A Musical Interlude

Thursday, September 6th, 2012

Do take ten minutes off, close your eyes and listen to this heavenly music.....

Chopin Ballade No. 1 Opus 23

Krystian Zimerman, Pianist

Restores the soul and makes the footsteps light!

September 3rd, 2012

This sweet picture of deer borrowed from the 'people on the meadow' in the Cariboo

who are fortunate to have these lovely wild meadow grasses

and tender wild four footed creatures to feed on them.

"Unnoticed,

the passage has occurred;

as I brood,

autumn dusk

dewdrops fall on my pillow.

The voices of insects

and the deer by the fence

as one,

disturb me to tears

this autumn dusk."

and this poem. written by 

Princess Shikishi

High Priestess of Kamo Shrine

d. 1201, Japan

 a wonderful environmental poetess whose voice echoes 

over the centuries.

A cool sunny day whose morning we have spent doing intricate things to the Roman Blind in our bedroom, -

quite an elegant curtain, but feckless in that it could not be relied upon to stay where it belonged,

and was forever falling down.......

Soon we will not have to lower it to keep the bedroom shaded from the afternoon sun -

we will, indeed, be glad of any afternoon sun as before Christmas comes

the sun will be setting behind the south-west hills and

will never shine on the Roman Blind again until spring arrives.

In the meantime we have these two marvelous months to enjoy -

September and October.

Blue skies, sunny days, wild skies, and glorious shades of fall.

Life is good....

The Night of the Blue Moon

Friday, August 31st, 2012

This posting may not have too much to do with the Blue Moon, but I am excited that it is the thirty-first day of August and tomorrow we start on that most favoured month.

SEPTEMBER

Well, the sun's not so hot in the sky today,
and you know, I can see summertime slipping on away...
James Taylor

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I see that there are dried leaves on the lawn, but they are from some mid-summer

branches whose leaves wilted when the tree at the front, which nobody is able to identify,

became a little droughted.

What I am looking for are leaves that have a little tinge of scarlet around the edges, or a mellow

aura of pale yellow creeping along the veins of the tired green sun-dried leaves,

promises of  the glowing lights of funeral costumes that will soon

illuminate the orchards, the vineyards, the meadows,

 the ditches, the fences, the mountain sides,

the trees, the gardens, - 

the whole glorious valley, kindled with the fires of autumn.

Already the goldenrod  and rabbit brush line the country roads like singing sirens,

calling to me to gather great armloads and take them home to dye the yarn

that was so abundant in by-gone years, when we husbanded sheep and lambs.

As I lay on the cusp of sleep last night I thought about the dyes and mordants

that I have squirreled away in a Navajo basket,  and about where they

might be, - that alchemy that turns yarn into gold and precious jewel shades.

Up in the trailer that houses all of my weaving - looms, warps, reeds, shuttles, etc., I think. 

 September seems a perfect time to take on the project

of organizaion, distribution, and maybe even a little creation.

The  Blue moon is extraordinarily beautiful tonight,
shining gently through clouds that drift lazily across
her lovely face.

Sweet Peas and Peaches

Wednesday

August 29th, 2012

Blogger offered me a way to download pictures by e-mail, and it seems to work, so just for a test here are the pictures of the fragrant Sweet Peas and the ripening peaches that are quickly being devoured.

I have had an interesting (and sometimes frustrating) morning, but lots of satisfaction 

in learning something new.

Still would like to know why blogger freezes up when I try to post pictures....

They are really quite innocuous pictures, don't you agree....

Fragrance in the kitchen

Tuesday, August 28th, 2012

Oh, September, - I watch for you down the road with shaded eyes, and am encouraged by the coolness of the days this week, as August prepares to pack up and hit the trail.

A beautiful fragrance in the kitchen this morning, as I picked a few fresh sweetpeas and tucked them into a small glass pitcher above the kitchen sink  Is there anything in the world that smells so delicate and light?

They are full of memories, as I'm sure they are for any prairie girl where they grew over everyone's back fence and filled the sunny days with their glorious perfume and pastel beauty.

Combined with the wonderful rich aroma of ripening peaches it is certainly the place to be if you can't be out in the garden.

