writing

Happy 100th International Women’s Day

/ Terrill Welch / 18 Comments

Today is the 100th celebration of International Women’s Day. Why, you might ask, is this important to recognize? Most of you know me as an artist, photographer and writer. A few of you know that of the last 100 years I have spent more than 30 of those years actively and purposefully working towards women’s equality. I cut my feminist teeth on Dorothy Smith’s The Everyday World as Problematic: A Feminist Sociology in university in the late 1980’s while raising two young children as a single parent. International Women’s Day is one of my most important holidays of the year. It is a time to recognize, reflect, rejoice and recommit to making the world a better place for women and children.

One hundred years ago today women in Canada did not have the right to vote. It would be another seven years before most women over the age of 21 get the right to vote in federal elections. It wasn’t until 1960 that First Nations people received the right to vote in federal elections. Even noting these complexities, it is true, we have made gains. Yet, our fight for equality is not over and in some areas it is backsliding:

At the end of 2010, full-time working women earned only 71.3 per cent of men’s average full-time income. In the late 1980s, women earned 77 cents for every $1 a man earned.

More shocking,[ Queen’s University professor Kathleen Lahey] says, are Statistics Canada data from December 2010 show that women with university degrees now only earn 68.4 per cent of men’s average university-degree incomes, as compared with 86.8 per cent in the late 1980s.

Read more: Why Feminism Still Matters by Daphne Bramham (Vancouver Sun)

As a 52 year old feminist, activist and woman, how has the last half of the last 100 years influenced my life? Steeped in women and gender studies, waged in income for women’s equality such as women’s shelters, women centres, women’s counselling programs and women’s leadership, the answers should come easily. You might even expect that they would flow out in graceful paragraphs – eloquent after years of study and practical experience. They do not.

The blog post article I published in May 2009 “Untapped ROI – Increase Women in Leadership 13 Myths and Facts plus A-G strategies” is still as relevant in March 2011. Change is a slow process. But it is more than that. The clarity and contradictions about women’s equality are worn in layers of personal scars and successes only to then unravel again in my today – as an artist, as a feminist, as a wife, and as a woman who, for the first time five years ago, understands that sometimes financial independence is a barrier to love and mutual quality of life. I now experience the equality of a great love that, for the most part, renders gender differences invisible as two people equally work in harmony for what is best for each other and for self. Outside gender imbalances are successfully rebalanced in our day-to-day living. I have experienced nothing as powerful or leveling as deeply held human regard for another.

Today as I write this, my sweetheart is calling me to come eat the breakfast he has loving prepared. Today as I write this, I smile to myself at the involvement of my son and son-in-law with the daily tasks of parenting their children. At the same time, I remember a blog diary written last week by a woman volunteering in a health clinic where a young woman giving childbirth died on her clinic floor. She needed a cesarean delivery. The child was being born feet first. There were no such medical services available. Human life is not equally valued the world over. There is still much to do.

Today as I write this, I revisit my own struggles resulting from a history of childhood trust broken with inappropriate touching of my innocent child’s body and violence handed out by men who should have been the ones I could count to stand beside me. The details are not important. Many of us – many women and a few men – have our own experiences of being treated with less than regard and loving respect by those closest to us. We can instantly provide our own details, often with undesired vivid clarity.

Yet, as my being, my body and my spirit remind me of these passages in living, I wish better for others. I have worked tirelessly for more than 30 years to create the change I want to see in the world. Now I paint. Now I slip down by the sea and I photograph. I seek healing serenity in the bodily memories of these contradictions that we live as we celebrate the 100th International Women’s Day. My eye finds a particularly powerful reminder that we are one.

My brush strokes link us to our human vulnerability.

My work towards women’s equality is not done – it has only changed. For now.

My sister, may you have the opportunity today to give yourself a hug for being the incredible woman you are.  My bother, may you know that you are an equally part of what will make a difference in the lives of the women you love.

Happy 100th International Women’s Day!

Sprout question: What woman has been your greatest creative influence?

To learn more about my work towards women’s equality visit Terrill Welch – A Woman Behind Women.

© 2011 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada

A Close Read and Doing Nothing

/ Terrill Welch / 25 Comments

On this Valentine’s Day, February 14, 2011 I could have posted something red. Instead, I am going to write about something read. We have an old joke in our house about doing nothing. It is not ours but one we heard it someplace and it has been adopted by us. The joke goes something like this…

I ask “David what are you doing?”

