Wild Wednesdays - DIY Floral Ice

It’s hot, it’s muggy, everything and everyone is sweating. So much so that I feel like I’ve sweat past lives out onto the sidewalk while trudging to my destination in hopes of some cool relief.

Since we’re already going to be throwing ice into any drink we can, why not make it pretty?!

Find some edible flowers (ask friends/neighbors/etc if you don’t have any!), also use an app to identify and make sure you have the right ones, some varieties have sub species that are so similar but one is edible and one is not!

Buy some silicone ice trays - W+P Design has some good ones, Amazon of course, just follow your heart.

Fill the trays halfway with water. Add the flowers, let freeze for at least two hours, then take out and fill with ice cold water to the top. This way the flowers stay in the middle for that dramatic effect you want and won’t float to the top!

Et voilá! Spice up your 7th glass of water, your 5 o’clock cocktail or your kid’s lemonade.

January Inspiration

I’m not sure what the weather is like where you are but even though I’m happy that Nashville isn’t high on the snow count, there are still enough gray days where I find myself staring out the window, idea-less and convinced that I’ve used up all of my creativity and I will never be able to produce anything ever again.

Dramatic, I know, but that’s the most exciting thing I’ve done today except send a ton of emails. But what does get me out of this funk, other than jetsetting to Tulum or the Amalfi coast? Finding inspiration. Whether it’s on Pinterest, looking through art and photography books, old travel books, etc.

So, I’m rounding up some of the pics that have gotten me through the gray days here in Nashville and hopefully they help you too. I’ve included a compilation board for you to save and print off or pin for later inspiration.

*All pictures taken from Pinterest, follow me for links to their original pages! @wildartifact

Mamsie and Me

I feel the weight of having a Mother I love. I feel the weight because her age is now something that doesn’t seem to match her. I feel the weight because I do not live near  her so the making of memories is far and few between and I have begun to have anxiety that I won’t have enough stored by the time it is too late. I begin to feel a murmuring panic that I don’t have children who get to experience all that she has to offer at this age when she is still her own and in all transparency I feel a small vein of jealousy for my unborn children because of their cousins’ who get Mamsie in her glory days. I feel everything to the bone and I feel her, in ways difficult to express but churning just below the surface.

I feel the years of toil in her hands. Her strength in posture perfect back, watching her navigate life with an innate gracefulness I wish could be taught. The joy in her eyes when engaging with another human who was formerly a  stranger. The beauty she sees staring at a face wrought with more wrinkles than hers. The tiredness as she sinks into her bed and whispers a poem she wrote about such an action when I was 7.

I can hear her voice reading aloud or telling stories, instructing life lessons in what I thought was just an evening spent baking a pie. I feel the afternoons of trudging off the bus with tears streaming down my face because of a nonchalant insult that sliced more deeply than the deliverer even knew and her waiting with open arms and never ending advice of “stand up straight and ignore them…inner beauty shines through more than outer beauty…even if they are unkind to you, you need to be kind to them.”

I recall her silhouette, in that early pre-dawn getting ready for the day. Darkness flitted through my dreams so I was never one for sleep, her grace letting me wander through the jewelry boxes on her dresser, asking questions and being intrusive or sleeping in her bed in hopes my imagination would quiet and a few hours of rest could be had.

I can feel her gentleness with the spirits of everyone she has encountered, no human has withstood their own barriers in her presence and I shudder with shame the number of times my eyes rolled as she thanked an aging veteran or told another elderly woman she looks just like her mother. Her ease of laughter, that gasping, breathless laugh which eventually turns into a cry and I think makes her the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her faith is palpable because I can feel it; see it. Every morning on her knees, reading her Bible, tending to others, praying in those hushed moments when stillness emanates throughout the house. Her patience like a blanket, enfolding around me even as mine wears thin. 

Her curiosity is an experience shared, whether it was stopping by the side of a road to see what kind of flower was growing there or her allowing us to do “experiments” in the kitchen or try things we had never done without so much as a “it probably won’t work, or that will get messy.” Her penchant for cultivating and growing leaves of green also extending to the people around her. Her denial is sweet, but a resounding truth is that she has lived an intentional and brave life.

I yearn for and ache for her nurturing, the innate essence of Mother bestowed to anyone crossing her path. Human or animal, her ability to see beyond the shell that encases a spirit is grounding. The hierarchy in the animal kingdom made no impression on her as a snake deserved to be nursed back to life as much as a baby kitten or rabbit. Her hands brushing my hair and back as I need comforting, her body intuitively forming to mine for a hug that neither of us chooses to break.

Never one for demanding luxury she certainly has never received it and her grace in that acceptance is in itself humbling. The “make do” and “there are people who are living in worse conditions” mantras were always given a seat at our table, her defending that she will be in heaven one day and it all doesn’t matter. But sometimes it seems closer, in stolen moments and light that only those on the receiving end can see.  

What if I see glimpses of heaven now?

Photography by: Ashtin Paige - Nashville TN

http://www.ashtinpaige.com/