#and the joy that I get when I rediscover some of the gems of my childhood

[lastnightstoryart]

I'm in a spot where I definitely am not watching as much anime as I used to. I've been watching anime for over 20 years, and sometimes the feeling of not being as dedicated about it, as I used to be, can feel a bit scary. Almost like losing a part of myself.

But then I randomly decide to watch a series and I immediately feel the same joy and love towards this medium, that I always had. At the end of the day, it's not about the quantity.

[anniebeemine]

Some Days Are Diamonds, Some Days Are Stone- s.r. x reader

I found a new needle for my turntable so I’ve only been listening to John Denver recently.

Spencer's life after prison was a delicate balance, a constant tug-of-war between reclaiming the normalcy he craved and grappling with the shadows that prison had cast over him. Some days, he was able to push through the memories, the trauma, and the pain, but other days, it was all he could do to get out of bed. You stood by him through it all, a steadfast presence in the storm that still sometimes raged within him.

On the good days, Spencer seemed almost like his old self—calm, reflective, eager to engage with the world around him. He would wake up early, slipping out of bed with a lightness that had been absent for so long. Those mornings were precious, filled with quiet moments where the two of you would sit together in the living room, your legs tangled as you sipped coffee and talked about everything and nothing at all. He would lean back against the cushions, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, drawing comfort simply from having you close.

Some days, he’d suggest going out—just the two of you. You’d wander through the streets, hand in hand, taking in the sights of the city like tourists rediscovering its hidden gems. He loved going to dinner, savoring the taste of food that wasn't served on a plastic tray, the ambiance of a cozy restaurant that offered a semblance of normal life. The flicker of candlelight at your favorite Italian spot often brought a softness to his face, his eyes reflecting the warm glow as he listened to you talk about your day, nodding thoughtfully as he twirled spaghetti on his fork.

There were visits to museums, where Spencer would lose himself in the art, tracing the history behind each piece with that same enthusiasm you remembered from before everything changed. He'd stand in front of a painting, his hand lightly touching his chin, deep in thought, and you couldn't help but smile, seeing a glimpse of the Spencer you fell in love with—the one who could get lost in his own mind for hours, analyzing every brushstroke, every hue.

And the libraries—oh, how he loved the libraries. He would wander the aisles with you, fingers trailing along the spines of books, occasionally pulling one out to read a passage to you, his voice gentle, soothing. Those days were peaceful, filled with the quiet joy of rediscovery, of building a new life together, one moment at a time.

But not every day was a good day.

There were mornings when Spencer couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed. You’d wake up beside him, feeling the tension in his body, the way he curled in on himself as if trying to make himself small, invisible. Those were the days when the weight of everything he’d been through was too much to bear, when the memories of prison, the fear, and the loneliness crashed over him like a tidal wave.

He would lie there, staring at the ceiling, his mind far away. Sometimes, he would start to cry, silently at first, as if ashamed to let the emotions out. You’d reach out to him, gently placing a hand on his back, and he would turn into you, burying his face in your shoulder, his body wracked with sobs. All you could do was hold him, letting him release the pain in whatever way he needed to, whispering reassurances in his ear even though you knew they could only do so much.

On those rough days, Spencer would often retreat into himself, locking himself away in your room for hours at a time. He’d close the door, the sound of it shutting a painful echo in the quiet of your home. You’d give him space, knowing he needed to process things on his own, but it never got easier, hearing him cry on the other side of the door, knowing you couldn’t take the pain away.

When he finally emerged, he looked exhausted, eyes red-rimmed and weary, like he’d aged years in just a few hours. He wouldn’t say much on those days, just give you a small, tired smile that broke your heart a little every time. You’d guide him to the couch, making sure he was comfortable, and sit beside him, letting the silence between you be filled with unspoken understanding.

The rough days were hard, but you faced them together, even when Spencer didn’t have the energy to reach out to you. You’d make his favorite tea, read to him from his favorite books, or simply sit beside him, holding his hand, letting him know you were there, that he wasn’t alone.

In time, Spencer would start to come back to you, little by little. He’d start to talk again, to share the thoughts that had been tormenting him, and you’d listen, offering what comfort you could. The good days would return, and you’d cherish them all the more, knowing how fleeting and precious they were.

[hemingway-papers]

REALLY good question that's always hard to answer. there's no canon beginning and every movie and episode is meant to be self contained. but the series is so hit and miss that the wrong introduction could turn a new viewer away immediately lol and never get to experience the gems you might cherish forever. now which ones are the best and perfect to start with: everyone has their own personal take. i'm sure the community would be glad to weigh in tho.

i have several ideal starting points, a handful of top tier movies and episodes id be happy to elaborate on any time. But i feel that picking which one to start with best depends on personal taste, what you're in the mood for and what jumps out to you from the list of recs! good luck my friend and have fun

So hypothetically, if I was going to get into the Lupin III series, where would I begin? And where can I watch it.

[khaleesiofalicante]

Do you happen to have some Malec fanart? My account were I had all of them was deleted and I cant find them :(

Okay I am going to share some of my favourite pieces by my favourite malec artists @chibi-tsukiko and @radisv

This beautiful art of sleeping malec

More beautiful sleeping malec (love it when the bebes get to rest)

Cute malec being cute

malec kissing <3

more malec kissing!

malec hugging!!!!

power couple malec

malec with swords omg

husbands in love

malec with the babies

malec with the bebes again

These artists (and many others!!!!) have a lot of malec art on their blogs. I hope you visit them and have the joy of rediscovering these precious gems all over again!!!!!

[come-on-shitty-boys]

A Letter to You

Yes, you read that right.  This is a letter to you.  I want to thank you for being here, for sticking with me, for believing in me, and supporting me.  You are a big reason why I keep doing this, because if it wasn’t for you and your kindness, I would’ve gotten discouraged a long time ago.  I love every reblog, every comment, and every like that pops up in my notification.  I love seeing you in my inbox, enjoying my content and asking for more.  Darling, you’ve made this experience so much more enjoyable than I could ever imagine.  

You are now 1 of 600 and counting people who have come to this blog and decided that I was worthy of your follow and I could never thank you enough.  You’ve helped me grow and  rediscover a passion for writing that I was afraid was long lost.  Thank you for being you and for never letting me give up.  

It seems silly to be celebrating something like this.  This is just a random blog on Tumblr that most of us will likely forget about in a matter of years, but it’s important to take joy in the small things in life.  Whether that be “I got out of bed today” or “I remembered to drink water,” there is something every day that is worth being proud of.  Reaching 600 followers just happens to be the thing that I’m proud of today.

This is a long and sappy way of saying thank you so much for 600 followers.  I couldn’t have done this without you and yes, I mean you.

Much love xx

Maddi

Some more personal letters to some very special darlings that have helped me grow, and have really been there every step of the way, but below the cut because it’s a lil lengthy:

@cherryonigiri - Alice, my darling, my gem, you’re so incredibly kind and I don’t know what I ever did to have someone like you as a mutual.  I see you on my dash and in my notifications all the time and it never fails to bring a little smile onto my face.

@kuronekomama - Temmie, I love you.  You’re so damn funny and I will never not be amazed at all of our similarities.  You provide that top-knotch, *chef’skiss* swimmer content that I never knew that I needed, but I’m so glad that I was blessed with finding your blog.  

@afterglowkuroo - Louisa, you’ve really been through it all, sis.  But, you’re so incredibly talented.  You create such amazing pieces and I hate that Tumblr is such a garbage can to you, because you really do deserve so much more attention.  literally if you’re reading this go follow her she’s doing/did a wedding series that makes my established-relationship-desiring heart go B O O M

@trish-writes - Darling, we haven’t even been mutuals for that long, but I’m so glad that we’ve had the opportunity to connect.  When I tell you that my heart fluttered when I read that you were excited to get an ask from me?  Ma’am, I am not lying ;-;

@writingfreakk - M Y Q U E E N.  You supply me with the premium tiktoks that have me a screeching mess because Kuroo and Bokuto really do hit us both hard in the feelings.  Thank you for enabling me in my tiktok addiction, because I somehow got off of weebtok and onto retail worker tiktok which doesn’t make sense because i have never worked retail in my L I F E

@icyhearts - sweetie 🥺💕 you’re so adorable and I love seeing you pop up in my inbox.  You always submit the cutest ideas for Throne Room Thursday and I’m glad that I’m not the only one who’s OBSESSED with royalty aus here!

and finally @nekxrizawa bby ;-; my sister, my love, my internet bestie 🤧 my first real moot here and deadass a big reason that my blog has grown to the size that it has.  You put up with all of my bullshit and cursed memes and ma’am I don’t know how you do it, but I love you anyway.  You’re my fellow art hoe and one day we’ll be great artists who rival Bob Ross actually no because I love him and he deserves to be number one in conclusion hi i love you bby and thanks for giving me gang orca’s snap lololol

[corkcitylibraries]

Ireland Reads | 10 BorrowBox Picks for Children and Young Adult Readers

by Jordan McCarthy

The Ireland Reads day offers the perfect opportunity for every kind of reader to celebrate the magical gift of reading. Regular readers, new readers and those who are about to rediscover the wonders and joys of reading, can enrich their lives during a time when our daily routines need it more than ever.

While our libraries may be closed, the online resource, BorrowBox, is one of the real gems being offered by libraries during lockdown. More and more readers are using the platform which has thousands upon thousands of wonderful eAudiobooks and eBooks.

And better yet, this online service, like all the others offered by Cork City Libraries, is free to all library members. If you haven’t yet joined, you can do this for free at www.librariesireland.ie/join-your-library.

Whatever we choose to read or listen to this month, we know that we are nourishing our health and wellbeing in doing so. The possibilities a good book – or magazine, comic, newspaper or whatever you choose to read - can bring to our lives are endless.

“If you don’t like to read, you haven’t found the right book.” – J.K. Rowling’

Below are ten of the top picks currently available on the Children’s and Young Adult section of BorrowBox. Like all great kids’ books, they will prove gripping and engaging for many adult readers, too.

So, squeeze in a read this month. You can find out more about the Ireland Reads initiative by visiting irelandreads.ie. And don’t forget to pledge your reading time!

