learning to be little kinder to myself.  A year of learning that it was OK and maybe even a good thing to put myself first from time to time.  I used that word as a way of giving myself permission to do things.  A reminder, a nudge.  Good things came from that.  I enrolled in courses in photography and video, I took trips with friends.  I forgave myself for things I had never really done wrong.

Obviously this was not a magic star, the word itself did not do these things but it was an affirmation of sorts, a gentle reminder.  It hung on my dressing mirror and caught the light from time to time to help me push my doubts and worries aside.

2018, a year of two halves

Last year I attended the retreat again and chose my second word, ‘trust’.

As 2018 began I was, like many small retail based businesses, in a somewhat shaky place.  I realised that I had been overly dependent on the various market place sites I sell on and that I needed to take more control of my business and where my sales came from.  I threw myself into learning about marketing and Facebook sales.  I hated it and didn’t give much thought to the word trust as I let my worry and anxiety send me dashing off in every direction, worried about the future of my business.

The second half of 2018 saw me began to stop panicking about driving traffic and running conversion ads.  I took a course with Kayte at Simple and Season and learned that it might be possible to market a business in an altogether more honest and organic sort of way.  It also began to sow the seeds in my mind that I may want to run a different sort of business, a change of direction.  I began to dream of something else.

Trust

As I entered the final quarter of the year, the word ‘trust’ really came into its own.  I took Kim’s journal course and began to write about my dreams.  Let them take shape and gradually I began to put a little trust in myself and those dreams.  I began to trust that I might even have the ability to make some of those dreams come true.  I still have a very long way to go but over the last few months I’ve begun to see clearly what I might do, the sort of business I want to have and the steps I need to take to make that happen.  I’ve sown my seeds and watched as the tiny seedlings begin to sprout.  I’m leaning into that word ‘trust’.  Trusting that I can do it.  Believing in myself.

Trust has become a powerful word for me a reassuring anchor.  I’m thinking hard about what to follow it with.  This year I’m not attending Jenny’s retreat so my word will not be handed to me on a dish.  But that’s ok, I’m trusting in myself.  I think I know what I need this year.  This year I’m going to make some of those dreams a reality.  I’m making changes to my business and trusting my heart and my instinct.  I’m trusting that the seeds sown last year will begin to grow and bloom.  In fact that might even be the word I need.  Bloom.

The post Choosing a word appeared first on Poshyarns.

The seasonal shift.  I’m so grateful for each and every one of the four seasons.  Sure I sometimes wish one was shorter or another longer, but I would not give up a single one.  I love that feeling of one season gently transitioning into the next.  That sense of the earth turning, nature marking time.  Right now winter is stepping slowly through the door ready to take her place.  The sun has settled lower in the sky, the trees are bare, their branches stark and elegant.  It feels so good to see my world in a fresh new light.

A beautiful book.  I love a coffee table book.  The sort of book that is filled with gorgeous pictures, plenty of white space on the page and well chosen words.  Books that don’t strain my eye or thoughts.  Books that can be dipped in and out of at will, undemanding but fulfilling in their way.  Books to gently sooth and inspire.

Matilda’s 16th birthday cake.  I though I didn’t have time, I felt I should have been working.  But I stepped away from the studio and spent a few hours baking and decorating a cake.  Kitchen pottering of the very best kind.  The work didn’t go anywhere and still got completed, it turned out that a few hours of doing something else was exactly what I needed.  And the cake?  The cake was declared a success.  Earl Grey sponge with lemon buttercream and raspberry jam.  A cream tea of a cake.  Plus, it’s absolutely enormous and therefore still brightening up my morning coffee three days later.

The post My Week Of Happy appeared first on Poshyarns.

I ocassionally kept a teenage diary but I’ve never really written a journal.  Of course I’ve blogged over the years but that’s not quite the same.  Blogging is a record of course but not quite as personal and freestyle as journalling.  I’ve never really been a journal writer.  I mean I’ve bought the stationery and I’ve thought about the concept but frankly I’ve always been a little too self-concious to actually journal.  The word seemed grand and I felt at sea with no real idea how to begin.  I was never really sure where diary ended and journal began.  Do you journal with a thought to posterity, a historical log, Pepys style?  Or should it be a daily stream of consciousness.  A downloading of thought, a spring clean for the brain?  I never really dared try in case I did it all wrong.  I know….

