SkyWatch Friday

What a glorious June Day!

Not a cloud in the sky, all day long...

Blue skies, smiling at me,

nothing but blue skies

do I see....



A deep blue celestial bowl over K Mountain, softening its rugged face.

And in the valley the blue flax reflects the heavenly colour.

ABC Wednesday

T is for Tattoo

"a beat of drum and bugle-call at night, calling soldiers to their quarters" The word tattoo originated with the closing time cry in the inns of the Low Countries during the 17th and 18th centuries - 'Doe den tap toe' - (turn off the taps - encouraging the local inn-keepers to stop serving beer and send the soldiers back to their barracks).

And from that simple, ordinary part of military life comes all the magnificent pomp and ceremony of the many Tattoos held through the world.

They are all stirring, but none as splendid as The Edinburgh Tattoo, the annual Military tattoo given by British Armed Forces, Commonwealth and International military bands and display teams in the Scottish capital Edinburgh.



"2009 sees Scotland’s colourful military musical spectacular celebrate its 60th season, while paying tribute to the 250th anniversary of the birth of Scotland’s national bard, Robert Burns, and playing its part in Scotland’s first ever year of Homecoming".

The Tattoo is set up and run for charity, and over the years it has raised about five million pounds for service and civilian organizations.

Although the Scottish Regiments and Bands perhaps dominate there have been representatives from over forty countries taking part in this marvelous event. The colours and the music and the pageantry from a diversity of cultures make it a truly global affair, and the Scots are fabulous hosts.

The first overseas regiment to participate was the Band of the Royal Netherlands Grenadiers in 1952, along with other performers from Canada and France.

Each evening traditionally concludes with a flag-lowering ceremony (see Beating Retreat), with the bugles either sounding the Last Post, or the "Sunset" bugle call of the Royal Marines, and ends with a floodlit lone piper playing a Lament from high on the Castle ramparts.

The first lone piper was Pipe Major George Stoddart, who played in every performance for the first eleven years and was followed by his son, Major Gavin Stoddart.

It is a poignant performance, - and the bagpipes are a poignant and stirring instrument.

Music Monday

A great guitarist, Joscho Stephan


and thank you to Steven for making me aware of him!!!

Pentecost/Whitsunday

When I was a child we celebrated Whitsunday in the Anglican church. It was traditional to wear white on that Sunday, which fell fifty days after Easter and commemorated the coming of the Holy Spirit to the Apostles. I have a picture of my sister and myself all in white, - was it taken on Whitsunday??

The Anglican Church of Canada was, in those days, very much influenced by the Church of England. Well, it WAS the Church of England, and many of the priests who served the church were young curates from 'the old country'.

Over the years, while I wasn't looking, Whitsunday disappeared from the Church, and the Feast of Pentecost took its place....

Here is what Wikipedia says about Pentecost (in part)

"
There are many Pentecost traditions. In some churches, baptisms are performed throughout the day. Pentecost is also known as Whitsunday, because of the white garments worn by those who are baptized. In most Pentecost services, priests or church officials wear red vestments. Sanctuaries are decorated with banners depicting flames, wind, and doves. Churches in Italy disperse rose petals from the ceiling to symbolize the tongues of fire described in the book of Acts. French churches blow trumpets throughout the service to suggest the Holy Spirit coming with a violent rushing wind. Both Catholic and Protestant services have scripture readings from the books of Isaiah, Ezekiel, Joel, or Acts.


Nothing so glamorous happened at our church this morning.. there were no trumpets, no rose petals falling from the ceiling, no banners, no winds, no doves.

But the Spirit was there. And we read the scripture from Acts for Pentecost.

We sang Christopher Wordsworth's "Gracious Spirit, Holy Ghost".

(Two weeks ago in this blog I praised his hymn "O Day of Rest and Gladness". Christopher Wordsworth was a Bishop of London, and the nephew of William Wordsworth)

We had red banners wishing Happy Birthday to the Church....and red flowers on the pews.

And we sang a couple of new United Church hymns acknowledging the Holy Spirit which I played to old familiar tunes so that the singing would be robust and cheerful!!!!

From the Reflection...the words of Peter Davison.

