ABC Wednesday

The letter is C this week

Here is Marc Chagall, a Russian artist, born in 1887 the eldest of nine children. 

 

I have chosen the glorious Chagall Windows in the Hadassah Hospital in Israel to represent C,
the ones about which Marc Chagall said in 1962

"This is my modest gift to the Jewish people who have always dreamt of biblical love, friendship and of peace among all peoples.  This is my gift to that people which lived here thousands of years ago among the other Semitic people".

The light that emanates from these windows bathes the Abbell Synagogue at the Hadassah University Medical Centre in a special glow. The sun filters through the brilliant colors of the stained glass capturing their radiance and even in the misty haze of a cloudy day 'Chagall's genius transforms time and space'

 

Every pane is said to be a microcosm of Chagall's world, of his love for his people and his deep sense of identification with Jewish history.

 

Each window is dominated by a specific color and contains a quotation from the individual blessing on Jacob's twelve sons and Moses' blessing on the twelve tribes.

 

The Synagogue was dedicated in the presence of the artist on February 6, 1962.

as part of Hadassah's Golden Anniversary Celebration.

 

Click here to see other interesting representation of the letter C

with thanks to Roger and Denise and all their helpers who come and read your contribution.

Sunday

Off to church this morning with a peach pie and an apple pie, - my contributions for the pot luck luncheon we were having after the service to feed the Archbishop, who was coming to see how our little Anglican worshipping community is doing after our union with the United Church of Canada fell apart.

 

 I did not make these pies, but bought them from the ladies at the Mountain View Manor, an independent living facility which has marvelous pie sales at random times during the year to make money for little extras for having fun, - like the Wii, which provides wonderful exercise,  and the big flat screen TV whose remote is probably responsible for a fair amount of quibbling.......

I had to be driven to the church on account of not being able to walk the half a block of icy road laden down with pies. but coming home the sky was blue, the sun was out, the ice was melting and my neighbor from two doors down walked with me and we had a lovely chat and enjoyed the weather and the results of our time with the Archbishop.  That a small congregation of 15 should move the Archbishop to come to visit says something, - but I'm not sure what.  Probably that he feels some loving concern for us, as Archbishops are supposed to do.

He is a very personable fellow, and the ladies of the parish were all quite impressed with his gallantry when he made the rounds of the tables with the coffee and tea, replenishing each cup.

I can remember when the Bishop used to travel his Diocese with a Crucifer and maybe a Warden or two, and seemed to be a very lofty chap who impressed small children and young people but John travels by himself  and it was a pleasant and relaxing hour over lunch.

I spent the afternoon reading, sitting by the window where the sun shines through, starting off with more of Gerald Durrell as I finished the sequel to My Family and Other Animals (Birds, Beasts and Relatives) and then moved on to 'Justine' of the Alexandria Quartet.  I am wanting to finish this book while I am incapacitated with my wrist (which is healing nicely, thank you) but the print is so fine and the pages so many that spring might come before I am done, or the seed and flower catalogues might distract me and devastate my good intentions.

Tomorrow the weather man is promising sunshine - probably just a smidgin, but hopefully enough that I can hitch a ride to our old garden and see if the forsythia is have thoughts of budding, and if it is I will bring great bunches of dry sticks home and fill the house with glorious golden bloom - eventually!

 

 

Yesterday was heavenly.  Blue sky and sunshine all day long!  Callie and I went out and fed the birds, wandered around in the garden, moved some leaves and found a dozen Lenten Roses in bud, sat on the blue bench at the back and dreamed of spring and pots of flowers and bulbs and vegetables.

 

Took pictures of the pussy willow branches against the lovely blueness of the sky.

 

 

the sunshine coming through the open door

 

 

and brightening up the plants that hug the window and watch for spring

Today we are in the midst of an inversion, which I take it to mean that the big grey pot has been inverted over the whole countryside and we are back in the damp clutch of winter.  The little pools of melted ice have frozen into danger spots for ladies with canes!

 

Still, it was a heart lifting glimpse into the future.....

 

a plus - here is a picture of yesterday's bird calendar page

 

 

a Puffin, caught in the headlights (so to speak) as he comes in for

 

an oh! oh! landing!!!!

ABC Wednesday

ABC Wednesday

The letter of the week is B, which stands for BEEFSTEAK PUDDING

What a long time since I have had this delectable feast - years I think!!

