Morning in the Garden.

I am late waking, and when my eyes do open I quickly slip out of bed and meet Caspar at the bedroom door, - legs crossed!

I carry him down the stairs and he heaves a gentle sigh of relief...   I carry him up the stairs, put him on the couch and he curls around himself and begins to snore gently. I push the button on the coffee maker and decide not to go back to bed.

It is so quiet and still in the sweet morning air, - too early for birds, - the sun is hiding behind the eastern hills, every morning rising a little further north.  Miss Callie and I take coffee on the deck, camera at the ready as we contemplate the valley and the long shadows where the sun strikes the top of K mountain.

Eventually I wander down the garden path, looking with great satisfaction at the cleared and ordered space around the lilies, and the good start I have made at demolishing the ubiquitous mint bed.  When it is cleared of every small iota of white root I plan to plant a yellow rose in its place.

I note the first pink peony unfurling its sails along a veritable sea of bobbing buds.

There is only one lone poppy in bloom, but the iris have grown tall and stately and very, very beautiful.

The peony tree is past its best shelf date, but who can deny its slightly blowzy mature beauty.

The pretty pink climbing rose takes pride of place for now.

Along with the new blooms on the clematis.

I wander off into the pasture, keeping an eye out for the homing pigeon who first came to visit last week, and who I thought had left for home after a long day's rest.  However, he has not yet become oriented and stops in two or three times a day to nibble a little corn and have a drink of water.

Morning shadows across the green meadow, and the hawthorn tree is opening its pale pink blooms.

Callie has joined me, and we linger by the fence awhile where the meadow rue marks Miss Roo's grave, - she who could not settle here but yearned for the Lost garden and lost her life returning to it.  

I see how nice the new growth is on the evergreens we brought with us when we moved and think that perhaps this will be the year they 'release' and are no longer babies but grow straight and tall and true.

I look back at the house and feel blessed to be here...

under this painterly sky and with this lovely small garden to lose myself in, with dirt on my hands and the wonderful fragrance of the green things growing - to say nothing of the challenge of the sea holly and the violets and the Chinese lantern and the yarrow and the lamb's ears who all have this passionate wanderlust and love to move house each spring, putting down roots  and nudging their new neighbours to make room for themselves.

I see that the flax is gradually opening its heavenly blue eyes, with fresh bits of sky to decorate today's garden. 

The sun rose over the hill a while ago, and now it's time to go and start the day indoors.

I turn for a last look at the garden

those cool shadows on the hills which still wear their springtime greenery

and I really don't think, - I just feel the blessed presence of it all.

ABC Wednesday

The letter for this week is S

S is for Sonata

Here is Artur Rubinstein playing the 3rd movement of Beethoven's Opus 57 Appassionata Sonata, Allegro Non Troppo.

Enjoy this lovely interlude of passionate music......



For more interpretations of the letter S visit ABC Wednesday here, with thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt and her faithful helpers.

The Day of Pentecost

"And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance."  Acts


Today we celebrated Pentecost  with a spirit of joy, the wearing of red to represent the cloven tongues of fire, the awareness of the Spirit which permeates the world with love, balloons, the doves of peace, lovely music and a birthday cake for the Church (which, ironically, in these days is being so grievously assaulted by zealot atheists).


Among the hymns we sang was this beautiful and haunting music written by Daniel Iverson in 1926, both words and the tune, ' Living God'.



A small congregation (sigh) - big Rodeo weekend here in the Similkameen and a Cowboy Church under a big striped tent!

Pentecost is an important festival in the life of the Christian Church, but unlike Christmas and Easter it has not yet been secularized or even recognized.......and yet its message of the Spirit of love and peace and grace is so vital to the survival of our civilization, and even of our species.

Whitsun Day

by Christina Rossetti

'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.

Skywatch Friday

Sunlit clouds. late on a Saturday afternoon in the Simikameen.

Monday, in the early evening, the clouds come rolling across the hills and into the valley.

It's been a varied week as far as skies go, - sometimes kindly, sometimes moody and occasionally terribly exciting with crashing thunder and large sheets of lightening causing small dogs and nervous ladies to shiver and shake a bit.  Thunder and (f)rightening a friend calls these night time episodes.

For more skies visit here, at Skywatch Friday.

A wonderful exhilarating thing happened on my way to town!!

I am approaching a turn in the road at the top of a hill that falls away into the valley.  Suddenly, about ten feet in front of me and almost touching the road, a magnificent american bald eagle swoops in from the north, crossing my path.  There is another car behind me, - I cannot stop, but as I look into the rear view mirror I see that the bird has circled and is swooping once again across the road between me and the car behind!!

The heart of some poor small creature must be filling with terror, but my own is beating with excitement.

You will see that this photo was captured by Ted Steinke at some other time and in some other place, but it depicts the speed and the ferocity with which the eagle swoops.

I turn the corner and continue down the town hill, filled with awe at the serendipity of being in the right place at the right time, and the magnificence of this splendid bird.

At the bottom of the hill I look back up the valley, but the eagle is nowhere to be seen, and I know that the next time he hovers in my vicinity I will be running to get the camera and he will be a mile high in the bright blue sky, making his way in great circles and swoops southward, down the valley, and I will gaze in wonderment.......and envy?