The beauty of Pentecost, the second most important feast of the church’s year after Easter, has its biblical counterpart in the story of Babel, in which God counters human arrogance by causing ‘confusion of tongues’ – the destruction of common language, and the creation of misunderstanding, alienation and fear. At Pentecost, we are told, the Spirit of God moves among the people, the ancient barriers come down, and all are enabled to hear the Good News of God’s healing power. That same Spirit, says Paul in his Letter to the Romans, overcomes our own pain and confusion, giving us the words we need to pray and find new life. In John’s gospel Jesus tells his disciples it is good that he is going to leave them, for only then can the Spirit come and guide them into the truth which will be their vindication in a hostile world. All this underlines the basic theme of Easter and Pentecost as a new creation. Just as, in the beginning, the Spirit of God had moved over the oceans of chaos and brought peace and harmony into being, so now that same Spirit breathes new life into humankind.

At one time we were more celebratory about Pentecost. For a few years we had Red Balloons attached to the pews, making an aisle depicting the flames of Pentecost.

On the altar were seven candles, representing the gifts of the Holy Spirit.

The Paschal candle was lit for the last time, and then moved to the font, where it would come into its own again for Baptisms.

But we are a combined Anglican and United Church congregation and the old Anglican traditions are somewhat neglected when we have an eager United Church minister, - laid aside until we are once again served by an Anglican priest.

I miss the ritual.....(sigh)

Whitsun Day

When the Day of Pentecost was fully come'

At sound as of rushing wind, and sight as of fire,
Lo flesh and blood made spirit and fiery flame,
Ambassadors in Christ's and the Father's Name,
To woo back a world's desire.

These men chose death for their life and shame for their boast,
For fear courage, for doubt intuition of faith,
Chose love that is strong as death and stronger than death
In the power of the Holy Ghost.

Christina Rossettii

We are more or less caught up with the spring garden work (well, I haven't finished my demolition project but that seems to be an on-going skirmish, with the Chinese Lantern Company (Inc) continually pushing their underground railway around in an intricate maze. I come across the long, straight pencil thin roots wherever I dig). ....

There is now a little time for books, and I have been re-reading Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman, a charming book (as they would say in reviews) about the precious place books have in the life of those who treasure them. This will be the third or fourth time of reading....

And as a coincidence I found in the library a book she has edited entitled "Rereadings".



From a review by Farrar, Straus and Giroux...

'Is a book the same book—or a reader the same reader—the second time around? The seventeen authors in this witty and poignant collection of essays all agree on the answer: Never.

The editor of Rereadings is Anne Fadiman, and readers of her bestselling book Ex Libris will find this volume especially satisfying. Her chosen authors include Sven Birkerts, Allegra Goodman, Vivian Gornick, Patricia Hampl, Phillip Lopate, and Luc Sante; the objects of their literary affections range from Pride and Prejudice to Sue Barton, Student Nurse.

These essays are not conventional literary criticism; they are about relationships. Rereadings reveals at least as much about the reader as about the book: each is a miniature memoir that focuses on that most interesting of topics, the protean nature of love. And as every bibliophile knows, no love is more life-changing than the love of a book'.

In her Foreward: On Reading, Anne tells the tale of reading 'The Horse and His Boy' by C.S. Lewis to her son, Henry. It is a book she had read when she was eight, - the age of her son at the time of the rereading. His acceptance of the book was the same as her's had been at first reading, enthusiastic and totally absorbed in the adventure.




Anne was delighted at his reaction to the time they spent reading, but gradually her adult self remembered C.S. Lewis's attitude to women, and she was appalled to find it colouring her interpretation of the book which she had once found so enchanting.

Anne says - 'and there lay the essential differences between reading and rereading, acts that Henry and I were performing simultaneously. The former had more velocity: and latter had more depth. The former shut out the world in order to focus on the story; the latter dragged in the world in order to assess the story. The former was more fun; the latter was more cynical. But what was remarkable about the latter was that it contained the former; even while, as with the upper half of a set of bifocals, I saw the book through the complicating lens of adulthood, I also saw it through the memory of the first time I'd read it, when it had seemed as swift and pure as the Winding Arrow, the river that divides Calormen from Archenland'.

I closed the book and thought about this, - the way experience affects our relationship to books we first read while we were still young and innocent; when we didn't know what it is like to be twenty, or thirty-five, or sixty, or even eighty-four.

I remembered reading 'Claudia and David' by Rose Franken ca 1944. And at the same time Charles saw a stage play of 'Claudia and David' while he was still overseas, in London. We were engaged, but not yet married until he returned from the war.

