Autumn's gentle rain inspires reading, amongst other things!

We have gone from brilliant blue skies and sunshine to gentle mists and subdued colours in 

fall's foliage.  It's lovely......but not the best weather for getting the last 

of the apples picked, alas.

Once the moon has set the mornings are dark before sunrise, and we ate our breakfast this morning with the lights on, and outside Calli prowled until she thought she might join us at the breakfast table and her yellow eyes showed up by the window where she knows Charles will let her in and out.

I have been seduced by the library and the literary columns in the papers.

A few weeks ago, when I was listening to Wallace Stegner and "All the little live things'

while I knitted, I was reminded that there were later books of his that

I had not read, written after my great enthusiasm for his writing about the West, 

and also that of Ivan Doig.

I have snatched moments from busy outside days and lengthened my bedtime reading, and

 now have these to go back to the library.....

Which did I enjoy most?  "Crossing to Safety" was a book I could relate to, 

remembering past friendships, but the Essays on the environment, the West

 and appreciations for other western writers kept my interest to the end and coaxed me into

ordering these Ivan Doig books, to see where he has gone with his writing

since I read Dancing at the Rascal Fair, This House of Sky, English Creek and The Sea Runners.

If you will look closely you will see in this current stash the latest book by

Alexander McCall Smith,  "The Charming Quirks of Others"

Would you like to guess which book my hand falls to as I pass it over

the selection?  Ah yes,  my current delight with the writing of

McCall Smith, with the characters of Isabel Dalhousie, Jamie and Charlie,  will cast a spell over the Charming Quirks, but it will be a quick read and then I can

immerse myself in Doig's stories of Montana. and
Robert McCrum's take on the English language.

And when will I get those blessed socks knit, you ask????

An Autumn drive through the Valley

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained

With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit

Beneath my shady roof; there thou mayest rest

And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,

And all the daughters of the year shall dance!

Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

William Blake To Autumn

October has been chiding September for being cold and miserable, and bringing us the consolation of blue skies, still crisp days and the chance to enjoy hours in the garden planting bulbs, moving perennials that have grown too vigorous and crowded into their neighbours space;  removing the dead leaves from the iris and saving seeds from the heritage sweetpeas before piling the wheelbarrow with the fading vines and logging the great large sunflower wheels to put against the fence for the small birds to feed on.

This great gift of time and perfect weather to do garden chores kept us from late afternoon drives to capture the magical things that were happening in the woods, along the roadside, in the orchards and vineyards, and along the creeks.

Finally, on Tuesday, after a short siesta we packed up the camera and started off!

We turn down Beck Road (which always makes me want to call this creek a beck) and  stop on the small bridge, looking to the west and the east down the grass lined banks

and the overhanging trees.

We lingered for a while at Koboa Park, first established as a Centennial Project in the '50's

and now restored and expanded into a wonderful playground, ball park and picnic site, 

outlined round the edges with memorial trees, some planted in memory of pioneer families and

some in memory of those who built on a dream.

It warms Charles' heart that the young people of the community have worked so hard

at maintaining this lovely riverside park and we remember the early days and the

fellowship and hard work that went into those first efforts.  

We turn along the road to Ginty's Pond where we find that while we fiddled in the garden

"autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees"

and we have missed much of the colour of the willows and the shrubs.

We search in vain for ducks or turtles.

On the other side of the pond, across the meadow, the trees have assumed a more sombre

shade from that of early autumn and are in the shadow of the mountains

that rise above the river.

Sumac and dried grasses line the road as we drive to the other end of the Pond.

I watch for pheasants.  Charles sees a grouse, and we spot a magpie on the telephone line.

When we reach the main Pond we find it edged in slime, and are told by the lady

whose house is built just back from the bank that this is a result of

the contraption built by Public Works to prevent beavers from building dams, 

which of course they are wont to do. 

She didn't seem too interested in listening to Charles' theory about the dead water which

was causing the slime, even though he was at one time the manager of the

water district and has had much experience with beavers and the location in which they

have built dams in the past, down in the farthest reaches of the Pond.

Naturally this problem piques Charles' interest and so we go across country to the road

that leads to the spot where beavers have been causing problems for lo these many years.
At least for the farmers and those who depend on the Pond for other reasons than making it their home.

Along this bottom land a great many houses have sprung up.  Some of them belong

to farmers, but some of them are retirees seeking the stillness of the country.

We have been here long enough to know what devastation the river can cause 

when it floods and Charles mutter dire predictions all along the way.

We come at length to beaver territory....

The shadows are lengthening, - the little dog will be awakening from his afternoon sleep,

and so we turn back to the old familiar road along the benchlands

and head for home.

"Autumn wins you best by this, its mute

Appeal to sympathy for its decay "

Robert Browning

and on a more positive note...

"For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together..  For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad."   Edwin Way Teale

Even though we were late it was a lovely drive.