David replies “Nothing.”

I say “But you did that yesterday.”

David confirms “Yes, but I’m not finished yet.”

The art of doing nothing is a highly underrated creative skill. To do it well, a person may need to revise their world view. One aspect of doing nothing I like to indulge is taking the time for a close read. You see, I don’t skim very often when I read. I burrow in and engage in conversation with the authors or with the characters in the story.  I write in the margins. I dog-ear pages. I leave stickies for markers and notes. I muse and mutter. I laugh and cry. I devour the content as I read. This is what I call “a close read.”

You might ask “where do you find the time?”

Well, it comes back to developing the art of doing nothing which brings me to the circular place of my latest close read.

Waking at just before 4:00 am on Sunday, and it being so close to Valentine’s Day, I wanted to let my sweetie sleep peacefully for another few hours. Actually, even if it wasn’t close to Valentine’s Day I would do this out of respect and love. In la casa de inspiracion, with its open floor plan, this means doing nothing. Yes, I made some toast, smeared it with nut butter, and brewed a small pot of coffee but I didn’t start the laundry or turn on some music, or do yoga in the great room or phone a friend out east. Instead I grabbed my book and slipped up to the loft with my toast and coffee.

Can you guess what I am reading? It is WHERE THE HEART RESIDES: Timeless Wisdom of the American Prairie (1999) by Daisy Ann Hickman. Yes, that is right, the very same Daisy who comments on Creative Potager and who asked me to be a guest blogger on the Sunny Room Studio blog in January. We exchanged books a few weeks back. In the mail from Brookings, South Dakota, arrived this beautiful hardcover gem. I know there is a place for e-books but there is still something blessedly tactile about running my hand over a hardcover book and slipping its jacket off to see what it looks like underneath before beginning to turn its paper pages one by one.

So early on Sunday morning, curled up under a down quilt in the quiet darkness set slightly aside by a small reading light, I began to read. What follows, more or less in order, are a few dog-eared, sticky and pencil-marked quotes about doing nothing that can be found within the later part of the first 30 pages of Daisy’s remarkable book about her beloved prairie…

“From a great crop to a new baby or a bountiful garden, life itself seemed to be enough, and being without a new car, a new anything, was not automatic cause for alarm or dismay.”

“Especially useful in today’s society, with its plenitude of distractions, multitude of ways to avoid and hide from reality, legion of false definitions of success built into a fast-paced society to the point where values and priorities have been distorted, twisted and abolished, where many have simply given up, and where many are looking for an easy way out, a shortcut through life offering nothing but bliss and good times, I cherish the lessons of land, sky and wide-open space. Because oddly enough, with all we have created as a society, genuine happiness seems more elusive than ever: just when we believe we have found it, we being to complain as our discovery begins to feel strange, empty, or curiously nondescript.”

“So now, as we consider a perspective that results in doing more of what counts, less of what causes you to lose your way, you will be ever closer to envisioning a road map to the heart.”

“The prairie offers an enlightened alternative, one that teaches something powerful and true: Doing less paves the way for doing more.”

“Because, curiously enough, time to do less often results in something more: time to recharge and regroup; time to stay in touch with feelings, values, beliefs, and of course, people; time to let events unfold naturally, at their own unique pace; time to do things that support your dreams so you may grow old gracefully, knowing few stones were left unturned.”

“Hectic schedules, a hurry-up, do-it-now mentality, cannot compare or compete with the persistent beauty and quiet strength of the prairie. As we scramble about each day, dashing here, dashing there, the land does the opposite, and without a word speaks to our souls, touches our hearts, and reaches out, like a laser, to connect with our finer, more discriminating sides.”

“When your day is jammed full of must-do, can’t-wait items, there isn’t time for casual exchanges; there is little opportunity for the unexpected, unplanned, spur-of-the-moment cup of coffee with an old friend, the walk to the park with your son or daughter or spouse. Still, these are activities that contribute to a way of life that promotes the importance, the fundamental value, of the human connection: without fail, without exception, without excuse.”

“For encouragement, remind yourself that the less you do, the more you will do: of what counts; of what makes you feel alive and growing; of what helps you become a fully realized human being.”