So then I signed up for Kim Klassen’s Write Your Heart’s Desire course.  I began with the taster class – Write Now.  I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting when I signed up for Write Now.  I love writing and like many bloggers I nurse a secret desire to do a little more with my writing, but of course (and I dare say I’m not alone here), when it comes right down to it, most of my writing takes place in my head and never even makes it to the page.  I’m fairly certain that doesn’t really count as writing, I mean, you have to actually put pen to paper or fingers to the keyboard at some point along the way, if you are going to call it writing!  I was hoping that Kim’s course would be the nudge to make the writing on page/screen actually happen.

In my hurry to sign up, FOMO was a major factor, I didn’t really take in the content of the class and once it started I realised that it was much more to do with creating a journalling practice.  It’s not the first time I’ve been in such a hurry to sign up for something that I’ve haven’t really taken the time to understand what the actual content of the thing might be.  So when the class began I was a little surprised to find that it wasn’t ten steps to becoming a writer but rather a course on developing a journalling practice.  However, I love Kim, I mean she taught me Lightroom (a huge achievement for a technophobe like me) and I find her online presence inspiring and generous, so I decided to give it a go and see what transpired.

I hesitate to use the phrase ‘life changing’, I mean I’m from the presbyterian suberbs of Belfast and we just don’t use phrases like that, but my goodness me, I’m so up for this!  Each week Kim has talked us through different techniques and approaches to journalling.  Questions we might ask ourselves, lists we might make, ideas to explore.  I’ve listened to her prompts each day and to my surprise I’ve felt my inhibitions fall away and the words begin to rise and fall onto the page.  It’s been so cathartic.  It’s cleared my head and soothed my soul.  It’s helped me plan and dream.  It’s like I’ve suddenly learned how to exercise a muscle.  The sort you could never quite reach and suddenly you work out how to stretch it, you feel it lengthen and strengthen.

This has been an odd year in many ways.  I started out last January with a determination to learn how to market my products online and grow my sales, a year of learning.  Along the way I learned a lot about myself and I finally realised that in actual fact I might want a very different sort of business altogether.  This is the year I learned to dream.  I finally gave myself permission to hope for more.  As the year draws to a close, I realise that I now have a clear idea of the sort of business I want to explore next year and this practice of journalling has been a vital part of the journey.

Before I began this daily writing habit I had only just begun to imagine what direction my dreams might take me and what changes I might make to my business.  The idea was there but the edges fuzzy and hard to decipher.  I had no real idea of how I might begin or what the reality could possibly look like.

Kim’s course taught me that the first step to realising your dreams is to begin writing them down.  To write as though those dreams came true, to write As If…   So that’s what I’ve been doing.  I’m filling pages, I’m writing as if…, I’m writing lists, I’m writing plans.  Of course the magical part is that all this writing is in fact creating action.  The more the words unfold each day the clearer the steps become and once you have steps, you have a path.  And I totally know what to do with a path, my boots are all polished up and ready to step out.

The post The Daily Write appeared first on Poshyarns.

Anne Marie assured me there was nothing cloying about Tinkture gin, so when we came across it on our recent visit to St Ives and I saw for myself just how beautiful the bottle was… well, I was sold (or rather Mr L was, because I leave all actual gin purchasing to him, only encouraging as required).

Tinkture Gin is made with fresh rose petals.  It is elegant, delicate and thoughtful.  It is glass of all that is soft and gentle about summer.  It’s a lazy afternoon in June, you are in the garden, on an old wool blanket.  You have piles of cushions, a favourite book by your side (I Capture The Castle would be my choice) and the sunlight is dancing through the leaves above as the scent of roses carries on the breeze.

I am a summer girl.  I wouldn’t swap one single one of the seasons and I am so glad that I live in four season country.  But…. summer is my favourite, summer is the one I want to like to linger in and it is summer memories that carry me through the darker days of Autumn and Winter.

Tinkture gin is made in Cornwall by Hannah and her small team.  It is thoughtfully hand-crafted and beautifully presented.  Made using organically grown rose petals and available in a gorgeous brown glass bottle, re-fillable of course.

Mr L mixed me this riff on a French 75.  Flavoured with Thyme infused sugar syrup.  I promise it only takes a few minutes extra to make up the sugar syrup and it is absolutely worth the effort.

[kindred-recipe id=”606″ title=”French 75 With Rose And Thyme”]

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