Today the weather has been unsettled with a heavy rainfall just at supper time.  Callie got caught out in the storm - a few mighty claps of thunder and probably a little lightning as well.  I went to call her in, and when the rain had stopped took her treats out to rattle a bit, but she wouldn't venture forth until Charles came, and in his trustworthy  and calming voice he called to her and she came immediately from where she was hiding in the raspberry patch.  What DOES that man have about him that he inspires such comfort and safety?  Well, he and Callie have a thing going, - she is happiest spread out in the wonderful nonchalant way that cats have, all over his knees, with her head tucked up beside his arm.

Blogger is being very naughty today and won't allow any photos, but I will try once again to see if I can capture a picture of the Sweet Peas.....

Monday
August 27th, 2012

We are having morning coffee in the back garden yesterday when the next door neighbour to the East came out with some offerings for her wonderful large compost box cum worm farm - red wrigglers, which she says are much superior to common earthworms for producing castings and making deep rich friable earth.

Over the last few months we have watched a full box of leaves and yard waste morph into a half a box of gorgeous black soil, worth its weight in gold here in town where the soil seems so thin and scanty.......highly favoured for fishing, too on account of their wiggly actions and the fact that they stay alive longer in the water.

These neighbours are the age of our middle children, and very busy.  They are First Nation's people, and she is deeply involved with the administration of Band business on the Merritt Reserve, while her husband has classes in the local school, teaching and promoting education in the Native Okanagan language and culture.

He is also an accomplished and inspired flutist with a CD entitled 'It's About Time' released in 2010, - really enchanting sounds which are accompanied by piano, guitar, harp, hand drums and bird songs.  Herman plays for documentaries, short films, community events, weddings, healing gatherings and  has been nominated for the Aboriginal People's Choice Music Awards.

We lingered talking to both he and Joanna for an hour, leaning on the side fence, discussing Native issues, ranching and farming and weaving and compost and canning salmon - life in the Similkameen and education problems.  The children from the local Reserves have been integrated in the local school for over a hundred years, and during that time, at least in our family, close friendships have developed, and easy and familiar relationships exist.

Extracts from Herman's haunting CD can be found here.

Some of Joanna's Red Wrigglers can be found making themselves at home in our compost bin!!

Nice things happening in the Similkameen

August 25th, 2012

Good heavens, where has the month of August disappeared to.  It has been terribly hot here in the West, and it seems that we have been spending a great deal of time during the afternoons in the cool of the house, while all around us the tourists visit wineries, gambol in the lakes and on the beaches, and bike along the highways and byways in preparation for the Big Ironman Race that takes place this Sunday.

The race starts with a swim, continues with a bicycle course that circles the South Okanagan and Similkameen highways, and a foot race around Skaha Lake.  The locals try especially to stay off the highways where enthusiastic bikers familiarize themselves with every little bump and advantage on the course.

It is a Big Event for Penticton and its merchants and wineries and everyone else who caters to the Tourist trade, but it only cause a very microscopic stir of excitement around this household.

What has been especially appreciated around here is the wonderful music we have been able to listen to over the last two days.

Yesterday morning I took advantage of a digital ticket provided by the Deutsche Bank for a marvelous Berlin Philharmonic Concert - Sir Simon Rattle conducted.  The guest pianist was Yefim Bronfman and Brahms #2 in B Flat Major was the piece de resistance.  The allegro appassionato was gorgeous, but the Andante, I thought, was especially wonderful.




Then we had a little Witold Lutoslawski and I cannot say that I was very impressed with the strange discords in his third Symphony  - such a contrast to the Brahms.  The concert ended with Tchaikovsky's Marche Miniature and a Slavonic Dance in C major.  A gentleman who lives in Australia and listened to the concert at 3:00 a.m.gave it a wonderful critique, and I felt very lucky to have been able to listen at 9.30 a.m., and did appreciate Charles putting off our planned visit to our house and garden up on the hill, so I could do so.

Well, that wasn't the only nice musical thing that happened to me yesterday.  While browsing online I found the website of UpChucky, who has the most wonderfully complete Jukebox or Radio records of each year, starting with 1940  I listened to  "I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire", and  "Blueberry Hill' and "Elmer's Tune" and "Stardust" and lots of Mills' Brothers music, and songs that overwhelmed me with nostalgia and made me wish that Charles and I could dance the way we did in those lovely by-gone years.

And then again today we visited the Legion late in the afternoon, had dinner there and listened to a great jazz band that played "Sweet Georgia Brown" and all sorts of other pieces from that same era that touch our memories and our hearts.

