A Rainy Day

Saturday, July 9th, 2016

When I woke at six this morning, grabbed a robe and quickly opened the back door to the garden for Bruce to find a convenient spot to make himself comfortable (euphemism),  I discovered that the rain had been coming down in torrents and had created a great huge puddle in the back lane, - probably wide and deep enough to launch a small boat with a paper flag.....

I immediately thought of the Saturday Farmers' Market and my daughter-in-law with all her marvelous loaves of bread, and cheese sticks and cinnamon buns that she would would be transporting to a rainy venue.

However, within a half an hour, while I had my first cup of coffee, I saw a patch of blue sky high in the sky, westward, and soon there were sunny skies reflected in the waters of the mini-lake...

The rain returned about noon, - by this time I was quite nonchalant about it, and happy to have a cool day and so much welcome moisture in the garden and the hills and forests.  Last year was so dreadful for heat and wild fires.

For the rest of the morning I buried myself in Julian Barnes' "Levels of Life".


A small book, in size, - but both entertaining and heart catching in content.

Julian Barnes speaks of the levels of life, - the drifting and soaring of his account of ballooning in the first third of the book;  the photographs taken by those early ballooners that gave us the opportunity to look at ourselves with increasing awareness of the earth, and the realization that Icarus was not a warning that this particular level of the heavens was off limits....  and then in the mid section, a faux biographic story of a love relationship between Sarah Bernhardt and Captain Fred Burnaby, on the level.

It is the last desolate essay on grief and mourning that I found so meaningful.  Written in memory of his wife, it is not the first book I have read on grief, - this area of human life that is so often camouflaged with silence and evasion, and probably not fully understood until we find personally that 'what is taken away is greater than the sum of what was there'.

I have just finished reading Julian Barnes' book "The Sense of an Ending" and it still sits open and marked on my desk to pages I want/need to re-read.  A short book, - really a long essay on memory and aging.  How in our younger years if we are not too busy with the exuberance of living we might now and then give thought to the other end of life, - the 'likely pains and bleakness' that age might bring, and imagine yourself being lonely, your friends all dying, the loss of status and desire.  Well, I don't exactly remembering spending much time thinking that far into the future or being so melancholy about it......

He also speaks of memory - and history.  How to him the ancient history is more stable and believable, whereas history as it is happening now is most deliquescent (had to look that up) and hard to pin down.

And memory, I find that unless I am well ordered and AWARE of everything I do I am inclined to have a very short memory - but my long memory is fabulous!!  All sorts of things keep coming back to me from my childhood - how else would I have remembered when I was talking to my daughter on the phone (I have forgotten what we were talking about that stirred the memory)  the little ditty that  we used to replace the beginning of the Anglican Morning Prayer.

Dearly beloved brethren, the scripture moveth us in sundry places

 to go and watch the donkey races

and when the races have been run

 we'll go and see which donkey won..

There is also a story contained within the book but it was Barnes' comment on this last part of life that I kept nodding my head in agreement over - "discovering, for example, that as the witnesses to your life diminish, there is less corroboration and therefore less certainty as to what you are or have been."  That gives one pause for thought.........

A quote from the book...  "We live with such easy assumptions, don't we?  For instance, that memory equals events plus time.  But it's all much odder than this.  Who was it said that memory is what we thought we'd forgotten?  And it ought to be obvious to us that time doesn't act as a fixative, rather as a solvent.  But it's not convenient - it's not useful - to believe this;  it doesn't help us get on with our lives; so we ignore it"......

Zorba the Greek

ABC Wednesday
July 6th, 2016

The letter is Z
Z is for ZORBA  the Greek

Enjoy!!

For more enticing Zs zip along here to ABC Wednesday,

with thanks to Denise and Roger

and their zingy helpers

This and that, but mainly remembrances...

July 2nd, 2016

Oh dear, - I have to confess to forgetting the White Rabbit as the calendar turned over into July!!!

Too late to do anything about it when my messaging son reminded me of the required obeisance!!

Nothing to do but turn three times, repeating the required imprecations, and hope for the best.....