  Long Way Down  by Jason Reynolds - Young Adult

(Available on eBook and eAudiobook)

‘‘Now

I’m wishing I would’ve

laughed more

at his dumb jokes

because the day

before yesterday,

Shawn was shot

and killed.’’

This remarkable Y.A. thriller is set over the course of 60 seconds. Written in lyrical, verse-like prose, it tells the tale of a revenge-seeking William, whose brother has been shot dead.

But when Will sets out to get his revenge, some ghosts from his past appear in the elevator on his way down to the ground floor.  Will he go ahead with his murderous plan?

There’s a sense of urgency in this fast-paced novel, though he soon realises; it is a ‘long way down’ from the 8th to the ground floor.

  Hero On A Bicycle by Shirley Hughes – Children (10+)

(Available on eBook and eAudiobook)

‘‘He stopped and slung his bicycle against a nearby wall to get his breath back and consider the situation. At that moment someone came up silently behind him and clapped a strong hand over his mouth.’’

Set in Florence, Italy during World War II, this is historical fiction at its finest. The Allies are closing in on Nazi-occupied Florence and 14 year-old Paolo has been taking secret bike rides late every night to beat the boredom of life under curfew. He misses his dad – an anti-Fascist who is in hiding - and rues the fact that he is too young to join the military.

However, when Paolo receives a frightening message on his way home from one of his late-night treks, he suddenly becomes involved in the thick of the action. Can he become the hero during his hometown’s greatest time of need?

This is an excellent novel, which captures one family’s struggles during war.

Not suitable for younger children, some upsetting themes.

   Zom-B; Underground  by Darren Shan – Young Adult

(eAudiobook)

‘‘Can you hold on to your humanity when you're a monster....’’

This fantasy-horror, dystopian novel by the ‘Master of Horror’ is book two in the Zom-B series.

B Smith is the main protagonist in this story, which is set during a zombie apocalypse. When she wakes up in a laboratory-style military camp, ‘B’ learns that she has become ‘Zom-B’.

Can she meet the demands of her captors or is she doomed?

Will she be a monster forever?

  The Dog Who Lost His Bark by  Eoin Colfer – Children

(eAudiobook)

‘‘In his short doggy life, Oz has suffered at the hands of BAD PEOPLE. Somewhere out there, he believes, is an AWESOME BOY – his BOY. Maybe when they find each other he will learn to BARK again ...’’

Patrick comes from a very musical family and he has wanted a pet dog for a very long time. When he rescues an abandoned puppy on his summer holidays, he calls him Oz, and so begins a strong friendship between a boy and a dog – at least that’s what we hope!

Oz is a nervous little creature and he can’t bark, or at least he doesn’t bark when he moves to his new home. Will he ever bark again? Maybe the musical family will be able to get him barking again!

This heart-warming children’s tale, from the creator of the Artemis Fowl series, shows how important music can be in the healing process.

  Rugby Spirit by Gerard Siggins - Children

(eAudiobook)

‘‘A new school, a new sport, an old mystery ... the first instalment in Gerard Siggins’ beloved and bestselling Rugby Spirit series.’’

Eoin Madden is the grandson of a legendary Irish rugby player. When he starts a new school in Dublin, leaving behind his GAA playing days in Tipperary, his rugby adventure begins.

In Casterock College, rugby is everything! But Eoin has never even held a rugby ball before. And the bully, Richie Duffy, is making his life even more difficult. Can Eoin make an impact in his very first season on a school rugby team?

This is one for fans of sport and fiction. It provides lots of insight into the game of rugby, too.

   Once by Morris Gleitzman – Children

(Available on eBook and eAudiobook)

‘‘Once I saved a girl called Zelda from a burning house.

Once I made a Nazi with toothache laugh.

My name is Felix.

This is my story.’’

Once is the first book in Morris Gleitzman’s Felix and Zelda series. Set during the Second World War, this novel is a tale of hope, friendship and survival.

Felix is in a Catholic orphanage in Poland in 1942. The son of Jewish booksellers, he fears that the Nazi’s are burning Jewish books and believes that his parents’ store could be next.

The young Jewish boy departs the orphanage, longing to find his mum and dad, and to warn them about the Nazis. Felix soon discovers that his hometown has changed utterly. A race for survival ensues.

Not suitable for younger, some upsetting themes

   Sabrina; Season Of the Witch by Sarah Rees-Brennan – Young Adult

(eAudiobook)

‘‘To be a witch is to kiss the moon.’’

Inspired by the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, this fantasy novel is a prequel to that Netflix series. It is the story of what went before the "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" show.

Sabrina is half-mortal, half-witch. Before she turns 16, and becomes full-powered, she realises how scared she is of joining the dark side and leaving her mortal life behind.

Can she discard her boyfriend Harvey, and her other mortal friends? This is her origin story; a spooky adventure for fans of the Sabrina series.

   Ultimate Football Heroes; Rashford  by M & T Oldfield - Children

(Available on eBook and eAudiobook)

‘‘When the referee blew his whistle, Marcus started his well-practiced penalty routine:

Four little shuffles to the left,

then short steps forward to try to fool the keeper, and then BANG!’’

The Ultimate Football Heroes series is a biographical story of the life of a star footballer. It charts the rise of some of world football’s biggest names, from the playground to the pitch.

Marcus Rashford is one of the most exciting players in the English Premier League. The Manchester United star has been one of the standout stories over the last year, with his campaign to keep free school meals available for children in the UK.

In Rashford, we learn about the life of Marcus – from when he would watch Man Utd playing on TV as a baby, to scoring important Champions League goals for the Red Devils.

A fast-paced story, full of action, it is one for all the family to enjoy. Others in the series include Kane and Delli Alli, which are available on BorrowBox.  

   Slam! You’re Gonna Wanna Hear This by Nikita Gill – Young Adult

(eBook)

‘‘Poetry is the language of Fire, Fury and Freedom,’’ says Nikita Gill.

Slam! is a collection of poems performed at ‘slams’, or spoken word competitions. It features established and emerging voices, with themes such as home, kin, protest and desire among those in the collection.

Slam! highlights the importance of poetry for the times we live in. It provides an ideal introduction into modern poetry and is a terrific publication.

   The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien – Children

(Available on eBook and eAudiobook)

‘‘In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.’’

J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic fantasy novel is the prequel to his Lord of the Rings saga. Tolkien wrote the story for his own children before it was published into a worldwide bestseller. First published over 80 years ago, it continues to be enjoyed by young and old.

This otherworldly tale features the hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, who has been recruited as a burglar by Gandalf for an epic quest. Expect trolls, goblins, dwarves, elves, giant spiders, and the dragon, Smaug, as Bilbo and the gang make their way across Middle Earth in search of treasure.

[lindoig3]

Tuesday, 12th February

It was another really interesting day again today.

We got pretty hot and bothered during the morning in almost 40 degree heat. We put our hose-broom over the van and car and rediscovered that they were not both red underneath after all.  The hose connects to an extendable broom or mop that allows us to do a rough and ready wash up to about 3 metres or so high.  It is not a particularly easy thing to use - my shoulder is a bit sore tonight - but at least it makes it easy to apply some water and a soft brush to most surfaces and we removed several kilos of mud from both vehicles.  Heather washed all the windows while I did the sweeping and mopping and both car and van looked a lot better for the attention.  Regrettably, we didn’t!!

We were pretty whacked, but after we caught our respective breaths, we decided to cool off in the pool.  I think I said how much we like this park and we thoroughly enjoyed lolling about in one of the two pools – I even dog-paddled a couple of laps and pretended I was exercising.

We had a few other jobs to do, one of which was to fit some Solarscreens we bought well over a year ago.  They are supposed to attach to the windows with suction caps and reflect the heat and insulate the car a bit.  We have managed to get the side ones to stay put, but the one for the tailgate has defeated us.  I have been back to the manufacturer a few times for suggestions, but nothing works.  Suction caps, Velcro, silver tape, duct tape.......  The heat seems to be the problem, but no matter how we try to attach it, it falls off within a few minutes.  The product itself seems to be quite good - it is just not possible to fit it to get any of the benefits it offers.  I tried several more clever ideas today but eventually gave it up as an impossible task.

After lunch, we decided to go for a drive in the coolness of the car and went down to Byrock.  We have been there once before and loved the quaint pub with rustic mulga wood chairs that are almost too heavy to lift - unbelievable the weight of mulga!  We chatted with the proprietoress for an hour or so over a cold drink and soon heard about all the things wrong with politicians, city folk, the younger generation, country life, non-indigenous culture............ but without learning anything that might help to improve the situation.  But it was certainly an entertaining hour or so.  We then went to the Byrock Waterholes, an amazing area with an extensive area of rock holding several pools of warm water.  It is an aboriginal sacred site and an interesting place where you can find quite a variety of birds and plants in a very arid area.  We poked around there for perhaps an hour and I did a survey in which I identified 18 species - unusual to see so many species in such a dry environment.

We drove home via a different route, including perhaps 70-80 clicks of mainly excellent gravel, although towards the end the road was occasionally chopped up from recent boggings – all pretty dry now.  In fact, we drove several kilometres through a virtual dust storm - swirling orange dust that waxed and waned in density but had us down to 30kph a couple of times when visibility was down to about 10 metres.  Fascinating stuff and guess what colour our semi-clean car is again now!!!  We subsequently heard that Sydney copped a dust storm that day that was supposed to be 2300km long and that was expected to reach as far as New Zealand!  Where has all our topsoil gone?

Back home, I sat outside to log my bird survey and became fascinated by some of the local birds here.  Seven red-winged parrots settled very near to me and their colours are astounding: a brilliant light green with a vivid red splash on their wings - at least the males.  Really striking and the brightness of their colours is unavoidably eye-catching.

The subspecies of ring-necked parrots here are also quite beautiful.  They are much more muted, but just as absorbing to watch, especially when they also approach quite close looking for food and water.

