Candles and Snowdrops

We met with friends for fun, frolics and stories of snowdrops today. They're here; the snowdrops are out! Their delicate white heads all full and drooped.



Sperlosh! Ripples at the shore.



A couple of waders!



I know I'm forever saying it, but one thing I love almost as much as having so many different hens, is having so many different eggs. White ones, cream ones, blue ones, green ones, speckled ones, brown ones and more. It may sound mad, but I feel a real sense of delight every day when I collect the eggs from their various cosy hide a ways.



We made our candles for Candlemass this evening. We decided to go ahead with the egg shell idea. We painted the shells with watercolours and placed a pre made tea light wick in the bottom of each. I bought a big pack of these a few years ago from an online store. They're really handy for dinky little candles.



Having melted the wax from an old partially burnt candle, in a double boiler, (don't use a microwave, it's dangerous), we poured it into the shell.





Out for coffee and scones with friends some time ago, they shared with us an idea they had heard about making candles in glass jars using a birthday candle as an easy wick. Hermione had a tiny pot of jam with her scone that day and we took it home to transform it at some point.

We washed it out and cut down a thin birthday candle to what we thought was the right size.



We poured the wax which was left from our egg shell project into the glass jar. At first the birthday candle wouldn't stand straight so we waited a moment by which time the wax was cooling and thickening. I think this resulted in the wick not being completely on the bottom of the jar, so it's poking out of the top as opposed to blending in seamlessly!



We added some solid wax chips to the top to detract from the tall wick, and a picture of a young hen to the side of the jar to detract from some stubborn glue where the label had been. Voila!

It's a funny old time of year I feel. I know that for many autumn/winter is the time to mark the loss of loved ones, however, its always this time of year that reminds me of the frailty of life.

I think of my own little snowdrops who were so beautiful, yet too fragile, to walk by my side. I think of those who I would have loved to have shared my children with, but who are not here to see the wonder of them growing and flourishing.

It's the yin and yang, the paradox that is life/death, start/finish and so much more.



The sea soothes me at times like this. I'm fascinated by it, in awe of it and seriously respectful of it. Much of the respect came following a silly teenage frolic with an airbed in Spain. Goodness, how close I came to being totally devoured! I still recall regaining consciousness on the beach amidst a swarm of foreign faces; regurgitating salt water for days!

Standing by the sea I feel connected to everything and everyone. It's so universal and fundamental. Having explained my passion for the sea, a couple of people over the years have suggested that it's because life originally came from the sea. I'm not sure that is the reason why I'm so drawn to it, if so it's on a very subconscious level. Whatever the reason, I'll continue to seek solace and perspective there.