(Water colour painting “Canadian Prairie” – 2002 – by Terrill Welch)

What are my intentions for this week? To do nothing – prairie fashion.

And you might say “but you did that last week.”

I think you know my response but just in case… “I’m not finished yet.”

I wish you an amazing Valentine’s Day filled with love, hope and time to do nothing.

Sprout question: When was the last time you creatively did nothing prairie fashion?

Thank you Daisy Ann Hickman for coming into my life and being part of our Creative Potager community.

© 2011 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada

Emily Carr Mystery Solved

/ Terrill Welch / 6 Comments

View and purchase full resolution image here.

Yesterday’s “Can you Guess?” post was so much fun. Yes?

It is indeed Emily Carr.

The statue is located in the Victoria, British Columbia harbour near the Empress Hotel which you can see in the back ground. The specific location is on the corner of Government and Belleville Street diagonal to the legislative buildings.

Looking up is Emily’s dog Billie. He is looking at Woo Emily’s monkey who is sitting on her shoulder.

The artist/sculptor who was commissioned to create the Emily Carr statue is Barbara Paterson.

I took these photographs the day after the unveiling of the oversized Carr statue. People were still frowning at it as they passed on their way to work in the morning. I didn’t take their pictures as they were so unguarded in there peering at this statue of a strange woman with a monkey on her shoulder. I didn’t want to embarrass anyone. I believe it is safe to say that most of them couldn’t have guessed who the statue represented either and they live in Emily’s home town.

The evening before we had seen a screening of a new documentary film Winds of Heaven: Emily Carr, Carvers and the Spirits of the Forest by Michael Ostroff which I reviewed on the “Emily Carr My Kindred Spirit” post in October. I was in full Emily Carr remembering when I took these photographs. I have read her diaries, her stories and viewed her art work for much of my life. I regard her as a mentor.

Why did I wait so long to post the photographs of the statue? It is because my heart sank when I saw the statue. I was filled with a deep sadness – not because of the statue itself. The statue is beautiful, thoughtful and skillfully created. I was sad because the location chose for the statue presented a mystery for me. Emily would hate it. I just know she would. Stuck in the buzz of city traffic and tourists, with people peering at her while she is left sketching one miserly branch of the great forest she loved would have been torture.

Why would anyone choose to put a statue of Emily Carr in such a counter position to her whole being? I thought and mused as I invited Emily to walk with me out of the noise and commotion down a path along the harbour shore. I am sure her feelings were hurt as much as she was angry.

I know because as we stopped to look up at the totem pole along the path, she seemed to be saying:

“Why couldn’t they have just tucked me a little ways into the peace of the rose garden where at least the birds visit?”

“Why didn’t they put me in Beacon Hill Park where it is quiet and the glorious big pines still stand?”

“Oh bother! Why didn’t they just forget about this old fool?”

I feel compelled to tell her that she is important to art history in Canada and especial in British Columbia. Though people may have not chosen the best spot for her statue in relation to her love of the woods, their hearts were in the right place. They loved her. She sagged a bit under the weight of it all and seemed to weary to fight the mistake… for surely it had to be a mistake, wasn’t it?

After weeks of considering, my conclusion is no, it is not a mistake. It was the right decision even as heartbreaking as it is to think of Emily sitting there stuck so far from the peace of her woods. It is the right decision because the statue isn’t for Emily Carr. She lived her life, created her art, wrote her stories and her spirit is free to be where it chooses – which is not on the corner of Government and Belleville Street I can assure you. The statue is for those of us who have yet to discover Emily Carr. For those that do not know of her great art and her books. The statue is a clue to a mystery that waits to be discovered by tourists, workers going to work and the three year old on a walk with her dad who draws him into the world of Emily as the child pets Billie and they both smile up at Woo. Maybe then they will seek out Carr’s paintings and wander into the great forest to see the trees as she saw them. I hope so because this is where they will find her spirit joins them as they sit on a log in wonder at one of the greatest mystery of all – the forest.

The statue is only a clue to solving a great mystery. Maybe someday the world will know Emily Carr and her woods well enough that this clue can be removed deep into the forest where we can sit together with her as kindred spirits around a small fire discussing other creative mysteries.