My favourites though (for this week anyway) are probably the yellow-throated minors.  They are so petite, elegant and graceful, but also rather cheeky.  We were inside the van having lunch a few days ago and several were pecking around just outside the door when one hopped up on the step, then into the van and walked all around under the table and over our feet before deciding that we had nothing it wanted and it returned to its friends outside.

(Unfortunately, these photos are not  mine - they are all copied from the web.)

That evening, we were having a drink outside the van and a pair of magpies came across looking for morsels so we gave them a few crumbs.  Within seconds, we had 5 miners, a pied butcherbird and a magpie-lark in on the act too.  The miners happily ate out of my hand and hopped around our feet, even perched on my shoe, waiting to see if they could extract any more freebies from us.  The miners are quite beautiful with pale yellow around their heads as well as their delicately barred grey and white breasts and bellies.  Entrancing little gems, even if pretty precocious.  Just love them - but there are plenty of other delightful birds if we just take the time to look at them and learn a bit about them.  I really love the butcher birds too, but for their voice more than their appearance.  The ones we have seen here are not as sleek and painted as many we have seen, but their song is a total joy - clear bell-like and melodic, absolutely glorious.  I love the pied currawong calls, the magpies’ warbling and the evensong of the blackbirds - all are exquisite but the butcherbirds out-sing all of them.  They are quite matchless.

[rosemarytonks]

The Way Out of Berkeley Square, by Rosemary Tonks (1970)

Rosemary Tonks is now known as the poet who disappeared, thanks to a 2009 BBC program (“The Poet Who Vanished”) and features in the Guardian, TLS, the London Review of Books, the Poetry Foundation and others following her death in May 2014 and the reissue that fall of Bedouin of the London Evening, a collection of her poems and selected prose. In truth, she didn’t disappear as much as take a deliberate decision to step away from the life of London and literature she’d led since the mid-1950s. She had health problems, became a devout Christian, and spent her last thirty years in Bournemouth having little or no contact with the large circle of writers, artists, and friends she had known. Sometime in late 1981, she retrieved most of her souvenirs and papers from storage in London and burned them in her garden incinerator. In the years before her death, she read only from the Bible.

The reissue of Bedouin of the London Evening has done much to restore Rosemary Tonks’ standing as an innovative and challenging poet of the sixties. Though praised when her two collections of poems were first published, her poetry is aggressive, edgy, unsettled. “Her poems matched the forceful personality, being rhetorically explosive, with more exclamation marks than anyone else used,” one of her contemporaries recalled. She was neither feminist nor conservative: more than anything, she was an individualist. Several observers have remarked that she most admired the spirit of the flâneur — “equal parts curiosity and laziness” — as embodied in the work of Balzac and Baudelaire:

The crowd is his element, as the air is that of birds and water of fishes. His passion and his profession are to become one flesh with the crowd. For the perfect flâneur, for the passionate spectator, it is an immense joy to set up house in the heart of the multitude, amid the ebb and flow of movement, in the midst of the fugitive and the infinite. To be away from home and yet to feel oneself everywhere at home; to see the world, to be at the centre of the world, and yet to remain hidden from the world—impartial natures which the tongue can but clumsily define.

She was a creature of the city. As she writes in ���Diary of a Rebel,”

For my fierce hot-blooded sulkiness I need the café – where old mats Of paper lace catch upon coatsleeves That are brilliant with the nap of idleness …And the cant of the meat-fly is eternal!

She told a Guardian interviewer in 1968 that she used to drive straight into the centre of London each morning, and then to a cafe south of Putney Bridge, where she had scrambled eggs. And the photo on the cover of Bedouin of the London Evening shows her at work at a sidewalk table, a large café-au-lait sitting beside a stack of books and papers. Bloodaxe Books is to be commended for taking advantage of ebook technology and included recordings of Tonks reading a dozen of her poems, along with an interview with Peter Orr, in the EPUB and Kindle versions.

Tonks’ work as a novelist, however, has yet to be rediscovered, for the simple reason that it’s almost impossible to get hold of one of her six novels. The cheapest copy goes for over $70, the dearest for over $400. And forget about finding Emir (1963) outside a couple handfuls of libraries worldwide (she disowned it, anyway). Thanks to the Public Library of India, however, you can find her first novel, Opium Fogs (1963), online in electronic formats.

With the help of my daughter and the University of Washington Library, I was able recently to read Tonks’ 1970 novel, A Way Out of Berkeley Square. At the time it came out, the book probably seemed too odd, too marginal to merit much consideration. “I’m thirty, and I’m stuck,” Tonks’ protagonist, Arabella, complains. Living with her father, romantically involved with a married man, and barely employed with the job of decorating some flats her father is renovating, she was neither the Victorian model of a spinster nor the Seventies’ vision of a woman taking charge of her own life. One reviewer dismissed Arabella as “30 on her driver’s license and 13 in her emotional development.”

This is pretty close to her father’s estimation. He would have her be both the Victorian spinster, serving up a hot dinner and keeping a tidy home for him, and a go-getter, diving into the business of interior decoration with a profit-minded zeal. The one thing he can’t accept is what she is:

My father can’t bear ordinary life; a woman in a dirty cardigan with two pockets on the stomach misshapen by handkerchiefs makes him bristle up, the sight of a coarsely-patterned formica table with brown tea-cup rings on it and large yellow crumbs will cause him a temporary loss of personality, his ego buries itself in one of his shoes and leaves the rest of his body to look after itself, grey, inert.

“I’m out of the habit of taking action,” she thinks. “I don’t have a proper stake in life, in the world.” She definitely doesn’t care for a future of caring for her father for decades until he dies — and then having nothing to show for it. But she’s also skeptical that there is any pot of gold waiting at the end of the rainbow of marriage and/or career:

Inside the showroom I catch the eyes of various men and women, torpid and haggard as drug-addicts, as they turn over the endless fabrics. I have never actually seen a face with an expression on it in this showroom; blanks, and more blanks with dead eyes. The suffering is awful, and it goes on and on, like writing out “I must not say bloody” a hundred times at school, until you’re free to rejoin the mainstream of life.

Yet she wonders, “Shall I take this bit of life, because if I don’t I may not have any life at all?”

Her one lifeline is her brother, who has escaped from London to Karachi, where he is trying to find the distance and energy to make a start as a poet. They write each other nearly every day — he consoling her over their father’s domination, she cheering on his efforts to embrace his new surroundings and work on his writing. When his correspondence suddenly stops, she worries — then panics when she learns after a gap of weeks that he has contracted polio and is barely surviving with the help of his cook. (This parallels Tonks’ own experience of contracting typhoid and then polio while living in India early in the 1950s.)

The crisis kicks her out of her doldrums. Though still very much dependent upon him to arrange for her brother’s care and return to England, it’s Arabella who prods her complacent father and forces the action. In so doing, she discovers a capacity in herself she had not suspected: “I’ve found out that strength is silent; it doesn’t have to be talked about, proved, or borrowed from others. It isn’t even called strength, but action.”

It’s likely that The Way Out of Berkeley Square would have a more favorable reception today. A fair number of women (and men) are stuck living with their parents into their thirties with the decline in earning power and finding the experience demoralizing and emotionally stultifying. And Tonks’ prose is studded with little gems of description. Of her father’s car: “His new Bentley is fully automatic, has doors as heavy as safe doors from the Bank of England, and a steel body as wide as a ping-pong table. Inside you serve from one corner of it, while burning hot air and noisy stereophonic music try to draw off your attention, subdue, drown and kill you.” Of her married lover’s best talent: “Now there are some men who are so good at getting women across traffic that it’s a form of love-making, in which the woman is touched, protected, and lifted forward, until she reaches the opposite pavement in a state of mild delirium.” Kirkus’s reviewer called Tonks’ prose “A decorative style but it’s all parsley.” Well, if that’s parsley, I say bring it on.

I was able to get my hands on a copy of Tonks’ last novel, The Halt During The Chase (1972), so I hope to post something on that as well as Opium Fogs soon.

[The Neglected Books Page, 16 August 2018]

[alexsfictionaddiction]

Review: The Island Home by Libby Page

Although I’ve heard really lovely things about Libby Page’s books, her upcoming release was my first foray into her work. However, I can’t wait to devour her others now!

Lorna is returning to Kip, the Scottish island she grew up on, after over 20 years away from it. With her daughter Ella, she is making the journey back and she’s nervous about meeting her brother Jack and the rest of the islanders again. Alice loves her life on Kip, teaching yoga and being a part of the wonderful community but it’s far from stable now. Could Lorna’s arrival shake things up or go some way to paving over the cracks of the past?

Kip is a little paradise. Libby Page describes it so vividly that I couldn’t help but be thoroughly transported. I’ve never been fortunate to visit the remote Scottish islands but Kip is exactly how I’ve always pictured these little gems of natural beauty in the middle of the sea. When I finished the book, I wanted nothing more than to just go back there.

Although she is from the mainland, Alice has fully integrated herself into the island community. I love stories about small communities, particularly full of women, who come together and offer unwavering loyalty and support. I feel like I got to know each and every one of their eccentricities and grew to love them all individually, exactly like Alice does. They became my friends too and I was genuinely so sad to leave them at the end of the book.

When Lorna left Kip as a teenager, she left behind much more than her family, friends and community. Much of Lorna’s arc is about her rediscovering the good things that she left all those years ago. One of those things is her true passion -her art. She perhaps wouldn’t have found this again without the help of the handsome handyman, Mallachy. Lorna and Mallachy naturally gravitate towards each other and he quite literally fills her life with colour again. My heart lifted as I watched their relationship develop and I couldn’t get enough of seeing them spend time together.

As well as reconnecting with Jack and making new connections with Alice, Molly and the islanders, Lorna also reconnects with her childhood best friend Sarah. At first, I was worried that this relationship wouldn’t be able to be saved but there is something about the magic of Kip that caused it to heal. Lorna and Sarah have so much history and it was really lovely to see how that translated into a solid adult friendship. There’s a lot of hope in the book and that might be what gives the whole narrative a wonderful warm glow.