Here is my recipe, straight from Caroline Conran's 'British Cooking' - a book given to me by a wonderful Irish character who I am sure added whiskey in with the mushrooms and oysters.....

"This is the dish to present to foreign visitors.  It confuses them utterly, it looks so unlike anything else and tastes so unexpectedly superb.  In the past it would have contained as well as the kidneys, a dozen or so oysters;  with or without those mollusks, it is quite certainly one of our greatest dishes".

Make a suet crust, mixing one cup of flour with one half a cup of prepared suet, and a pinch of salt..  Add about 8-10 tablespoons of cold water, mix to a soft dough and roll out two-thirds of the dough on a floured board.  Use it to line a two pint pudding bowl, (basin) pushing it down with your fist and working it flat around the sides so that it fits snugly,  and leaving any extra pastry hanging over the sides.

Trim eight ounces of kidney (Caroline calls for pig or ox, but I prefer lamb) - cut it into pieces the size of a walnut.

Cut a pound and a half of beef steak (round or sirloin) into cubes, chop four shallots, clean about half a cup of mushrooms (button ones, if you can get them - otherwise slice and chop).

Roll the steak and kidney in seasoned flour and fill the bowl with layers of meat, shallots and mushrooms.  Three-quarter fill with cold water, season with salt, pepper, Worcester sauce, tabasco and tomato puree.  Brush the top edge of the pudding with water.  Roll out the remaining pastry, lift it on the rolling pin and lay it over the pudding.  Press the edges together and trim off extra pastry.

Cover the top with loosely fitting foil or cloth, allowing space for the crust to rise.  Tie it in place with string and put into a large pan of boiling water which should come at least half way up the bowl  Boil, covered, for four to five hours, topping up with boiling water as necessary.

 

Alternately the bowl could be covered with a sturdy brown paper and tied with string, and a handle to rescue it from the boiling water when done.

 

 

And if the desire to make a beef steak and kidney pudding whilst out in the wilds, camping, here is a picture I found on Google to whet your imagination and your appetite.

 

 

Serve the pudding at the table, removing the kitchen foil and wrapping the

outside of the bowl in a clean cloth, fastened with a pin.  Cut the crust

with a spoon and savour the delicious aroma that puffs out with the steam.

 

Make an occasion of it - drama!!

 

For more Bs click here to visit ABCWednesday with

thanks to Roger, Denise and all the other cooks who stir the broth.....

 

Random, and sometimes frivolous thoughts, whilst listening to Bruckner

A week has passed since my adventure with the spot of ice and the orthopedic surgeon - I should be so lucky that he should be the one on emergency duty when I landed at the hospital, and have time to do the surgery on my wrist that very same day so that by midnight I was at home in my own bed!!!

I am now able to type, carefully, and play the piano, lightly, but my wrist is still irritable throughout the night, having trouble finding a restful place on the supporting pillow that allows it to pass the sleeping hours without pain. Hence my indolence during the day.

I spent the mid-day hours listening to Bruckner's 9th Symphony in D Minor as played by the Berlin Philharmoniker - live on its Digital concert hall.  I have not one moment's regret for the small amount of change it costs for a Season's ticket, paid monthly, especially when I consider the Archives that are available any time of the day or night that the desire for music overcomes one.

As I listened I watched as well, the trickle of people wandering back from intermission as the Cellos take their place before the orchestra reassembles for the anticipatory tuning up.

The conductor, my old friend Zetin Metha, somewhat greyer and his hair more subdued than when he was with the Three Tenors, but still with the old fire and charm even though his walk is more sedate as he appears to enthusiastic clapping.

The music begins and the musicians are all engrossed!! This is not the first time I have noticed how the clarinetist's eyebrows rise and fall in response to his emotional musical breaths. Nobody appears nonchalant, I think, as they whirl along with the music, -  or even in the quiet, intense parts.

Nor is it the first time I have noticed the sweetness of the violins in these quiet passages, and how lovely they are in contrast to the passion of the horns and trumpets.

I watch the distinguished flautist and wonder what he is like at home, - is he jolly?  Does he like his eggs soft boiled and his toast just so?  Is he just a mortal playing the music of fairyland, or is he Pan's cousin personified?

I remark to myself on the discreet pearl button earrings that the woman in the orchestra wear  and regret that I have lost one of my mother's small pearl earrings.