It was a tender, romanticized picture of marriage, and I sighed with anticipation. Sentiment kept the book on our shelves for many years, probably until we downsized just after our 60th year together. I did reread it a number of times, - it was still touching and romantic, but by this time I also knew the realities of a happy marriage.

A few years ago I found a sequel to Claudia and David in a second hand book store.
It will be interesting to reread it. I have never really abandoned romance, but then, the years have taught me to cultivate reality as well.

Will I have a different view of the 'young Claudia' from the one that filled my head with such quixotic fantasies?

And if I don't, what will that indicate?????

Sky Watch Friday

Some evenings the sun slips over the horizon quietly, turns his attention to the Pacific and nothing more is heard from him.

Other evenings he sends an ever changing glorious light show that lingers on and on, until finally dusk steals the colour from the clouds, and the lights go on in town and home.

8:08 P.M. May 3rd, 2009




8:10 P.M.



8:11 P.M.



8:14 P.M.



8:15 P.M.



In the midst of all this splendour the moon appears, - pale, ethereal, a light to guide the way to darkness and hurry the sun on his way.....

ABC Wednesday

S is for Strolling

I have given up the brisk walk of my younger days, and now I STROLL.

I stroll with the dog, and as he is old too, and blind and deaf, he is a suitable companion for such lovely adventures Strolling down the lane.

I stroll at the store, leaning companionably on the grocery cart.

And I stroll around the garden, although a lot of my time there is spent bending over, creating order out of chaos.

Lately I have been Strolling through Cyber Space, stopping here and there to visit Blogs that awe me, entertain me, educate me, inspire me and some that leave me feeling down right inadequate, they are so beautifully constructed and so magnificently articulated.

The pathway leads me to such varied countrysides. A few nights ago I stopped in Fairyland and read the postings of a number of Bloggers who live in the Land of Children's Books and have adopted the Fairies, the Elves and the Trolls into their own particular Blogland. Wonderful pictures of ethereal maidens and handsome princes, - magical golden coaches and Little People who serve the ethereal maidens and the handsome princes. I was enchanted....

I am amused and bemused at some of the extraordinary witty blogs, as I Stroll from one brilliant posting to another. Clever, sharp and humorous, - I immediately bookmark them to retrace my steps and visit another day.

In my Stroll I find literary blogs, travelogues, the use of words and phrases that make me smile with pleasure, pictures of flowers and gardens and far off places, superb descriptions of nature that touch my heart and as a contrast, wonderfully practical and down to earth blogs, comforting in their simplicity and wisdom.

It is not too long ago that I gave up the brisk walk, and it still comes in handy in emergencies, but to Stroll is so relaxing, so conducive to seeing what magical things lie all around you. It is a precious part of growing old(er).....

Do you remember lying on your back in the grass, smelling the fragrance of the earth and searching the clouds for elephants, or angels or any of the other wonderfully imaginative figures that the clouds are wont to form.

Yesterday was such a day, and if it wasn't so hard to get up I would surely have thrown myself down amongst the dandelions and searched the heavens....











Pictures don't really do it, - you have to be there to watch the movement of the clouds as they form and reform all the while providing enchanting entertainment for those who are aware and search....and I think, if I remember correctly, you have to squint your eyes!

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us.

Here is Louis Moreau Gottschalk's stirring Grande Tarantelle for piano and orchestra.

I love it, - it just seems to carry you along on such a marvelous wave of music.



Gottschalk was an American composer who was born in New Orleans and became a dashing and romantic virtuoso on the piano as he played his own pieces in concert.

Despite his popularity, most especially in South America, he had a tragic career and died at the age of forty. Unfortunately he has never, since his death, received the recognition and acclaim that his music deserves (IMHO). Perhaps because he is much like Chopin, but does not quite make the mark!

Listen in, - it will gladden your heart and set your toes a-tapping.

Six things that make me happy, among 106 at least.

By nature I am a happy, contented person, and so it is a pleasure to accept an invitation to list six things that make me happy.

1. Our marriage brings me deep and happy fulfillment. Despite the ups and downs of relationships this one seems to have had a lot of chemistry to keep it buoyed up!

2. Music makes me happy, - in particular playing the piano. I can lose an hour easily at the keyboard, and it is not only the music I play but the memories it rouses.

3. I love to garden, - a busy life before we retired kept the gardening to vegetables, but now getting my hands into the soil is my passion.

