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.

Vincent Van Gogh

  It was remiss of me not to include the name of the painter with the picture on my header, and so I tell you now the story of  Landscape with Snow painted by Vincent van Gogh on February 24th, 1888.

As I reminded myself of the life of Vincent Willem van Gogh, and checked for facts which seem to have reached me by osmosis over the years, I was dreadfully saddened by the frustration and turmoil of his life.

He was born in 1853, the son of a pastor, and his upbringing was religious and cultured.  His sister described him as a 'serious and introspective' child, but it seems as he approached adulthood his ability to cope was affected by a tendency to excesses and mental illnesses.

After several failures as a clerk, an art salesman and a preacher in Belgium where he was dismissed for overzealousness, his brother Theo (four years younger and devoted to Vincent) urged him to apply himself to painting, and throughout the eleven years from 1879 to 1890 Theo supported him financially and with brotherly affection encouraged him.

In 1886 Vincent came to live with Theo in Paris, but two years later, seeking a warmer climate and a brighter atmosphere, he took the train to Arles, in the south of France.  Alas, when he dismounted from the Train in February of that year a he was confronted by a snowy landscape, but four days later, when the snow had begun to melt, he painted Landscape with Snow, the picture in the heading.

It is noted for it's pale lilac colours in the mountains and in patches of bare earth.  A comment made on this work suggests that it may 'have been inspired by the snowy scenes   common to the Japanese prints van Gogh avidly collected, but it also follows conventions of the 17th century Dutch landscape painting in its gradation of color from dark greens and browns framing the foreground to blue sky in the distance, and through the diagonal recession of the road in the snowy landscape.  But, unlike Dutch panoramas with their broad expanse of sky, the present work shows van Gogh concentrating on the terrain between where he stands and the bright red-roofed cottage in the distance".

A few days later Vincent did a similar painting, 'Snowy Landscape with Arles in the Background'.

Vincent was able to settle in Arles,  renting four rooms in the famous Yellow House.  In this painting the rooms where he was able to create a studio, have friends in and regard as home are the ones with green shutters.

In the fall of 1888 Vincent invited Paul Gauguin to come and paint with him.  In the beginning they worked well together, producing marvelous sunflower and vineyard pictures.  Van Gogh's picture of The Red Vineyard was the only one of his painting that he sold in his lifetime, for which he received about $1,000.00 in modern money.  In a letter to Theo he describes it thus "a red vineyard, all red like red wine.  In the distance it turned to yellow and than a green sky with the sun, the earth after the rain violet, sparkling here and there where it caught the reflection of the setting sun."

During the years that Vincent painted he was continually plagued by periods of mental illness and after a few weeks the relationship with Gauguin became stormy, culminating in a night when Vincent came at Gauguin with an open razor, and when Gauguin fled, van Gogh cut off part of his own ear.

His illness became more severe.  Eventually he admitted himself to an asylum in Saint-Remy, and in May of 1890, seeming much better, he went to live in Auvers-sur-Oise under the watchful eye of Dr. Gachet.  Two months later, on July 29th 1990, and after a fit of painting activity he shot himself in the chest.  He survived for two days, and a devastated Theo was at his side when he died, his last words being 'La tristesse durera toujours' (The sadness will last forever).  Theo, unable to come to terms with his brother's death, died six months later and in 1914 his body was exhumed and buried next to Vincent.

Van Gogh was a prodigious painter and his finest works were produced in less than three years in a technique that grew more and more impassioned.  "He was completely absorbed in the effort to explain either his struggle against madness or his comprehension of the spiritual essence of man and nature".

During his lifetime van Gogh painted thirty self portraits, as an exercise in improving his painting when he could not afford models.  I was impressed by the following video which shows a progression of his life, and presents his portraits at the various stages of his mental health.




Not too many years after his death his fame as a painter grew higher and higher, and today he is recognized as being the most famous of Dutch painters after Rubens.

I was very much affected by reading of Vincent's life, and so it led to A River of Stone.

River Stone #12

My heart sorrows
for those to whom
peace never comes.

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is Z

Z is for Zabaglione

The recipe is here

Simple, smooth and delicious, -  exotic and comforting all at the same time.

For more interesting takes on the letter Z visit here, at ABC Wednesday.


