Not that it is getting on in the evening - I have really just finished dinner, but had a session in the garden this aftenoon and all that fresh air and battling with the cutch grass has left me a little weary, a little sleepy.
And the book I am reading is long (667 pages) and the print is very small. The Los Angeles times says in its review "that it is actually possible to live within it for the brief time one spends with this book. You may never leave the chair." I find that very hard to believe,
but the words are encouraging, if far-fetched....
I am at Chapter 18, page 231 and I have to confess to being gripped by this story Abraham Verghese tells, about twin boys born in Ethiopia to a Sister, who dies in childbirth, and a surgeon who is so wrought up he disappears and has not yet re-appeared in the pages I have read. I could tell you all the wonderful words the many reviewers have written, but all I shall say is that I find it to be an amazing, imaginative, generous story. And I guess I could say compelling, as well.
The name is "Cutting for Stone".
Abraham Verghese is Professor and Senior Associate Chair for the Theory and Practice of Medicine at the Stanford University School of Medicine and the founding director of the Centre for Medical Humanities and Ethics at the University of Texas Health Science Centre. Also an exhilarating writer.
I am reading this book for the Library Book Club, and luckily have another
couple of weeks to finish it.
I hurried along at the end with the last one, too ...."It's all true, no lies here" ....a story about Daniel Boone that possibly contained some of the myth that surrounds this American pioneer hero.
In the meantime. Alexander McCall Smith's latest book has arrived "My Italian Bulldozer". I have a little stack waiting to be read, - Joanna Trollope's "Girl from the South", Emma Donoghue's "Frog Music; and Kate Atkinson's "Behind the Scenes at the Museum"has been hanging around, waiting patiently, for ages.
I was rash enough to pick up "spill simmer falter wither" by Sara Baume at the library the other day, being so fascinated by the title!!!
Ah well, - too much going on in the garden and at the loom for me to get a lot of reading done. There are rainy days coming up and I can't spend all day throwing the shuttle back and forth, so perhaps I will ignore the housework and immerse myself in all this fine print!
Look for me in the big chair, underneath the lamplight, with my reading glasses
While leafing through the last edition of the magazine "Handwoven" looking for something which would reinforce my thoughts on using a fine white linen as warp for a silk weft, - (both yarns that languish in the top drawer of my left-overs), I came to the last page, "Endnotes".
The article, by Benjamin Krudwig, tells how he was originally drawn to be a weaver, based on the official reason and "one that covers the deeper question of why I started" weaving.
"There is also a metaphorical reason why I love weaving.
It is one of the greatest metaphors for life.
We create this beautiful and unique piece of art called life, seemingly out of nothing -
weaving relationships, experiences, and stories into a fabric
that when viewed as a whole, becomes something.
We are stronger together than we are apart,
and each of us is an integral part of this world, this community, and this life.
Each thread gives character to the entire fabric."
It is an ancient metaphor... many have compared weaving to life.
some in more poetic words,
but this young man is only in his twenties
and his words did give my spirit a lift.....
Ancient picture of Greek Ladies weaving a tapestry
I have been "looming" (WEAVING) on a loom like this for a long, long time and as a consequence have gathered an incredible amount of wool, which sometimes wakens me in the night with thoughts of whatever will I do with all that yarn!!!!
Well, here is what I did recently with a very small portion of my stash!!!
I gathered a little pile of balls together, - chose three or four whose colours cosied up to one another and plied them through the Indian Head spinner, - then went back and chose some more, and then some more... until I had enough to create a happy warp.
I closed the LOOM room door so Callie the cat couldn't come in to assist me, - wound the warp, beamed it on the LOOM, threaded and sleyed the ends, and started to weave.
Callie and I (she sits beside me on the LOOM bench) finished off the warp in grand style, removed it from the LOOM and had that piece of fabric in the lower left corner of the picture, which Callie is inspecting for errors and places that need ends clipped and tucked!!!
Time to do the finishing bit, - washing and pressing and a little brushing!
By this time I was getting quite weary, but the light in the tunnel at the end sped me on, and we finished just before a late supper.......
I am quite pleased, and have in my mind great plans for a couple of cones of linen and a few half balls of silk to make a pretty summer scarf.....
I love my LOOM - Callie loves my LOOM, - and who knows, someday I may get my lovely 8 shaft countermarche set up somewhere and weave on it to my heart's content!!