Jack and Alice’s marriage is truly beautiful and I felt so privileged to witness all the little things that keep their spark alive. When Lorna and Ella first arrive on the island, Jack is full of hurt and anger about Lorna’s sudden departure when he was just a young teenager. This was clearly spilling over into his natural demeanour and Alice has always been able to sense that her husband had trust issues and a world of pain inside him. Alice is wise enough to know that patching things up with his sister will lift that weight and this is what leads her to orchestrate the conversations that Lorna and Jack need to have. She could so easily have come across as interfering and a busybody but Alice is nothing but kindness and light. Libby Page does an amazing job of writing genuinely caring and smart women. The abundance of them in The Island Home was definitely one of my favourite aspects of the book.

Lorna fled from an abusive relationship with her parents, which Jack seems to have failed to see for much of his life. Lorna has felt gaslit, worthless and a burden for most of her life because of the way her parents behaved and tried to control her. Delving into Lorna’s past is perhaps the darkest part of this book and I loved how sensitively and honestly it dealt with the subject of a toxic parent-child relationship. It reminded me that we can’t always take what a person presents on the surface at face value. We always need to look for subtle signs of sadness or pain, especially in children or vulnerable people, because the truth won’t always be obvious to an outsider or actually even those who are very close to the people involved.

There are a lot of hopeful philosophical ideas embedded in the book too. The characters deal with grief, heartache, forgiveness and fear and it really is the light and warmth from the island and each other that gets them through it. Just like the story itself, life is full of both light and shade and you can’t really appreciate the good without having to go through the bad. Having this reminder in tough times can be a huge source of hope and strength.

The Island Home is a beautiful story about the complex but resilent nature of family relationships and lifelong friendships. It’s about rediscovering the joys that you’d forgotten, acceptance of the past, celebrating simple lives full of love and realising where you truly belong. I couldn’t stop smiling when I finished it and I know I’ll be thinking about these characters for a while. The perfect, feel-good summer story of the magic of community and love of every kind.

The Island Home by Libby Page will be published by Orion, an imprint of Hachette, on 24th June 2021.

[kentonramsey]

As The High Street Reopens, The First Place I’m Going Is The Charity Shop

For many people, the past few months have brought about some personal revelations, from the big (divorce inquiries are up 42% since March) to the small (at-home haircut, anyone?). Beside refusing to set foot on the hellscape that is the Northern Line ever again, and the realisation that I am in fact a terrible baker, my lockdown revelation comes off the back of a cold, hard look at my relationship with shopping. Before the pandemic, my attitude to spending was very much carpe diem, fuelled by the nature of my job as a fashion editor and writer. A little voice in my head (though perhaps she was far more influential than I first thought) would reason with me before every purchase: You’ll never be able to buy a house, so why bother curtailing the little joys that make life better to save for the impossible? You could get hit by a bus tomorrow! You’ve had a shit week, you deserve it! Since the crisis hit, though, that little voice has become harder and harder to hear. 

Between squirrelling away my income in case of furlough or, in a precarious media landscape, redundancy, and considering the garment workers, unpaid and lumbered with thousands of unwanted orders from high street names, and the delivery drivers on the front line, now essential workers risking infection simply because I fancied a new top, mindless shopping became increasingly difficult to justify. Heavy conscience aside, having the time to rediscover gems in my existing wardrobe, plus wanting to support smaller, independent brands at risk of collapse, has meant that anything I have bought in lockdown has been very carefully considered and thus far more meaningful than an impulse purchase. When it became clear that we wouldn’t be leaving the house any time soon, investing in a pair of joggers from Ninety Percent – a brand which splits 90% of its profits between the makers and charitable organisations – or a T-shirt from radical activist label Birdsong felt far better than impulse-buying a £20 loungewear set. In the face of a global pandemic, people have reassessed their needs, and it’s fast emerging that we actually have very few in order to be happy. The word ‘essential’ has been used so much since The New Normal™ began that, rather than egging me on to buy yet another piece of serotonin-boosting, shiny newness, the little voice in my head is instead asking: Is this essential to you right now? And of course, it never is.

This week, as the world emerges as though from a terrifying and surreal hibernation, we’re asking ourselves what we want to leave behind, and how we want to live from here on out. Yesterday, from River Island to John Lewis, shops on the high street reopened their doors, albeit with necessary (but no less dystopian) measures in place to keep customers and staff safe. Having temperatures taken at the door, plastic screens keeping checkout employees at a distance, and more antibacterial hand sanitiser than our poor, chapped digits can handle will soon become par for the course but it’s not just the IRL retail experience that will change the way we shop. Where many household names are inviting us in, others, like Inditex, the parent company of high street giant Zara, which announced last week that it would be absorbing up to 1,200 of its stores globally to boost online shopping and fight the 44% downturn in sales over the lockdown period, will be streamlining their IRL spaces. Meanwhile some high street classics didn’t make it through the crisis at all, with Oasis and Warehouse filing for bankruptcy in April. Let’s not forget, though, that the World Health Organization is warning England to remain cautious of lockdown lifting as we’re still in a “very active phase of the pandemic”. We’re all aware of the economic fallout of coronavirus – and no one wants to see further job losses or more fashion stalwarts fold – but the government’s move to ease social distancing measures and encourage us to spend our money on the high street is heavily motivated by pressure from business leaders who are concerned about their stores going into administration. 

Despite non-essential shops of all kinds opening up this week, it’s the humble charity shop I’ll be standing in (a socially distanced) line for. While others spoke of missing the community of a hair salon, the anonymity of sitting alone in the corner of a café or the quiet pleasure of an independent bookshop, I was mourning the manic, messy floor of an Oxfam or a Barnardo’s. Much like a public library, unless you use charity shops regularly, their unique magic will have totally passed you by. In my area, the charity shops – where you can snaffle out bargains amid a hodge-podge of people from all walks of life – feel like a cornerstone of the community. From Cancer Research to Sue Ryder, all 11,000 of the UK’s charity shops raise over £300 million per year for great causes but on a more local, micro level, the shops themselves are vital to so many. Since 1899, when one of the UK’s first charity shops opened, they’ve provided accessible clothing for those living below the poverty line, decent furniture for young families building homes, toys for children who would otherwise go without, and a social circle for the elderly and alone through their networks of volunteer staff. 

Thrillingly, there are five charity shops on my little high street, from the fashion-savvy Mary’s Living & Giving, where I once found a pair of classic 2002 Vivienne Westwood Roman three-strap sandals for just £15, to St Christopher’s Hospice, where five years ago I bought a £10 oak chest of drawers that has come with me to every rented flat since. Seasoned charity shop devotees won’t need me to wax lyrical about the unmatched joy of discovering a gem, vintage or otherwise, in a discombobulated pile of bric-a-brac. Many would liken unearthing an amazing piece of fashion in a charity shop to finding a diamond in the rough but I believe that particular turn of phrase to be an insult; one woman’s trash is another’s treasure and time and again I’ve donated an item only to buy back the very same thing from another charity shop years later, falling in love with it all over again thanks to someone else’s spring clean. 

Alongside its vintage accolades, the charity shop is the original sustainable fashion source. We’ve long known that the best way to dress sustainably (after wearing what you already own) is to go secondhand, something Oxfam highlighted with last year’s Second Hand September campaign. The charity invited people to combat the 11 million items of clothing which end up in landfill every week by buying only secondhand for 30 days. And while the marketing-savvy likes of Etsy, Depop and eBay have dominated this space digitally, the charity sector is catching up: Oxfam’s online shop has a host of beautiful pieces from the 1920s onwards and is far more affordable than its trend-driven competitors. Most charities, too, now have a specific vintage Instagram account to document the more covetable donations that come their way. 

Although I have bought pieces online during the last few months – my most-worn lockdown dress, an easy cotton gingham midi, is from Barnardo’s digital shop – the lack of human contact has had me dreaming of the simultaneously thrilling and mundane experience of an IRL shop. Sure, getting a vintage Burberry trench in the post after an intense bidding war at 3am is great but what about talking to a chatty volunteer while you rifle through the rails of Lacoste polo shirts and Jane Norman blouses to uncover a ‘90s floral Laura Ashley prairie dress? Or striking up a conversation with an eccentric elderly gentleman while you rummage through the dusty denim section to find an elusive pair of Levi’s 501 red tab jeans? There’s nothing like it. Much like taking the same route to work each day or sitting in your favourite café every Saturday morning, you meet the same characters over and over again as you browse a charity shop; some you spark up a chat with, others you make up narratives in your head for – either way, it’s the most interesting place to people-watch on the high street. 

If you’ve turned up your nose at a good old-fashioned rummage in the past, now is the time to reconsider your view of the humble charity shop. In the early weeks of lockdown, as the days melted into each other and time stretched so very far ahead of us, everyone and their mother sorted through their attics, basements, garages and wardrobes, spring cleaning every last inch of the house. From sewing machines to tea sets, designer dresses to rare vintage handbags, charity shops up and down the country are expecting to be inundated with pre-loved donations this week and beyond. Robin Osterley, chief executive of the Charity Retail Association, told the BBC: “We’re not just anticipating a normal three months’ worth of donations but also the extra stuff that people may have picked out to donate during their clean-ups.” Be mindful to stagger your donations, of course, and if possible clean everything before shipping off to your nearest branch (although items will be disinfected for 72 hours before hitting the shop floor). I for one can’t wait to dive back into my favourite shops – the original secondhand heroes – to find some familiar faces and perhaps some treasure, too.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

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As The High Street Reopens, The First Place I’m Going Is The Charity Shop published first on https://mariakistler.tumblr.com/

[madshelley]

gimmie a quick rundown of which scenes break your heart the most, i'm not sad enough and need the pain.

I love you and this is both the best and worstthing anyone has never asked me, because apparently, I have no clue what a “quick”rundown means.  I also tried very hard tonot make this entirely about Armand and… I failed about midway through. Butin my defense, can you ever be sad enough? No, you can’t.