4. It give me a lot of happiness when I have an opportunity to chat, lightly or at depth, with our grown up children.

5. Reading, reading, reading..... All kinds of reading, - the kind you underline and make marginal notes and the kind you just enjoy for a good story well told.

6. One of the most delightful ways to spend an afternoon is to go driving with Charles and the camera. He has such a good eye for pictures, and I have a quick finger on the button, - especially when we are taking pictures out of the car window. Otherwise, I have good legs for hopping out of the car and finding the best spot from which to aim the camera. Nice companionship, too.

Now, I love the mathematics involved in weaving, and preparing a warp, and I'm always happy having lunch out with old friends. I like to knit. It makes me happy to put on some good music and spend a morning baking (tired legs, though) and tea with grandchildren is a great delight. There are a lot of things that put a smile on my face, but these will suffice for now...

What tickles your fancy?????

SkyWatch Friday

May 22, 2009

A soft April afternoon sky...





and in the evening it dons its romantic Monet colours.






April was fickle this year, but this day she was feeling generous and held out splendid promises....

ABC Wednesday

R is for Reading

And HERE is Clifton Fadiman's Lifetime Reading Plan.



It first came to my attention when I had a little more Lifetime Reading left in my future. At that time I took it quite seriously, and set myself to read at least some of Mr. Fadiman's suggested books.

Now I pass it on to anyone who loves to read, to whom books are life's blood and to whom the education obtained in a wide, wide field of writing is priceless.

Have you read the Iliad, the Odyssey,The Pillow-Book by Sei Shonagan, The Mill on the Floss, The House of Mirth, The Magic Mountain or Women in Love?

Look at Clifton Fadiman's list and make your own choices. Open the book, turn the pages, and lose yourself in other worlds......

Rodeo Days in Keremeos on the Victoria Long Weekend

Rodeoing started in the early days in the Similkameen Valley when the majority of the inhabitants were ranchers, and eager to compete and display their skills with horse and cow and lasso.



Keremeos held their first official rodeo in 1921, next to the Victory hall in what is now the centre of town, and without any fences or corrals.



In the early 1940's the Elks took over the rodeo events, and the site was relocated to a spot across the river where cowboys still gather to compete, and where the excitement of the wild horse rides, the bulldogging and the calf roping keep all the spectators on the edge of their seats, - that is the ones who haven't gone to find refreshment at the hamburger booth or the beer garden.

When the children were growing up we attended rodeos faithfully, with the movie camera (all the rage at that time) and we have faded films of small cowboys/girls chasing calves, and many an exciting moment when the clowns had to come to the rescue of riders just one step ahead of the bull that had just thrown them.

Everybody wore jeans and cowboy hats and neckerchiefs and with six children it was a night-before-the-rodeo chore to make sure everything was laid out and ready to hop into come the happy morning. When our youngest daughter reached the age where she could attend rodeo's on her own we gave up the pleasure of sitting in the dust and the hot sun, and stayed home with a cool drink! But we have exciting memories....





Some of the very best riders to compete in the Keremeos and Chapaka Indian Rodeo (held Easter Sunday) are First Nations Cowboys.

Here is a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Aeneas Nehumption who were Flagbearers for the 1950 Rodeo Parade



We still occasionally go to parades.....

Sometimes we even take part....

O Day of Rest and Gladness, O Day of Joy and Light

An old traditional hymn - the words written by Christopher Wordsworth, a distinguished English Bishop and a man of letters.



Christopher Wordsworth, 1807 - 1885

And a man of good sense.... This morning, because I didn't have to play the organ at church today, I was sorely tempted to stay home and 'worship' in the garden.

But then I thought of what 'worshipping' in the garden entailed. Probably another heavy battle with the coutch grass, which doesn't exactly typify a Day of Rest and Gladness. Or perhaps I would have been tempted to get the potatoes cut and planted, - or I would have been recruited as a go-fer as Charles stuck closely to his favourite maxim - 'never let a day go by without doing something useful'!

I preferred Christopher Wordsworth's advice, and so we went to church and sang some very modern 'inclusive' United Church Hymns. You must go a long way back to the 1938 edition of the Anglican Book of Common Prayer to find 'O Day of Rest and Gladness'.

Today we sang 'It Only Takes a Spark - Pass it On'.

I can't leave this subject without remarking on the inclusiveness of modern hymns. 'Dear Lord and Father of Mankind' has become 'Dear God Who loves all Humankind' - and then we have 'Dear Mother God your wings are warm'.....