I went out into the garden to perform,

thinking that might be a place dear to the White Rabbit's heart

where he would be most inclined to bestow the delights of July upon me.....

(my version of an English Garden with faint hints of the jungle!!)

That was yesterday.....

Today I was doing up the breakfast dishes when my eye caught 

the little calendar that sits over the sink..

The second of July, - my dearest Aunt's birthday, 

but alas, she is long gone.

Nevertheless the many wonderful memories I have of her

brought happy moments and

remembrances of times past.

How I used to hang on to her arm when we went shopping on

Saturday afternoons....

the time I spilled iodine on her tortoiseshell 

brush and mirror set, and she was so kind and forgiving....

the beautiful knitted negligee my mother made for her trousseau

and then her fiance turned out to be a cad

and she remained single until the end of her days

but so dearly loved by all her nieces and nephews.

Oh, this first week in July.....

In a few days it will be the anniversary of my sister's birth,

and she has left me too, with dear memories...

I thought about how much I miss her telephone calls;

how my house is blessed with her beautiful needlework

and pottery.......

how much I appreciate the close contact of her children on Facebook..

little messages and glimpses into their lives and those

of her grandchildren.

Well, Time taketh away, but Giveth, too...

Lovely moments to recall and be grateful for.

Things to laugh about, relationships that helped us grow

and were such a dear support.

To these two lovely ladies, my love and thanks....

Those hearts that we have treasured.......

And speaking of birthdays.....

our first born will be seventy this month....

Geez....

Yellow

ABC Wednesday
June 29th, 2016

The Letter is Y for Yellow

The pretty pastels of spring have retired from centre stage

and now that summer has arrived

the whole world glows with yellow!!!!|

At least  in my part of the World......

Lovely, - what is better than breakfast out in the morning sun

when all around you the garden  reflects

blue sky and YELLOW flowers and summer, summer, summer.....

Here's a little bonus, - a poem by Oscar Wilde

Symphony in Yellow

An omnibus across the bridge
Crawls like a yellow butterfly,
And, here and there a passer-by
Shows like a little restless midge.

Big barges full of yellow hay
Are moored against the shadowy wharf,
And like a yellow silken scarf,
The thick fog hangs along the quay.

The yellow leaves begin to fade
and flutter from the temple elms,
And at my feet the pale green Thames
Lies like a rod of rippled jade.

For more interesting Ys pop over here to ABC Wednesday
with thanks to Roger, Denise and  all who help them.

The Twelve Bar Blues

Friday, the 24th of June, 2016
as I pick up the Ukulele at the breakfast table
and practice the 12 Bar Blues......

Well, concerning the Ukulele, this is what I might aspire to if I were twenty years younger.....

....but this is what I aspire to now!!!

........and in reality, - here is where I am in my quest to entertain myself with the ukulele!!!

you can stop listening after the illustration.....

I chose this particular video to learn finger picking because the young man who teaches is so articulate and defines his words with the kind of clarity

an ancient pupil requires!

There are oodles of videos 

and all sorts of teachers

but many of them have had no lessons in diction

and I find their mumbles and slurry instructions

beyond my ken, alas, alas.....

sweet as they are!

Bruce looks at me quizzically when I pick up the Uke

tapping my foot while I try to keep the rhythm going as I slide 

awkwardly from chord to chord.

Callie just ignores this strange behavior.....

When I come to the end of the 12 bar blues I add the little connecting bit

with a flourish, - I have it down pat and it sounds quite jaunty, 

It adds a little zest to life....

X for Xystus

ABC Wednesday
June 22, 2016

The letter is X for Xystus

A new word to me, but though its origins go back to ancient Greece and the Roman Empire the name has been captured by a modern Dutch band, and it seems to me it is popular in this generation as a symbol for good health, positivity, exercise and well being.

Xystus, in its ancient useage, was defined as a long and open portico used especially by ancient Greeks or Romans for athletic exercises in wintry or stormy weather, or sometimes a walk,

 lined with trees.

