Swan Lake (Part 7)

Sunday Evening
October 15th, 2017

This afternoon I watched 

Anthony Dowell's legendary production of Swan Lake, 

which includes designs inspired by Imperial Russia of 1895, 

when the ballet was first performed.

A few weeks ago I watched Swan Lake

 as performed by a

 less dramaticaly costumed company.

Very beautiful

 but lacking the verve 

which you will see if you watch the video above!

Sorry for the poor quality of the video, 

but even with the little flashing interruptions

 I found this fun to watch....

This is part 7 of the production..

Youtube has videos of the rest of this production

of Swan Lake

(in small portions)

which you might be enticed to watch

if you are a ballet fan.....

If not, perhaps you love children dancing???

Along with Tchaikovsky's beautiful music

.

The garden in October

October 13th, 2017

I had meant to post this earlier.

The title of this poem is

October 10th

and it describes so beautifully

the little jungle out the back,

we call the garden.

Now constantly there is the sound,

quieter than rain,

of the leaves falling.

Under their loosening bright

gold, the sycamore limbs

bleach whiter.

Now the only flowers

are beeweed and aster, spray

of their white and lavender

over the brown leaves.

The calling of a crow sounds

loud - a landmark - now

that the life of summer falls

silent, and the nights grow.

Wendell Berry

I have just come in from walking with Bruce 

in the quickening dusk of autumn.

Reading Wendell Berry I am reminded

of our early days farming,

and the part Louis Bromfield played

in our philosophy of farming,

and his influence on us

in establishing a flock of sheep

in the orchard.

An early Wendell Berry.

I search the shelves for his 'Malibar Farms"

but it seems to have disappeared

(probably on the shelves of one of the children)

and I have to be content with his novel

'Early Autumn'

It takes me back.

and the memories are so good....

Ogden Nash and his search for his Noumenon

ABC Wednesday
October 11th, 2017

The letter is N for Nash and Noumenon

Ogden Nash, 1902-1971

1. A writer of droll and humourous verse

with unconventional rhyming

and spelling.

Regarded with great respect by the Literary Establishment!

A collection of his books have been on my shelves

since the mid forties...

and in the one entitled "Good Intentions"

is this verse.

"Has anybody seen my Noumenon"

There is one point which I am more than human on,

And that's a noumenon.

On due reflection we are apt to find

That it is noumenons which lead us to believe that just this once

two pairs will beat three of a kind.

It is noumenons which whisper to our heart

that our futures will be better than our yores

And noumenons which encourage us to laugh off

the black clouds in the west and go ahead

and move the supper table out of doors.

It is noumenons which convince you that you can meet

the next tax installment without have set aside

the sum that is requisite,

And noumenons which stir the fancy that M. Lavel

may someday reject an order from Berlin with a cry

of "Ze hequisite."

It is noumenons which, if you have no excuse

for flouting natural laws, they supply it,

Such as kindlng the hope that you can remain trim

and lissome at forty without the nuisance

of exercise or diet,

So now I shall go out and consume a hearty lunch,

but I know I shall remain trim and lissome in spite of it,

because I have a strong noumenon,

or overwhelming hunch."

Which brings us to the point where we must define a noumenon

Ogden Nash interpretation

* an object known only by intuition,

apart from any evidence of the senses.

In other words,  existence without sense or perception

can't see, can't touch

KANT explains all this in his philosophy

but I think I go with Nash

"an overwhelming hunch"

easier than trying to interpret Kant

More Ns here at ABC Wednesday

enjoy, with thanks to those who maintain ABC

October 6th, 2017

Early in the Garden

I do rise early

partly because by six o'clock my knees are whining and whingeing 

and begging to be up and moving, 

and partly because I know Bruce has one ear cocked

 and is about to clatter down the hallway, 

waiting to go out and greet the morning.

This morning was no exception.

It was dusky when we first arose

but by the time

I had pressed the button on the coffee maker

daylight was brightening

and soon the air was suffused

with a most beautiful rosy glow.