My eyebrows shot skyward when instead of 'Halleluia' in an Easter response, the pew bulletin instructed us to say 'Hurrah, Hurrah'. Oh dear, how does one know when one is just too old and needs to 'hermatize'.

I have digressed from the subject of days of rest and gladness. We came home from church, with me still thinking 'days of rest', but with Charles thinking 'good opportunity to add that thing-a-ma-jig to the garden tractor'.

I had a little nap, fussed about the house a bit with a duster, read a few pages of the book I'm going to praise soon, - but Charles went out and fussed about the garage, frustrating himself because he couldn't find what he was looking for, - got down on his knees at least three times (a major endeavor getting up) and now I see him, poor darling, rubbing his paining hands, trying to ease his aching muscles, and all because nobody told him about The Bishop of Lincoln who recommends A Day of Rest and Gladness - in song.

I don't have to play the organ next Sunday, either......



(Photo borrowed from Flickr)

The Upper Similkameen

We have gone on a pictorial drive to Penticton, and one to the south east over the Richter Pass to Osoyoos, but on Wednesday Charles and I journeyed up Highway 3 to Hedley, and, as usual, were struck by the differences in the topography of this rocky part of the Similkameen.

It has a beauty all its own. The striated mountains have been a repository for gold and copper, and over the last century mining in the country around Hedley has had a varied and profitable history.

We left Keremeos and traveled through ranch land where the Black Angus grazed contentedly on the spring green meadow.



High in the distance on our left we glimpsed the snow on Crater Mountain, an area that I have not visited myself, but one which seems to hold a fascination for the men in the family. I particularly remember Charles and No. 2 son leaving a family picnic in the Ashnola region for a 'short' drive up the road to Crater Lake, and creating a small panic when they were not back by dark! But then, I probably panicked easily in those days.




Soon the ranch land narrowed into a a stony corridor with intriguing walls, created by fiery volcanoes more than thirty million years ago. A little research records small ocean creatures captured within the rocks.



A quartzy waterfall cascades down to the road.



And just down the road a beautiful, but rather threatening, tower of rocks forms a forbidding castle.



We pass St. Anne's Roman Catholic Church on the Upper Similkameen Indian Reserve, turn the corner and slide gently down into the town of Hedley.

The town, the mountain and the old abandoned Nickel Plate mine above us has memories for Charles of the few months he worked here before joining the air force. Here is a picture of the 'skip line' as it was when he rode the steep incline...



The mountain has given up its gold. The mine and the community at Nickel Plate have been abandoned. The Mascot Mine has been turned into a spectacular tourist attraction, well worth visiting. But in 1904 the Hedley mining ventures were just starting on their roller coaster endeavours, and the establishment at the base of the mountain looked like this...



Fortunes were made, and fortunes were lost. Hedley now is a small town with a bright core of community minded inhabitants. We drove around slowly, - there were memories for Charles there, and for me as well as we passed the Community Church which is part of our Parish.

We took pictures of the steep striated walls that encircle the town...





and then we drove home, and I could take pictures out of the window on the other side of the road!

Of the river, from a spot where Charles took a picture with his small Brownie camera in 1942....



Of the cut to the Ashnola River valley which leads to the magnificent Cathedral Lake country....



Eventually the Cawston hills appeared in the distance,



and we continued through the familiar countryside west of Keremeos, and the red covered bridge that crosses into Ashnola country.





The weather was chilly and miserable, but the company was great and it was a pleasant drive and a happy day.

ABC Wednesday

Q is for Quivering Aspen

Quivering - it gives me a nice shivery feeling. I don't think of quivering with fear, - I think of quivering with delight!

And what nicer tree to give you that feeling of delight than the Quivering Aspen, with its delicate leaves turning in the breeze, reflecting the sunlight, and just, well, all a-quiver!

Here are three baby Quivering aspen we found in a little grove of trees at a coffee break on our way from Princeton to Merritt.

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us.

Albinoni's Adagio

Here from Wikipedia is the tale of what appears to be a beautiful musical hoax. Supposedly a piece of music written by Giazzotto, based on a fragment of a composition by Albinoni, Sonata in G. Minor found in the ruins of a fire bombed building during World War 11, it now appears to be an original composition by Giazzotto.

Shall we disregard its history and enjoy the lovely melody as interpreted by Laura Sullivan on the Synthesizer.....

Albinonis Secret Smile: Albinoni Adagio - Laura Sullivan