A River Stone  #11

I add a little dab of jam
(apricot, I think..)
to my zabaglione.....

and praise Italians

A River of Stones
January 10th, 2011

River Stone #10

A little whimsy
as we ancients discuss
a picnic to pan for gold

at $200.00 per ounce

Well, why not!.  Our adventures these days are small scale, but when the first tender green grasses appear on the mountain side and the yellow bells and mariposa lilies lend a sweet grace to the rocky crevices we consider a few hard boiled eggs, some homemade bread, a little wine, and a trip up the mountainside to McIntyre Creek, where memories of panning for gold await Charles, at least.  For me a new experience.

Please, do not hold your breath while you wait for him to recount the trips he made with his father into the hills behind Oliver, but I will tell you when his posting finally shows up on From the Back Pasture.

In the meantime, suffice it to say he still has vivid memories of  travels on the sloping hillsides in a 1928 Chevrolet, and the excitement of prospecting for mica, gold and silver in the creek with his father and brothers.  I will let him tell you the stories as he has told them to me, and it will be an inspiration for him to once again follow and record these childhood memories.

Be patient!!!!

River of Stones

River Stone #9

Each day
a later dusk
speaks sweetly of Spring

Rebellion in the Mohawk Valley
The St. Leger Expedition of 1777

Written by Gavin K. Watt with research assistance by James E. Morrison, this is the book that sits on the table beside my bed, loaned to me by the writer who is interviewing Charles (along with many others) for the second edition of his book of Veterans' Stories.

As an aside, we soon discovered our mutual interest in United Empire Loyalists, he being much more enthusiastic and hard working about the association, having obtained all the necessary documentation to enable him to use the official title of "UEL", while I know enough about my various United Empire Loyalist ancestors to claim allegiance, but not officially.

It is really not a bedside book, but rather one for sitting at a desk and making notes, - at least for me. I am pleased to read the little notes that the owner of the book has added along the margins, but the book gives such excellent attention to detail that I need an outline to guide me as to movements and characters, battles and retreats, and all the little political intricacies of the endeavour.

Amazon says,

'In the summer of 1777, while the British and Americans were engaged in the bitter American Revolution, a massive campaign was launched from Canada into New York State.  Brigadier Barry St. Leger led a crucial expedition from Lake Ontario in the Mohawk Valley.  The goal was to travel by waterways to join Lieutenant General John Burgoyne in the siege of Albany.  But Leger encountered obstacles along the way.  While laying siege to Fort Stanwix, Leger received word that Benedict Arnold was leading a massive relief column that was headed their way.  Leger and his men retreated, and despite as later attempt to carry on, were never able to help Burgoyne.  The Americans then destroyed the British-held Fort Ticonderoga, marking the end of the campaign.


The results of the failed St. Leger expedition were historic.  Not only was the loss of Fort Ticonderoga a major blow to the British war effort, but the campaign also brought about the disillusionment of the Iroquois Confederacy and saw the founding of the infamous Butler's Rangers and the first major campaign of Sir John Johnson's King's Royal Regiment.'


Of the Loyalists who eventually settled in the country around Cornwall, and in Stormont, Dundas and Glengarry, there were many who married and became my gg grandfathers, grandmothers and aunts and uncles and cousins.

While I was most passionate about genealogy and discovering the people who moved to Canada because of the Rebellion, it was as if I moved back in time two hundred years, and they became intimate and familiar to me as even the present day community where I now live.

I knew about cousin Adam Helmer's famous run that was depicted in 'Drums Along the Mohawk', and the fact that one of my gg aunts on the Cline side of the family painted her front door yellow each spring and was such an enthusiastic house cleaner that her family were known as the 'Clean Clines'.

I know that many of the men who settled in this part of Canada were members of the King`s Royal Regiment known as the King`s Royal Yorkers, and this link explains much about the formation of this regiment.

 I have a shelf of wonderful books and notes, packed with information about my Loyalist ancestors, and an abiding gratitude to the people who researched and gathered the contents into print.

I am hoping that the ties that bind me to these Empire Loyalists will inspire me to finish the book with a more complete understanding of the events that eventually brought them to Canada.

Charles` family came to Canada much later, but his American Ancestry started with Finches who originated in Lancashire and sailed with the Winthrop Fleet in 1633......I think they were all Patriots!