SO HERE’S THE TOP JUST-A-BIT-TOO-MANY LIST OFHEARTBREAKING VAMPIRE MOMENTS™:

- Louiskilling the Marquis, and both his and Lestat’s reactions to it. Louis draggingLestat to his abusive father’s bed and forcing him to speak forgiveness,despite the fact that Lestat is having an obvious meltdown (“He threw up hishands and let out a terrible roar of desperation.  ‘Damn him! Kill him!’ he said.”/“Lestatdanced like the maddened Rumpelstilskin about to put his foot through thefloor”/ “Never had I seen him so weak and at the same time enraged”), thatLouis, in his lack of information, mistakes for impatience and indifference.Damn dysfunctional vampires with a thing for miscommunication.  If only there was a scene with the two of themdiscussing this in a later book, it would probably make the list too. But,alas.

Rest of the list under cut because of excessively long post that no one’s going to read:

 - Louisdumping Lestat’s ‘body’ in the bog.

“This is Lestat. This is all oftransformation and mystery, dead, gone into eternal darkness. I  felt a pull suddenly, as if some force wereurging me to go down with him, to descend into the dark water and never comeback”.

          For no other reason, but that I feelthis is the prime example of Louis’ tendency to be unable to take control ofhis life and stand up for himself and what he wants, ending up being a passive observerof the most tragic events of his life, lamenting them only when it’s too late.Oh, Louis.

-Armandlying to himself about his relationship with Marius.

“A love so strong hecouldn’t allow me to grow old and die. A love that waited patiently until I wasstrong enough to be born to darkness.”

-I don’t normally care about Madeleine, but thisquote shatters my heart on a daily basis, considering the context in which IwtVwas written.

“And cruelly, surely, I said to her, ‘Did you love this child?’

I will never forget her face then, the violence in her, the absolute hatred.‘Yes.’ She all but hissed the words at me. ‘How dare you!’ She reached for thelocket even as I clutched it. It was guilt that was consuming her, not love. Itwas guilt- that shop of dolls Claudia had described to me, shelves and shelvesof the effigy of that dead child”.

-Armandleaving Louis, unable to bear the loveless, cold partnership anymore, indespair and suicidal. Especially this part of the farewell speech:

“AndI believed I would gather you to me and hold you. And time would open to us,and we would be the teachers of one another. All the things that gave youhappiness would give me happiness; and I would be the protector of your pain.My power would be your power. My strength the same. But you’re dead inside tome, you’re cold and beyond my reach! It is as if I’m not here, beside you. And,not being here with you, I have the dreadful feeling that I don’t exist atall”.

Armand,the break-up line master. Jesus Christ.

-“Hebent down, pressing his head against my chest and holding my hand so tight thathe caused me pain. The room was filled with the flashing red light of thesiren, and then it was going away.

‘Louis,I can’t bear it, I can’t bear it,’ he growled through his tears. ‘Help me,Louis, stay with me’.”

- Theway IwtV ends in general, with no silver lining or sliver of hope. Lestat andArmand are dying, of old age and despair, Louis is continuing his existencelike a bloodless empty shell, seeing no possibility of recovery or light at theend of the tunnel, and there is no comforting cosmic reason anything is everhappening at all.  Life is pain and youdon’t even die. No wonder IwtV is such a downer to the non-initiated.

- LittleLestat being beaten bloody by his father and brothers.

-“Andwhen we decided to go to Paris, I thought we would starve in Paris, that wewould go down and down and down. It was what I wanted rather that what theywanted, that I, the favored son, should rise for them. I thought we would godown! We were supposed to go down”.

- Armandbegging Lestat and Gabrielle to take him with them and them refusing. I’m notgoing to go into details, I feel this is an obvious one.

Exceptfor these gems:

“Maybeas the years pass, desire will come again to me. I will know appetite again,even passion. Maybe when we meet in another age, these things will not beabstract and fleeting. I’ll speak with a vigour that matches yours, instead ofmerely reflecting it”.

and

“Armandwas a small boy in the doorway, holding the backs of his own arms”.

Theconsistent implication throughout the series that Armand gets cold when he’supset does things to my heart.

- Armand’sadmonition to Lestat that fledglings are bound to despise their makers, simplybecause it’s not true, or at least it doesn’t seem to be in most cases. IsArmand projecting because he’s practically almost incapable of verbalcommunication at this point in his life which makes a hindered mind gift seemlike an unsurpassable obstacle in his mind? Or is he projecting because, onsome level, he knows his relationship with Marius was abusive and probablydoomed? (Spoiler alert: probably both.)

- Mariuscalling Armand his mistake.

-Lestat hearing Armand crying after he pushedhim off the roof:

“Maybe I imagined it, his lastinvitation, and the anguish after. The weeping. I do know that as the monthspassed he was out there again. I heard him from time to time just walking thoseold Garden District streets. And I wanted to call to him, to tell him that itwas a lie I’d spoken to him, that I did love him. I did.”.

- “Uglyfights, terrible fights, finally, Armand broken down, glassy-eyed with silentrage, then crying softly but uncontrollably as if some lost emotion had beenrediscovered which threatened to tear him apart”.

-“Evenin moments of the greatest jeopardy, I knew we would meet before I would befree to die.”

Tell me again how Armand’s suicideattempt in Memnoch was out of character.

-Lestatbelieving that Daniel would have left Night Island with him if he had askedhim. So much theoretical pain.

- It’sa pity that Daniel leaving Armand isn’t technically  ~a scene, because that would make the top ofthe list.

- Everyscene in which Lestat is “haunted” by Claudia in TotBT. It’s not hard to seehow he made the connection between her and the Raglan episode, even with himnever straight-up admitting it to himself. Remember when Lestat still feltcrippling guilt for his worst actions, even subconsciously? Good times.

- David’sturning. But this is not the time to complain about this, it’s canon heartbreakappreciation time!

- Armand’ssuicide attempt in Memnoch the Devil. I’ve already elaborated on this way toomuch, but let’s take a moment to appreciate Lestat screaming Armand’s nameafter him. Take a moment. Thank you.

- Louisobjecting to Lestat being chained to the floor, but being completely dismissed.

- Theentire The Vampire Armand. I can’t let myself elaborate too much on this, as I’lljust be reciting the entire book. I can just open it to a random page and itwill probably be a Top Heartbreaking Vampire Moment:

 Armand’sobvious exhaustion at the beginning of the book, that no one seems to respect. Himscolding himself and admitting to David he feels he’s going mad. A child silentlywishing for death so hard, that Marius heard it amongst the mental voices ofthe entire city. Armand’s entire “relationship” with Marius. Armand having a breakdownat seeing religious imagery, not yet being sure why he has that reaction. Meetinghis parents, especially the broken Ivan. The “Bridge of Sighs” metaphor, Jesus.The ashes of the Palazzo boys. The whole Riccardo horror. Armand trying toconceal his scarred face from Benji and Sybelle, putting all his energy intothe illusion. The shattering feeling of betrayal about the turning of Armand’s “children”by Marius, and Armand’s conviction that it was meant as punishment. Louis beingunable to conceal his relief and joy to see Armand alive. Armand’s bitter, hurtdismissal of his relationship with Daniel as doomed from the start. Armandadmitting that Sybelle and Benji had to coax him out of depressive episodes attimes. Man, did Anne go ham on the pain in this one. Why, mom?

- Specialmention to that one time Marius beat Armand out of “frustration” at him fortaking too long to emotionally get over his visit to Kiev, probably his mostblatantly abusive moment in the book.

“‘You’ve had enough time to grieve and to weep,’ hesaid, ‘and to reevaluate all you’ve been given. Now it’s back to work. Go tothe desk and prepare to write. Or I’ll whip you some more.’”

“He smacked me across the face. I was dizzy.”

Nice going, Marius.

- Secondspecial mention to this little passage, because no one ever talks about it andit makes my heart bleed:

“ I looked off, wanting the quiet, dreamingof bowers suddenly, not in words but in images, the way my old mind would doit, wanting to lie down in garden beds among growing flowers, wanting to pressmy face to earth and sing softly to myself”.

- Thirdspecial mention to this, but only out of context:

“For all the wrongs done you, andthe loneliness you’ve suffered, and the horrors that the world put upon youwhen you were too young and too untried to know how to fight them and then toovanquished to wage a battle with a full heart”.  

- SeeingDaniel in Blood and Gold after all those years. The shock of the degree inwhich his mental stability deteriorated, not objecting to being kept by Mariuslike a child. The terrifying possibilities of how he might have ended up therein the first place. The even more terrifying possibility that it might havebeen the news of Armand’s “death” that pushed him over the edge. How Armandmust have felt about this ‘relationship’.

- I am definitely not done, and yet I’m going to stop ‘cause even I had enough.

Tl;dr: Sad Vampires.

[j0sgomez-blog]

A hiker atop Looking Glass Rock, Pisgah National Forest, N.C.

By Michael Lanza

Warm rain drums lightly on the lush deciduous forest around me as I walk up a long-abandoned dirt road that has narrowed to a trail with the gradual encroachment of vegetation. The wind assaults the treetops, the outer edge of a hurricane hitting the Southeast coast right now; but here, far from the storm, it sounds like waves rhythmically lapping up onto a beach and retreating. It’s a gray, early evening in mid-October in the basement of a compact valley in the Appalachian Mountains of western North Carolina—a valley that, due to its tight contours, sees precious few hours of direct sunlight at this time of year—and the daylight has filtered down to a soft, dim, tranquil quality.

A bit more than a half-mile up this quiet footpath, I reach my destination—and unconsciously catch my breath at what must be one of the most lovely cascades in a corner of North Carolina spilling over with waterfalls.

Roaring Fork Falls tumbles through a series of a dozen or more steps, each several feet high, before coming to rest briefly in a placid, knee-deep pool at its bottom. Beyond the pool, the stream continues downhill at an angle only somewhat less severe than the cascade above. In sunshine or warmer temperatures, I’d be tempted to wade in and sit in that pool. Now, I just stare at it, all but hypnotized.

Roaring Fork Falls, Pisgah National Forest, N.C.