Music, when soft  voices die

Vibrates in the memory

Shelley

Early Morning Musings

Thursday,  August 23rd, 2012

Note to Self

If I have the luxury of an hour of solitude in the early morning I sit at the kitchen table on one of the elevated chairs that are so kind to my limbs, and put my feet on the circular bar made for just that purpose.

And I read, and I wonder, and I reflect on these years of my life. 

And sometimes I grieve for the Time that passed unnoticed, uncelebrated, unappreciated - the energy, the lithesomeness, the thirst - the great thirst for creativity and wisdom living within, but unacknowledged by the *commonstance of each day.

A full life.  So much coming and going and to-ing and fro-ing, and where was the time for just 'Being"?

Is this it?  Here, now?  If not now,  then when????

                                                                                       Nicolaes Maes

Bluebird

slipped a little treble

out of the triangle

of his mouth

and it hung in the air

until it reached my ear

like a froth or a frill

that Schumann

might have written in a dream.

Dear morning

you come

with so many angels of mercy

so wondrously disguised

in feathers, in leaves,

in the tongues of stones,

in the restless waters,

in the creep and the click

and the rustle

that greet me wherever I go

with their joyful cry:  I'm still here, alive!

Mary Oliver

A Little Respite from the Heat

Wednesday, August 22nd, 2012

While I was at the library yesterday afternoon the clouds began to gather and the air began to cool - deliciously!

Shortly after I arrived home the welcome rain began......gently at first - a drop here, a drop there.  Soon, however, the storm arrived and the heaven's opened!

Late in the afternoon there was the most tremendous clap of thunder, - probably about a dozen feet above the house, I think, - the noise and the vibrations were so all encompassing!

Callie scurried along the hall, as fast as her little plump self would allow.  A sharp left turn at the bedroom door and she was safe in her narrow place of refuge between the foot of the bed and my mother's trunk that sits there full of blankets and winter sweaters.

Even her supper didn't entice her out, and all evening as the storm came and went, the thunder roared and the lightning flashed, she stayed put, probably with her paws over her ears

Things quietened down a little, and Charles went to comfort her and invited her to come and sit on his knee.  She came as far as the door, when suddenly there was another great clap, - the house quivered and quaked, and a poor cat's heart turned over!! Callie dived for her most safe place of all, - on the bed, under the duvet, where it is dark and there is a familiar fragrance of Him and Her.

When we moved she spent most of the first few days we were in town in that little nest.

Eventually the clouds moved off, grumbling and mumbling.  Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a small rainbow, but when I investigated it was just a small arc rising above the hills, and it soon disappeared.

I was outside, with camera in hand, and all that fresh rain soaked greenery around me, - the air smelling cool and clean.  There were a few interesting clouds above, but they were floating off towards the Okanagan to find other heat weary towns to play their spectacle to, and patches of blue sky were growing larger and brighter.

Checking things out.....

Today the sun is shining again, but the temperature is more moderate and friendly.

Visiting Ginty's Pond

August 19th, 2012

Sunday morning, and before the sun gets too high in the sky and the temperature rises into the thirties, Charles and I load up the camera and head down the road towards Cawston where we plan to twirl around the orchards and the vineyards on the Upper Bench, and visit the cool waters of Ginty's Pond.

The pond stretches from just behind main street to the left and to the right making an undulating U through the farm lands and down to the Similkameen River.

We take the back road off the highway and drive parallel to it until we come to the right turn that leads us down to Kobau Park where we are delighted with the many improvements that continue to be added by vibrant young people in the community.  The area along the river was cleared of brush and established as a Park by Lower Similkameen Valley residents and the Centennial Committee to honour the 100th anniversary of British Columbia becoming a province.

Charles was Chair of this Committee which accounts for his continued interest and satisfaction that it is such a vital part of the community of Cawston.

I digress.  On to Ginty's Pond.

And I will resist the temptation to write about Ginty (Arthur Hamilton Cawston)

or we will never get to see the ducks in his Pond!

or the beautiful reflections in the upper waters

The waters wend their way south westerly, following a culvert under the road. flowing 

through bullrushes and purple loose strife

We take the road that turns across the bottom of the pond, where the waters

are clogged with bull rushes and algae and never a turtle, a redwinged blackbird, a duck, a goose,

or even a raccoon do we see.  They could be there, - just not visible through

the tremendous growth.

The fields of August grasses looked summery and hot, hot, hot!