ABC Wednesday

The Notable letter this week is N

N is for NASH, - Ogden, that is.

Frederick Ogden Nash, an American poet who delighted his readers with light, humorous verse, was born in August of 1902.  He died in 1971.

I discovered him early and some of his books have resided on my shelves since before we (Charles and I) were married, back in antiquity.

From 'Good Intentions', first published in 1937....

So That's Who I Remind Me Of


When I consider men of golden talents,
I'm delighted, in my introverted way,
To discover, as I'm drawing up the balance,
How much we have in common, I and they.


Like Burns, I have a weakness for the bottle,
Like Shakespeare, little Latin and less Greek;
I bite my fingernails like Aristotle;
Like Thackeray, I have a snobbish streak.


I'm afflicted with the vanity of Byron,
I've inherited the spitefulness of Pope;
Like Petrarch, I'm a sucher for a siren,
Like Milton, I've a tendency to mope.


My spelling is suggestive of a Chaucer;
Like Johnson, well, I do not wish to die
(I also drink my coffee from the saucer);
And if Goldsmith was a parrot, so am I.


Like Villon, I have debits by the carload,
Like Swinburne, I'm afraid I need a nurse;
By my dicing is Christopher out-Marlowed,
And I dream as much as Coleridge, only worse.


In comparison with men of golden talents,
I am all a man of talent ought to be;
I resemble every genius in his vice, however heinous -
Yet I write so much like me.

and from YouTube - The Sunset Years of Samuel Shy by Ogden Nash



Though Ogden Nash wrote light humourous poetry the wit and cleverness of his poems earned him spots in American Anthologies of Great Poets.

For more N's do nod over to ABC Wednesday, here.http://abcwednesdayround3.blogspot.com/

Romance and Magic in the Similkameen

The stars were faint at five a.m. and at six

a light skiff of clouds hid any chance of a pretty sunrise.

But by eight the sky was clear and blue

not a cloud to be seen

not a breath of wind in the still October morning

A Perfect Wedding Day

Time stopped and gathered all the jewels of October around it

so that when it was time for the vows to be made

there was magic in the stillness as the Piper played

and the Bride and her father came down the hill and across 

the green where the Groom waited.

A sweet and solemn ceremony

and then the chance for pictures.

In the evening a wonderful reception

dining and dancing, wine and sweet words.

Beautiful wedding and the promise of a wonderful marriage............

Heart of my Heart


Heart of my heart, we are one with the wind,
One with the clouds that are whirled o'er the lea,
One in many, O broken and blind,
One as the waves are at one with the sea!
Ay! When life seems scattered apart,
Darkness, ends as a tale that is told,
One, we are one, O heart of my heart,
One, still one, while the world grows old.
Alfred Noyes

We are soaking up

 each glorious moment of these hazy Autumn days!!!

The garden is packed with fall flowers;  late roses, yellow daisies,

a wonderful array of chrysanthemums, purple asters - 

and here is the last Abraham Darby of the summer!

looking as fresh and lovely as the first bud to open in May.

Charles 'blew the lines' today,

in preparation for the irrigation water being turned off tomorrow.

As he coiled up all the hoses I had a faint feeling of regret

and it was brought home to me that these wonderful warm

Autumn days are a plus, - a dividend, and a wonderful blessing.

I picked a few boxes of Golden Delicious Apples

and on the first day that doesn't draw us outside

we will core and slice them into foil lined pie plates, 

pop them into the freezer and anticipate a winter's worth of 

delicious apple pies.

Tomorrow's forecast is for blue skies and sunshine, - and

the next day too, of course.

It will be Katie and Will's Wedding Day!

Let us celebrate the occasion with wine and sweet words.   Plautus

ABC Wednesday

M is the Magnificent Letter for this week.

M is for Magnolia

He told of the Magnolia, spread

High as a cloud, high over head! 

 Wordsworth: Ruth

Sauntered down the lane to enjoy these marvelous blooms

in the garden at the big house, last April.

We sat on the bench under the big gnarled tree

and discussed the ways of the world and

the beautiful froth of cherry blossoms along the way

and the delicate beauty of the Magnolia.

From Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings....

The Magnolia Tree

"I do not know the irreducible minimum of happiness for any other spirit other than mine own.

It is impossible to be certain even of mine.

Yet I believe that I know my tangible desideratum.

It is a tree-top against a patch of sky.

If I should be crippled or long ill, or should have the quite conceivable misfortune to be clapped in jail

I could survive, I think, given this one token of the physical world."

For more Ms do Move on over to ABC Wednesday and see what

Mrs. Nesbitt and her mighty helpers have to offer.  Here.

Morning Musings

I sit pensively at the breakfast table, watching the moody clouds that wrap the Cawston hills and the slight change of colour as the sun rises through them, wondering if they will develop into a fiery October sunrise or if the light will just fade back to gloomy grey.