In early Christian times Saint Xystus was a Pope who was chosen upon the death of St. Stephen

in 257, - the 25th from St. Peter

He was described as a peaceable and excellent prelate.

But now, in modern times, we find the name Xystus attached to a Dutch Band...

Formed in 1998 the band is described as Progressive Power Metal, but more Melodic.

The third album they released was a Rock Opera, Equilibrio

and here is one of the songs from the Opera (The Pact)

for those of you who are into heavy metal

(and I do not mean to be critical - just the wrong generation to appreciate it fully)

For more Xs cross over here to ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise, and all their xoxoxo helpers

Whispering

ABC Wednesday
June 15th, 2016

The Letter is W for Whispering

Whispering and Intimacy

a couple of instrumentals and a vocal

that take me back

in years

and sweet memories

well, maybe Red Nichols is going back a bit farther than that!

which appeals to you most?

and who else has tender memories??

For more Ws click here at ABC Wednesday, where there are all sorts of great Ws

with thanks to Roger and Denise and wonderful helpers.

Morning in the Garden

Thursday, June 9th, 2016

It is 6.00 a.m. when I put feet to floor and Callie stretches herself awake

at the foot of the bed, yawning widely.

Together we go to waken Bruce - well, Callie lags a little.

She still does not give Bruce her full confidence,

especially since he steals her food and

exhibits loads of hubris as he takes his place in the family.

I open the door to the back garden

and there is the faint odour of skunk permeating the cool air|!!

Bruce goes out by himself for a first morning bladder relief event

and I gather up the cushions that got rained on yesterday

while I was out and about celebrating Royal Purple Day

with Cake and Ice Cream at the Manor

(independent living for seniors)

What a welcoming rain...

I have safely shepherded pots of flowers and veggies

through an early and intense heat wave that has kept

all the fans and A/Cs in the valley

working at full speed.  

Unusual, but it has

happened before so I refrain from crying 

"Climate Change, Climate Change"

Of course it is changing and has been since time began...

hot to cold, cold to hot

the star that warms us and causes the plants to grow

has a life of its own that greatly affects ours.

Everything is looking perky in the cool morning air.

After I have had my first cup of coffee we all go out to investigate

what has happened since yesterday morning.

Oh look - lilies in bloom

and more to come 

Out by the backyard fence the tiger lilies put on a great show

with the little pin cushion flowers whose true name has gone done

my memory hole, alas.....

and there is one budding Bee Balm amongst a host of them.

It is Yellow time in the garden, and will be until frost arrives.

A blue delphinium reaches skyward against a backdrop of yellow daisies and the 

barnflower (not yet in bloom)

One pot of broccoli, and some cherry tomatoes that make my SIL green with envy....

On our way for the morning walk we stop to inspect the flowers

outside the front fence, (Bruce is not interested in the flowers

but their are some interesting smells to investigate).

and some lambs ears to nibble on...

We go in to have breakfast, and a second cup of coffee

content with what the day offers in the way of cooler weather!!!

V is for Video

AB Wednesday
June 8th, 2016

The Letter is V for Video

A Video my youngest son sent me

to lend inspiration to my Valiant attempts

to play the Ukulele....

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did/do

Will it be necessary to have a beach and palm trees 

to pick like this gal does, I wonder???

For a great Variety of Vs click here at ABC Wednesday,

with thanks to Denise, Roger and their

Veddy good helpers.

U is for Umbrella

ABC Wednesday
June 1, 2016

The letter is U - for Umbrella

No matter what you call them - a parasol, a brolly, a rainshade, a bumbershoot

the umbrella has its place by the door in those places where rain and sun are prevalent..

..

It also has its own songs!!!   Here is one of them!

For more U's do check in with ABC Wednesday, here, - with thanks to Roger, Denise and all ;umble 'elpers......

And the book stack only grows higher...

.......Even after I have removed the books that are due back at the library at the beginning of the week I am both dismayed and delighted at the treats awaiting me, and the time I feel comfortable with allotting to lolling around reading - and sometimes eating chocolates, when there are so many things I should be getting 'in order'.

