Up Dating

I have been waiting these last few months, poignantly,

waiting for Inspiration to come to call.

But she, it seems, has other fish to fry....

It has become apparent that unless I want Daybyday to fade away, - 

kept alive only by weekly posts to

ABC Wednesday,

then drastic action is called for.

Well, this is not really drastic action;

just a promise to myself to record each day

as it happens,

and no better time to start than NOW...

So what happened on this really beautiful autumn day!!!

The trees glowed, the sun shone and the sky was that brilliant blue
that only October indulges in.

While I had breakfast I poured over an old Handwoven  magazine
I had come across while making order out of chaos last week -
filing more than thirty years of Handwoven with my eye
cast out for an exciting new warp to put on the loom, -

there being only about fifteen inches left to weave
on that old warp which has clung to the loom now for almost a year.
The dummy warp wherein I chose to  tie three hundred or so
knots from it to the warp-before-it - thinking that I was
saving time threading through heddles and reed.

A lovely idea when you are young and lithe, but an eater up of
time and patience when your fingers have lost their dexterity.

I finished weaving the old warp;  just for a moment
Inspiration passed by and planted a seed....

As a consequence I am starting to wind the warp for a lacy silk scarf
with a gorgeous stash of fine silk I fell heir to many years ago
when a weaving friend died at 95.

After lunch I went to the church to set up the altar and the communion
for Eucharist tomorrow.
This time I remembered to take my music with me, and spent an hour
at the organ, whose stops were all askew and need fixing.

I don't have a lot of opportunities to play the organ any more.
Mainly funerals, where people ask for me especially.
Sometimes I wish the regular organist would share her duties with me,
but I know she believes she is lessening the burden
for an old lady!!!!

In my email today a sweet picture from a friend who hikes in the hills

reminded me of the Downy Woodpecker
that haunts the evergreens bordering my fenceline
and tap, tap, taps for bugs and slugs.

That's all for today!

Obernkitchen Children's Choir

ABC Wednesday
October 19th, 2016

The Letter is O for The OBERNKIRCHEN CHILDREN'S CHOIR

In Germany the Obernkirchen Children's Choir

is called

Schaumburger Marchensanger. 

translated as Schaumburger's Fairy Tale Singers.

The choir was founded by Edith Moller and Ema Pielsticker in 1949

for war orphans.

The choir received an invitation to participate

in the "international Eisteddfod" 

a choir competition in Llangollen, Wales.

They won first prize!

In 1953 a BBC radio broadcast of the choir's winning performance

of the song

Der frohliche Wanderer (The Happy Wanderer)

at the Llangollen International Musical Eisteddfod

turned the song into an instant hit.

It stayed on the UK Singles Chart for 

twenty-eight consecutive weeks.

They made two appearances on the Ed Sullivan Show 

in 1964 and 1966.

The choir still exists today 

with new generations of singers continuing the work of its pioneers

The Old Steam Train

recorded in 1974

and a more challenging piece of music

by Rossini

More fascinating Os here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie

and all their observant and obedient

helpers.....

Nigel Kennedy

ABC Wednesday
October 12  2016

The letter is N for Nigel Kennedy

Before David Garrett

there was Nigel Kennedy

and although both of them are fabulous violinists

I know each note of  Nigel Kennedy

and Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D Major

 (which I believe he recorded before 

he stopped for a period

making public appearances).

Anyway, I have had this CD for many long years

and the notes have wafted through the house

while I did dishes, made beds,

swept the floor, and all the other things 

home makers do....

at the same time I was listening to his marvelous recording

of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, which added to his fame and reputation.

Both Garrett and Kennedy are inclined to exotic clothing

and exotic hair styles, but their music is heavenly.

I found a Youtube recording that gives testament 

to Nigel Kennedy's versatility,

wherein Bach flows into Jazz...

Wonderful!!

But more poignant is this lovely

spine chilling rendition of

Danny Boy

More interesting Ns at ABC Wednesday, here, 

with thanks

to Roger, Denise, Leslie and their notable helpers.

M for Mariachi Music

ABC Wednesday
October 5th, 2016

The letter is M for Mariachi Music

Mariachi is a genre of music that originated

in the State of Jalisco, 

in Western Mexico.