Sprout question: How do you resolve creative sadness and disappointment?

Or an even better sprout question offered to us by Leanne Dyck: What artist of the past would you like others to discover today?

Thank you Leanne:)

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada

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A moment with Frank Jordan

/ Terrill Welch / 20 Comments



After his daughter found my book and letters he was keeping, I was notified today that a special friend, Frank Jordan, died last Sunday. He was 90 years old. He lived a full life! I will miss him. He has had such a powerful influence on me. It was so nice of his daughter to phone. She asked if she could keep his book and the letters I had authored. I said “yes” surprised that she asked but happy to reassure her that yes she should keep them.

Some people I connect with deeply, regardless of age or gender. Frank Jordan was one of those people. He loved life even with its tears but mostly he found its joy, love and wonder. Others might miss it – not him. I know he was at peace with his life because he told me so the last time we spoke on telephone in the early summer. I know he will meet his tomorrow with enthusiasm.

Here is a passage from my book Leading Raspberry Jam Visions: Women’s Way about the man of whom I speak….

[Frank Jordan] is a personal mentor I have been honoured to have in my life since childhood. For me his life represents a high measure of success. You will not find his poetry and wisdom in university libraries but you may find it published on the placemats in small restaurants in the region in which he lives. You will not find his wealth ranked amongst the top 25 families in Canada, nor will you even find him given recognition for his wealth within his own small community. His paid career work ranged from jobs such as driving a school bus to janitorial work. His volunteer work ranged from voluntary ambulance attendant to knitting blankets for the hospital auxiliary and the local transition house for women leaving abusive relationships. He does not own his own home or many other material goods.

Are you beginning to question why I feel this individual is successful?

Frank Jordan is successful because he knows how to love. He knows how to love unconditionally and expressively in every day and in every moment. He goes by many endearing nicknames that are used by his whole community, not just his immediate family. To be in conversation with this man is to know your own humble humanity and to walk away hugging yourself – and the whole world at the same time. He has a gift that is rare and valuable. His gift is complete appreciation for life and living. Most recently, we were engaged in conversation as I walked out with him to his car, and he told me how he used his ‘little helper’ (as he shook the cane used to steady his 83-year-old stride) on days like today – days where he was required to be on his feet for several hours. He told me how blessed he was, because he could still drive during daylight hours. As I stood with him, shivering beside his car, he continued to count his blessings and tell me important stories that he knew I needed to hear. I listened intently, appreciating his calm, confidence as he said “you know god loves me so much that I just can’t help myself! I have to spread it around!” His face is lit with the excitement of his conviction, and even from my rather non-committal stance, I would be hard-pressed to deny the existence of his god or his love.

Then with equal importance he continues to tell me how his wife, who is several years older, has not being doing so well. His face is transformed by the sadness of his thoughts. Then he gives his head a little shake and looks up at me before continuing: “most recently she had been having a particularly bad day, and was in tears trying to get dressed, because she was unable at that time to dress or undress herself.” At this point in his story, his eyes start to squint with pleasure: “well, I went over and gently helped her, as I laid out my own complaint – I said, ‘well woman, you know I love you dearly, and I do not mind helping you take your clothes off at night, but it seems rather cruel to ask me to help you put them back on in the morning!’” He described how her tears gave way to laughter as she called him “an old fool,” and blushed from his continued life-long pleasure in her.

His living is an immediate gift, and his stories of living are a continuing gift that offers up a picture of infinite success, in their telling and retelling. Yet, to acknowledge his success (since it fails to fit the acknowledged and typical definition we as a culture have allowed ourselves to accept), it must be carefully and explicitly stated and justified. He has touched and influenced countless lives in his daily practice of joy, recognition and love. I have unquestioning confidence in the huge worth of the rippling effect of his life’s work, in giving and receiving. The consequence of his influence in my life alone has allowed me to have hope in the darkest moments, to believe in my abilities, to forgive myself when I fall short of my expectations, and to have total fascination and delight in people and in living. He chose to accept and embrace the paid work available to him, and to excel in using these positions to fulfill his true mission in life, which was to minister to those he met in his everyday interactions.