It is generally thought that the Jelly Bean first surfaced when a Boston confectioner, William Schrafft urged people to send jelly beans to soldiers during the American Civil War.
That would be about the time my Loyalist ancestors came to Canada
but I doubt if they brought the Jelly Bean with them.
Today most historians believe that the jelly bean was first linked with the celebration of Easter sometime in the 1930'.
Who hasn't made a little nest of green confetti paper
to hold these sweet delicacies which they are going
to hide in the garden under the pretext that the Easter Bunny
left them there for the children in the house?
The Jelly Bean comes in a myriad of colours and flavours.
Even the Harry Potter series is available on the market...
including flavours such as earwax, dirt, and pepper, -
we would hope these are only names, and the actual flavours
are delicious and fruit based.
But who knows????
The Jelly Bean has also slang connotations.
In the electronics industry a "jelly bean" component is one which is widely
available, used generically in many applications, and has no very unusual
characteristics (Mr. Google told me this...)
In the United States in the 1910s and 1920s a "Jellybean"
was a young man who dressed stylishly to attract women,
but had little else to recommend him!
Mr. Google told me this, too.......
Jimmie Dupre, Sam Rosen and Joe Verges wrote a song
"Jelly Bean He's a Curbstone Cutie)
published by Universal Music Publishers
in the 1920s
and made popular in the 1940s by Phil Harris.
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F. Scott Fitzgerald and William Faulkner's both wrote about such a character,
As the Cheshire cat is purported to have said to Alice,
"if you don't know where you're going, any road will do"
I have been travelling along this dusty trail for the last few years..
the one that admonishes me to use up all my yarns, - cottons, wools, silks, - and all those silk blouses that I saved to cut into wonderful rainbow strips. It has been a heavy load.....and I have stuck to it with Puritan diligence.
I have fashioned scarves and tea towels and mats, all the while contriving to use leftover bits and pieces from projects in my heyday of weaving. At first it was a challenge, but now the range of yarns is not so inviting and the cotton warp is almost gone....
When yesterday, (as I was scrolling on the internet and as I came across the opportunity to buy the most inviting weaving kits) I had a strange reaction. A little bit of rebellion mixed with a great longing to scrap all the leftovers and make something brand new and beautiful, - gorgeous tea towels, - lovely silken scarves, - some bamboo yarn and other exotic bits of weaving material.
If, as some of my children attest, there is a possibility (not probability) that I might live to be a hundred, then am I going to follow along the same old trail, using up the leavings of the past? I was going to say 'dregs' but the past was really quite wonderful and what is left of it cannot be referred to in that manner.
Or am I going to make a right turn at the next leafy tree and follow the path lined with all these exciting new yarns and projects that have caught my eye(s), opened them wide, so that they see clearly a few years of perfectly harmonious activity in the Loom Room and lots of Christmas and Birthday gifts.
Well, what would you do??
Exactly, and that's just what I am going to do too!!!!
Someone at the Bargain Centre is going to love all the yarns I am going to pack in a wicker basket, maybe with some knitting needles and magazines!!!
The sun shone yesterday and I pooh-poohed the weatherman's sly allusion to "maybe a small skiff of snow overnight", but when I woke and opened the door for Bruce's early morning foray in the garden I was dismayed to see a brand new white coverlet snugged up in the garden, and up and down the apron to the garage (which, alas, contained no car - it was out the front all frosted up).
A few years ago I would have thought nothing of this situation, but today it caused a little stir - car cleaned of snow, or a walk with cane!!!! Only a half a block to church.....
I walked. It was delightful. Not cold, nice conversation with neighbours cleaning their walkways. And by the time I came home the sun was shining again!
We are just a Worshipping Community here in what was once a thriving parish, and we rely on visiting and often retired clergy. Our minister today was an old, old friend. He came to our parish in the early 1950s when he was just graduating from seminary, and when I was young and involved with the Sunday School. After a few years he went on with his career in other places, and Charles and I stayed here and farmed and continued at St. John's. But when we all grew older and retired he came back to help us in our hour of need!!! And he is so comfortable and his services so familiar and enduring....
We are on the cusp of Lent - Ash Wednesday on the 1st of March. The gospel for today was from Matthew, and the Psalm a small Stone of Wisdom.
I still my soul and keep it quiet, like a child upon its mother's breast
O Lord, I am not proud; I have no haughty looks.