I’m on the last, short hike of a day filled with beautiful waterfalls along the Blue Ridge Parkway, in the heart of one of America’s hiking and backpacking meccas: western North Carolina. I’ve come to spend a week chasing waterfalls, fall foliage color, and classic Southern Appalachian views while dayhiking in the mountains surrounding Asheville and backpacking in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Unlike soaring, jagged Western mountain ranges such as the Tetons, High Sierra, or North Cascades, the Appalachian Mountains are lower and mostly forested from bottom to top, their once-sharper angles of ancient epochs worn rounder and softer by erosion and time. (It happens to all of us.) From a high point like Looking Glass Rock, Black Balsam Knob, or any of numerous turnouts along the Blue Ridge Parkway, the mountains here resemble a roiling, green sea of trees.

The West has big vistas; the Appalachians have big vistas, too, but mostly small, more intimate scenery, the kind that you can literally reach out and touch. Here, you don’t just look at the scenery; you’re in it.

In a sense, I went to North Carolina to reconnect with my hiking roots. I became a hiker, backpacker, and climber in the northern reaches of the Appalachian chain—in New Hampshire’s White Mountains and on many other wooded, rocky, rugged, little mountain ranges that pepper the Northeast. I discovered as a young man that I really liked the arduous nature of hiking in the Northeast, the craggy, windblown summits, and the fullness and deep silence of the forest in all seasons.

In North Carolina’s mountains, I rediscovered the pleasure of walking a footpath with last year’s dead leaves crunching underfoot; passing shallow streams that speak in some unknown tongue as they chug over and around stones; standing on summits overlooking seemingly endless rows of green or blue ridges fading to far horizons.

But I also discovered the unique qualities of the Southern Appalachians. They are not as steep and rocky (or as hard on ankles and knees) as their northern cousins. They’re not as crowded as one might be led to believe. They harbor hundreds of waterfalls, possibly the richest stash of falling waters in the country.

And these woods are quite simply a very good place to help a person remember what’s most important in life.

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  Looking Glass Rock

The dry, crisp air of early morning raises goosebumps on my bare legs and arms as I start chuffing uphill in the woods of the Pisgah National Forest, a short drive out of the pleasant, small town of Brevard, where I’m spending a couple of nights while exploring the area’s trails. One of western North Carolina’s most recognizable natural landmarks, Looking Glass Rock (lead photo at top of story), leads my list of hikes today, which explains why I’m on the Looking Glass Rock Trail shortly after 7 a.m.

Brevard happens to be the seat of Transylvania County, a place relevant to hikers because the county receives over 90 inches of rain annually—making it the wettest county in North Carolina—and has over 250 waterfalls. I’m visiting several of them on dayhikes this week along the BRP, in the Pisgah, and in Gorges State Park.

  The Big Outside thanks musician Greg Bishop for the use of his music in the above video. Find more at https://store.cdbaby.com/artist/gregbishop and on iTunes.

  The trail rises at a gentle angle at first; but as I climb higher, it grows steeper. In this quiet forest, with little variation in the scenery as I walk uphill, it’s easy to get lost in thoughts; and in a world where we’re almost constantly receiving texts and checking email, getting lost in your thoughts has become a rare joy.

After a few miles of steady uphill climbing, I step out of the forest onto a sloping, sprawling granite slab at the top of Looking Glass Rock—atop the cliffs that millions of tourists photograph from turnouts along the Blue Ridge Parkway every year. The morning sun hasn’t yet reached these slabs, but it throws a warm spotlight on gentle waves of hills rolling out a carpet of dappled green for miles in all directions before me.

If every person could start each day this way, I gotta think the world would be a more peaceful place.

  Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside, which has made several top outdoors blog lists. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Subscribe now to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip. Please follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube.

  Blue Ridge Parkway

The Blue Ridge Parkway isn’t a highway you take when you want to get somewhere quickly; it exists for just the opposite objective: to get nowhere slowly. A narrow, two-way road snaking along the Blue Ridge from Shenandoah National Park in Virginia to Great Smoky Mountains National Park in western North Carolina, this 469-mile-long corridor through Eastern deciduous forest is, in many respects, America’s country road.

Begun in 1935 and finished more than half a century later with the completion of an engineering marvel, the Linn Cove Viaduct—an S-shaped bridge that hugs the side of North Carolina’s iconic Grandfather Mountain—it ranges in elevation from 600 feet to about 6,000 feet above sea level. From numerous places along it, one overlooks deep valleys in more shades of green than we have names for, steep-walled mountainsides draped in dense forest, and one overlapping mountain ridge after another.

The BRP also spans a wide range of habitats and supports more plant species—over 4,000—than any other park in the country. If you’re into fungi and look really, really hard, you’ll find 2,000 kinds of them, as well as 500 species of mosses and lichens. There are more varieties of salamander than anywhere else in the world. Wet, warm, and fertile, the Southern Appalachians are like a big orgy of photosynthesis that almost shocks the optic nerves, lasting for several months a year. Most of us rarely see such a conspicuous eruption of greenery.

With more than 100 trailheads and over 300 miles of trails scattered along its length, the BRP forms the spine of one gem of a trail system. (See my story “The 12 Best Dayhikes Along North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Parkway.”) That’s why, with a week to play on the trails of western North Carolina, I essentially made the Blue Ridge Parkway my base of operations.

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Moore Cove in the Pisgah National Forest, N.C.

Moore Cove

Millions of people live within driving distance of the parks and forests of the Appalachian Mountains. With over 15 million visits annually, the Blue Ridge Parkway ranks number one among all National Park Service sites for visitors, while Great Smoky Mountains National Park occupies the third spot on the list, with nearly 11 million visits a year. Not surprisingly, escaping the throngs in much of the Appalachian Mountains presents a formidable challenge—especially during fall foliage season.

But sometimes you just get lucky.

It’s early evening when I pull into the roadside parking area for Moore Cove, on Route 276 in the Pisgah National Forest. I’ve already hiked about 17 miles today, hitting several peaks and hills along the Blue Ridge Parkway. My original plan was to stop and photograph Looking Glass Falls, a famous roadside waterfall that gets viewed by hundreds of people on a typical day—and where there’s still, even now, a parking lot filled with cars. Seeing all those vehicles, I decide to take the 20-minute hike to Moore Cove instead.

As with the short trail to Roaring Fork Falls, the well-tended footpath to Moore Cove resides at the bottom of a deep Appalachian valley with close mountains on both sides, beneath a canopy of maple, oak, and tulip poplar trees; so even though the sun hasn’t yet set on another day, dusk settled in down here at least an hour ago. Rosebay rhododendron and ferns blanket the ground. For now, anyway, I’m the only person out here.

  I can help you plan this or another hiking trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

  Reaching Moore Cove, I stop, and a reflexive smile creeps across my face. Before me, a silvery, 50-foot waterfall plunges in a nearly silent, gossamer column over the lip of a rock alcove.

That’s one of the special aspects of hiking in the Southern Appalachians: These old mountains still conceal little mysteries. They’re not especially tall or grand; they don’t have attractions that will rival the majesty of Yosemite or Yellowstone. But their rumpled contours, incredibly vibrant ecology, and the ingredients for an abundance of waterfalls—steep terrain and buckets and buckets of rain—collaborate to create an almost infinite number of micro-scenes that inspire an awe that’s more subdued with each episode, but cumulatively powerful and enduring. The mountains of western North Carolina constantly surprise you with spots like Moore Cove.

I shoot some photos, and have the place all to myself for maybe 10 minutes. Then a family shows up, and I pack up and depart, leaving them their own little piece of solitude and magic.

  Tell me what you think.

I spent a lot of time writing this story, so if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a share using one of the buttons below, and leave a comment or question at the bottom of this story. I’d really appreciate it.

  See all of my stories about hiking and backpacking in western North Carolina, including:

“The 12 Best Dayhikes Along North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Parkway.” “In the Garden of Eden: Backpacking the Great Smoky Mountains.” “Photo Gallery: Waterfalls of the North Carolina Mountains.” “Roof of the East: Hiking North Carolina’s Mount Mitchell.” “The 20 Best National Park Dayhikes” for a description of a hike along the Appalachian Trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

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[vintagepaintbynumbe-blog]

My Paint by Numbers

What a superb method to catch the genuine love of your dearest pet. This custom canine representation, feline picture, horse representation or picture of some other pet will be an inestimable present for yourself or somebody exceptional in your life. Prepared to begin your portraitOne spectacular pastime from the 1950's has made an arrival as a vintage stylistic theme thing just as a collectible in its very own right—the paint by number artworks. This superb side interest has turned into an  extraordinary method to balance genuine artistic creations on your divider vintage paint by numbers without paying high costs for it. These pieces are commonly entirely moderate, and a lot to an authority's joy very numerous individuals are prepared to dispose of them. So looking in upper rooms, insect markets, yard deals and dumpster plunging are the most ideal approaches to gain these fun society pieces and there are a great deal of them to be found.So once you've obtained some paint by number artistic creations, you're prepared to hang them. Enriching with paint by number works of art is a touch of an artistic expression in itself—however have no dread—anybody can do it. The paint by number works of art will be most engaging when shown together in a gathering. So every one of them integrate them, have a go at adhering to a bringing together topic, for example, feathered creatures, hounds, steeds, view or blossoms. Hang these on an extensive open region on your divider and the outcome will be a genuine friendly exchange just as putting forth a major expression. 

These depictions are genuine society craftsmanship made an age or two back by individuals simply like you and me.Painting by numbers was once so unfathomably well known (Nelson Rockefeller, J. Edgar Hoover and Andy Warhol all painted them) that the Smithsonian included a display from April 2001 to January 2002 praising their intrigue. You can see incredible instances of paint by number works of art and read progressively about them as a social symbol just as a fine art here.The directions said to coordinate the paint shading number with the bed zone number and apply the coat equitably without intersection lines. Throughout the following half a month, I watched Dad fastidiously change both white canvas sheets into lovely gems. He was glad for his creation as was I, as confirm by my showing them on my room divider for quite a long while.

 Culmination of a unit was not a pointless medium-term undertaking; it took a long time to complete one, particularly in the event that you wanted to edge and balance it on a divider or use it as a blessing. In reality, its actual esteem was estimated by the individual who painted it. Not at all like watercolors that we wound up familiar with as youngsters, PBN units used oil-based paint requiring the client to practice alert so as not to get paint on everything. Brushes must be kept in mineral spirits when not being used to keep them from getting to be dry.

