"Any time women come together with a collective intention, it's a powerful thing. Whether it's sitting down making a quilt, in a kitchen preparing a meal, in a club reading the same book, or around the table playing cards, or planning a birthday party, when women come together with a collective intention, magic happens."
Phylicia's quotation above could have been written for me. In the past few years, various groups of women have become central to my life.
Firstly there were my work colleagues. We would sit down to plan, which inevitably ended with coffee and chat.
The next group of women were my Irish "Turkish" women, a group of Irish women learning Turkish together. We learned, swapped stories, became firm friends, travelled, and loved and supported each other.
There was my knitting group in Turkey, who encouraged me through the two years I knitted my hexipuff quilt as they turned out an amazing range of blankets, jumpers, socks and scarves, and now there is my Irish knitting group. They took months to learn my surname, as they preferred to know me as Mary from Turkey. The group could be known as the stitch and bitchers. However, one day as the gales of laughter rang out of Crafty the wool shop where we meet, I remarked we don't do much bitching, to which the immediate retort came, we don't do much stitching either!
One of the more recent groups of women to weave their magic in my life are those I fondly refer to as my "wrinklies" When Mum was ill, and was not allowed to drive I would bring her to meet her golfing buddies on a Tuesday. We meet every Tuesday for lunch in the golf club, not one of them below 90 now, some not in the best of health. But once they sit down together, the magic happens, as they compare notes, poke fun at their ailments and generally rejoice at the fact of being " still above ground" or "Mary dug us up today" If you could bottle and sell their spirit you would become a millionaire overnight. Mum is driving again, but I still insist on doing the Tuesday drive. I would hate to miss the privelege of spending time with my wrinklies.
Yesterday was a busy one for me. It was my turn to host yet another group of women important in my life, my Irish book club. To be honest we rarely read books , but when we sit around one of our kitchen tables, magic happens.
In the middle of preparing for the women, I was conscious of taking my photo of the day. I made a detour on the way to the supermarket and and took some photographs of the beach,. The day as usual was grey but I still took a couple of photographs that I was happy with.
Just before the ladies arrived I took this photograph to send to a friend. (There is nothing like a photograph to describe what I am up to,) While I knew it wasn't the best photograph I had taken, it was definitely my photograph of the day!
I have always been a kitchen person, it has always been the heart of my home, a place where, when the women gather, magic happens.
Footnote: Today was always known as Little Christmas or in many places in Ireland, Nollaig na mBan, Women's Christmas. It is the day when the housework is left to the men and the women head to the pub.