I see the surrounding instruments reflected on one of the very large horns,  making a rainbow on its silver surface.  I watch to catch sight of it again, but we are near the end of the program and I do not see it again.  In past times I would have asked Charles what the instrument would be, but now I have only to guess.  A sousaphone perhaps, do they have sousaphones in classical orchestras, or only in marching bands?

The concert is over and I go to the kitchen for a bowl of soup, bemused and still ringing with the wonderful music, full of gratitude.....and as I said, random and sometimes frivolous thoughts.

The letter is A

ABC Wednesday

The letter is A and we are off again on an alphabetical romp.

A is for agley as in 'the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley'  Robbie Burns

and I have slipped on the ice and shattered my right wrist so am using the poke and peck method for this small contribution to ABC Wednesday, and if you would like to see more click here to visit the site that Roger and Denise and all helpers maintain for fun and pleasure and All sorts of information.

Z is for Zest

ABC Wednesday

The letter is Z and the word is Zest

ZEST is one of the twenty-four strengths possessed by humanity -

a component of the virtue of courage.

 

ZEST is defined as living with a sense of excitement, anticipation and energy and involves acquiring the motivation to complete challenging tasks and cope with challenging situations.

 

ZEST is approaching life as an Adventure.

 

I have been familiar with Zest all my life, but haven't seen much of him in the last year or so.
 I would like to become intimate again, -
if you see Zest, please send him my way!!!!

Here we are at the end of the alphabet, -

who has the Zest to continue this great meme and start again at A, with thanks to Denise and Roger and all Zesty helpers!  Click here for more ZZZs

What's at my elbow

The Library has re-opened its doors, and all the stash that I brought home before Christmas to read and to watch during long winter evenings is due to be returned on Tuesday!  Or renewed if I can't bear to part unread or unwatched.......

That will apply to the books by Bruce Chatwin, - the current one I am reading (Songlines) being so tempting I daren't sit near it when I have other things that must be done.  I am reading it on recommendation from one of my sons who has recently immersed himself in Chatwin, and because of remembrance of the only other Chatwin I have read, many years ago, -"Utz" a novel of a man's passion for a collection of Meissen porcelain.

The Boston Globe reviewer calls this book 'a blend of travelogue, memoir, history, philosophy, science, meditation and commonplace book' and truly, it does contain all these ingredients, told in a  wry and intellectually wondrous way.  Chatwin compares the Aboriginal Songlines of Australia to the first two chapters of Genesis which describe the seven days of creation, - whereas the Australian Aboriginal culture believes the earth to be "sung" into existence, and the continent to be covered with a web of Dreaming Tracks.

The Ancients " sang their way all over the world.  They sang the rivers and ranges, salt-pans and sand dunes.  They hunted, ate, made love, danced, killed;  wherever their tracks led they left a trail of music.  They wrapped the whole world in a web of song;"

 

The Songlines of Australia

I am just now starting to read the second part of the book, which is entitled 'From the Notebooks" and as it begins it considers the appeal of the wanderers of the world, and their exhilarating contributions to our culture.  As a stay-at-home lady it opens my eyes!

"There is nothing better than a change of air in this malady {melancholia} than to wander up and down, as those Tartai Zalmohenses that live in hordes, and take the opportunity of times, places, seasons."  The Anatomy of Melancholy

"You cannot travel on the path before you have become the Path itself".   Gautama Buddha

"The Wayless Way, where the Sons of God lose themselves and, at the same time, find themselves".  Meister Eckhart

ahh - in the spring I will start walking, but the roads are too icy right now!!!

On my Kobo I have 'The God of Dirt - Mary Oliver and the Other Book of God' by Thomas W. Mann, a United Church minister who has been well indoctrinated with Emerging Church theology (?).  The book is a review of the poetry of Mary Oliver and a rather desperate attempt (well, I feel it is rather a desperate attempt, anyway) to gain support from the wonderful awareness of the poet and her poetry to bolster the Ecological aspects of the Emerging Church.  I guess I am of the 'everything in moderation' school .......

In the mail yesterday...."Many Miles", a CD of Mary Oliver reading Mary Oliver.  Oh, heaven!!!!

John O'Donohue: "Beannacht"

 

On this first day of the new year I offer yesterday's poem on the Meme 'A Year of Being Here'

 

"Beannacht" from To Bless the Space Between us;  A Book of Blessings. 

 

The poem is listed in the book as a blessing for the New Year, but was originally

written for his mother, Josie, on the death of his father.