We saw some lovely sunflowers

and some Goldenrod down by the creek

We stopped at the house on the hill for some things that needed to come

and live with us in town for a while....

It was getting towards lunchtime, and by the time we got home I was beside myself with heat,

being one of the genre that someone in the factory forgot to equip with sweat glands.....

I'm not sure what "being beside oneself " means, but I know how it feels.  I

must go and look it up!!

Nevertheless, it was a lovely morning and my spirit rejoiced in God's handiwork....

Bits and Pieces

August 18th, 2012

Great is the sun, and wide he goes

Through empty heaven with repose; And in the blue and glowing days

More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull

To keep the shady parlour cool,

Yet he will find a chink or two

To slip his golden fingers through.....   R.L.S.

It is the time of the sunflower

and the phlox

and the yellow barn flower runs rampant through the garden on the hill

All this week, by noon, the temperature has reached 40 degrees.

Only the faintest wisps of clouds hover high in the deep blue dome of the sky

We are up early, - oh well, that is a sign of age.  We are always up early,  but in these

hot and humid days it is a decided advantage to feel the cool breeze drifting through

the kitchen window, and there is a little spot just under the sink where the

air conditioner pours cool air on my feet as I get breakfast.

This is the view from my kitchen window, except that the neighbour has now had the

old picturesque camper removed.  While it was still there I could imagine

myself out in the deep woods, camping, perhaps by cool waters.....

We do chores and errands in the morning.

In the afternoon we are very lazy - we read, or nap, or chat

I have thought of suggesting a game of crib, but somehow it all seems too much bother.

I finished reading  Anna Quindlen's book

"Lots of Candy and Plenty of Cake" a memoir of her life.

Anna Quindlen is of our children's generation, and so I was able to relate to her once removed

so to speak....  Although she is only sixty, - early childhood where old age is concerned - 

still  I thought that she was able to project herself quite well into the time of future aging;

 the loneliness when all the friends have gone;  the barrenness of the assisted living facilities

where one is safe, but solitary, and sometimes forgotten.

She covered all the contingencies of old age with poignant imagination.

It is a dreadful cliche to say that her observations 'resonated' with me, but

they certainly rang a couple of bells.

She spoke of Time passing imperceptibly so that before we are really aware of what 

is happening we have passed through childhood, and the excitement and fireworks of a 

new marriage have settled into the realization that if the marriage is to be successful and enduring

it must be bigger and more important than our individual wants and needs

and solid enough to embrace family and commitments.

And she spoke of the lengthening Time  that comes after retirement at 65, now that we can

probably look forward to at least another twenty years during which our energies and

sharpness gradually diminish and we are faced with empty days unless we can muster

 the imagination and creativeness to enrich them, and be content.

Well, that part was a little morose, and yet we must all live with the shadow of death,

 and although we cling to life even in pain and suffering eventually

 we start thinking of the next threshold to cross.

I must confess I was in tears when Anna Quindlen quoted the words that Emily, 

 from  "Our Town" says as as ghost....

"Oh earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you.  Do

any human beings ever realize life while they live it - every, every minute?"

but that was partly because my mother was in "Our Town" when the

Edmonton Little Theatre produced the play, and we lost her early,

and partly because  my mind cannot yet imagine anything more beautiful than

this earth, and the importance of being mindful of that loveliness.

"When it's over, I want to say; all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder

if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,

or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world"

Mary Oliver

August 14th, 2012

Time is at once the most valuable and the 

most perishable of all our possessions

John Randolph

These words precede the first chapter of Anna Quindlen's book

'Lots of Candles and Plenty of Cake'

which I have borrowed on a seven day loan from the library

and which I am going to plunge into - as soon as I have dealt with my

thoughts about this little quotation about Time, that mysterious quality which wanders through our lives 

at random paces, sometimes carrying us breathless through adventures and exciting times;

sometimes carrying us along peacefully through quiet pools and serene waters,

and sometimes just disappearing behind us, falling down the memory hole, so that 

when we look back it is hard to remember the ordinary days 

that have made up so much of our lives.

Last evening I had a lovely telephone chat with one of my bridesmaids.

We have been the best of friends for over seventy years, although life has taken us along

entirely different paths, and the time when we bonded as 'kindred spirits' in the early '40's

was such a small percentage of that seventy years.  But it was a Time of change and adventure,

and the days and months and years that we shared then, as friends,

worrying and waiting for our fiancees to return from the war were so intense that

they are imprinted with fondness and friendship forever.