My challenge for us is to question all measures attributed to success – not just those that are beyond the quick and easy definition provided by wealth and position. I ask that we embrace the multiplicity of success, and carefully explore and articulate what we believe is success in a particular situation, and also what consequences result from that success. For me, success is not about getting it right and sailing to the finish line of life. Success is about allowing your persistence to sail your vision through every day… while the breeze of your passion and potential charts your course. (pages 75-77)

I have no pictures of him… isn’t that strange? To have been friends since I was fourteen years old and no photographs? I have never felt I needed any – today is no exception. I can see Uncle Frank anytime I want, by sitting with my heart open, smiling at what the day has to offer.

Sprout question: How might you describe your creative success?

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada

Emily Carr my kindred spirit

/ Terrill Welch / 23 Comments

It is morning on Wednesday October 13, 2010. We pack quickly to leave our Mayne Island home and stay overnight in Victoria. We are going to see a screening of a new documentary film Winds of Heaven: Emily Carr, Carvers and the Spirits of the Forest by Michael Ostroff. The write up about the film was one of the few items noteworthy in our withering Saturday addition of the Globe and Mail national paper –which recently went glossy and appears to have dumped the last of its journalistic content. Finding reference to my kindred spirit, Emily Carr, has however, saved one of its pages from the recycling box.

Emily Carr, a larger-than-life icon of Canadian west coast art was born in 1871 and died at age 74 in 1945. How dare I be brass enough to call her my kindred spirit? It is because of her ordinariness along with her greatness. She often speaks in humble frustration in her reflections about her paintings and writing.  There are only a few exceptions in diary entries when she allows herself a quiet moment of pride for her accomplishments. One glance at her paintings tells another story. She held nothing back in her paintings.

Carr’s powerful strokes and clarity of vision bring large cedars and western landscapes to their knees at the feet of her brush, only to release them again to push skyward across the breadth of her canvas. It is within my experience of this contradiction, and her visceral struggle with her art, that I call her my kindred spirit.

“If the work of an isolated little old woman on the edge of nowhere, is too modern for the Canadian National Gallery, it seems it cannot be a very progressive institution.” Emily Carr, On the Edge of Nowhere Gallery quote

When doubts and fears about my ability as an artist threaten to keep my brushes from the paint or my fingers from pressing the camera shutter down, I read the diary pages of Carr. I know if my tears leave stains on the pages she will understand and that we will both be out of bed again in the morning, giving it another go – together.

I now have a new reference point to breathe vitality into Carr’s life and work. It is Michael Ostroff’s documentary film Winds of Heaven. Michael spoke about the difficulty of finding a fresh approach within the many fingerprints that traipse across all primary source documents of Carr’s writing and the many eyes that have critically gazed at her sketches and paintings. Well, in my opinion, he has brought the spirit of Emily Carr alive with the same strong powerful impressions, skillfully tethered together, as Carr did in her paintings. The documentary is being screened across the country and will be released in March. I plan to add one of the DVD’s to my library shortly thereafter. I want it close by so it is within reach when doubts raise their sneering heads in the corners of my studio. Then I will then count my blessings.

“I think I have gone further this year, have lifted a little. I see things a little more as a whole, a little more complete. I am always watching for fear of getting feeble and passé in my work. I want to pour till the pail is empty, the last bit going out in a gush, not drops.” Emily Carr, On the Edge of Nowhere Gallery quote.

Carr had no digital camera and sketched quickly with oil on paper before working up her paintings back at the studio. I can both sketch and take a photograph for reference. Carr had no community of contemporary artists to muse with her through her blog, twitter and facebook. She had to write letters and send them by post to her friend Lawren Harris. He had to reply in the same manner. Something I would find too tedious for daily inspiration. In poetry she had Walt Whitman where I have both Whitman on Mary Oliver. She was isolated in her work as much as she was in her geography.

When, even now women represented in museums around the world is only about 5%, she would not likely have called herself a feminist or a ground breaker for women’s art. She would likely have said that she was an artist who just happened to be a woman. Indeed, if a showing a few years ago at the Vancouver Art Gallery of women artists who were her peers are any indication, she would be right. Her work left those of other women artists in a shadow of insignificance. To be fair, gender may not be the deciding factor of what art work is left in her shadow.

Next, I will give thanks for each diary entry, and each story in the 893 pages of her writings. Finally, I will bow my head in gratitude for the dedicated work of Ira Dilworth, Doris Shadbolt, and now Michael Ostroff for ensuring that I have these unique views and access to the life and work of Emily Carr.