It is an integration of stringed instruments influenced by the cultural impacts
 of the historical development of Western Mexico, and throughout the history
of mariachi musicians have experimented with
brass, wind and percussion instruments.

The Mariachi ensemble generally consists of violins, trumpets, a
classical guitar, a vihueta (high pitched five string guitar)
a guitarron (large acoustic bass) and sometimes a harp or two.

The original Mariachi were street musicians, or buskers.

Now they dress in silver studded charro outfits with wide brimmed hats and many
are professional entertainers doing paid gigs.

The term "Mariachi" is said to be an adaption of the French word for marriage
as this type of musical formation used to play at such events.

Here is a stirring example of this music that
has become emblematic of Mexican music...

 

For more interesting Ms muscle your way over to
ABC Wednesday, here, 
with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie
and all musical helpers.

The First of October

The days grow shorter....

It is dark when I waken and I am tempted to turn and snuggle in the warmth of the bed, until I think of Bruce's bladder, and up I rise, calling to him to come and greet the day.  He's a sweet dog, and wakes with a smile and great enthusiasm as he lifts his leg!!!

The garden is toying with the idea of slumber, but you know how it is, preparing to go to bed.  It doesn't all happen at once, and so we are spending pleasant hours outside these days, Callie and Bruce and I, dead-heading, gathering up barrow loads of compost material, saving seeds of the nicotiana and finding a spot for the potted foxgloves that didn't bloom this year, but surely will next summer.

I am making a pot pourri of garden herbs, drying them slowly and then sieving them as needed.

In the meantime the garden goes about its business - the fall flowers bloom profusely.  Especially the asters whose blossoms swarm with bees when they open to the sunshine in the morning...

I am continually snipping off yellow daisies who have done their thing, and now grow old and dry and withered as old things (and people) are wont to do.....  The blooms that take their place are smaller, but never ending.....

The lilies and the peonies have donned their autumn colours....

but look - the honeysuckle is in bloom again...

and at irregular intervals the lovely chinese lantern

marks the spot where the chinese rail line has 

established a station....

Mister Lincoln has raised his stove pipe hat and seven feet in the air

three rich red blossoms start to open against the blue of the sky.

Callie sits on the stump of the pussy willow tree that was taking over the garden,

looking through the cutch grass that grows just outside our fence. -

probably not as frustrated as I am inclined to be -

too interested in the neighbourhood kitties that wander down the lane.

The sedum and the chrysanthemums are saving themselves for October, when

the trees turn golden and scarlet and bronze

and the sky a brilliant blue.

Soon, soon, soon I must take a trip to Cawston and to Ginty's pond...

Maybe tomorrow!

The Loon

ABC Wednesday
September 28th, 2016

The letter is L for Loon

The Loon

Not quite four a.m. when the rapture of being alive

strikes me from sleep, and I rise

from the comfortable bed and go

to another room, where my books are lined up

in their neat and colourful rows.  How

magical they are!  I choose one

and open it.  Soon

I have wandered in over the waves of the words

to the temple of thought.

And then I hear

outside, over the actual waves, the small,

perfect voice of the loon.  He is also awake,

and with his heavy head uplifted he calls out to the fading moon, to the pink flush

swelling in the east that, soon,

will become the long, reasonable day.

Inside the house

it is still dark, except for the pool of lamplight

in which I am sitting.

I do not close the book.

Neither, for a long while, do I read on.

Mary Oliver

or this......

The Loon on Oak-Head Pond

cries for three days, in the gray mist

cries for the north that it hopes it can find

plunges, and comes up with a slapping pickerel,

blinks its red eye

cries again

you come every afternoon and wait to hear it,

you sit a long time, quiet, under the thick pines,

in the silence that follows,

as though it were your own twilight, 

as though it were your own vanishing song.

Mary Oliver,  (again)

For more great Ls visit here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie

and their lovely helpers.

K is for Kingfisher

ABC Wednesday
September 21st, 2016

The letter is K for Kingfisher

The Kingfisher

The kingfisher rises out of the black wave

like a blue flower.  In his beak

he carries a silver leaf.  I think this is

the prettiest world - so long as you don't mind

a little dying.  How could there be a day in your

whole life

that doesn't have its splash of happiness?

There are more fish than there are leaves

on a thousand trees, and anyway, the kingfisher

wasn't born to think about it, or anything else.