Bruce bounded out to greet the day...

I went more sedately with my ipad....

both of us glad to be out and about!

The garden was quiet 

with the lovely early morning stillness

autumn brings.

I took some pictures,

and some of them so delighted me I have them

in my header, up above.

Here are a few more...

and in the house a whole day of weaving awaited me....

Life is good!!

ABC Wednesday
October 4th, 2017

The letter is M for Mother

Dorothy Emily Grace

February 16th, 1902 - October 4th, 1957

A beloved and endearing inspiration

for whom I have an enduring love

Her favourite song

Her cross was the illness and pain
that she bore to the end of her life
with the utmost grace and patience.
She was renowned for her cheerfulness and understanding!
Best Mum ever......

I remember her with deepest love on the 60th anniversary of her death.

More Ms here at ABC Wednesday.....

Embracing Autumn

September 30th, 2017

I waken to a cool, quiet morning.  Dawn is just breaking and as I open the door to the garden, and Bruce rushes by me, I look to the East and see faint wisps of clouds.

The last day of September, - how could this beautiful month possibly have sped by so quickly, - I just see the last of the White Rabbit's tail disappearing over the hills to the West, and here he is again,  advancing from the East with his gift of luck for October to those who acknowledge him....

September days fade into memory, but autumn is still with us....poignant October is really the month when the Similkameen becomes glorious with fall colours

but up in the Chilcotin the days are getting frosty

and the leaves and grasses are incredibly beautiful.

Number Two Son captures these magnificent photos

of the meadow and the country side,

 ablaze with brilliant blue skies and shimmering golden shrubs and grasses.

Besides the beauty they are eternally grateful

that the Meadow was bypassed by the ferocious fires

that left so many bereft.....of homes, and trees, and forests....

 

Two lovely poems by Sarah Teasdale

"Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,

Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing.

Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,

Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples,

The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence

Under a moon waning and worn, broken,

Tired with summer."

and also

"The leaves fall patiently

Nothing remembers or grieves,

The river takes to the sea

The yellow drift of leaves.

Tomorrow we will greet sweet October who carries us through 

to the sorrows of November.....

Bittersweet October

The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause 

between the opposing miseries of

Summer and Winter

Carol Bishop Hipps

Out in the garden the Chrysanthemums are still budding,

but the Asters are glorious in the sunshine,

full of bees.

and the Sedums...

William Cowper says "Gardening imparts an organic perspective

on the passage of Time."

True - but today I am looking ahead and threading the loom....

and preparing to welcome the White Rabbit after midnight....

Lang Lang

ABC Wednesday
September 27th, 2017

The letter is L 

for Lang Lang 

playing Liebestraum by Liszt

at a Nobel Prize Concert in 2010

thanks to all who maintain

this meme.....

more Ls here for your enjoyment.

Sunday afternoon
September 24th, 2017

Today a sweet great granddaughter celebrates her second birthday, but I am home nursing an arthritic knee which was not in a party mode and got that way after a water skiing injury, some forty years ago.  Nevertheless, it causes raised eyebrows when I answer inquiries about the source of lameness in my knee with a casual "a water skiing accident".  At 92......seriously!!!!!

Nevertheless I am sorry to miss sweet Olivia's birthday party.....  I know it will be a fun affair

with all sorts of little ones, their Moms and Dads and probably

grandparents. balloons, party snacks and birthday cake.  Ah well...




It behooves me to think that little ones birthdays parties are made

for great grandparents to just pop in with hugs and kisses and presents,

and then to quietly disappear!!!




I was up early this morning (as I am most mornings so Bruce can run out to the garden for his usual morning visit). It gives me time for a leisurely breakfast, and while I enjoyed my second cup of coffee I took down from the bookshelf one of the volumes of my Blog, circa 2008.

