read about it here. see inspiration here. send your submission here.
view some of the latest submissions here, here, here, and here.
submission from jeska. who commented on my blog this morning, which directed me to her blog, which lead me to this lovely image. thank you.
there are so many wonderful submissions flowing steadily in, my desktop is a mess. but oh how i am looking forward to sorting and organising it all!!
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and I just had to include this handwritten letter that Anne-Maree’s 10 year old son composed yesterday. He left it on her pillow so that she would read it before she went to bed…
you will have to go over to her house to enlarge, it’s a beautifully written piece that deserves a huge amount of attention. Now I tell you, what is it with the influx of wonderful men coming into our blogging worlds? From my one male reader writing emails about the subtleties and wonders of women, to Joanna’s post about this guy, and now A-M’s son… I tell you boys, we are all swoooooooning. May this kind of behaviour spread across the globe like wild fire.
I was standing in the kitchen, making my second cup of tea for the day, rocking away to Jose’s Down The Line and there was a knock at the door.
I opened it and there was a lady standing there, I have never seen her before. In broken English she said she had a rhododendron potted plant that she had on her balcony, she indicated so I followed her finger and looked past the bridge on what I call ‘the mainland’, and there was a young man holding a huge pot plant. She said it was growing too big for her balcony and was wondering if I would like it for my garden. I was flabbergasted. I am never good at receiving gifts, I get very overwhelmed when people give me things (no doubt some of you have already noticed with my replies to your incredible MHW submissions). And here was this complete stranger, offering me a gorgeous plant. I managed to say “yes! wow! thank you!” and we put the pot down on the shoreline. I must have said thank you about 50 times in less that 30 seconds, it was all a bit of a shock. And then I headed back in, almost in tears. How thoughtful, how lovely. I didn’t ask her name, or where she lived, or anything. But maybe we will see more of each other in the street now, or I do hope she comes to visit her plant again soon.
I have never lived in an international city that behaves like a small village, this is what is so unique about Amsterdam.
So here I sit, on day 3 of my deadline countdown. There are props everywhere that need to be returned. The cookie jar has been empty for weeks. There are crumbs on tabletops. Papers and notes all over the pallet bed. The piano is covered in dust. Yet while I have not been outside to see the light for days, tucked up inside this floating abode writing away the hours, your wonderful submissions keep flowing in, a photographer emails me the beautiful jpegs of a recent shoot, a lady comes to the door with a plant for my garden, and Jose sings the perfect soundtrack for our conversations about the importance of saying sorry.
Synchronicity abounds.