And I know it was that way for Charles and his crew, as well.  They became closer

than brothers in the comparatively short while they were together, when their experiences

were so dangerous and all consuming that Time for them must have been always on the qui vie

and their dependence upon each other created a life-long bond.

But apart from these kind of situations what do we remember?

Sometimes the most simple and mundane moments.  I remember sitting on

the sidewalk at the front of our house with the Cooper boys, while our mothers

were having tea, discussing which were better, - apples, oranges or bananas.

This when I was four years old.  

And why would I remember that particular microcosm of Time when I have forgotten far more

important things that have slipped away down that devilish Memory Hole.

When life was a kaleidoscopic and all the children were still at home

I used to lie in bed at night before going to sleep, calculating time, and how much of it

was left to me.  When I was thirty I could figure on maybe another fifty years, judging on how

kind Time had been to my grandparents.  Wonderful, I would think, - I am only 3/8's of the

way through this marvelous life and I would turn over and go to sleep, comforted.

Even when I was sixty I could figure on having another twenty years!!!

And now that I am eighty-seven and Time is slipping and sliding so quickly,  I have still such great

enthusiasm to fill it to the brim, and am optimistic enough to have stretched the track

that reaches ahead to the Station to the Hereafter at least another ten years away.

But sometimes I am realistic enough to know that Time is a Trickster and life is tenuous,

so the answer is to wake up smiling and try to live with grace and patience

day by day....... 

August 14th, 2012
Texture Tuesday

Looking Down

This week's contribution to Texture Tuesday, edited with Kim Klassen's lovely texture "Heartfelt".

Follow the sidebar to Texture Tuesday, and enjoy!

Thursday, August 9th, 2012

A Lazy Day

Beautiful cool breezes blowing when we first rose this morning, -moved me after breakfast to cut the side lawn and give the bedded plants along side it a good watering.

That done nothing else really inspired me, - a lazy inspection of the flowers in the raised bed and a bit of deadheading the roses and the canterbury bells, which have now finished their second blooming.  Some musing about the weeds that have squeezed in between the raised bed and the fence which I can't reach to remove, and then I picked a small bouquet of white phlox, scarlet bergamot and yellow daisies, and went in to make coffee for mid-morning.

After which I did nothing!  Well, that's not so, - I read an essay written by Molly Peacock, -  'Passion Flowers in Winter" from the best American Essays of 2007.  And when I had read in this essay of the life of Mary Delany,  and how as a widow in the year 1771, when she was in her early seventies, she became passionate about creating what she called 'flower mosaiks' - flowers created by snipping with small embroidery scissors the most minute petals and tendrils and leaves and sepals from paper, to emulate the flowers she gathered around her, I had to go online to read about her.

Molly Peacock has written a book entitled "The Paper Garden" and excerpt from which can be found here,
in which she gives a wonderful description of the make-up of the Passion Flower.  There are also many more details of Mary Delany's life - her marriages, her place amongst the aristocracy and her friendship with Queen Charlotte and George the Third.

In addition Wikipedia has this to say about this artistic woman and the beautiful work she created.

"Her works were exceptionally detailed and botanically accurate depictions of plants.  She used tissue paper and hand colouration to produce these pieces.......from the age of 71 to 88 when her eyesight failed her.  During this time Mary made nearly 1,000 paper flowers...... which can still be seen in the Enlightenment Gallery at the British Museum".

"With the plant specimen set before her she cut minute particles of coloured paper to represent the petals, stamens, calyx, leaves, veins, stalk and other parts of the plant, and, using lighter and darker paper to form the shading, she stuck them on a black background.  By placing one piece of paper upon another she sometimes built of several layers and in a complete picture there might be hundreds of pieces to form one plant.  It is thought she first dissected each plant so that she might examine it carefully for accurate portrayal."

I found this all extremely inspiring,  and thought what a strong, admirable and sensitive woman Mary Delany must have been.  Imagine, still doing this painstaking intricate work at 88! The patience and perseverance, and the incredible imagination.

In the afternoon I had a little nap and then I followed Kim Klassen's instructions on how to create a light, painterly picture with photoshop, and sighed a bit that I had to be content with this, not having any talent for painting or creating marvelous mosaiks.....

I should at least start a pair of knitted socks, or something equally as practical and prosaic......