Shortly after I began to write I realized this blog was really a journal, and considering future years when memories would likely be important, and at family urging, I started to have it published by Blog2U,

Well, leafing through this particular book, recording this particular year, I realized that life, and my writings about it, have become sparse and scanty in comparison to the rich happiness within the pages written while my dearest one was still alive and sharing...

Sometimes I am so desperately lonely for him, despite all the kindnesses of children and family.

I am so desperately lonely for him, and yet at the same time, as I read about the days we lived together, I am so very grateful for those times, and the opportunity to remember them, smiling and full of gratitude.  They become alive again, - our conversations, our photo drives in the country side, someone dear to have breakfast with, and I think how lucky we were!!

To add to the poignancy, while arranging my hair as I prepared for church, I caught the faintest glimpse of my mother in the mirror........it is one of those days when the veil between time and eternity thins to gossamer,  that veil between the present and the past.  A day to be treasured....

Ted Kooster Poet Laureate

ABC Wednesday
September 20th, 2017

The letter is K for Ted Kooster

Ted Kooster was born on April 25th, 1939

in Ames, Iowa

He worked for many years as Vice President

of an Insurance Firm,

writing his poetry in the mornings,

in the evenings,

and during his spare moments.

For two terms Poet Laureate in the United States,

a Pulitzer Prize Winner,

now he writes children's books,

is a Professor at the University of Nebraska,

and is Editor of a newspaper column

"American Life in Poetry"

which is carried in 150 newspapers

 throughout the country

as well as being distributed

by email,

and used in classrooms.

(From Wikipedia)

I have his book

"The Wheeling Year -

A Poet's Field Book"

in which he says about September

"One of our old neglected apple trees is so burdened with fruit this year that a limb has cracked, turned brown, and drapes, limp-wristed, bejewelled with apples that ripen, day after day, on those lifeless fingers.  This morning I noticed that hornets have come to set each garnet in golden filigree"

and he goes on to say, about September...

"Labor Day weekend, rainy and cool, and the second hatch of barn swallows are still in their nest under the eaves, three of them, downy and mewing, their beaks like buds just opening, while the rest of the swallows, an extended family of a dozen or more, including the year's first hatch, wheel round and round this axis, crying,  as if to unwind the invisible thread that holds them here, 

with winter coming".

A beautiful expression of a poet's awareness

it is well named

"A Poet's Field Guide"

Open it to any page and there is a vignette of life;

creative, imaginative, heart touching, sometimes poignant

and very beautiful.

For more expressions of the letter K visit

here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to all who maintain this meme.

Sunday morning Scones

Sunday, September 17th, 2017

Cool and smokey this morning, and with the weather report over

 let me tell you about making scones!

I have this fabulous recipe in our church cookbook "Secrets of a Small Town",

 inserted by a dear friend who is, unfortunately,

long gone from our midst.

She suggests doubling the recipe, and each time I make it, that's what I do!

It was a great hit at after-service refreshments last week at church,

 and I'm always in for things that make an good impression.

Being a 'bake right after breakfast' type of woman, (as I age), 

I got busy right after the second cup of coffee

 and threw together these marvelous biscuits.  

All went well, and I slipped them into the 425 degree oven,

forgetting that the last time the oven performed at that degree of heat

the super-sensitive smoke alarm led me a merry chase 

up and down the hallway, with a towel to quieten it.....

until at last I had to plug in a fan to make a breeze and calm it down.

Sure enough, - as the timer was about to go off at 12 minutes

 the alarm started to wail, 

and only increased its cries 

when I took those lovely scones from the oven!

What do the neighbours think??

Living alone,
and with diminished hearing,
I know it is a comforting 'thing'
to have outside my bedroom door..

but seriously??

Well, it's no wonder it kicked up such a rumpus...

Look at the bottoms!

I shall serve them with butter and jam 

and a sharp knife to cut off the burnt part, and they will be delicious.

One can get away with that kind of thing when one is ancient,
and family will be happy that I still have the
ways and means and the wit to make scones.

Even burnt scones....

Here is the recipe...

