Flowers or Weeds~

Are you strong enough to fall

without cracking at all,

crack, crack, crack, it’s fine.

We all have a few lines

running down the palms of our hands

and upon the ground where we stand.

Unstable and breakable we’re still of use

though we’re not all pretty and new.

Polish us up a little and watch us shine,

A bit of magic and a little bit of time

is all it takes for healing and growth.

What will grow from our cracks, nobody knows.

Flowers or weeds, flower or weeds

whatever it is, it still sets us free,

It’ll let us be

It will let us be

It will let us be free.



(Photo’s taken by me of the roses in my mother’s garden)

Messy Room and How I (try) Dealing with It

‘A tidy room reflects a tidy mind’

This is something my mother would always say to me and I believe it’s completely true. When my room is finally clean, it feels like I can breathe and that I have space in my mind to fill up with new fresh ideas. However, I’m full of reasons, (or excuses) for why I can’t keep my room clean.

I live in a house with eleven other people. I live in my husband’s family house as we can not afford our own home at the moment. So it is me, my husband and my baby in one room. My room is basically acting as four rooms in one, my bedroom, my baby’s nursery, a laundry room and an office. This is one reason it’s so hard to keep my room clean because there is so much going on in here.

I’m also known for not being very consistent, I can’t keep on top of tidying because I have so much to do, so my room piles up very quickly and then I have to quickly clean it up as best as I can.

Here are my bad room habits and how I solve them:


Clothes are a NIGHTMARE. The job of washing, ironing, folding, putting away is never ending. Because there’s so many people in this house, I can’t wash clothes every day as we only have one machine and dryer which everyone shares. I have to wash my husbands, my own and my daughters clothing. So the dirty clothes pile up in the laundry basket, then over flow onto the floor, then they get washed and get dumped on the floor and bed for ages because I’m one: either too lazy to put them away straight away or two: I have no time or three: I’m too exhausted when I finally  have time. I’ve even thrown away three huge black bag of my own clothes in hopes that if i have less clothes to wear, there will be less washing… but it doesn’t seem to work that way.


So how do solve my laundry situation, well, once a week, I power wash. I take two days to use the machines – throw the laundry load in, wash, dry and then I have three black bag of clean clothes in my room which I have to power-put-away, which is put the clothes away as fast as you can before baby bee wakes up from her usually very short naps.


I have a king-size bed so it sometimes seems like it’s taking up half of the bedroom, it is also crammed right next to my desk so I have to use my bed as a seat for my desk. I basically live on my bed (sometimes.) I eat on it, sleep, study, write, relax. Feed little bee, change her clothes, nappy, entertain her. My bed is basically an island and the rest of the room is the sea. At the end of the day when it’s time for bed, I have to lob the pile of clothes off the bed before getting into it, only to get my foot stuck into a toy or a (clean) nappy.


Making my bed in the morning is really important. It makes my room look so much tidier. If I don’t make it, it’s far too tempting to get back into bed when my little one goes down for her nap. I like to have a few different and pretty bedding to keep my room fun, creative and not so boring. It also is a huge motivator to get me straighten my bedding in the morning.


I am really bad at taking my plates back downstairs after I eat in my room, the dishes pile up and then I end up taking them back down in smaller piles, hoping nobody notices the piles of dishes reappearing in the drawers. I know I should take them back down once I’m done with each plate, but come on guys, I have to go down two flights of stairs to reach the kitchen. (please ignore the fact it took me two flights of stairs to take the dishes up in the first place.) Okay, okay, you win, I’m just lazy.


I should stop being lazy.


I’m also really bad at putting used nappies in the bin, straight away. I usually stick it in a nappy bag and then fling it across the room hoping it land in the garbage bag, (99.9 times it doesn’t.)


…I should stop being lazy.


Another problem of mine is that once I get into a writing project, or creative project, all of my notebooks, stationary, creative paper, notes, random papers all come out and scatter everywhere, all over my bed, all over my desk across the floor next to my bed, and then when the excitement of what I was working on dies down a little bit, the papers and notebooks and art supplies and stationary…are not put away. They just lie there, probably cringing as I clumsily hop and tiptoe over and around them instead of picking them up.


