Tomorrow morning I will get up and go to church, free at last, free at last!!!

There will be no last minute hymn playing, no checking the music bag, no rushing to get to church in time for the Prelude, -

Because I WON'T BE PLAYING IT!!!

For the first time in six months I will relax, sit in the back pew with Charles, sing the hymns with frail gusto (spirit strong, voice weak) and rejoice in Linda's accompaniment.

Back from a winter in the South she is young and eager, and much as I enjoy playing the organ I am so happy to share.....gladly for the next six months at least.

As hard as I try to make the organ compete with modern church music, and as sprightly as I make the hymns, I never quite have the feeling that I have satisfied those amongst the congregation who swoon over guitars in the church and foot stamping music.

So it will be a lovely respite, and one that I am grateful for.

What in heaven's name is an Octogenarian doing playing the part of 'faithful organist' anyway........in this day and age!

Alleluia!

We are inveterate Sky Watchers.

Aren't all farmers? And although we no longer farm the habit now lends morning pleasure and evening delights.

In the evening Charles watches to the South and the East, while I keep my eye on the setting sun. In the morning the breakfast room faces the East and we are usually up for the show. But sometimes in the midst of summer, as the sun rises further and further to the north, we waken to a beautiful golden glow at the bedroom window.

We have been so fortunate in this Valley to have always been situated where we can view the sky at its most spectacular, or its tenderest. Where we lived down by the river the Valley narrowed to the West and some of the most amazing sunsets made our hearts skip. I would stand out in the pastures with my camera, hardly knowing which way to turn as the whole dome of heaven varied from vivid reds to warmest pink and peach. And it changes so fast, from second to second.



At the farm I can remember evenings when the very air was golden, and it felt as if you were floating through light......

Last night the hills in Cawston were bathed in a crimson light. The camera said yes, yes, - but you had to be there to truly experience it.




And sometimes there isn't any colour at all, - it is only the amazingly beautiful cloud formations - white against the blue of the sky, as if the tables of heaven were being laid with Delft.



A winter sunrise, full of colour, is a stranger here where we do not see the fiery sun rising over the distant flat horizon, as I did in my childhood on the prairies.
But the mountains and the shadows of the hills enhance them even more when they deign to come.



Here is a lovely soft April evening sky.....



It reminds me of the song we sang so many years ago -" All in the April Evening "- and I see in my mind's eye the sheep and their little lambs on the hills at the farm, and I remember fondly the people who sang it with us - so many years ago when we were so very young....

M IS FOR MEMORIES......

Elaine Paige singing Memory from Cats



Visit ABC Wednesday and see what other wonderful and interesting things M is for.....

It is late afternoon. The sky was mainly overcast after a sunny morning. And now tonight the setting sun is lighting up the Cawston hills.

But in the late afternoon Caspar and I set out on our usual walk, with the thought that we might lean on the new neighbour's fence and make their acquaintance. I had had a small chat with them the other day, but Caspar had not yet had the pleasure.

My talk with them was rather admonishing and concerned keeping things tidy, not letting garbage accumulate as they become more familiar with the neighbourhood. Their reply was pleasant but fairly off hand.

When we arrived at their fence today it immediately struck me that they weren't particularly house proud. The nice fresh grass that had surrounded their little house has been dug up, rooted up, - no doubt looking for truffles or some such exotic goodie.



Nevertheless, they greeted us pleasantly, with lots of breathy oof oofs (what did you bring for tea?) and a little cavorting around.



Caspar could not see nor hear, but he knew there was something interesting on the other side of the fence, and Simba and Sparky from down at the Big House also came up to pay their respects.





We lingered for a few minutes and then waved goodbye and came back up the road to where things are just a jumping in the garden.....









And a sweet April sky saw us to the door....



Faintly, in the distance, I heard the soft, contented oofing of the new neighbours....

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us.

I close my eyes and listen - total romance!