Jean's English Scones

2 cups of flour

1/2 cup of sugar

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

2 eggs (save one white)

1/4 cup currants

1/2 cup of milk

1/2 cup of margarine

1/4 cup of mixed fruit

Mix flour, sugar salt and baking powder.  Cut in margarine.  Add fruit and mix.  

Add milk, one whole egg and one egg yolk.

Stir until moistened.

Turn out and knead well.  

Roll out about 1/4 inch thick.

Cut into shapes, put on cookie sheet and brush with egg yolk.

Sprinkle with sugar and bake at 425 degrees F for 12 to 15 minutes

Watch carefully, - if your oven is sensitive take a peak at 11 minutes.

I doubled the recipe and used cheese instead of fruit. 

so I ended up with nice cheesy scones 

with black bottoms!!!

I plan to spend the rest of the day winding a warp 

to put on the loom...

and hoping all goes well!

Jambalaya

ABC Wednesday
September 13th, 2017

Letter is J for Jambalaya

The Music

The Recipe

In a large Dutch oven heat 1 tbsp of olive oil

add  one onion, finely chopped

along with two chopped bell peppers

cook for about five minutes until tender - almost!

Stir in one pound of boneless chicken breasts, cubed

along with one teaspoon of oregano, some salt

and some pepper.

Cook until the chicken is gold and then stir in

one half a pound of andouille sausage

two cloves of garlic and 

two tablespoons of tomato paste,

Cook until it smells yummy

(probably about a minute)

and then add two cups of chicken stock,

one can of crushed tomatoes

a cup of long grain rice

and 2 teaspoons of Old Bay seasoning.

Cover with a tight lid and cook until the

rice is tender and the liquid almost

absorbed (about twenty minutes)

Add a pound of shrimp (peeled and deveined) 

and cook until the shrimp is pink

(three to five minutes)

Stir in two green onions, thinly sliced,

before serving.

Enjoy!!!

For more interesting Js click here

at ABC Wednesday

many thanks to all who maintain this meme

Indigo

ABC Wednesday
September 6th, 2017

The letter is I, for INDIGO

Indigo

by Barbara Strang

To achieve the

desired blue

the cloth had to

be lifted in

and out of the vats

in the heat

of India, Nigeria,

or Thailand.

Indigo, - you used

to wear that deep-dyed hue,

it suited you.

The name for the

spectral blue-violet.

Indigo

as blue as

deep as your eyes,

the lashes a flight of geese

on the last stripe of blue as the

sky plunges towards night.

More I s here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to all who maintain this meme!

This and that, and then there's the past

Sunday, September the third, 2017

While I have my lunch this very smokey September Sunday I am listening to David Garret as he plays Beethoven's Concerto for Violin and. Orchestra in D with the National Philharmonic of Russia.

Right soloist, right piece of music, but not what is on the DVD I watched.

and I must warn you it is 27 minutes long

but pure pleasure...

 It is a long time since  I have gone through the cupboard Charles made to house all the music we collected over the years; the records, the cassettes, then the DVD audios and movies, as time passed and the media came to us in different forms.  What I really wanted to listen to was the Adagio in D...it seemed somehow fitting when I came in exhausted but satisfied with my morning bringing order (more or less) to the garden...

Sunday...,and I'm not terribly focused.  All week my energies have been concentrated on the loom, with satisfying results now the shuttle is whizzing back and forth through a nice taut warp.

This morning I had a lovely four minute egg with toasted soldiers  (not something my beloved husband would have approved of....dipping your toast in the dripping yolk! ). A second cup of coffee and I browsed a bit in Anna Quindlen's "Lots of Candles - Plenty of Cake".  I ordered three of her books from the library, to re-read because they give me nothing but pleasure and comforting memories.

The quote with which she starts the first chapter.."Life must be lived forward but understood backward" ( Kierkegaard) resounds with me more and more, the longer I live.  Quindlen says "It's. nothing short of astonishing, all that we learn between the time we are born and the time we die......in the laboratory of our lives". But our understanding comes late in life.....