Eventually I pick them up and they all get shoved back into their drawers and folders until the next time inspiration strikes. Guys, these are the only type of parties I ever throw. I’m serious.


TOYS. TOYS EVERYWHERE. We’re trying to teach little bee to play independently, so that we can get on with our jobs and chores. So that means all of her toys come out, scattered everywhere for her to explore. However, it’s not just her toys she’s interested in, it’s anything and everything. Especially things you’re using – i.e – your laptop, phone, pen, notebook etc. She especially loves tissue paper, to tear up (and then try to put in her mouth.) She loves bottles, wrappers, her shoes, empty boxes, keys etc. So the mess continues to grow and I use it as an excuse that it’s all her ‘toys.’


Well, I found a lovely box, in which every day I put a few toys in (not too much that it overwhelms her and not too less that she gets bored.) I throw in a few ordinary non-toy things (safe objects) and I let her rummage through them. She usually works her way through them before settling on a couple of things to either try to destroy or eat. (She loves doing recycling for me – ripping up cardboard or paper) and she also loves chewing and slobbering over her Mr Men hardback books and plastic spoons.

At the end of her play session, I try to either put away or throw away the ordinary things in the box and put away her toys so that I can pick different toys and objects next time she want to play.


Finally, we have the clutter on the surfaces, on the bedside tables, on the dresser, on the desk. It’s just every day things we use get left out, like hair brushes, deodorants, creams, the iron, candle, water bottles, stationary et cetra. (Sometimes these places do get a bit crowded and things end up on the floor.)


Every couple of days I try to de-clutter so that i can wipe down the surface with wipes, because dust collects easily and so that I can run the hoover over the carpet.

I could probably get into all sorts with this blog but I think I will leave it at this.

Are you a tidy or messy person?

Is there anything you can relate to in this blog?

How do you keep your room tidy and organised?

Lots of love Ebee.

P.s – As I was reading this blog post to my husband, he sat there whispering ‘you’re such a liar, a liar.’ at all of my ‘solutions.’

but what can I say… i am a story teller after all!

Red Dressed Soul


red dress

You travel down the spiral staircase that

leads you into the depths of your soul.

Where there are no lanterns,

no candles,

no control.

Why do you do this to yourself?

You’re slipping away

But you want to stay

And all your ghosts and shadows

Trail after you wherever you go.

Untouchable and fading,

where has your thunder gone?

The crashing lightning,

the explosions, the fights and

the fireworks.

Your out-of-tune songs.

But I won’t forget you.

You were the red dressed soul

with a heart full of passion,

A belly full of laughter.

You kept your love in your pockets

and emotions in your heart.

Words were scribbles under your skin

and naturally flowed from your fingers

You were a traveller, a dreamer

A wanderer, barefoot and hair-free

stealing chimneys with yellow feelings

Searching for the green.


I promise,

I will find you,

Wherever you go.


Dear Will,

I know who you are. You may stand there looking calm and quiet, observant. Your hands may be warm and your eyes green as the breathing forest but, I know you deeper than that gentle surface. I feel your electricity in your nerves. I feel that awkward, rigid spine of yours, when you meet strangers and people you aren’t comfortable with. Those hands that you patiently keep hidden in your pockets, tremble slightly. Your heart beats so fast – as if it is trying to claw out of that web of anxiety in your chest. Your lungs are drums but all this weakness keep you strong, alert, you’re always alert. I know who you are – I have love for you – for the way you never show your restless fears. The way they never overwhelm your mind. 

Your mind always sees clearly. 

Soil warriors always work independently. They never cross paths. They never talk to one another. But Will and Aleena were different. They knew the forest better than anyone. They found themselves on a cross path. In the lost green lake they found each other – as their broken canoe sunk to the bottom, they clung onto the broken tree trunk, covered in moss, it jutted out from the middle of the lake. A baby, thin tree growing on the broken. They laughed like they had never laughed before. Wholeheartedly. Large sounds of joy and relief escaping their throats from their stomachs. They found home in each other’s eyes.