 

On the day when

The weight deadens

On your shoulders

And you stumble,

May the clay dance

To balance you.

 

And when your eyes

Freeze behind

The grey window

And the ghost of loss

Gets in to you,

May the flock of colours,

Indigo, red, green,

And azure blue,

Come to awaken in you

A meadow of delight.

 

When the canvas frays

in the currach of thought

And the stain of ocean

Blackens beneath you,

May there come across the waters

A path of yellow moonlight

To bring you safely home.

 

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,

May the clarity of light be yours,

May the fluency of the ocean be yours,

May the protection of the ancestors be yours.

 

And so may a slow

Wind work these words

Of love around you,

An invisible cloak

To mind your life.

John O'Donohue recited this poem for Krista Tippett's On Being program shortly before his death in 2008.  Click here to hear the poet's reading, presented with a collage of images selected by his friends.  (from the Curator's notes in 'A Year of Being Here')

 

This is a vimeo video - if you don't belong to Vimeo it is free to download if you care to hear the poet's beautiful Irish brogue read these lovely comforting words.

Y is for Yesterday

ABC Wednesday
January 1st, 2014

The letter is Y - the word is Yesterday

Where all our memories lie.........

 

and so we

Cherish Yesterday

Live Today

Dream Tomorrow

 

 

 

for more Ys lean over and peek around the corner here

at what's been posted at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise,

and all their helpers.

A lighthearted morning

I devoted the morning to pure pleasure!

A lovely sleep-in (until 7.45)...

A lingering visit with my daughter over morning coffee....

A search through the DVDs I gathered together the last day the library was open before Christmas holidays, to get me through the long evenings, and the splendid discovery that I had included 'My Family and Other Animals' in the treasure trove....

 

At one time, when Gerald Durrell was writing his wonderful books, a number of them found places on my shelves and delighted me.  Through the years when we have moved and downsized and made the library shelves available to family, these great books have moved house also to other family homes and I had quite forgotten how hilarious and human they are.

I gathered my knitting together (more about that later) and sat down to watch, and soon lost myself in that pure pleasure I was talking about.   Christmas has not been particularly easy, and it was so wonderful to feel my spirits lighten.  When the show ended I found I had let my needles drop, and my knitting lay untended on my lap.  I sighed a happy sigh and got up to make yet one more turkey sandwich and think about Gerald Durrell and his life , and his amazing curiousity and devotion to the  bugs and the beetles and the birds and small animals.  I took my lunch to the computer room and googled the Durrells , and discovered that Gerald Durrell was born just three days after I was, on the 5th of January, 1925.  He was not as fortunate in the length of his life, but I read on reminding myself of the unique  and humane view he had of Zoos and the study of wildlife.  In comparing his writing career with that of his brother, Lawrence, he pointed out that Lawrence wrote for the love of writing, while Gerald wrote to raise money from the sale of his books to establish animal shelters and maintain them with the loving care he seemed to give to all creatures.

I remembered that at one time Lawrence Durrell's Alexandria Quartet had been in my library and that it has been a long time since I read it, so I ordered it from the library along with those Gerald Durrell books that they still have and that should make the winter pass more pleasantly....

About the knitting, - I am making mittens lined with wool fleece for the birthday of one of my sons who lives on the Chilcotin Plateau where the skies are blue in the winter and the sun shines brightly for a while, but where sometimes the temperature drops to wicked lows and unless, as he says, fingers are in bed with each other, keeping each other warm in woolen mittens, they get mighty cold. 

These should do the trick.  They are fiddly to knit, having to insert little puffs of fleece every three or four stitches on alternate rows,  but how delicious to bury one's hand amidst all that  soft, cosy  down!  I understand that after a while the fleece felts and they provide great protection from the cold.

 

I will finish the second mitten tomorrow and then see the Old Year out....

 

Hope we all slide through the New Year happily, and if

perchance we should run into bumps and ruts that

we have lots of spare resilience to see us through.....

 

God Bless.....

Reflections

 

 

The piano reflected in the midst of the snow covered cedar tree, where the little birds sleep

 

 

an angel, - a prism, - catches the light and is haloed in the night, outside

 

 

the candles, flamed down now to sweet stubs after glowing for two magical evenings

 

 

lighting the way for the angels

 

a nostalgic Christmas, anticipating a blithe New Year.