After the screening, Michael Ostroff commented during the discussion, that he wanted to “put Carr in the context of her time.” He has done more than that. He has put British Columbia in the context of its time. He shared her struggle to create a vision as it took him five years to find the funding and complete this incredible film which includes our experience with rugged wilderness and history of unsettled land claims.

Through my life as an artist going right back to childhood, Carr has always been just out of sight, leaving me marks to follow as I forge my own artistic path. I feel Carr’s kindred spirit as I work – not in her brush stroke but in the strength and reverence for her west. I am not a scribe for what is before my eyes but rather that which is before my heart. My Emily understands this. I can tell you facts about her life – such as her breakdown while going to art school in Europe or the 15 fallow years when she lost her will and only painted seven works and stopped writing in her diary. I can tell you that her best work came after this time while she was in 50’s. I can tell you that she was loved but never married. I can tell you these things but it will be far more meaningful if you read her writings for yourself and if you browse the pages of Doris Shadbolt’s The Art of Emily Carr or if you go to The Greater Victoria Art Gallery and stand in front of her paintings and see the trees swaying as they reach skyward or if you watch Winds of Heaven by Michael Gostroff – a documentary that adds value and depth to all other experiences of a Canadian artist, a great artist, a woman artist, Emily Carr. May you also know the life and art of the Emily who sits beside me as I work.

References are linked within the post.

Sprout question: What great artist encourages you while you work?

And you might like this later post as well “Emily Carr Mystery-solved” https://creativepotager.wordpress.com/2010/11/09/emily-carr-mystery-solved

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada

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Stuffed Ambercup Squash with Champagne

/ Terrill Welch / 15 Comments

The last day of September has arrived. Golden afternoon sun moves into the long shadows of the fir trees outside her window. Leaving the bed with its crumpled woolen throw and Barbara Kingsolver’s Orange Prize The Lacuna, she climbs the shallow steps up to the kitchen and looks at the orange Ambercup squash on the counter. She hadn’t planned to cook this harvest poster vegetable yet but there are shallots in the wicker basket beside it. She muses about the great handfuls of parsley in her kitchen garden. Then there is that beautiful plump sage over by the fence. Of course it will need some thyme and just a bit of rosemary. By now she has put on her oversized apron and garden clogs and is out in the potager gathering the herbs.

“We are having stuffed squash with shallots, apples and pumpkin seeds” she shouts up to where her husband is working on securing another deer fence at the back of the yard.

He straightens up with a grin that reaches right to the back of his soft brown eyes. He knows that she knows that squash is his favourite food. She grins back.

With a fist full of herbs she is back at the kitchen counter. There is only one way to safely take the head off of a squash. It is with a large heavy cleaver. If hitting the cleaver with the back of her hand doesn’t slice the tough hide of the squash, she resorts to using the rubber mallet from the tool shed to pound it through. This method has never failed her. Today no rubber mallet is necessary.

With the insides of the squash composted, she is ready to make the house smell like savory heaven. She is sure there is a garlic clove over in the garlic holder. Yes, there it is. Butter, lots of butter – well, first a little olive oil is drizzled into the well-seasoned cast-iron skillet. The garlic, shallots and herbs are chopped and ready. A few slices of that heavy multi-grain bread filled with seeds cubed will do nicely. Two small this-year Macintosh apples are sliced and added unpeeled. She eats three pieces of their tart flesh before they make it into the mix. Fresh ground nutmeg and some of that fresh ground allspice too.  Now let’s see… a few pumpkin seeds, maybe a handful. Finally some sea salt and pepper ground with wrist snapping vigor.

“That about does it,” she mutters to the kitchen wall.

Hanging up her apron she remembers wine. She has forgotten to buy wine.

Well, there are a couple of small bottles of champagne chilled that she was given by a friend in August for her birthday. Squash with champagne it will be.

Stuffed and the lid pinned on with large tooth picks, she places the squash on an old pie plate with a bit of water in the bottom and a piece of tinfoil loosely over top. The oven has been warmed to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and the timer is set for an hour even though she knows it will likely take a bit longer.

