February 14th, 2011

This and that.....

Weather report, - this morning the snow lay in lachrymose mounds and strips through the garden, effectively hiding any thrusting shoots which might be trying to check the skies and the whereabouts of Spring.  It was still dark when I arose, and I opened doors and windows to let the fresh morning air into the house.

The temperature was six or seven degrees above zero, and as dawn rimmed the snowy hills a slight breeze came up, gradually accelerating, tumbling, turning somersaults, lifting three or four crows in a lilting ballet above the pasture.  A pseudo Chinook, come to bare the grass and melt the icy patches, it has continued tossing and turned during the day so that now only the snow caught in the dried grasses along the fence line remains in the valley.  Of course the hills are still white, mottled with the green of the pines and firs and the dusky paths of the cracks and crevices, marking the creeks and remnants of past rainstorms that cleared the hills of soil in racing rivulets.

Half an hour ago it started to rain, - not the cold rain of winter, but the soft and tender rain of Spring!!!

It is getting close to Happy Hour.  Twenty-four hours ago we had had tea, and our son and daughter-in-law were just gathering up their things, preparing for the trip home to Summerland.  We lingered at the door, saying goodbyes, and as always, admonishing careful driving and a safe arrival.  Someone remarked that 'it was the other fellow you have to watch out for...........

An hour later we had a phone call from our daughter-in-law to say they had been in an accident. A young fellow  had pulled out of a side road along the Channel Parkway in his monster truck, right into their lane - a great screeching of brakes, the air bags deployed  - there was nowhere for them to go and our daughter-in-law's poor Audi, which is so much a part of her working day and which she cherished, is now wracked and ruined, - beyond repair. Luckily, our dear ones escaped with minor bruises and swellings (so far),

 and the occupant of the monster truck came through unscathed, sitting high above all the carnage.

It causes me to think of Time and Chance - if we had only lingered two or three minutes longer at the door, - if our goodbyes had been lengthened by an extra hug or two, - if they had traveled just a little slower, or just a little faster, this encounter would never have happened and the young, inattentive fellow with his monster truck would have been safely out of the way.  How many of life's pleasures and pains happen by Chance, I wonder.  Ecclesiastics tells us that 'time and chance happeneth to all' and I guess it just leaves us pondering, "if only...."

A River Stone

The Pussy Willows,

peeking over the top of their tight, shiny packaging

peering around for signs of Spring

T

Gratitude

From the Archives, because I feel the need to comfort my spirit and set it on a different course than the one where it has been imprisoned by the rather desolate weather this January.

From October 11th, 2008

For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

How very basic, and simple.

The dear ones on the Meadow sent this today, in celebration of Thanksgiving.

We had a discussion about things we are thankful for, and Charles, when asked,  said that he was

 thankful just for LIFE, and as he told me after all the rest of the blessings are wrapped up in this one gift granted to him, - especially precious to those who survived the sharp point of the Second World War.

For each new morning with its light!

This is the ultimate gift.

The rest is gravy....

Thanksgiving is somewhat like Christmas - it is the season to be 'thankful' as Christmas is the season of 'good cheer to men of good will'. They each carry their transitory messages which, if we could but hang on to them all through the year, would make this world a much more pleasant place.

They are, alas, but a nine day wonder in the media (well, Christmas maybe a 90 day wonder with its commercialism). However, in a couple of places I have read of a Gratitude Journal being presented as an antidote to depression and a way of lifting one's spirits. Sadness and thankfulness are just not compatible....

I think that keeping a Gratitude Journal is a great idea! So often we get mired down in misery because of things that go wrong, small hurts, sometimes large hurts, - the effects of aging, frustrations and failings, misunderstandings and sometimes just general gloom.

How can you maintain this misery if somewhere you are taking the time to write down the pleasant things. A smile from someone passing, the fragrance of a garden, a child's first wonder at the world around, unburnt toast and fresh coffee, a conversation with a friend, music that stirs memories, - the list of things to be thankful for is endless.

I have a little red leather covered book that will be just perfect for this - expect to see me smiling most all the time!

I have to tell you that the entries in the Gratitude Journal petered out after six months or so.  I would like to think I was too busy in the garden and too contented to feel the need to remind myself of blessings.  

However, now that I am gathering myself together to greet February with a big smile and great enthusiasm, perhaps I will resume recording all the small and wonderful things that make me happy, - or not!  Sometimes we need to be grateful for the things that make us sad, but also teach us something of value.