 One trap was to picked a shading and paint every one of the areas on the canvas that contained that number. Legitimately done, the wonderfully dried painting was a declaration to the painter's patient endeavors. My initial two depictions as I review were "Blue Boy" and "Pinky," famous subjects of that time. Neither of them at any point graced anybody's dividers.

 PBN packs did not enchant everybody. A few pundits saw them as a type of thoughtless consistence of the majority by making a halfhearted effort of repetition and blank work that completely expelled the painter's innovativeness from the condition. Be that as it may, others found the ventures as interesting acquaintances with painting for individuals not comfortable with utilizing oil-based paint.

 As a general rule, the units offered a sliding scale trade off between complete imagination of painting freehand and having the security of a layout. Numerous individuals intentionally adjusted the guidelines and deliberately painted over lines, expelled explicit items from scenes and even changed shading plans, in this manner infusing a touch of creative energy into the task.

 The relationship with numbered sketches stretched out to the Eisenhower White House when then secretary Thomas Stephens gathered PBN compositions from staff individuals and companions and showed them in a West Wing passageway.

 The Paint By Number marvel began in 1950 when a Palmer Paint Company worker, Dan Robbins, conceived a shrewd method to enable his business to move more paint. It came at a helpful time on the grounds that after war America was encountering a sweet taste of the great life – extra time, expanded wages and a hunger for diversion.

 After a rough starting laden with various issues, the item encountered a transient move in prominence, moving in excess of 12 million packs somewhere in the range of 1951 and 1954. It was evaluated that amid this time American homes contained more PBN pictures than unique centerpieces.

 In the mid 1990s, following quite a while of decrease, the item turned up at ground zero and hinted at fame indeed. Today, the do-it-without anyone's help units can be found in the specialty segment of a few stores. Vintage artworks as often as possible are shown in old fashioned stores, scrounge deals, bug markets and sell-offs along these lines exhibiting their life span.

 During the 1950s, numerous Americans experienced passionate feelings for paint units called "paint by numbers" or "number painting." The packs accompanied a numbered easel that gave the craftsman directions on where to paint hues to make a picture. Would-be craftsmen would then drape their fine art in their homes and show them gladly to guests. A long time later, old paint by number works of art were concealed in carports or upper rooms to be found by who and what is to come. In the event that you have as of late rediscovered an old paint by number picture, clean it and hang it up.Lay the work of art on a level surface like a table. Work under great lighting. Outside lighting functions admirably for this venture.

 Lay a drop material on the ground around and under the table to gather the bread pieces.

 Fellowship into equal parts. Haul out the inward piece of the bread, the milder the better.Rub the artistic creation with a little bit of bread, beginning at the upper-left corner utilizing light weight. The soil will gather on the batter. Keep on utilizing bits of the batter, not the covering, to clean the depiction tenderly.

 Brush the whole painting with a delicate, unused paintbrush to expel crumbs.Behind a cascade dresser in my office, I have a little however developing gathering of paint-by-number workmanship. Why? Since sometime in the not so distant future, when our storm cellar remodel is finished, I plan on showing them, display style.

 I saw the thought in a home stylistic theme magazine a couple of years prior, and it made me grin. Paint-by-number workmanship has that impact on me. Its somewhat shortsighted version of lovely scenes and simple to-perceive style has a fun loving method for saying, "Truly, I am workmanship anybody can paint — even you!" However, for my situation, it would not be me. I'm aesthetic with unmistakable mediums, similar to texture. In any case, put a paintbrush or pencil in my grasp, and the completed item isn't fit to hang in a third-grade classroom.

 The moving article highlighted an originator's home. He had filled a divider behind the lair sofa with paint-by-number bits everything being equal and topic. It was comfortable in a very kitsch way.

 My gathering started with a little secured extension painting I found at a neighborhood thrift shop, and it's becoming gradually — supported by an ongoing Hidd.

The authorized Paint Liner Kit is the easy to use paint system that gives you capable looking results and extras you up to 70% off of your paint time. Achieve amazingly sharp corners and edges with the Paint Liner Kit. The liner is free, re-usable and mobile to make capable looking results the width required so your corners are continually accurate and clean without using veiling tape. The Paint Liner Kit roller featuring a secured edger empowers you to perfectly connect with the liner. Fill the roller with paint and make the perfect edgeNo painting aptitudes are required to start painting without DIY painting packs. Our Kit contains all that you need to start whirling the brush around. Lets disclose to you the most ideal approach to get started.Order a unit. Normal size for most painting units is 40X50 Cm or 16X20 In. You will get paints, brushes, canvas, screws, catches and guide card. It is recommended to mastermind a packaging with canvas.tretch the canvas. Set up your instruments. Have a bowl of water close by for washing brushes. Match the number from the canvas with the paint and start painting. Starting from the most elevated purpose of canvas is recommended.Step by step and number by number when you have completed it, you will be stunned by its perfection. Packaging it, hang it, see it and smile :) charitable better trust it, make sure to send us a photo review.What is Painting by Numbers?

  Painting on a canvas by numbers is essential and extraordinarily ground-breaking activity. The pioneer of this activity is the outstanding Leonardo Da Vinci. He asked for that his understudies organize the paints with numbers and complete crafted by workmanship. This exhibits practicing a workmanship is progressively valuable in learning it when appeared differently in relation to getting some answers concerning it.Put your gave canvas on a table. Take out the gave paint, brushes and present yourself with some coffeeTake your time and paint inside the numbered fields on the canvas. Loosen up and see your creation come to lifeDecorate your receiving area with your canvas or gift it to a sidekick. Incredible work!Canvas DIY Paint by Numbers Kit is the perfect preamble to painting to anyone paying little admiration to the age and experience. Paint your own one of a kind divider craftsmanship and edge them to be a stunning accent to your home or officeOur pets are such a fortune to us! I am pet expert and I warmly hand paint awesome custom pet pictures from a photo, paying little mind to whether it

[thatbipolargirl]

Dave

Dear Margaret and Bryant, 

The world lost an incredible gem of a man at five minutes to midnight on November 20th, 2018.  David Phillip Gardner died in room 110 at Pershing Memorial Hospital in Brookfield, Missouri.  He was eighty-five years old.  Dave was more than gray hair,  wrinkles and a wheelchair, although that is only what most people noticed the last few months of his life.  The ones who really knew him could see past all that.  We could still recognize the great man he used to be before his body and his mind started to betray him.  

I first met Dave in San Antonio, Texas in 2008 at a reunion for the USS Warrick.  He attended with his best friend, Herb “Giz” Seymore, who served on the USS Warrick during the Korean War.  Giz called him “Brother Dave,” so my first thoughts were that he was a pastor or a reverend, especially with his slow, southern drawl.  I could imagine him in a white robe,  leading a small Southern Baptist congregation in Sunday prayer.  However, after visiting with Dave and Giz for a short while, it was quite evident neither of them belonged in front of a church! We had those reunions every year in different cities, and Giz always brought Brother Dave.  He became part of the USS Warrick Family.  He was in all the pictures and scrapbooks, shared in all the stories and told us his own tales of adventures in the Navy.  We looked forward to seeing Giz and Dave every year, including in September 2014, which was the year my father died and we attended the USS Warrick reunion without him.  The reunion was in Branson that year, and one of the shows the group went to see was the country music singer Gene Watson at Larry’s Country Diner at the Starlite Theater.  I was not feeling very well that evening, so Jeremy and I went back to the hotel early. However, everyone else stayed for the rest of the show, and some of the reunion attendees went out for a late dinner after the show, including Dave and my mom.  While at dinner, Dave told my mom he would be traveling through Missouri to Washington State in October and would like to take her out to dinner.  He asked for her telephone number.  She said she didn’t just give her number out to anyone, but she knew Dave was a kind man, so she agreed.  After the reunion was over, and we returned to Brookfield, Dave started calling my mom every day, and that’s how their love story started. A month later, in October, Dave showed up in Brookfield for a visit.  That sealed the deal.

When Dave came to Brookfield that first time, he brought me a carton of Marlboro cigarettes and a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts all the way from North Carolina.  I had told him once I always wanted to visit Winston-Salem, North Carolina because it was the most unhealthiest city in the United States since it was the headquarters for both Winston-Salem cigarettes and Krispy Kreme donuts.  I was so surprised he remembered that I had told him that, and I was impressed by his generosity.  So was my mother.

Dave was the most generous person I have ever met, to people and to animals.  He ALWAYS insisted on paying for meals.  He donated food and money to those in need.  My Aunt Cindy couldn’t afford to pay for new dentures by herself, so Dave made up the difference.  It was only a few hundred dollars to him, but to my Aunt Cindy, it was her self-confidence and her ability to eat.  Dave also donated his time by teaching Sunday School classes.  He fed stray animals, including three cats living under my brother-in-law’s Gran Torino in my mother’s backyard.  He fed carrots and apples to the horses in the lot next door. When Dave was in the nursing home, he noticed another resident was shaking so badly that he couldn’t feed himself. What did Dave do?  He wheeled himself over and fed the man, spoon by spoon. That was pure kindness and generosity.

Dave was a storyteller.  He had a story for everything.  Half the time I couldn’t understand him because of his mumbling southern drawl, but I laughed with him anyway because his goofy laughter was contagious.  He’d tell stories about being in the Navy, of living in Italy, how life was when he was growing up in North Carolina.  He could remember dates and names and places.  My favorite story Dave told me was about President Obama.  Dave was eating lunch in a restaurant and got a telephone call on his cellular phone.  While he was talking, he noticed the people in the next booth were eavesdropping on his conversation.  So, being the comic he was, Dave pretended he was talking to then President Obama.  He sat there, advising our Commander-In-Chief on foreign policy while eating his reuben sandwich.  The people in the next booth are probably still wondering what Presidential cabinet member Dave was.’