She thinks that maybe she should write out the recipe but what would she say? Seize a medium sized winter squash and a few shallots. Then keep adding ingredients until you find that you have closed the oven door. Done!

Sprout Question: Can you share your creative recipe?

Best of the weekend to you!

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada

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Down the Road a Way

/ Terrill Welch / 12 Comments

Down the road a way there is a farm.

It was established in 1872 just a year after British Columbia joined the Canadian Confederation. Around here it’s known as Punch’s place. I hear tell that he sold it a bit back on the condition that he could stay on and live out the rest of his life on the place.

I’ve always admired the spot myself. The new owners have put up a real fine fence but it really didn’t seem to change things much. Saved a few apples from the deer is all.

The new gate is right pretty as well.

We was walking so as to really get a good look at things.

On a way past Punch’s these mail boxes popped up and we almost fell sideways across the centre line from laughing. No one puts mail in them. They’re just for show.

About this time, we decided to go all the way to the public boat launch.

Caught sight of a rooster trying to get through the fence. Ah, I’m just kidding. It’s not a real bird.

Seems like there must have been an agreement awhile ago

to keep the same old fence right on down to the  sea.

When we looked across at the calm, sure didn’t feel like leaving.

But we did.

Saw a sign about not peeking.

Nothing can anyone do about walking on the road though. It is public property all the way to the other side of the ditch. Some ditches are just wider than others is all. Not that we stepped across a wide ditch or anything… just saying.

The road was even nicer on the walk back. Best part is it was down hill a little right back to where we parked the truck.

Sprout Question: Whose voice shows up in your creative work?

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada

Going to the Beach House

/ Terrill Welch / 36 Comments

If there was ever a house that fulfilled all the requirements of a beach house it is this one. It is not my beach house. I only borrow it when I walk along this particular beach. I fear that, during a winter storm, a high tide will take it out to sea. But each time I return, the beach house is still there, as if taunting its precarious position along the eroding shoreline.

I sometimes imagine the vacation drama of the residents. Maybe they have had a squabble and he comes and sits in a chair on the porch, brooding over his hurts, with his smoldering heavy-lidded eyes gazing out to sea. Or maybe a fine meal of crab from their crab nets has been savoured and they bring their guests out on the porch as the sun sets, swirling and sipping deep red wine, in over large glasses. Then she offers to make fresh ground dark roast coffee to go with a blackberry crumb and homemade ice-cream. The spell breaks. The guests realized they have become chilled in the evening air. One by one they retreat again, into the warmth of the spacious beach house.

I like to admire this dwelling from the public sands, making up these stories fitting for such a splendid beach house. My musings, as I map these scenarios, feel just a little like trespassing through a church yard. It is public space but I know I am walking on sacred ground.

Sprout Question: What stories are amusing you?

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada

Over eighteen thousand visitors

/ Terrill Welch / 20 Comments

Yes, over eighteen thousand creativity seeking visitors have been to see Creative Potager since the beginning of the 2010. To be exact, there had been 18,086 when I checked and 8:00 am PST this morning. After 141 posts and 2, 262 comments it is time to pause, celebrate and offer thanks to these regular Creative Potager supporters…

Laurie Buchanan: I don’t think Laurie has missed even one sprout question. She has faithfully come by and offered her heartfelt answer no matter what the question. Laurie has cheered, encouraged, engaged and inspired me to reach and stretched. We have been connecting online even before Creative Potager existed – in fact for years now. I consider Laurie a colleague and a friend though we have never sat across a table from each other in the same time and space. Thank you Laurie for being Creative Potager’s most regular sprout responder. You can read Laurie’s even day posts at Speaking from the Heart where there is a Colour of Wellness class under way.

Jeff Stroud: Jeff is here leaving comments and sharing almost as often as Laurie. He is a soulful and thoughtful photographer that never takes the easy road just because it is there. Jeff introduced me to the redbubble storefront through his photography a couple of years ago. Jeff has his own growth question for contemplation on each of his post at The Reluctant Bloger that will add another boost to your creativity.  He is a passionate practitioner of Julian Cameron’s The Artist’s Way.

Kathy Drue: Kathy is a blogger extraordinaire with her Lake Superior Spirit blog receiving 64,311 visits since the beginning of the year. She often appears on the front page of WordPress and is interviewed from time-to-time about her blogging experience. Writing is Kathy’s passion and photography her supporting anchor. I am proud and thrilled that she finds the time and interest to drop in to Creative Potager.