X for

ABC Wednesday

The letter is X and it stands for

 

which is the Greek symbol for Christ, being the upper case forms of the letter X (ch)

and P (r) in the Greek alphabet.

 

As far back as 1021 there are references in the Anglo Saxon Chronicle

where Christ was often written as Xp or Xt

 

and so this shortened form of Christmas (Xmas) is not as modern

as we might think, or a careless way of referring

to the birthday of the Christ child

(as in, ' U R a Holy Child)

but an ancient and historic symbol.

 

The figure above is called a laburnum, an amalgamation of the two Greek letters,

and is often used in Catholic, Protestant and Orthodox churches.

 

And even, it seems, it was used by Santa in this l910 Christmas card.....

 

 

I echo his wishes and send you all best wishes for happiness and Christmas blessings.

 

For more Merry X's click here to reach Roger and Denise and their helpful elves

at ABC Wednesday.

CHRISTMAS WINDOWS from AM&A's Buffalo, NY in Lancater 2008

ABC Wednesday

The letter is W for Christmas WINDOWS

A video of a lovely old fashioned Christmas Window above, but here below are some wonderful examples of more modern and sophisticated displays to delight and attract buyers to some of the large departmental stores in New York, London and Paris.

At Harrods, depicting the English Steam Train

 

and at Lord and Taylor's in New York

at Macy's

 and Tiffany's

 



a simple nativity scene that surely depicts

 

the true meaning of Christmas -

 

not sure if it is in any Christmas Window

 

but it would be a stunning reminder!

 



 

For more great interpretations of the letter W wander on over to ABC Wednesday, found here

With thanks to Roger, Denise and a host of wonderful helpers.

I wish you happiness at Christmas, - an abundance of joy!

Peace and many blessings.....

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is V

I am stretching a little by choosing Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and his quote from Faust, Part 1, but it has been one I cherished all my life and was in the first teen-age collection of poetry I gathered and sighed over, during the Second World War.....

 

If the whole world I once could see

on free soil stand, with the people free,

Then to that moment would I say

'linger awhile, so fair thou art'. 

 

always, so apropos

 

von Goethe, a German writer was born in August of 1749 and died in March of 1832

 

George Eliot called him 'Germany's greatest man of letters" and his works span

the fields of poetry, drama, literature, theology, humanism and science.

 

 

for more interesting takes on the letter V (or v)

visit here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Denise and Roger and, verily, all their helpers.

 

 

ABC Wednesday,
Dec. 4th, 2013

The letter is U, for Maurice Utrillo

 

Utrillo

 

b. 1883    d. 1955

 

On one of our trips through the alphabet I included paintings by

Utrillo's mother, Suzanne Valadon, who was taught and encouraged by Degas.

 

Her child, Maurice Valadon, whose paternity was never recognized,

became Maurice Utrillo when Miquel Utrillo, a friend of Suzannes, in a spirit of kindness

 bestowed upon him his own name.

 

Maurice was a highly neurotic child and by the time he was eighteen he was

committed to an asylum temporarily because of his alcoholism.   One of the doctors there

advised his mother to encourage him to take up painting as an emotional outlet

 to help him regain his equilibrium.

 

Despite many alcoholic relapses with self destructive tendencies,  through his lifetime

 Utrillo produced thousands of oils, gouaches, water colors and pencil sketches,

becoming a legendary figure who in 1929 was awarded the

 Cross of the Legion of Honour

by the French Republic.

 

Many regard him as the century's greatest painter of urban scenes, and recognize his genius.

 

"Above all, Utrillo has an eye for Montmartre, the old, picturesque and

relatively quiet artists' quarter as it existed before the First World War.  He is fascinated

by the sad little streets and miserable bistros of the industrial suburbs."

 

In his fifties Utrillo married the widow, Lucie Pauwels, who managed his

interests so ably that he was able to live in 'grand' style in Paris,

 and both she and his mother, Suzanne, are credited

with the peace, rather than tragedy, with which his life ended.

 

 

Find more representations of the letter U here, at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Denise and Roger and all others

who make this meme so Utterly Fascinating. 



This and that

December 1st, - White Rabbit Day,

 and when I woke at 3 a.m., early into the morning, I made my way to the ensuite all the while muttering, White Rabbits, White Rabbits!!!

And that's just what I feel like - a White Rabbit, hurrying Time, late for a very important date.......

I have oodles of baking to do this coming week for our tiny congregation

who are bravely holding their annual Christmas Bake Sale and

 'come for cookies and coffee on us'.