Dear Ashen, 

Aleena will always be my solid ground and you will always be my earthquake.

Aleena remembered the time when she was little and she had watched Ashen mercilessly smash a rock over a snake’s head until it lay lifeless, then she had picked it up and tied it around her waist. The blood dripping from the crushed skull onto her bare feet. She looked up and noticed Aleena watching and she smiled sweetly.

“Do you like my belt?” She had asked.  That was when Aleena should have realised that Ashen would destroy anyone and anything in her way that would stop her from getting what she wanted.

Ashen was not made to look after things. Everywhere she went she broke things, not always on purpose but she was clumsy, she had tried looking after things… A kitten, a bird, a plant but nothing survived. Nothing thrived under her watchful gaze. At that time her heart was still big, open and warm so she mourned over everything she lost. When she broke something it cracked her heart too, until her heart was unable to hold grief for long. Until the day she flattened a moth on her wall. Then breaking things, killing things, became an obsession.



Dear Aleena, 

You have always been my warrior. Born amongst two skyscrapers, your feet planted on a patch of grass.  You do not bow. You do not bend and you do not break. You rise. You’re always rising. I called for you and you came, strong, fierce and in control. Everything I am not. I owe you my life, my best friend and my most trusted advisor. 

The winds were roaring that night as Aleena washed her bloodstained hands in the small stream by the valley of the blue mountains. The wind was never happy with her but she ignored it and strode away.  Her bare feet were cut but the dry prickly wild grass felt like nothing to her. Even as the wind tore her dress, mid-thigh, she strode on. The war was over, for now. She had fought and won. Locked her twin sister, Ashen Rose, away in the cold mansion on the frozen lake, chained to the ankles of the blue mountains that would guard her forever. It was for the best. The dangerous fire within Ashen had torn apart her mind, she had lost half of it in some type of morbid, insane darkness, until all who had once cared for her were helpless and decided they had to bury her away from the world. She was no longer safe to keep in society. She was an unpredictable hazard to herself and others.

Aleena’s wild black hair flew behind her like a flag. Her face as pale as a ghost. Her lips dry and cracked, the darkness under her eyes showed her long and tiring journey but her autumn eyes still had a fire burning within them. That must have been what scared the buffalos as they stopped eating and submissively bowed their heads as they made way for her to pass.

It was just before Aleena reached the edge of the wild forest when the wolf appeared. It’s shabby black and grey coat moved like armour on it’s body. It had been slinking through the trees like a dark shadow for a while. Aleena had sensed a few feet away that there was something unfamiliar, and perhaps dangerous hidden close by.

She had waited for the wolf to step forth and reveal itself. The wolf lowered it’s head and stared deep into Aleena’s eyes with it’s yellow eyes. Aleena stood perfectly still, so that a passer by would not be able to tell if it was Aleena who was transfixed or the wolf. It was in a split second after this moment when all things happened so fast, at once.

The wolf took a small step forward and immediately Aleena whipped out the dagger tied to her thigh but before she could use it and before the wolf could attack a whistle resounded in the forest. The wolf’s ears pricked back and it turned it’s head, a male’s voice called out;

“Husk! Come!” The wolf turned away and bound through the forest leaving Aleena quite surprised still holding her dagger.

Aleena swiftly followed the wolf into the forest. The wolf trotted along picking up human scent of the ground. Aleena climbed a tree and steadily followed the branches. Eventually they reached a clearing. There stood a tall, handsomely rugged looking man. Close cropped hair and stubble as the wolf approached the man got down to his knee and stroked the fur around the wolf’s head. In excitement the wolf panted and licked the young man before sniffing around him. Aleena listened in as he gently spoke to the wolf.

“You hungry boy? I got something for you.” He walked closer to the tree Aleena crouched in, before picking up and emptying a pouch of left over meat, which the wolf happily began eating. The young man stretched and then noticed Aleena in the trees. Aleena cursed, She couldn’t run away, for warriors never ran. His deep green eyes settled on her face, he looked astounded to see her there. He slowly rubbed the back of his head in a nervous, awkward gesture before speaking,