Dreams . . .

Dream . . . . Dream often . . . . Dream Big . . . .

I don’t think there’s a person alive who hasn’t had one, doesn’t have one and won’t have one . . . a dream that is! Something wished for, hoped for, some aspiration. We’ve all got ‘em.

I’ve always been a dreamer. As a child, my daylight hours were filled with imaginations of things I wanted to do, see, have . . . some of them quite realistic, other’s so far out of my reach that I could never have possibly achieved them. But dreams are dreams, and dreams are hope, and hope springs eternal.

What little girl does not dream of becoming a ballerina, nurse, teacher . . . very few I would think, although today, it’s more likely that they dream of becoming a pop star, film star, model . . . I don’t think very many young people today have realistic ideals, and we can largely blame the media and shows on the telly like Pop Idol for that. Still . . . They have a dream and who can blame them for that.

When I was a child, all I seriously ever wanted to do was to grow up and become a wife, mother and homemaker. I didn’t really aspire to much beyond that, except that I also wanted to be a writer, and you could do that at home, so it really fitted in with the life I wanted to live. I didn’t want to become famous. I only wanted to write words that people wanted to read, words that drew people to them, words that wove a spell in people’s hearts like the words I so loved to read myself.

I started to write my first novel when I was nine. I borrowed a friend’s typewriter. It was the type of children’s typewriter that had a plastic dial in the centre with all the letters on it and you had to turn the dial to whatever letter you wanted and then press down on it for the letter to go onto the paper. Very laborious indeed. It did not take me very long to lose interest in that exercise. Writing in long hand was a lot quicker and more satisfying.

I wrote anything and everything, poems, short stories, plays . . . anything that came to my fertile and very active mind. I wish that I still had some of those writings. They’ve all been lost through the years. About all I still have are some prayer journals that I have kept through the years, and a paper I wrote at university on poetry, which includes several pieces of my own poetry. They are almost embarrassingnow, or maybe that’s just naturally the way it is for people when they read their own writing. I can never read something I’ve written, without wanting to change it in some way . . . improve it, enhance it. I finally just have to walk away from it or the fiddling would go on forever, and I think that sometimes if you mess with something too much, you can ruin it in the end. Most of the time, I just leave things as they are after a few read through’s, and it takes a real effort to leave it at that. (for instance I’ve gone back and changed this paragraph about six times now, just now adding this last sentence! Make that seven. )

I carry a pen, notepad and my camera with me just about everywhere I go. I am always jostling down notes to myself, ideas for future stories, little poems, stories to share with what were once my children and now my grandchildren, titles of books and stories I would love to write . . . Inspiration comes to me in many shapes and forms. It could be a lone feather caught up on a leaf of the holly bush outside our gate, or a round smooth pebble that suddenly appears on the pathway, that I just know was not there before, a hole in the trunk of a tree that invites a story being told about who might live there and what happened next . . . I’m the same way with my camera. I am always seeing a picture that needs to be taken, each picture holding a story of it’s own. You don’t know how many times I have seen something wonderful and regretted not having my camera with me, as without capturing it in the lens of my camera’s eye, the sight is then gone forever. The other evening when I was at work, as I was dusting in the conservatory, I looked out the window to see the most beautiful sunset I have seen in a long time, and in the next moment I was disappointed for I had forgotten to bring my camera with me when I came to work that day. Lesson learned, for I’ll not forget it again. (Todd calls me Mrs. Canitakeaphoto. )

I do think that I’ve achieved my childhood dreams and aspirations for the most part. I have been a wife, no less than three times, and am hoping that this time I’ve finally gotten it right! I raised a family of lovely children, who have grown up to become pretty special adults, and are now becoming parents themselves. I took care of a home for many years and still do, although, now that I work full time, Todd mostly bears the responsibility of the “making” in our home. (and he thought he was retired!!) I may notbe published, but I am a writer and people do read my words and hopefully gain some measure of joy and pleasure from doing so, however small. Words just fall out day after day, and I could no more prevent that from happening than I could stop my breath from coming in and out of my chest. It’s as natural to me as that.

I still have dreams though. I’d love to go to Tuscany and sit under a tree, amidst poppies in the setting Tuscany sun, and allow it’s fading warmth to bathe my face in it’s glory. I’d one day like to have a small place that I could call my own, that doesn’t belong to anyone else, with climbing roses on either side of the doorway and a stone garden path to the front gate. I’d love to see my words in print . . . on paper . . . In a book, written and tangible proof that I am what I feel I am, and to be able to run my fingers across my name on the dust jacket, slightly raised like Braille beneath my fingertips. I want my parents and children to be proud of me and what I’ve achieved, and to know that I have pleased them, and that I do please them. When I move on from this plane of existence, I want to leave something of worth behind for future generations, some mark on the world that tells people that I was here, that I was real and that I counted for something. Something that they can treasure and that will still be making a difference in someone’s life long after I have gone. I guess that is any writer’s dream . . . and so, I dream . . .

This is a tasty soup that is so easy to make and so delicious once it’s done. I made it Saturday night for our lunch on Sunday when we came home from church. With a toasted cheese sandwich on the side, it was absolutely lovely and very satisfying.

*Roasted Root Vegetable Soup*

Serves 4 Printable Recipe

With a few vegetables from your vegetable drawer and a little bit of stock you can have a delicious meal on your table in no time at all. It will taste as if you have slaved over a stove all day, but really all you’ve done is peel a few veg . . . who knew?

1 pounds carrot, peeled and cut into 1 inch chunks

1 pound parsnips, peeled and cut into 1 inch chunks

1 small butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into 1 inch chunks

1 large sweet potato, peeled and cut into 1 inch chunks

2 TBS olive oil

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1 ½ litres of hot vegetable stock (approximately)

Olive oil to drizzle on top

Pre-heat your oven to 205*C/425*F. Put all of your prepared vegetables onto a large shallow baking tray. Drizzle the olive oil over all and season with some salt and black pepper. Using your hands, stir them around a bit to make sure that they are all coated and seasoned. Put the tray into the oven and roast the vegetables for about 45 minutes, until tender, and starting to brown in a few places. Give them a stir about half way through. Remove them from the oven and put them into a large saucepan. Add the vegetable stock and then give it all a good blitz with your stick blender until the mixture is smooth. You may need more or less. You don't want it to be just a vegetable puree, you want it to be a soup. (Alternatively put them into a blender or food processor and carefully blitz them until smooth.) Place over medium heat until well heated through. Taste and adjust the seasoning if needed. Serve in heated bowls with a drizzle of olive oil on the top if desired.