The lovely long retirement that Charles and I had left me with zillions of snapshots, dozens of family, home and garden movies and videos and a great plethora of keepsakes - bits and pieces of china and jewelry that need a new home, besides all the current projects that keep me busy, busy, busy...

And the garden!

The results of a long and wonderful life are all this lovely chaos that needs be be dealt with!!!

So where shall I fit in the time to read Kate Atkinson, whose books I have just discovered.  Loved her "God in Ruins" and felt she could have spent an afternoon talking with Charles, so many of Teddy's tales  exactly matched his, - the method of choosing crews, the discipline in the air amongst the men, the tracers and the crowded streams of bombers.  I am half way through "Life after Life" but have had to leave it to quickly finish "My Name is Lucy Barton" which I am finding sensitive, but depressing......

One of the books awaiting me in the stack(s) is "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin.  I think it is right up my alley!!!  The subtitle is "Or, why I spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean my Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun".

The garden is growing by leaps and bounds.  When Bruce and I went along the fence on our evening walk I realized that passers by can no longer see me curled up with a book on the garden swing under the big umbrella.  Soon the barn flowers will be in bloom, and the little purple clematis is courting the lilac tree that leans against the fence, twining itself amongst her branches.

It has been such a kind year for the roses, - I can't remember them being so prolific.  The Day Lilies are flowering along the front fence and the delphinium are six feet high in the garden (although I lost the pretty blue one I had just planted this year??)  I tied together some old silk stockings to make a tender rope to keep the sweet peas against the fence and out of the neighbour's yards.  Great huge quantities of bloom, but these heritage sweet peas don't have the fragrance of the annuals.  The sweet allysum and the evening scented stocks join with the nicotiana to make the evening air heavenly as it slips through open windows and doors.

and June will be just as gorgeous as May

A rainy week-end forecast, - good reading weather!!!

Treasure Tales

ABC Wednesday
May 25th, 2016

The letter is T for Tales and Treasure.

Let me tell you the Tale of a Treasure
although perhaps you have already heard of Oak Island, in Nova Scotia
and the fascinating mystery that surrounds it!

The stories of pirate treasure and Captain Kidd,  and Blackbeard,
who hid his treasure "where none but Satan and myself can find it"

The tale goes back to the late 1700's when a Mr. McGinnis;
 happened upon a depression in the earth which was consistent with the Captain Kidd story.
An excavation revealed a layer of flagstones two feet below, and then a layer
of logs about every ten feet.  At thirty feet they abandoned the excavation, but about
eight years later another group examined what was to become known as the
Money Pit.

They continued the excavation down to about 90 feet and more layers of logs were found
at about every ten feet, along with layers of charcoal, putty and coconut fibre.

A large stone,
 inscribed with symbols was uncovered, and
one researcher identified the message it contained thusly...

"Forty feet below, two million pounds lie buried"

Well, I am sure news of this got the wind up!!!!

There have been many attempts to successfully excavate the Money Pit, but
they have been foiled by flooding of the excavation.

And there have been many notable explorers interested in the mystery of Oak Island, including Franklin Delano Roosevelt, his grandfather Warren Delano, Jr.
Errol Flynn and John Wayne invested in the dig.  William Vincent Astor
and Rear Admiral Richard E. Bird Jr. maintained a passive
investment in this Oak Island endeavour.

And the theories abound!!!

Many critics argue that there is no treasure, and that the apparent pit
is a natural phenomenon, likely a sinkhole connected to limestone passages
or caverns.  The resemblance to a human-made pit,
 they suggest, has been partly due to the texture of natural accumulated debris in sinkholes.

It has been thought that the Money Pit is actually a tar kiln that dates from a period
when Oak Island served as a tar-making location for the British
Naval industry.

Prosaic speculations indeed besides the more exotic ones existing....

There is the exciting Pirate Theory, and tales of a Spanish Naval treasure.