River of Stones


Psalm 90:12  So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts onto wisdom.

River Stone #8

Now that I am 86
I mark time in days,
not years.

Four paltry years embrace
one thousand four hundred and sixty
precious days

plus one for leap year....

River Stones
January 7th, 2011

River Stone #7

The Curly Willow haven.

Bathing facilities attached.

Small birds congregate
blushing in the icy water

River of Stones
January 6th, 2011

River Stone #6

Il Silenzio, hauntingly
across the water.
Tears gather, and fall

A River of Stones

January 5th, 2011

Stone #5

an explosion of small birds
and quail
dark wings sweep the snowy sky
hungry for breakfast

A River of Stones
January 4th, 2011

River Stone #4

He coddles the starting gear
while the beloved sleeps on
A slow awakening groan
and it springs to life

I watch from the window
Grateful for the guardian angels
of tractors
and good timing..

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is Y

Y is for yearning - that wistful, melancholy and sometimes pensive longing we have probably all felt at one time or another.

Here is a little musical ragtime that expresses that poignant longing.

....... a Jazz version



and a little Foxtrot



For more Y's visit here, at ABC Wednesday with thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt and her helpers.

A River of Stones
January 3rd 2011

We come home from church and there is a confused and urgent message on the answering machine.

'Please come and see me'

It is my birthday and there is family here and there and more visits expected during the afternoon and evening.  I call back, - 'I cannot come now, but I will come in the morning'

And so this morning, before coffee time, I get out the car and we run to town, the car and I.

My friend meets me at the door of the assisted living facility she has just moved into.  We go to her new and lovely suite, - she has her best cups sitting on the counter and the kettle boiling.  We have tea and a wonderful conversation, with little of the trouble she has with articulation since having a small stroke.

At the other end of this facility is the 'locked' part, where my dearest and most loving friend now lives.  Six years ago she organized our 60th anniversary party!

She has not lost her kind and loving disposition, but all her other abilities have vanished.  We can still talk about old times, as long as we can interpret lost words and I listen carefully and identify who she is talking about.

How cruel dementia is, and how grateful I was to find this morning's visit such a pleasure, and such an easy answer to yesterday's confusion and despair, - only a smile of friendship, a listening ear and a connection with old times, to bring confidence back again....

Small Stone #3

I press the door to where dementia lurks.
Life bestows a sweet surprise.

January 2nd, 2011
River of Stones

To bed
awash with music, roses,
the rainbow froth of dancers' petticoats.

Grace and sensuality
Carry me to sleep.
Ah, Vienna

Stone #2, picked up at the New Year's Eve Vienna Philharmonic concert.

River of Stones

I have just posted the River of Stones participation badge, with some trepidition.

I think it is a marvelous discipline to foster awareness, but not sure that my efforts will be 'up to par'.

Nevertheless, I strengthen the sinews of my mind and plunge in, hoping not to be too pedestrian....

I woke this morning and padded through the dark house to go and turn the coffee on, - my attention was drawn to the sky, the moon and the morning star as they presented  through the high cathedral windows.

A crescent moon fades into the dawn sky
Light rims the hills
Above, a morning star

Blue skies, Smiling at Me!

Finally, a day when the skies were that lovely shade of Delphiniums, dotted with sunlit clouds and conducive to a trip outside to fill the bird  feeders  and take a little tour around the garden.

In the absence of a snowy coverlet to keep the roses protected and warm(ish) #3 son had kindly offered some straw to give them a somewhat scratchy eiderdown, but still a place to snuggle when the wind blows cold.  While I poked around the frozen ground, moving leaves into more strategic places, I heard the gentle growl of the ancient tractor, and then the full roar as it declared itself ready for anything required of it.

Charles had tended it gently, warming up the pipes with loving attention and at the exact and most propitious moment had applied the ether that caused it to spring to life, shaking its fenders and causing its tires to tremble.  No camera to record how triumphantly they came around the corner of the house, the driver standing as if with a whip; the forks extended upwards;  along the driveway and down the lane they went, bent on their mission. A Roman Charioteer, enthusiastically urging his horse(power) to even greater effort!