We have come to the end of January, and her is my 

River Stone #31

Aware, always

with the eyes of a child,

of the great potential

for wonder and awe

and curiosity.

(Kierkegaard said this much more elegantly across in my sidebar)!

A River of Stones
January 30th, 2011

River Stone #30

Weather report.

Bright blue skies,
and sunshine.
Bitter wind,
falling spirits...
In the dead of Winter.

A River of Stones
January 29th, 2011

River Stone #29

Large, wet snowflakes,
and the Quail,
huddled in trios
beneath the sheltering sedum.

January 28th, 2011
A River of Stones

River Stone #28

Having provided the prelude

for remembrance and sorrow

I slide the funeral music into the drawer

and bring out the Ragtime

A River of Stones
January 27th, 2011

River Stone #27

stopped by a flagman

i ponder on the helter-skelter  arrangement of rocks,

wondering how they arrived in that formation

and composition

and what will happen to the small green lichen

when the road workers  toss it aside

and rearrange geological history

Being rather antiquated, besides being retired, I don't play the organ very often any more.  I fill in where I'm needed, and nobody yet has taken over the organ at funerals, so unless the bereaved import some more sophisticated music you will usually finding me playing the Prelude while the church fills for the service.

This morning, while Charles was away singing, I began to gather my music together for Friday's service.

I pondered about whether to play old hymns, which are often familiar even to those who only enter the church for funerals and weddings (both of which are often celebrated outside the church, and I use the word 'celebrated'  for a funeral service as they are often re-named ' Celebrations of Life'.)

Oh dear, I got distracted.  I pondered over whether to play old familiar hymns or some of the gentle, comforting classics.  My question was answered when I asked the family, who prefer classics.

Tonight I went looking for less complicated versions of Pachelbel's Canon in D,   - it is very jarring when you  hit a wrong note in those long, slow introductory chords and I like to make things easy for myself and my ego....  The other Bach and Handel pieces in my small repertoire present no problems and while I was putting them in order I caught the end of the Oprah show in the background, and her discussion with a gentleman whose name I never did catch about the value of gifts that make a lasting difference in our lives and those material things that please us for a short time (I think they mentioned nine months) and then are forgotten.

And I thought about the gift of music, and the lasting pleasure I was given with the opportunity to study the piano, and felt a great warmth of gratitude for this gift which makes life more pleasant for both Charles and I, because he loves music and gets to listen when I play Scott Joplin for him every morning and I get the joy of doing this!!

A River of Stones

River Stone #26

A rush of syncopated music

and the day begins

on a high note

P.S.  This is Post #700

A River of Stones
January 25th, 2011
River Stone #25

The amaryllis,

checking the back buds

in the bathroom mirror

sighs with satisfaction

A History of England - at least all that can be remembered.

I have been spending my evenings knitting yet another pair of socks ( a tale to this project) and reading on the computer Ken Follett's "Pillars of the Earth" which has filled me in quite nicely on the times of Stephen and Maud, but while looking for another History of England that used to dwell on our library shelves in the house we moved from I stumbled across an old tattered and torn copy of '1066 and all that" by W.C. Sellar and R.J. Yeatman, c1931!

This book has been in my possession for a few years B.C. (before Charles) and I am not sure how it escaped the general dispersal when we moved, - probably because Sentimental Attachment hid it amongst the books to be kept.  Despite its antiquity I see that the book is still available from Amazon, and well recommended!

If you want to click and look inside you will have to go to Amazon to get a taste of this 'unique and hilarious spoof', and I would recommend you do that if you are anxious to appear  that you are better acquainted with English History than in truth you really are. This will give you the highlights that should carry you through any conversation about the Island's history that doesn't get too detailed.   And of course, there are now vast numbers of mini-series if you want visual entertainment as well.

If you do click and look inside this is quite likely what you will see, - a fine line drawing of the Magna Garter.

The first chapter will deal with the True English Kings, which ended with Edward the Confessor, since he was succeeded by "Waves of Norman Kings (French), Tudors, (Welsh), Stuarts, (Scottish) and Hanoverians (German, not to mention the memorable Dutch King Williamanmary"

As a Canadian I am particularly interested in the Chapter dealing with George 111, and no doubt some American bloggers remember the part George 111 played in their own history.