When the wave snaps shut over his blue head, the

water

remains water - hunger is the only story

he has ever heard in his life that he could

believe.

I don't say he's right.  Neither

do I say he's wrong.  Religiously he swallows the

silver leaf

with its broken red river, and with a rough and

easy cry

I couldn't rouse out of my thoughtful body

if my life depended on it, he swings back

over the bright sea to do the same thing, to do it

(as I long to do something, anything) perfectly.

Mary Oliver

For more interesting Ks click here to visit

ABC Wednesday

with many thanks to

Roger, Denise, Leslie

and all keen helpers. 

J is for Jewels.

ABC Wednesday
September 14, 2016

The letter is J for Jewels

And here is a pretty, romantic poem by Sara Teasdale, entitled "Jewels"

If I should see your eyes again,
I know how far their look would go --
BAck to a morning in the park
With sapphire shadows on the snow.

OR back to oak trees in the spring
WHen you unloosed my hair and kissed
The head that lay against your knees
In the leaf ahadow's amethyst,

And still another shining place
We would remember - how the dun
Wild mountain held us on its crest
One diamond morning white with sun.

But I will turn my eyes from you
As women turn to put away
The jewels they have worn at night
And cannot wear in sober day

For more Js click Here to visit ABC Wednesday,
with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie
And all their Jolly helpers

Irish Music

ABC Wednesday
September 7th, 2016

The Letter is I for Ireland

and here is a little Irish Music to set your toes a-tapping

more interesting takes on the letter I here

at ABC Wednesday, 

with thanks to Roger, Denise, Leslie 

and all irrepressible helpers

Hello September!!!

.....and welcome!!!

April might be wet and moody, and the summer months can leave you

gasping with the heat

but when did September ever let you down????

Such a wonderful month..

full of energy and enthusiasm and new beginnings...

During the school lunch years (and they were many with our

six children stretched out over sixteen years)

when I was making sandwiches, baking chocolate cakes

and cookies, how I yearned to pack up a lunch

for myself, and join them in the learning experience.

Eventually I did go back to College

but in the meantime September was like New Years,

full of good intentions and

wonderful projects to tackle.

And the colours, the harvest, the mellowness,

the gentle descent into sleep

that was going on in the gardens and

throughout the countryside.,

I loved it then and I love it still.

A few pictures of the countryside in the Autumn

Not this year's pictures - many of them taken on those wonderful
picture taking drives that Charles and I indulged in
when everything was particularly beautiful....

ABC Wednesday
The letter is H for William Ernest Henley

1849-1903

Probably known best for his poem "Invictus"

which reflects his resilient struggle with the deadly disease,

tuberculosis of the bone.

"I am and Master of my fate

I am the Captain of my Soul"

Henley lost his left leg below the knee when he was in his teens.

In 1873 his other leg was affected by tuberculosis

but thanks to the innovative treatment of Dr. Joseph Lister it

was not amputated.  

Henley stayed almost two years under Dr. Lister's care

and during this time he turned to writing poetry 

about his hospital experiences.

These poems are probably the most interesting of all for the present day reader,

as they depart from the traditional themes and imagery

of Victoria poetry and have an affinity in form

with Gerald Manley Hopkins and T.S. Eliot.

'In spite of his illness Henley was a strong and sociable man with boundless energy, 

excellent memory, enthusiasm and versatile mind.'

As much as I admire his poem Invictus

probably my favourite Henley poem is

"O Gather Me the Rose"

lovely words with a gentle admonishment

to gather joy as we find it and whenever we can.

O gather me the rose, the rose,

While yet in flower we find it

For summer smiles, but summer goes,

And winter waits behind it.

For with the dream foregone, foregone,

The deed foreborn forever,

The worm Regret will canker on,

And time will turn him never.

So were it well to love, my love,

And cheat of any laughter

The fate beneath us, and above,

The dark before and after.

The myrtle and the rose, the rose,

The sunshine and the swallow

The dream that comes, the wish that goes

The memories that follow!

William Ernest Henley fell from a railway carriage in 1902

and the accident caused the latent tuberculosis germ

to awaken.  He died on he 11th of July, 1903, a the age of 53.

For more interesting Hs visit here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks for Roger, Denise and Leslie

and all Helpers