Wondering if I dare have a second cup of coffee!

Fingering the Wallace Stegner book that I itch to open - last night I finished

'Crossing into Safety' and now I have this delightful title to tease my impatience 

'When the Bluebird sings to the Lemonade Springs'

I set it aside regretfully.

It is a busy day.

While the sun still shone yesterday I poked around in the garden and then picked armsful 

of asters and sedum and chrysanthemums, a few late shasta daisies

and some of the late roses to take to the church early this morning.

The ladies of the Altar Guild will brighten the church with these lovely symbols

of Thanksgiving.  Apples and grapes, turnips, cornstalks (if anyone is

willing to clean up after them) a cabbage or two and lots of squash and gourds.

If we were on the prairies there would be wheat, but these are the fruits of

 our orchards and vineyards and gardens.

The sky is not going to produce anything spectacular this morning and so I rise, step out onto the deck and snap the light on the clouds before I go to gather the flowers into the SUV.

As I pass the piano I pause for a quick run through of the prelude I have been hoping

to play for the Thanksgiving Service, but alas, it is definitely not 

up to scratch and so (ever the optimist) God willing I will plan on using it next Thanksgiving

and resort to variations on the old familiar hymns that comfort our

aging parishioners - 'Come Ye Thankful People Come' We Plough the Fields and Scatter'

and 'For the Beauty of the Earth'.

Love and Blessing at Harvest Time to all whose hearts are full of thanks,
whether to a Creator or to Blind Chance

ABC Wednesday

The lovely letter L is listed tops today

L is for Love

......and here is a tune about love to stay with you all day and into the night.



For more interpretations of the Letter L linger a while here at ABC Wednesday, with thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt and her literal helpers.

October 4th, 2010

But those who came before us will teach you. They will teach you from the wisdom of former generations." Job 8:10 

Up before Charles this morning, - quite early, and in the quietness of the morning tending to my knitting as I finished off the toes of the sixteenth sock!

While doing so I held quiet communion with my mother on this, the 53rd anniversary of her death.

I remembered her teaching me to crochet and to tat, but mainly it was knitting we did together; her with her needles flying, me much slower and laborious.  During the hard, hard years of the depression she added to the household budget by doing exquisite custom knitting for friends and friends of friends.  Beautiful dresses and skirt and sweater ensembles.  

In later years, - the years she spent in a wheelchair, she turned her talents to petit point.  Some of her pictures were small and delicate, - others of incredible size to me, who found it inspiring how she spent those years of pain and immobility, patiently creating beauty and always with grace and courage.  She taught me to knit, but most endearingly she taught me to live by her beautiful example.

In Memorium

Dorothy Emily Grace

ABC Wednesday

The letter we all admire this week is K
K is for the Kettle Valley Railway

G. Williamson

A Train crossing the Trout Creek Trestle at Summerland

Sometimes called Mculloch's Wonder after Andrew McCulloch who in 1910

began construction of the Kettle Valley Railway that would

connect the Kootenays to the B.C. Coast.

When silver was discovered in the Kootenay Valley of British Columbia the Canadian government were dismayed that because of a lack of access they were losing silver ore to Americans, who had easier access from the south.  Ever one to meet a challenge the Government commissioned the building

of a new railway, and Andrew McCulloch was appointed as Civil Engineer in charge of this project.

The building of the railway was completed in 1916, after four years of
extraordinary engineering involved in its construction.

.

A picture of the Penticton Railway Station at the time of the first
passenger train to use the line in 1915.

Until 1949 when the Hope-Princeton Highway was opened there was a daily passenger and freight service from Vancouver to Nelson.

The Coquihalla section of track was closed in 1962 because of desperate winter
conditions and the expensive involved in keeping it open.  In 1946 my mother-in-law and I were stranded when the train could not make it through the Coquihalla, and
we had with us our oldest son, who was only a baby and who
we were taking to St. Paul's Hospital in Vancouver.  A frightening time.

The Myra Canyon is one of the most scenic sections of the Kettle Valley Railway, - there are 16 wood trestles, 2 steel bridges and 2 tunnels.

Today the Kettle Valley Railway Line is an extended hiking and biking trail

Some hikers emerging from the Othello Tunnel just above Hope in the Coquihalla Canyon Provincial Park..  High Canyon walls tower above and the river below thunders as it cuts
its way through the wilderness.
The tunnels are dark and damp and carrying a flashlight is advised while exploring the
tunnels, especially if one has children and the are afraid of the dark.

The only section of track where one may travel by rail is found at the Prairie Valley Station
in Summerland, British Columbia
A 1912 locomotive called the 3716 or a 1924 Shay powers the train with two passenger coaches and three open-air cars.

It is a marvelous tourist attraction and I have written in an earlier post about the
scheduled train robberies that are part of the summer adventure.

For more interpretations of the letter K go here
to ABC Wednesday with thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt and her Associates.