And for the Bell Choir who plan to distribute bell-shaped sugar cookies from white baskets at the Light-up Parade and Celebration this coming Friday.....

I offered to help decorate the Christmas Tree at Lodge (Tuesday morning)  in lieu of climbing ladders and putting up garlands - I do know my limitations!!!

Bell practice Monday and Thursday evenings, and in the meantime I am frantically playing triplets and arpeggios, trying to get the accompaniment to Helen's wonderful Bell solo up to speed.  "O Come O Come Emanuel" - beautiful, but I have a dreadful horror of missing a beat and coming in a bar behind the star, as we finish!!  Five concerts to play......

I think I am too old for all of this, - all I had really planned to do for Christmas was finish the digital album of Charles' life, to keep his sweet memory alive.
And now all this, and all that!!!!

 

Pray for me!

 

I am off now to add music to the digital album and immerse myself in

marvelous memories of younger days

when all this was a piece of cake!!

If you don't hear any more from me you will
know I have fallen down the rabbit hole -
or the 'memory hole'..........

ABC Wednesday
November 27th, 2013

The letter is T, for Three

To amuse and Tickle your fancy, here is a video of THREE German Shepherds in an English Pub.

 

 

 

When you are no longer amused, (it does go on a bit) click here

 

and make the Trek to ABC Wednesday, with thanks to Denise Nesbitt,

 

the originator of the Meme, and Roger Green who does

 

a Tremendous job maintaining it, with help from

 

Ten or Twelve who Travel the net to visit.

Stardust

ABC Wednesday

The letter is S - the subject is Stardust.....

 

 

and who better than Artie Shaw to play this Sentimental tune.

Heavenly to dance to.......

 

 

Enjoy!!!

 

For more splendid Ss visit here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Denise, Roger and

all their spiffy helpers.



Musings

A poem wherein I find comfort this day

 

I think sometimes of the possible glamour of death

that it might be wonderful to be

lost and happy inside the green grass -

or to be the green grass! -

or, maybe, the pink rose, or the blue iris,

or the affable daisy, or the twirled vine,

looping its way skyward - that it might be perfectly peaceful

to be the shining lake, or the hurrying, athletic river,

or the dark shoulders of the trees

where the thrush each evening weeps himself into an ecstasy.

 

I lie down in the fields of goldenrod, and everlasting,

Who could find me?

My thoughts simplify.  I have not done a thousand things

or a hundred things but, perhaps, a few.

As for wondering about answers that are not available except

in books, though in my childhood I was sent there

to find them,  I have learned

to leave all that behind

 

as in summer I take off my shoes and my socks,

my jacket, my hat, and go on

happier, through the fields.  The little sparrow

with the pink beak

calls out, over and over, so simply - not to me

but to the whole world.  All afternoon

I grow wiser, listening to him,

soft, small, nameless fellow at the top of some weed,

enjoying his life.  If you can sing, do it.  If not,

 

even silence can feel, to the world, like happiness,

like praise,

from the pool of shade you have found beside the everlasting.

 

Just Lying on the Grass at Blackwater

Mary Oliver (of course - the source of my comfort)

And in my mailbox this morning

What the Day Gives

Suddenly, sun.  Over my shoulder
in the middle of gray November
what I hoped to do comes back,
asking.

Across the street the fiery trees
hold onto their leaves,
red and gold in the final months
of this unfinished year,
they offer blazing riddles.

In the frozen fields of my life
there are no shortcuts to spring,
but stories of great birds in migration
carrying small ones on their backs,
predators flying next to warblers
they would, in a different season, eat.

Stunned by the astonishing mix in this uneasy world
that plunges in a single day from despair
to hope and back again, I commend my life
to Ruskin's difficult duty of delight,
and to that most beautiful form of courage,
to be happy.

Jeanne Lohmann

I am thankful for poets who put my thoughts into such beautiful words.....

Reflections and remembrance

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is R - for Reflection and Remembrance

 

Ginty's Pond, rippled and with a few faint reflections

 

 

and now, the sky has fallen into Ginty's pond - a clear reflection of the hills and clouds and

the buildings that surround it....

 

Remembrance Day, 2013 at Memorial Park in Keremeos

 

 

Reminiscing with an old friend

 

 

and recalling past Remembrance Days.


For more great Rs visit here at ABC Wednesday.