To put it mildly, Dave was a collector.  He loved antiques.  He was perfectly happy going antique shopping every single day to find and add new treasures to his collections.  He could spend money faster than anyone I’ve ever met!  The first time he told me he had a spark plug collection, I thought he was joking.  Nope. Totally true.  Barbed wire collection?  Also true.  He could find the beauty in any object and loved to look at things just to discover and rediscover its intrinsic value.  Each and every antique and collectible had a story, too, and Dave was always happy to share that story.  He could recall where most items were purchased, how much he paid for them and how much they’re worth.

Dave loved my mother, and my mother loved him. We’d go to the VA, and he’d say to the nurse, “isn’t she beautiful?”  He would call her at 3:00 in the morning when he couldn’t sleep.  He would call her at 5:00 in the morning when he woke up because he wanted her voice to be the first thing he heard in the morning.  They held hands and kissed and made each other smile.  They went a lot of places and made a lot of plans.  Most of those plans fell through because of illness, and that breaks my heart.  I wish I could have given them more time together, but I am grateful for the time they did have.  But I think a short love story is much better than no love story at all.

Dave loved you, his children, with his whole heart.  He was so very proud of both of you and your accomplishments.  He always smiled when you called, and he always had complete joy in his voice when he told stories about you two.  When you came together to visit in April of this year, Dave was beyond happy.  I am thankful we will always have memories from that time spent in Kansas City.

To know Dave was to love Dave.  He was a true American hero, serving his country bravely for many years in the United States Navy.  He was kind and funny and incredibly intelligent.  He was honest and genuine and had great integrity. My only regret is that I didn’t get to meet him earlier in life.  Dave meant a lot to me, and I will hold the memories I have of him close to my heart.  We all will. Dave left a big impression on most everyone he met, and to sum him up in one word, he was unforgettable. Unforgettable.

With great love and sympathy,

Carla

[christsbride]

Everybody's Treat

Philemon

"My treat!" Nice words to hear, huh? They have flowed into my ears from any number of places. At Thirty-One Flavors on a smoggy, stifling, sweltering August afternoon after I've ordered a double-decker "pralines 'n' cream, dark cone" with a buddy. He digs deeper, faster. I start licking, smilin'. Full of gratitude, I leave wondering why I ordered two scoops. We laugh. I say thanks.

In line for Angels game tickets with another couple, Cynthia and I are looking forward to nine innings of relaxation, when our friends surprise us. "But we said Dutch." "Yeah, well, not this time." Great game. Friendship deepens. Everybody wins (even the Angels!).

Treats are neat. Spontaneous. Unexpected. Pleasant moments that communicate: "You are special . . . loved, appreciated, affirmed, deserving," and a half-dozen other warm fuzzies we need to hear but seldom hand out.

That's one kind of treat—"an act of generosity as an expression of regard or friendship." But treat can also be "an unexpected source of joy, delight, or amusement." Rather than an act, this represents a fact. A happy happening.

I'm thinking of something that never fails to enhance, to encourage, to refresh, to renew. Not every so often, but every single time. The kind of treat where you pick up the tab but the expense is virtually forgotten, thanks to the meaningfulness of the event and the memory that will never be erased. Like time spent on a vacation or at a retreat or at a conference center. A full week or two away from the daily grind. Out where birds still sing and squirrels still run free and nights are still cool and skies are still clear. That's the where.

But the essential question is why? Because you need a place to relax and get your emotional battery recharged. You need a time to rediscover some of the sparkling gems tucked away in God's Book that have gathered dust, thanks to our fast-paced schedule. You need an opportunity to sing your heart out, to relax.

So, take time out of your too-busy schedule to walk, to play, to nap, to get reacquainted with your loved ones, family, or friends.

Take time to meet with God . . . alone. This is one treat you can't deny yourself.

Tell yourself "my treat," and it will be everybody's treat.

Treat yourself to refreshment for your spirit as well as your body.

Taken from Day by Day with Charles Swindoll by Charles R. Swindoll. Copyright © 2000 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. Used by permission of Thomas Nelson. www.thomasnelson.com

from Chuck Swindoll's Daily Devotional https://ift.tt/2IOSQhB via IFTTT

[lindyhunt]

Stop the Madness: 6 Expert Tips on How to Declutter Your Makeup Collection

Last week, my Instagram stories were filled with similar images: mountains of clothes piled high atop various beds. “Marie Kondo made me do it,” one person captioned their picture.

Netflix’s new series Tidying up with Marie Kondo—which follows the well known Japanese organizing consultant as she tries to declutter various people’s lives—has clearly left people shook and examining their own hoarding tendencies. Even I took to my own closet shortly after watching to see about making some (much needed) cuts. And while I breezed through that process, when I got to my bathroom it was a whole different story.

I rummaged through the bins of overflowing makeup and the cupboards filled to the brim with skincare. I tried holding each lipstick in my hand, realizing with panic that although I owned 15 nudes, I couldn’t part with a single one. It made me wonder, what exactly does a makeup lover do when everything under Sephora’s roof sparks joy?

To answer this philosophical dilemma, I called up makeup artists Sheri Stroh and Jodi Urichuk who schooled me on how to downsize the right way. So get ready to purge, because spring cleaning is coming early this year.

Pile up your products

That’s right, do the signature Kondo pile up. Take all of your makeup and put it in one massive heap. “You’ll probably be horrified when you see it all like that and you’ll realize how much you don’t use and how much needs to be thrown away,” says Stroh. “Only keep what makes you feel like a million bucks.” She mentions that this is also a great way to rediscover old favourites; when we’re constantly buying new stuff we often forget about the gems we already have at home.

Figure out what your essentials are

Determine which products you can’t live without. This will be different for everyone depending on what “sparks joy”. For Urichuk, she prioritizes skincare. “I feel like if you take care and protect your skin, the rest is simple.” For Stroh, her must-haves include bronzer and a creamy cheek highlighter. “I think makeup is so intimidating for some people and that’s actually why they end up keeping so much,” she says. “When decluttering, first go through and pick out the things you never use, the things you bought on impulse or that you haven’t even opened yet. Then you’ll find your essentials.”

1/5

The Essentials

Bronzed Beauty Bronzer Duo

($58, lilah b.)

Stroh recommends this bronzer duo by lilah b. for a sun-kissed glow. It’s also cruelty-free, vegan and free of synthetic fragrances and gluten.

Buy Now

2/5

The Essentials

Hollywood Flawless Filter

($50, Charlotte Tilbury )

“I don’t wear a ton of makeup on a day to day basis but I do like a youthful glow,” says Urichuk, citing this product as one of her current favourites.

Buy Now

3/5

The Essentials

Triple Lipid Restore 2:4:2

($148, SkinCeuticals)

Urichuk recommends this anti-ageing treatment by SkinCeuticals.

Buy Now

4/5

The Essentials

Champagne Rosé Luminizer

($48 , RMS Beauty )

Stroh loves cream-based highlighters and this dewy option by RMS Beauty is one of her staples.

Buy Now

5/5

The Essentials

Caviar Stick Eye Colour

($35, Laura Mercier )

“A long wearing cream eyeshadow or eyeshadow sticks are my preference,” says Urichuk. “They’re fast and have no fall out.”

Buy Now

Keep a couple of fun items

Neutral palettes definitely get a lot more use than colourful ones, but decluttering shouldn’t mean throwing out everything fun. Keep a couple of things that aren’t in your everyday makeup routine. “And don’t just save these items for special occasions,” says Urichuk. “They go bad or turn if they’re creams or liquids in six to 12 months.” For products that will last a little longer, Stroh recommends fun items like pastel or jewel-toned eyeliners and bold lipsticks.

1/4

Fun Items

Highliner Gel Crayon Eyeliner: Intro(Vert)

($31, Marc Jacobs )

This mermaid green liner can transform any look.

Buy Now

2/4

Fun Items

Colour Riche Matte Lipstick: Matte Mandate

($13, L'Oréal Paris)

Hold onto colours that can easily spice up any outfit.

Buy Now

3/4

Fun Items

24/7 Glide-On Eye Pencil: Vice

($25, Urban Decay )

Make a statement with this pearly eggplant shade.

Buy Now

4/4

Fun Items

Amplified Lipstick: Morange

($23, MAC Cosmetics )

This fiery orange colour is as bold as it gets.

Buy Now

Be wary of expiration dates

As discussed above, makeup does have an expiry date. When you’re decluttering, don’t hold on to things you know are beyond their time. Pay extra attention to products that are cream-based, contain water or get exposed to the air often. “I use a lot of green beauty products and I do find that they don’t last as long as conventional brands,” Stroh mentions.

Keep multi-purpose products

Multi-purpose products are amazing when it comes to space saving and they’re great for the bank account, too. “I’m a working mom and I have zero time,” says Urichuk. “So I live for these multitaskers.”

1/4

The Multi-Taskers

Agave Lip Mask

($30, Bite Beauty )

These hydrating lip balms also work great as glosses and come in a variety of shades. One of Urichuk’s favourites is “Champagne” a rose gold pearl colour.

Buy Now

2/4

The Multi-Taskers

Nudies Matte Blush & Bronze: Naughty n' Spice

($33, Nudestix)

These sticks are ideal for multi-tasking. From eyeshadow to lipstick to blush, you’ll be able to create an edgy monochrome look with ease.

Buy Now

3/4

The Multi-Taskers

Eight Hour Cream Skin Protectant

($31, Elizabeth Arden )

“Eight hour cream can be used for everything,” says Urichuk. “Burns, chapped lips, wind burn, highlighter, glossy lids etc.”

Buy Now

4/4

The Multi-Taskers

Ambient Lighting Blush: Luminous Flush

($45, Hourglass )

Stroh recommends investing in a shimmery blush that can double up as a highlighter.

Buy Now

Get your makeup storage just right

“If you can’t see it, odds are you won’t use it,” says Urichuk. “Like your closet, the rules are the same for your makeup bag. I have a few clear bins with things that I love but don’t wear regularly and I switch them in for a change-up every couple of weeks.” Both makeup artists also recommend make-your-own palettes and de-potting things you already own. “I know that people love palettes, but for me whenever I buy one I only use a couple of eyeshadows and there always ends up being ones that I don’t even touch,” says Stroh. “So building your own is really nice. You get exactly what you want and what you’ll use.”