I do not occupy myself with great matters, or with things that are too hard for me,
But I still my soul and make it quiet, like a child upon its mother's breast; my soul is quiet within me.
And the Matthew gospel was all about the lilies of the field and the birds of the air
and the faith that we require to avoid the anxiety and the worry about what we will drink, what we will eat, what we will wear, what will be our place, here on earth, tomorrow and in the future."so do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today"
Did you know that anxiety and worry affect our longevity, and that faith and trust will add days and months and years to this wonderful experience of being alive on this earth????
Day by day, - one day at a time!
I am reminded that the stillness, the faith and the trust, - and the humility - are all part of this struggle I have with the Ego!!!
Oh, this getting old is so complex. I have a book called "Lasting Words" - A guide to finding meaning toward the close of life". When I first dipped into it I was too active to absorb the admonishment to relax and meditate, but now I think I am more resigned to making room for a little stillness.
One of the most original Danes of the 20th century he was a many-sided man in the best sense.
An author, philosopher, mathematician, designer, scientist, game inventor, as well as the creator
of a new form of poetry he called "Grook".
In his philosophical writings he asserted that the great cultural divide in society was not between the haves and the have-nots, but between the knows and the know-nots - and to myself I whispered "yes, yes, yes".
"Piet Hein wrote over 10,000 grooks, most in Danish or English and published in more than sixty books....His grooks first started to appear in the daily newspaper "Politiken' in April 1940 - shortly after the Nazi occupation and under the Old Norse pseudonum "Kumbel" meaning "tombstone" Grooks are small aphoristic verses characterized by irony, paradox, brevity, precise use of the language, sophisticated rhythms and rhymes, revealing in a minimum of words and with a minimum of lines some basic truth about the human condition."
Here are a few examples to wet your appetite.......
T.T.T. The Road to Wisdom
Put up in a place The road to wisdom?
where it's easy to see Well it's plain to see
the cryptic admonishment and simple to express
T.T.T. err
and err
When you feel how depressingly and err again
slowly you climb but less
it's well to remember that and less
Things Take Time and less
On Problems
Our choicest plans
have fallen through,
our airiest castles
tumbled over,
because of lines
we neatly drew
and later neatly
stumbled over.
Today I really like this one, the February sun being loathe to appear......
The clouds are skirting the bottom of the hills and the sky is overcast and dour. A little while ago I saw a very small patch of blue (enough to make a sailor a pair of pants, as my grandmother would say) edged in a little reflected light from the sun that lurks behind, and shines on the higher hills.
The forecast is for more of the same, - perhaps even a little snow. But February is almost as fickle as April, and one never knows what she will cast down for us to cope with or enjoy.
I went to Penticton on Friday, and on the way home the setting sun made vision impossible - shining in the eyes and obliterating the road.
I went to Penticton with third son and his dear wife to attend the funeral of what would have been my oldest living friend. A very beautiful Celebration of Life, Anglican style. With a few little modern additions much appreciated by the non-church-goers. The Presider sang a lovely song. with guitar accompaniment, and my friend's granddaughter played a beautiful farewell lament on her violin, as well as an enchanting dance tune, for Granny. The grandchildren did readings and prayers. The church was full. On her 90th birthday the Arts community in Penticton paid her tribute for her years of creative contribution, both in painting and encouragement to younger painters.
Charles started Grade One with Jill. I met her soon after we were married, in 1947. After her husband entered the Ministry he was at St. John's for almost ten years, and in that time a friendship for life was cemented and grew stronger and dearer.
our last lunch together - ladies with canes.....
As I took part in the old familiar service I noticed that many of the congregation participated more as spectators, and I guess it is rather a drama in some ways.
But sometimes I think that those who are not familiar with the church, - who maybe left her to go their own ways after Sunday School age, - who maybe have a slight disdain for the intellect of the people who they think believe in the "Sunday School God", (Old Man with Beard recording misdeeds) - sometimes I think that they don't realize most church-goers have advanced beyond that view and have a more mature and sophisticated image of Life and Spirituality, and "God". And that their Services are a reminder of the morality and mysticism, of a human realization that this is probably only part of our journey......
Anyway, it was a fond and loving farewell. And I like to think that Charles was there beside me, saying his adieu (and welcome?), to a friend who was dear to him too. So few left. I can count them on one hand!!
The dear old priest who gave the homily ended with the analogy of death, as a sailboat setting off from shore; the friends and loved ones watching as it fades from view in the distance; and the friends and loved ones on the other side, waving their welcome when it comes into sight.