"There comes a time when we finally know what matters, and more importantly, what doesn't".

And then in the next chapter she goes on to talk about the bane of my life.."STUFF". I remember those first sweet innocent days of our marriage when Charles had his uniform, I had my trousseau (sp) and there was a barrel full of wedding gifts to pick up at the train station.

Now I view with despair this great collection of "things" we have accumulated over sixty-seven years of marriage and family and events and treasuring.  I have pretty well limited myself to books, and a little bit of new cotton thread to weave with, since my love departed.

I ponder on ways to get rid of all this STUFF, much of which has so kindly been given to us by our six children, and their offspring, and their offsprings' offsprings.... Do you suppose I could label it all, to be returned on my departure...but how would I remember what came from who, and imagine the uproar if the legacy went to the wrong person.

Well, I will be like Scarlett and worry about that tomorrow  if and when.....

The Beethoven is over now...I think I will make a cup of tea and take it into the loom room and contemplate the beginning of my fourth towel. I have an hour before Radio City comes on Knowledge Network .... Enough time for three or four bobbins to advance the work.....

Maybe by bedtime the smoke from these ferocious wildfires that are all around us will have wafted away with a change of breeze and fresh air will blow through the open window.

And maybe I should be very grateful that it is smoke, and not flames!!!!

A Gentle Reminder

as We Welcome September

Now hath the summer reached her golden close....(Lampman)

and perhaps the White Rabbit will arrange

for a welcome smattering

of sweet rain.....

Hallelujah

ABC Wednesday

August 30th, 2017

The letter is H for Hallelujah

A beautiful version, I think..

Leonard Cohen took the world by storm with this haunting piece of music..

It has even reached the thousands of Retired Ukulele Groups that add music 

to their entertainment repertoire........

Enjoy!

It's great to play....

For more Hs click here for ABC Wednesday

with thanks to all who

maintain this meme.

.

Time and the Sunflower

  

Ah sunflower, weary of time,

Who countest the steps of the Sun,

Seeking after that sweet golden clime

Where the travelers journey is done..

an exerpt from William Blake

Hurry into the coolness of Autumn

and its sweet, subtle, September shades......

Goldenrod

ABC Wednesday
August 23rd, 2017

The letter is G for Goldenrod

from the paintings of Sandra Baggette

As always,

when we approach the last days of August

and the garden appears to be a little tattered

and ragged,

before the asters and the sedum start to

celebrate September,

I have really had enough of the heat

of summer,

the stress of wildfires,

and the dry and lifeless cold

the air conditioner brings.

I am ready for the GOLDENROD,

the Rabbit Brush..

open doors and windows

tunneling in that wonderful

fresh fall air!!!

In the days when I used to dye wool for weaving

I would go out into the country

to gather the Rabbit Brush

and the Goldenrod.

I might still do that, but it is more likely

that I will just enjoy memories,

and Mary Oliver's sweet poem...

Old Goldenrod at Field's Edge

Ice upon old

goldenrod

stops me at the edge

of the field, how

gleaming,

this morning,

the still stalks

stand,

slender, exhausted,

the gray boss - 

all that is left of their

golden hair -

holding

a crown of snow, and the rest-

stem and leaves - 

just waiting

in their glass suits

to fall -

or,  if enduring,

to see

the great melt, and the fields

tinged green -

and the lambs,

coming again from the

cozy barn,

with their crazy prancing...

how the cold

makes us dream!

The seasons pass, and the spring will come

but before then SEPTEMBER,

that I truly love..

along with the Goldenrod.

for more Gs click here to visit

ABC Wednesday

with thanks to all who maintain

this meme.

Fata Morgana

ABC Wednesday
August 16th, 2017

The letter is F for FATA MORGANA

Earth Science Picture of the Day is a service of Universities Space Research Association

A Fata Morgana is a complex form of

superior mirage that is seen in a narrow band right

above the horizon.