However, the part that interests me, and I quote "the elder Pitt at this time had the rather strategic idea of conquering Canada on the banks of the Elbe;  learning, however, that it was not there he told the famous poetic general, Wolfe, to conquer Quebec, instead.  At first Wolfe complained that he would rather write Gray's Elegy, but on being told that it had been written already (by Gray) he agreed to take Quebec.

Quebec was very difficult to approach;  Wolfe therefore rowed up the St. Laurence with muffled drums and ordered his Highland troops to skirt up the perpendicular Heights of Abraham with muffled boots, hoots, etc., thus taking the French by surprise.

At this engagement the French had a very peculiar general with the unusual French name of Keep-calm.

On receiving a muffled report to the effect that Wolfe's men had captured Quebec, one of his aides-de-calm called out: "See!  They fly!"  "Who fly?" asked the General, and, on being assured that it was his own men who were flying, "Thank God!" said Keep-calm, with a sigh of satisfaction.  "Now, I can fly in peace!"

unquote

There are equally discerning chapters on all the other Kings of England and their accomplishments, and scattered through the book there must be enough humour and wit to have accounted for it still being sold at Amazon and also carried on Library shelves

I do recommend it to you, although after the end of the Great War you are on your own, and will have to discover where this mad and merry account of history would have led you if it had only been written later.  Unless you can find the book entitled "1066 and all that - and now all this!"

River Stone #24

History

when viewed from a distance

and lightened with 

the yeast of irreverence.

A River of Stones

River Stone #23

a tear,

a memory,

a last goodbye

                                                                                     Steve Ingraham

A River of Stones

River Stone #22

Sunshine today
Sparkling windows
Pure Joy

What a treat to have blue skies 

I step out on to the deck and the fragrance of Spring makes me heady.

I know that she has just wafted in a little sample 

and that there are hard times ahead before she wanders in for good,

but the perfume lifts my heart and spirits.

The feeders are crowded with little birds, - the air is mild,

not a breath of wind, and I'm off for a walk.

My walks have been few and far between lately, - I miss the company of the little dog.......

It is grey and gloomy here today.  I made the bathrooms sparkle and played a little joyful music, but now I am turning to memories of the first day of summer, when the garden was green and the air was golden;  the poppies nodded in the warm sun and the roses and delphiniums and iris joined the peonies in a big garden party.  I expect that pictures of that day will lift my spirits, and yours too, I hope.  Close your eyes, - now open them, - it is the First Day of Summer, - join me on the garden path........

Did you smell the fragrance, and did it make you eager for spring, soft clouds, blue sky and balmy breezes?

River Stone #21

Is it memories

or anticipation

that light the fire?

River of Stones
January 20th, 2011

River Stone #20

Contained by fog

and a cauldron of clouds

I contemplate new plantings

A River of Stones
January 19th, 2011

River Stone #19


Blue skies
Bright sun

Rain streaked windows :(

A River of Stones
January 18th, 2011

River Stone #18

I suspect it becomes

as it was at the first,

a silver circle

to hold one solitary soul.

A River of Stones

The sun,

a star

kindling the clouds

River Stone #17

Sunday, January 16th

A dampish morning.  We come from church in pelting rain and warm up some soup for lunch.

What is there for it but to read a bit, nap a bit and an hour or two passes.

When I stir the clouds still hang low in the valley and the hills are swathed in mist,

but the garden lies in an intense light, - golden straw, russet branches, and the curled leaves on the willow dangling like gilded ornaments.  Autumn all over again......

I stand at the window with the camera, capturing the small birds as they feed, and a rat-a-tat  woodpecker making his way up the gravel driveway.

Suddenly a dove!  A flurry of wings as she swoops in front of me, makes a circle and disappears over the roof of the house.

A dove in January?  Well, perhaps a pigeon from a nearby loft, but nevertheless, a lovely sight, and I was lucky enough to catch her on the turn.

Today's River Stone #16

January flashes her garnets in the midst of gloom.

A River of Stones

January 15th, 2011

River Stone #15

Out in the garden
slumbers
the beauty of June.

Under the garden
tendrils
stretch and anticipate

Spring!

January 14th, 2011

River of Stones

Abandoned apples,

mildly fermenting,

awaiting their debut

at the Starling Bar

River Stone #14

A River of Stones
January 13th, 2011

River Stone #13

Death's angel hovers.

A slight lapse,
and gently the wings
slip under the weary body
and carry the old
heavenward.