Comforting.....thoughts of Tennyson and Crossing the Bar passed through my mind - " Sunset and evening star/ and one clear call for me/ and may there be no moaning of the bar/ when I put out to sea......
I see a bigger patch of blue, above me, - and the clouds are billowing white in favoured places where the reluctant sun hides but sends a few rays to illuminate and tease.
I go to play the ukulele this afternoon, - how we who are left amuse ourselves, looking for pieces with easy familiar chords and tunes that echo our youth..... I found that the Chattanooga Choo Choo
is something I can manage quite nicely!!
I am glad to report that my ego is subsiding!! And what a comfortable feeling that engenders....
It appears that things that I thought (at one time) only I was capable of doing properly and creatively are being competently and creatively accomplished by others, with ease and aplomb!!! How arrogant my ego must have been, (she said, shamefacedly).
I now find it is amazingly wonderful to accept this epiphany quite humbly, and to relax into lovely old age, content to read and knit and weave and muse and listen to music. I have even gone back to a 'cleaning lady' - in my case a sweet daughter-in-law, - and a son-in-law who keeps the snow at bay and the lawns trim and neat.
What does all this mean? Have I turned a corner and am I now ambling contentedly along the grassy path that stretches out deliciously into the future, and ends in the 'next adventure'.
Before I was REALLY old I used to keep this poem on my fridge door to remind myself of the pits the years might lead me to stumble in to.
"Lord, thou knowest better than myself that I am growing older and will soon be old. Keep me from becoming too talkative, and especially from the unfortunate habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject and at every opportunity.
Release me from the idea that I must straighten out other people's affairs. With my immense treasure of experience and wisdom it seems a pity not to let everybody partake of it. But thou knowest, Lord,that in the end I will need a few friends.
Keep me from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point.
Grant me the patience to listen to the complaints of others; help me to endure them with charity.
But seal my lips on my own aches and pains - they increase with the increasing years and my inclination to recount them is also increasing.
I will not ask thee for improved memory, only for a little more humility and less self-assurance when my own memory doesn't agree with that of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong....
Keep me reasonably gentle. I do not have the ambition to become a saint - it is so hard to live with some of them - but a harsh old person is one of the devil's masterpieces.
Make me sympathetic without being sentimental, helpful but not bossy. Let me discover merits where I had not expected them, and talents in people whom I had not thought to possess any. And Lord, give me the grace to tell them so. Amen'
But that was in the days before I got ancient. The days before I became so irked at the necessity of having to scroll down dreadfully far on my computer screen to fill out online forms with my year of birth.....
I am seriously thinking of giving up meetings where I have to read the minutes to know what has evolved, - especially the meeting for organizations where I pass myself off as a Secretary!!
It is so sweet when the little ones lisp, I am almost three...... not so adorable when one has to admit that they are almost ninety-three! But it does elicit a gasp of what? Surprise? Sympathy? A lessening of expectations?
Still, I am so glad to be rid of that dratted ego that sent me on so many wild goose chases!!!!
I have a vague feeling (not unusual these days) that I may have posted on this subject before, but there! I am quite used to repeating myself.....
"The older I get the less I know. It's wonderful - it makes the world so spacious."
ABC Wednesday
February 8th, 2017
The letter is E for Elephant
Here is a little offering to celebrate the elephant
in nonsense verse
Eletelephony
Once there was an elephant,
who tried to use the telephant -
No! no! I mean the elephone
Who tried to use the telephone -
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it write.)
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee -
(I fear I'd better drop the song
of elephop and telephong!)
Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards
Laura Richards was an American writer of the late 19th century
who published more than ninety books, and was best known for the nonsense poems
she created for children.
Laura Richard's father was Samuel Gridlely Howe, who ran the
Perkins Institute for the Blind
where Helen Keller and Laura Bridgman were educated.
Her mother, Julia Ward Howe,
wrote the words to the famous song
"The Battle Hymn of the Republic"
When Laura Richards grew up she and her sister
wrote a biography of their mother
that won a Pulitzer prize.
One of Richard's best books of nonsense poetry is called Tirra Lirra.
The poems use techniques like rhythm, alliteration
and startling imagery
to tell an imaginative story. and they are downloadable....... More great Es at ABC Wednesdayhere with many thanks to all who maintain this great meme.. in the past, in the present and in the future.