I shook my head and went back into the house to continued with my plan to take the next small portion of Christmas decorations down, doing it in tiny increments so that I couldn't be accused of being Scroogelike.  They really are lovely, but we have enough decorations for a five bedroom house, and sometimes it gets a little overwhelming.

I had just finished when I heard the tractor returning, - the driver looking somewhat cold in the raw west wind, but bearing on the forks a lovely slab of golden straw.

It was on with my coat and a toque, - Charles lent me his gloves and I was soon busy spreading a protective layer of mulch around each resting rosebush.  Really a fall chore, but better late than never and hopefully the layers of straw will shield them from the nasty January winds.

Thank you Sid, - I will sleep well tonight as the temperature drops and the snow avoids the valley bottom.

We came in, had some lunch and a little nap, then off to town to buy some birthday gifts.

All of you wonderful birthday people know who you are, and we send you much love.

Remember, you are all the results of April romances....think Spring!
While you celebrate a Happy New Year...

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is the mysterious  X

X is the 'place that marks the spot' on any Treasure Map that happens to come into your possession.

As well as Mr. Bean, Treasure Maps are used by anyone who wants to
remind themselves where they dug and buried that dang treasure

Like Pirates

and Old Prospectors

and  Dogs,

 - although I understand they have no place to carry treasure maps marked with an X and so they carry the secret of the Treasure around in their noses........

For other takes on the Letter X visit here at ABC Wednesday, with thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt

 and her happy and helpful crew.

Hoping you all find the Treasures you are hunting for in the Grand New Year.

Christmas Rose   Jean Wilmhurst

Love came down at Christmas,

Love all lovely, Love Divine;

Love was born at Christmas,

Stars and Angels gave the sign.

Christina Rossetti

I guess that's what Christmas is all about, - Love and Joy and Peace and Hope, and so we send our greetings and best wishes that all these

wonderful things are with you this Christmas time;

and in the year that follows.

Hildred and Charles

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is W

And W is for 'Winsome'

winsome adj

charming, winning, engaging  a winsome smile

[OLD ENGLISH]  wynsum, ffrom wynn (joy) related to Old High German wunnia German wonne + sum (some)

winsomely  adv

winsomeness n

So here are a few 'winsome' smiles

A parody on Winston Cigarettes

although what is sweet and innocent and charming here is not apparent

Here is the Winsome Rose, and below a daylily called the  Winsome Lady, both quite enchanting

Robbie Burns wrote a poem in praise of his Wife, who was a Winsome Wee thing....

My Wife's a Winsome Wee Thing

She is a winsome wee thing

She is a handsome wee thing

She is a bonnie wee thing

This sweet wee wife o' mine.

I never saw a fairer,

I never lo'ed a dearer,

And next my heart I'll wear her.

For fear my jewel tine.

She is a winsome wee thing,

She is a handsome wee thing.

She is a bonnie wee thing.

This sweet wee wife o' mine.

The World's wrack we share o't.

The warstle and the care o't.

Wi' her I'll blythly bear it.

And think my lot divine.

Robert Burns  1759-1796

and in conclusion

a winsome President

For more takes on the letter W wind your way over to ABC Wednesday

and see what Mrs. Nesbitt and her crew have

so kindly offered.

A Frosty Friday

Well, it was late in the evening when the frosty mists crept up from the river bottom and began to cover the valley and the hills.

On Saturday the silver rime brought beauty to each leaf and flower and branch it touched.....

A troop of Quail came to dine in such an exquisite fairyland.

and a sharp shinned hawk arrived to admire the artistry - I think that was his purpose, - the little birds didn't seem too alarmed at his presence

Christmas Socks

Here are the results of my enthusiastic resolve to make socks for

all the men in my life

Less, of course, the four pair I gave away for birthday presents,

and the two pair that I mailed the other day before I remembered to take a picture.

So I am one pair short of my planned thirteen, and I might catch up after Christmas

and I might not!!!!

Perhaps I will make toques, or scarves for next year,

or perhaps I will indulge myself and take on a challenging project

that will hold my interest and my attention.  I have a wonderful pattern for a complicated blanket

that you can make in various sizes that really appeals to me....

Handknit Socks are so lovely on the feet, but they do get to be a bit much of the same thing

all the time! When you are making them......