Sam Juliano: Sam, like Kathy, is part of the blogosphere elite with his Monday Morning Diary posts at Wonders in the Dark sometimes receiving over 2,000 visitors in one day. Oh! Fair warning, horror films are the focus of current reviews. Remember it is make up. Each week, from almost the beginning, Sam has visited Creative Potager and reported back with a live link to his readership. Not only that, he did a full interview post Artist and Nature-Lover Terrill Welch: Mayne Island’s resident ‘Creativepotager” this past August. Sam will always be noted in Creative Potager’s hall of fame for his generosity, warmth, intellect, and inspiration for the arts and in particular film.

Jerry Shawback: A self-portrait artist, Jerry doesn’t always leave one of his reflective and thoughtful sprouts but I find him everyday in my tweet stream. He is passing along the latest post or just mentioning Creative Potager as he goes about retweeting from his outstanding list of artist and writers. Jerry is one of the reasons that about 40% of Creative Potager visitors come from Twitter. Some of these visitors leave comments but many more simply read, then tweet the link out to their tweet friends. Jerry is an important part of that exchange. Jerry is another artist and painter that I feel a deep resonance with and you can see some of his work at his profile on TheWhole9 website. His dedication is inspiring and his work shows this commitment to daily practice.

Leanne Dyck: Leanne is a fellow Mayne Islander who takes every possible opportunity to send a “shout out” on her website OKnitting.com or on her blog Author Leanne Dyck about Creative Potager or my recent solo art exhibition. She leaves sprout comments as time permits as she is a full-time writer meeting deadlines for manuscripts and revisions with publishers. It is a joy and a pleasure to have someone who lives just down the street drop in online, connecting my virtual home with my physical home.

Kimberly Grady: Kim is a butterfly sprout responder that brings her transforming presence as she is inspired. It might be here or it might be a comment on Facebook but wherever she shows up, I am always glad to see her and enjoy her unguarded reflections. She may visit her blog Butterflies Are Blue if you leave a comment…but again, she just might drop by and comment on your blog instead. Whatever, happens I know Kim will be inspire you to be genuine, to be yourself and to be creative.

May I request dear readers is that you visit these generous and gracious  individuals and leave them a comment of thanks for helping make Creative Potager the inspiring garden of creativity that it is?

Thank you, dear friends, for hanging out with me in my creative kitchen garden.

Sprout Question: Who would be the top seven on your list of creativity supporters?

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada

Buddha in the Bushes

/ Terrill Welch / 11 Comments

Under our trees there sits a statue of a Buddha in meditation. I visit often – sometimes with my feet and sometimes in my mind.

I won’t die.

I’m not going anywhere

I’ll be here.

But don’t ask me anything.

I won’t answer.

Death poem by Zen master Ikkyu who lived from 1394 to 1481.

As we have seen in the comments to the previous post “Beauty in Death” there is a cycle to everything. We are falling away from summer towards the resting of winter that will nurture the sprouts of spring, bringing them to the full blossom of summer again. We know this. We know this like our breath. No thought is required. Yet, like our breath it sometimes helps to focus on it just for a moment or two. Focus on the fullness of the cycle and then pause on death – as it is a necessary part of living.

You may wonder what this has to do with creativity. I propose that when we are inspired by the fullness of our living, and of our dying, our creative work benefits. There need not be a god or goddess or Buddha in the bushes of our creative work. We only need to pause. It is in the pause at the top of our breath where we pick the moment to press the shutter button; our hand knows to release the brush stroke; our keyboard finds the phrase; or our voice hits a note. These need not be perfect. It is through their ordinariness that our creativity goes beyond perfection and holiness.   Somehow we know during this pause that there will come a day when we shall release that breath and it shall be our last. From this same place I believe the brilliance of our creativity is released.

With this in mind, I ask us to pause as if it were our last breath.

Sprout Question: What might your death poem be?

© 2010 Terrill Welch, All rights reserved.

Liberal usage granted with written permission. See “About” for details.

Purchase photography at http://www.redbubble.com/people/terrillwelch

Creative Potager – where imagination rules. Be inspired.

From Mayne Island, British Columbia, Canada