Marie Antoinette's jewels, which apparently are missing, are said to have been
sent fleeing with a lady-in-waiting and she could have perhaps been assisted
in hiding them by officers of the French navy.

Still others offer the idea that the Oak Island pit was dug to hold manuscripts
showing Francis Bacon to be the author of William Shakespeare's works,
 and a leader of the Rosicrucians
.
Could it have been a Rosicrucian Vault - a Knights Templar treasure?

One writer noted that many Masonic markings were found on Oak Island
and pointed out that the shaft or pit and its mysterious contents
seemed to replicate aspects of a Masonic initiation rite involving a hidden vault
 containing a sacred treasure.

Or is it a place of safekeeping for artifacts from King Solomon's temple
or the Ark of the Covenant, -

Could it be an actual sunken Viking ship which
has settled in a  vertical position?  Sukhwant Singh theorizes the regularly
separated platforms are actually wooden backrests for rowers,
and the coconut fibers are the remains of
mattresses, pillows, or other cushions used  by the Vikings for comfort.

If this mystery truly interests you there is a great link at WikiMedia
and also one here with many more details of the goings-on at Oak Island.

What truly irks me is that thirty-five years ago, while touring the Maritimes researching sheep marketing, I stopped at Mahone Bay, bought a silver christening cup
for a new grandson, took a picture of a lovely yellow gingerbread house,
and knew nothing of  the mysteries that engulfed the Bay

(oh, it was a Bay, not a Gulf)

I would have been in better shape then to help with the digging!!!

For more Ts  trail over here to ABC Wednesday with

many thanks to Roger and Denise and their Treasured helpers.

S for Sky

ABC Wednesday
May 18th, 2016

The letter is S for Sky

In my great grandmother's time,

All one needed was a broom

To get to see places

And give the geese a chase in the sky.

The stars know everything,

So we try to read their minds,

As distant as they are,

We choose to whisper in their presence.

Oh Cynthia

Take a clock that has lost its hands

For a ride.

Get me a room at Hotel Eternity

Where Time likes to stop now and then.

Come, lovers of dark corners,

The sky says,

And sit in one of my dark corners.

There are tasty little zeroes

In the peanut dish tonight.

Autumn Sky by Charles Simic

More Ssss here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise and all starry helpers.

Roses I have known and loved...

ABC Wednesday
May 11th, 2016

The letter R for Roses

Life is not a bowl of cherries, - it has been a garden full of roses for me
during the last seventy years
(Thursday would have been our 71st Anniversary and the  start of my romance with roses.
Charles sailed into New York harbour on the 1st of May 1945,  with bands playing
to welcome those aboard home from overseas.  We were married on the 12th of May.
And it was Mother's Day week-end and wartime, - no flowers to be had.
My boss, the City Architect, knew people who knew other people,
and we had a full array of beautiful roses).

In those early years when we moved to the Cawston Bench, planted an orchard out on the sage brush and Charles built a house we planted Blaze roses outside our bedroom window.  Those were the roses dear to his childhood that bloomed along the back verandah on the 'old place' where he grew up, - the ones he used to pluck to put in his lapel on date nights, when he was young.

Our youngest daughter with me, before church one Sunday in the Sixties,

and the Blaze roses.....

When we left the farm and moved to 10th Avenue we went a little garden crazy....

wherever there was a fence there were roses and the Blaze still climbed
the wall below our bedrooom window!

Charles sent away for thirty different varieties and planted them along the dividing fence, where they

bloomed heartily and kept us busy keeping the grass from around the roots.

What a lovely twenty years we spent there....but then we moved to the Hillside

and were faced with the delightful challenge of a new garden to be

created from naught....

First of all - the roses.  It is where I discovered the Abraham Darby

and the Prairie Princess, and the Mister Lincoln

Here in town the lovely cabbage roses at the garden gate are just starting

to bloom, accompanied by the purple clemantis...

but out in the back garden, climbing over the garden shed, the Blaze

still holds place of prominence in my heart and

in my memory.

For more interesting Rs click here to visit with Roger and Denise

at ABC Wednesday - and all their Robust helpers.