ABC Wednesday

The letter of note this week is R


R is for RAVELRY


Ravelry is a free social networking enterprise, beta-launched in May 2007. It functions as an organizational tool for a variety of fiber arts including knitting, crocheting, spinning and weaving. Members share projects, ideas, and their collection of yarn, fibre, and tools via various components.  As of January 2010, Ravelry had over 600,000 members worldwide. (from Wikipedia)

Francoise Duparc (1726-78) Woman Knitting, n.d.

Husband and wife Casey and Jessica Forbes founded Ravelry with the idea of creating a web presence for all fiber artists.

Ravelry is a place for knitters, crocheters, designers, spinners, and dyers to keep track of their yarn, tools and pattern information, and look to others for ideas and inspiration. It has been a most successful venture, with what appears to me to be pretty sophisticated underpinnings - Ruby and Rail technologies for creating research and distribution.  And all this for what was once the humble knitter, crocheter, weaver, or spinner - fiber arts which have now reached heights beyond crafts into gorgeous creativity. YouTube is loaded with videos based on Ravelry activities, many of them giving instructions in the whys and wherefores of fiber art. Here is one about an event that I would love to have attended!

If you are a fibre artist and don't know about Ravelry it's great fun to surf the net and see what you can catch....


For other versions of the letter R spin off over to ABC Wednesday here.

A welcome visitor..

A pretty sky to greet us as Caspar and I opened the door for our five a.m. business trip.

We had gone to bed amongst great excitement in the heavens - dazzling sheets of lightening followed almost immediately by thunderous drum rolls that echoed around the house.

Wild weather for man and beast, and also birds!

Mid-morning and Charles came looking for me so that I could meet our newest feathered visitor and perhaps offer a little sustenance to this iridescent homing pigeon.

I can imagine this bird, steady on course for home and then running into such confusion in the skies that  he would surely tire and perhaps lose direction.  Homing pigeons have such an affinity with the earth, either magnetically or with a built in direction finder, and I'm sure with all these magical attributes this particular pigeon would know - somehow - that right below him lived a lady who just two short weeks ago posted a blog entitled P for Pigeons, and that he would be assured of a hearty welcome and a good rest before he continued his journey.

Which he did this evening, after a long afternoon nap on the roof of the travel trailer cum weaving studio.  He moved first to the ridge of the house, and after gathering himself together and focusing all that magical equipment he carries with him, with a whir and a wave of the wings he was off!

I wished him bon boyage, - a safe trip and a loving welcome from those who watched for him at home!

Peonies

We are busy in the garden making a small corner for a cutting garden where we will plant the fragrant plants of the evening, white and ethereal and smelling ever so yummy!!!  The ghostly Nicotiana and the lovely evening scented stock;   the gorgeous stephanotis and some humble sweet alyssum for edging.

We stop for coffee, and I  wander down the garden path to where the peonies are starting to bloom.  Indeed, the ferny Oriental peony is already beginning to fade, - their beauty is so short lived.  In our garden the buttercups that accompany them continue their golden blooms for another few weeks, and push further into the surrounding Iris.

Just today the peony tree we planted when we moved here five years ago has started its annual blossoming, - every year a few more blooms.

These peonies are a forerunner to the grand opening of the passionate peony buds on the plants that we brought with us when we moved and that are now becoming familiar and at home in this new hillside garden.

Watch for them, - another week and the garden will be heavy with their fragrance and  beauty.

The soft lovely images that Mary Oliver evokes in her poem 'Peonies'  will keep us content until that time.

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready

to break my heart

as the sun rises,

as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open ---

pools of lace,

white and pink ---

and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes

into the curls,

craving the sweet sap,

taking it away

to their dark, underground cities ---

and all day

under the shifty wind,

as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,

and tip their fragrance to the air,

and rise,

their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness

gladly and lightly,

and there it is again ---

beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.

Do you love this world?

Do you cherish your humble and silky life?

Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,

and softly,

and exclaiming of their dearness,

fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,

their eagerness

to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are

nothing, forever?

Skywatch Friday

May 14th, 2010

Similkameen Skies

The worn silvery branches of a tree, long dead, silhouetted against a May sky.

Meanwhile, back at the pond, summer clouds reflected in still waters.

For more skies from around the world visit here, at Skywatch Friday.

A lovely bush we bought for our sixty fifth wedding anniversary to plant in a corner of the garden, - an Exochord Macrantha called "The Bride" Pearl Bush.

And here is another picture of a Bride taken sixty-five years ago today on the morning of our wedding day.  I call it The Pensive Bride.

Was I reluctant, - oh no, never - but it was a big step I was taking moving away from family and friends with this handsome man who just twelve days ago was arriving in New York Harbour, returning from service overseas with the RCAF/RAF.

We celebrated quietly today.  A drive, then out for dinner.  When we make Seventy we will have a party!  Fireworks and a live band and a carnival, as one of our grandsons suggests!

Hope you can join us......