This particular Fata Morgana is a mirage observed

from Brittany, France, and it is affecting the rather featureless

Island of  Ile d'Houat, located about eleven miles from 

the shoreline.

This photo was taken by Guillaume Doyen who says

"notice that parts of the island seem to be floating or looming.

Mirages such as this occur when there's a steep temperature

gradient.:  when a layer of colder air (immediately above the seawater)

is trapped below a layer of warmer air - a temperature inversion. the temperature at the time the picture was snapped was 98F"

Guilllaume Doyen goes on to say

"under these conditions light rays from a distant object

(the island) are curved toward the eye by layers of air

having different densities, caused by the abrupt temperature gradient.

So it seems that the island is more or less smeared upwards into a cliff."

This Fata Morgana mirage lasted for a little more than an hour.

Before science began to look into mirages, and their cause,

mirages were firmly in the realm of mysticism, and the fata morgana

takes its name from Morgan le Fay, that wicked half sister of King Arthur,

enchantress and treacherous fairy.

You may well ask how bending light creates a mirage,

 and here is where your brain enters the picture.

I learned this online, and I quote verbatim....

"When light hits your eyes, your brain assumes it arrived there in a straight path between you and the object reflecting the light.  So if light is bent on its way toward you your brain will think the object is where it would be if the light's path was straight.  This is why when you are looking down on a surface of water, objects under the surface will appear to be in a different spot than they actually are.....the human brain doesn't automatically account for refraction"

The writer of this article goes on to say 

"the brains of some birds like ospreys do correct for the effect

so that when they dive headlong into the water after a fish,

they are right on target"

but I digress.....

Christina Rossetti wrote a poem entitled FATA MORGANA

and it goes like this....

A blue-eyed phantom far before

is laughing, leaping toward the sun:

Like lead I chase it evermore,

I pant and run.

It breaks the sunlight bound on bound:

Goes singing as it leaps along

To sheep-bells with a dreamy sound

A dreamy song.

I laugh, it is so brisk and gay;

It is so far before, I weep:

I hope I shall lie down some day,

Lie down and sleep.

Perhaps she was referring to the constantly changing conditions 

of the atmosphere which causes the Fata Morgana

to change within just a few seconds of time,

alternating between stretched and compressed zones,

either erect or upside down.

If you are interested in reading more of the history of the Fata Morgana
I would suggest you Google 
"Fantastically wrong: the bizarre mirages that once 
scared the bejesus out of sailors"

and perhaps some day you might be in the right place at the right time
and see for yourself the fantastic
Fata Morgana

For more interesting Fs visit here
at ABC Wednesday
with thanks to all who maintain and visit....

Sunday Evening

Sunday, August 13th, 2017

No rain, but a lovely smokeless day!  The first in two weeks when we have not been besieged by great drifts of smoke from the wildfires in the interior of B.C., - the central portion where a few of my dear children are waiting, ready and prepared in case they not only have smokey days but also flames coming along to their fifty acres of meadow on the mountaintop.

Whenever I have been inclined to complain about smoke, or when I hear someone else complaining, I always say "but no flames!!"

Rain would be nice...the garden looks perky in the morning, but by this time of night the pots are crying for their evening watering.

Last night after my evening stroll with Bruce I gathered up all the outdoor pillows and tucked them into the sun porch, in preparation for the rain the weatherman promised.  It DID rain, in Penticton, in Kelowna, and up the valley, but here in the semi-desert Similkameen, not a drop!

It rained in the Chilcotin, where the fires are prevalent, but it rained mud and ash, all over the windows, said he who had to wash them....

Well, anyway, the garden is golden in these hot, dry August days.

and in the evening I luxuriate beside the Nicotiana that grows in a pot next to the swinging garden couch, enveloped in its beautiful scent.

The evening are shortening, and it is time for Bruce and I to take a walk up the lane.

I will linger awhile and commune with the white blossoms

before I come in for the night.