Tomorrow I am going to make shortbread tarts to go

with the Lemon Curd that was today's loving project in the kitchen.

Ah Christmas - what happy memories you evoke, and what opportunities

to do the things that delight one!

ABC Wednesday

The letter for this week is the Veritable V

V is for VETERANS

During the Second World War Bournemouth was a disbursing centre for Airmen who had just arrived in the UK, and these three Airman, school chums from the Okanagan, all with the same desire - to one day be VETERANS, met by chance while stationed there awaiting posting.

They agreed that if they made it through the war they would all meet for a celebration drink in the Royal Canadian Legion in Penticton on July 1st, Canada Day.  It was a harrowing experience.  The one on the left was a Tail Gunner and the only one left alive when the plane he was in crashed into a mountain top.  The one in the middle went to the Continent and kept fighter planes flying for the allies, in the thick of it. The one on the right became a Lancaster Pilot in 170 Squadron,  and lost both his brothers after D Day.  But they all returned home, - and now they were VETERANS.

Well, time passed, and the years flew by, - they all got married and had families.  They saw each other intermittently, and although they never forgot their vow to meet again in the Legion, it just didn't happen until a retired school teacher who is writing a book of veterans' stories, got them all together and brought the Tail Gunner and the Communications and Radar fellow to our place (the home of the Pilot) for lunch last Friday.

What a fine time they had, - a lifetime of memories, and all three of them still the same handsome fellows they were sixty-six years ago, - but now with the addition of canes, which really makes them quite debonair.

Best Visitors we've had in a long while.

For more interesting V's click here to visit ABC Wednesday

Early in the morning, and sleep eludes me.  I toss and turn a bit, wondering what life is all about, but then I think about the snow that fell yesterday, making the whole world sweet and white.  We watched the poplar tree that stands between us and the big house,  festooned with starlings that rose into the snowy air like a curtain, then fell to the ground - a shower of dark pennies; only to feed a little and rise again into the branches.  Were they singing paeans to the snow or just reveling in the pure whiteness of the world.



I rise and peer into the darkness of the early morning to see if the snow has lingered through the night.  The lane is level and smooth and white, but the steps are bare and I foresee by noon the garden will once again have thrown off its protective counterpane.

The coffee has perked;  the cat has left me to resume her sleep;  I hear the house begin to stir and the day begins....... I miss the little dog, who sometimes comes to me as I sleep and makes the night hours poignant.

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is U

....which stands for Ungulate

An Ungulate is any hoofed animal, - a hoof being an enlarged toenail.

Why hooves?

Hooves are usually broad and flexible, and the animal can walk and dig even in thick snow.  Because the animal walks and runs on its toes the rest of the foot extends up into the leg, making the leg particularly long and increasing the swiftness of their stride. The ungulate we are going to consider today lives in the cold arctic tundra, is capable of surviving in extremely cold weather and in places where food is not plentiful.  They eat plants and lichens and are the only deer that can be domesticated.

Of course you have already guessed, -  the most popular Ungulate of the season is the reindeer, a majestic mammal from the arctic and subarctic, some of whom have taken up with Santa Claus at the North Pole, become magical creatures and fly his sleigh through the skies on Christmas Eve, landing on rooftops to give Santa access to chimneys and other modes of entry where both good and naughty children live.

Good children are supposedly left toys, and naughty kids gets lumps of coal in their stockings, I'm told, although it never happened to me (smirk).

The Reindeer, au natural, feeding on the tundra of the north and using its strong hooves to dig up sustenance from the frozen ground.

Reindeer, beloved of Santa and with star dust sprinkled on them which enables them to

fly through the air (so I have been told).

In the poem 'A Visit from Saint Nicholas' (attributed to Clement Moore)  the poet mentions a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer.

"The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,'

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.

'Now Dasher, now Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On Comet! on Cupid! on, Dunder and Blixem!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!'

Santa and his reindeer as  depicted in 1862

when this poem was first published.

I know this all to be true, as does any child of northern climes where winters are snowy and a quick trip outside on Christmas morning will still show you the mark of the reindeers'  hooves and the runners of Santa's sleigh in the snow.**

For more fanciful U's visit here at ABC Wednesday


**depending upon how early the milkman came with his horse drawn sleigh (yes, I lived that long ago!)