little pieces. of home. of me.

My home is my little haven. I make sure I'm surrounded by things that inspire me and remind me of people and places I love.

My desk. The gorgeous white roses were from a beloved friend.

art making chaos.. My favourite

 quirky op shop owls are my weakness. The collection is getting ridiculous but I can't seem to stop. When I see one of their little faces peeking out at me, I just have to bring it home! These shelves are another lucky find, courtesy of hard-rubbish! They are now home to lots of books and tubs of paint that used to decorate my living room floor... thank you, road-side finds!

I spent yesterday afternoon at the Adelaide Central Markets (whoever says Adelaide is dull hasn't been here lately) with my Mum, stocking up on beautifully fresh fruit and veggies that led to a cooking extravaganza! My weeny kitchen was overflowing with leafy green goodness! 

 Owl mug, little red tea cups covered in goosebumps, and books. Just a few of my favourite things

 the typewriter was given to me by my parents for my birthday last year. To say I was excited would be an understatement :) I have used it a lot more than one would think in this techno-loving world. The pictures have been collected from markets and garage sales. The one on the right is my favourite - a discarded tiny polaroid of the beach. It is so peaceful.

my fella found this one-eyed beauty for me. Needless to say, he takes pride of place on my desk. We wink at each other from time to time..

Another guilty pleasure... old gardening books! I can't get enough of the detailed, hand drawn illustrations and old frail pages. Plus, anything to do with gardening is good right?!

cyclamens, the fussiest flower. Yet one of the most gorgeous.

 more owls? more gardening books? yes please.

the green deer is a stunner, a treasure I found buried at the Strathalbyn Annual Open Air Market. One of my best market-ing experiences, so far. A day that is, perhaps, deserving of it's own post. The owl is an old canvas sketch of mine and the 'Make Art Not War' postcard has come with me everywhere.

Living on my own means I am lucky enough to have things exactly the way I want them. I am lucky enough to have a garden, a roof over my head and room to stretch and make my art. On days when I get grumpy about the lack of space or cupboards, I remind myself how lucky I am to be able to live in what is sheer luxury compared to what some others will ever experience. That is something that just can't be taken for granted. Although my place is 'pokey' or 'rather more like a shed' as one friend so lovingly described it once (!!), I have worked really hard over the couple of years I've been here to make it homely and comfortable. I love having people here but I always very much value putting the key in the door at the end of a day at work, knowing I can lose myself in my own quiet company. When life is so chaotic and we all seem to be running from one place to another, being home alone is simply paradise. I grew up being insanely petrified of the dark and plagued by nightmares of unearthly creatures crawling through my windows to steal me away, so it surprised me how easily I found being alone most of the time. Other than the obvious perks of living alone, it also means I can eat breakfast cereal for dinner without curious looks (Mum, that's a joke.. obviously), paint in my pj's and holey singlet, and listen to whatever I feel like. This is a BIG plus as describing my music taste as 'ecletic' would be a nice way of saying I can listen from anything from ABC radio, to Barbra Streisand (that's right.. I LOVE Babs), to Radiohead. When none of these are suiting my mood, I just sing. Now THAT is something NO ONE should have to witness. It is horrific, to say the least.

The downside of living alone is having to deal with spiders. My best friend and I had a pact - if I dealt with dead birds that her cat so kindly decorated her bathroom with, she would get rid of my spiders. She just moved interstate. This is inconvenient ;) If I am faced with one (ugh) I tend to grab the nearest object and with ear piercing squeals, stab it, squash it or spray it. The other day it was hairspray and a comb. I'm sorry to anyone who might find this upsetting, but deary me.. I would rather move house than carry on with my daily doings knowing there is a hairy monster breeding on my bedroom ceiling. Yes, hairy monster is an appropriate title.

Although being able to afford renting a place of my own means I have to work more than my simple bohemian brain can truly deal with, the upsides do make it very worthwhile. Being in my mid twenties now, I appreciate more than ever, the chance to breathe and cook and paint without the worry of wondering if what I'm doing suits anyone else. I have promised myself that, as of this week, I am going to make a conscious effort to have more 'alone time'. For it is only then that I can truly think and create in a way that works for me. It doesn't mean becoming a hermit and shutting myself off from everything else, it just means that I need to place more importance on scheduling these times in. I am going to be honest with myself about what I can manage and how much energy I seem to get from a good day or evening, wandering about with nothing but my own soul. Lately, being alone has also seemed to equate to lots of painting and making and that can only ever be a good thing. I want this to be a much bigger part of my life and one that eventually is able to take the place of other, far more mundane, tasks. One of my most cherished quotes sums up exactly how I feel about alone time much more eloquently than I ever could - 

'I am here alone for the first time in weeks, to take up my 'real' life again at last. That is what is strange - that friends, even passionate lovers, are not my real life unless there is time alone in which to explore and to discover what is happening or has happened.'

MAY SARTON, from Journal of a Solitude. 

May you have quiet moments to yourself and time to remember little pieces of you that perhaps were forgotten,

xx Jessie Lee