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is Q

Q is for QUICKSILVER
Quicksilver is the archaic name for Mercury, but what an enchanting name it is, calling up all sorts of wonderful images of Little People, Middle Earth, shining magical quickness, - imagine if the God Mercury were to be called Quicksilver.........

How very apt and beautifully descriptive of this winged messenger of the gods.

See what other surprises Q holds for you at ABC Wednesday, here.

Skywatch Friday

May 6th, 2010

Finally - a day during which one could lie on the ground (a little damp) chew on a piece of grass (if one has bovine tendencies) and gaze at the clouds, imagining in them the most fantastic pictures!

Have fun, and do visit Skywatch Friday here to see other wonderful skies from around the world.

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is P

P is for Pigeons




beautiful pigeons




beautiful bird

These beautiful pictures taken in Venice, Piazza San Marco and kindly made available by  alastair@picturesofvenice.net

A relative of the dove, pigeons are a graceful bird, but by their vast numbers and their affinity for cities they are often classified as a nuisance.  Welcome, and fun to feed, but a terror to clean up after......

Wikipedia has an interesting article on pigeons and doves here and has much to say about the birds that have been lost in modern times, - the Passenger Pigeon and the Dodo -


Occasionally we see a flock of Homing Pigeons, - a lovely sight as they circle the valley and then return to the cote maintained by a neighbour.

For more interesting P's fly over to ABC Wednesday, with thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt and her kind helpers.

"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May."-   William Shakespeare

The wind blew mightily all evening long, but when I woke early in the morning to tend to the little dog the air was calm and sweet, - nary a cloud in the sky and the waning moon high at the top of the mountain, readying itself to slip behind into another space.  I went back to bed, thinking pleasant thoughts of a day in the Garden.

At six thirty, when I woke once again, rain clouds were dark in the north, and the hills were hidden by a grey mist.  But still in the south the sky was blue with only the occasional small white cloud.

The wind was picking up!

At noon there were great blustery gusts of wind as the little dog and I went for a walk before lunch.

One of them bowled him over and I had to help him up  in the face of such fierceness and carry him home.

We came in to find the electrical power was off, and so it stayed for three hours, while the new grass in the pasture billowed in great green waves, and the tulips bowed and curtsied and leaned their pretty pinkness into the breezes that whirled around them.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a smirk on the face of a patch of coutch grass - another day of freedom to spread its wiry roots into the Iris and the Shasta Daisies and along the perimeter of the garden.

I wait patiently for that first day of May when the bees buzz and the flowers lift their faces to the sun,

 and all is calm - a perfect gardening day.

"Ah my heart is weary waiting
Waiting for the May"
Denis Florence McCarthy  Summer Longings


Tonight the sky cleared and the setting sun cast lovely apricot lights on a few clouds in the East.

The wind still gusted around corners and down the fields.

Skywatch Friday

SPRING having a last fling with old man Winter in the Similkameen

An eagle inspects the situation and heads over the snowy mountain tops to the next valley.

In the valley the apples blossom cheekily......

For more spring skies visit Skywatch Friday Here.

ABC Wednesday

The featured letter this week is O

O is for Osprey

The Similkameen Valley is known as the Valley of Eagles, but around the high lakes and along the river  the Osprey is plentiful and calls the Similkameen home as well.

Anatomically the Osprey resembles the eagle, but has narrow wings which are markedly angled, and peculiar structure of feet and claws.  Unlike other raptors the Osprey has four equal toes, with the outer ones being reversible making it a cinch for the bird to grab its prey with two toes pointing forwards and two pointing back.  'A long, sharp, curved claw on each toe, and short rigid spikes on the sole of each foot give the bird a firm grip on its slippery prey, which nearly always consists of fish that the bird catches alive...'

The Osprey patrols over water in its territory several times a day and when it sees a fish it hovers until the fish is in a suitable position, then ' dives from the sky with its wings half closed and claws stretched forward, disappearing under the surface in a great spray of water and reappearing a few seconds later with a fish firmly clutched in its claws'.

The Osprey is somewhat smaller than the Eagle, and despite the advantage of its claw structure it sometimes loses its prey to the larger bird.

photo by Ed Shultz

The Eagle can be very aggresive when in the mood to snatch the Osprey's fish, but the Osprey can be very persistent about hanging on, and it has been remarked that the Eagle sometimes spends more energy in stealing than it would in honestly fishing for its own dinner.

Ospreys have large nests made out of a great variety of sticks and found products interwoven into a vast and untidy structure.  The female usually lays three eggs, and although mortality can be high amongst the young the bird can live beyond twenty years.

Here is a photo borrowed from the internet of an Osprey nest close to the water, perhaps on a stump...

but I have usually seen them high in the trees surrounding a lake or even on the top of poles.......

Bell-Irving has an heliocopter named The Osprey and I presume in its flying ability it has many attributes of this powerful raptor.

Fly on over to ABC Wednesday to see other O 's, thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt and the kind people who assist with this meme.

A little morning music in the Lost Garden...



Come stroll with me down memory lane....

Time for breakfast, - will you come in and have some coffee and a bit of toast?  I have some nice fruit bread...  And we can lose ourselves in Horowitz's beautiful Schubert Impromptu.