Then and now...

I sit at the breakfast table, lost in thought of bygone days, bygone Christmases and the people who made them so special.

I am waiting for my Daughter-in-law to arrive with cleaning supplies, as it has been deemed that I am too ancient to deal with deep cleaning of dark corners, and such....and she is coming to do those lowly tasks while I weave away merrily, trying to act my age.

I have every reason to be merry about my weaving.  Our youngest son turned the melancholy month of November into thirty days of delightful anticipation.

He came from the Chilcotin to rescue and restore my eight shaft Glimakra, which/who was put into retirement when we downsized and I no longer had a wonderful roomy studio for her to live in.

And when I felt I was no longer able to crawl into her nether parts to change treadles...

But Vince was, and he set her up, dressed her beautifully in new Texsolv lam and treadle cords, and was so meticulous about what he did, and how he did it, that when we pulled the Jack Pin all was in balance and ready for me to start weaving the warp I had put on when he started working.

It is possible that this video will not work, but even the photo gives
one a good idea of the patience and contemplation required!!

Shafts all even  - sheds amazing with no out-of-place threads for the shuttle to catch or run under...perfectly wonderful.  His father's son, no doubt about that!!!!

And I am so grateful......

The Unicorn, along with the Lion

ABC Wednesday
November 29th, 2017
the letter is U for Unicorn

Symbolic of the United Kingdom

Heraldic supporters, appearing

in the full

Royal Coat of Arms

This combination dates back to 1605 

and the accession of

James 1st of England,

who was already

James V1th of Scotland

It followed that this verse below

was written, read to

and recited

by the children of England.

(Did the Scottish children know it too??)

"The Lion and the Unicorn
Were fighting for the crown
The Lion beat the unicorn
All around the town.

Some gave them white bread,
And some gave them brown.
Some gave them plum cake
and drummed them out of town."

It's all terribly political,
both then, and perhaps now.

Lewis Carroll got involved with the Lion and the Unicorn
when he wrote "Alice in Wonderland"
as you might recall....

If it is a long time since you have read
about Alice and her adventures
down the rabbit-hole
now is a good time to refresh yourself....


Lots more Us here at ABC Wednesday
with thanks to all who maintain this meme.

Mr. Toad

ABC Wednesday
November 23rd, 2017

The letter is T for Mr. TOAD

AND HERE IS HIS SONG

FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT!

AMUSEMENT??

Lots more Ts here at ABC Wednesday

The Akond of Swat

ABC Wednesday
November 15th, 3017

The letter is S for the Akhond of Swat

A truly living person who reigned for many peaceful

years in the Country of Swatz..

and upon whose death Edward Lear wrote the following!

Is he wise or foolish, young or old?

Does he drink his soup and his coffee cold,

                                                or HOT?

                                           The Akond of Swat?

Does he sing or whistle, jabber or talk,

And when riding abroad does he gallop or walk,

                                                or TROT?

                                           The Akond of Swat?

Does he wear a turban, a fez, or a hat?

Does he sleep on a mattress, a bed, or a mat,

                                                or a COT?

                                           The Akond of Swat?

When he writes a copy in round-hand size,

Does he cross his T's and finish his I's

                                                with a DOT?

                                           The Akond of Swat?

Can he write a letter concisely clear

Without a speck or a smudge or smear

                                                or BLOT?

                                           The Akond of Swat?

Do his people like him extremely well?

Or do they, whenever they can, rebel,

                                                or PLOT?

                                           The Akond of Swat?

If he catches them then, either old or young,

Does he have them chopped in pieces or hung,

                                                or shot?

                                           The Akond of Swat?

Do his people prig in the lanes or park?

Or even at times, when days are dark,

                                                GAROTTE?

                                           O the Akond of Swat?

Does he study the wants of his own dominion?

Or doesn't he care for public opinion

                                                a JOT?

                                           The Akond of Swat?

To amuse his mind do his people show him

Pictures, or any one's last new poem,

                                               or WHAT?

                                           For the Akond of Swat?

At night if he suddenly screams and wakes,

Do they bring him only a few small cakes,

                                               or a LOT?

                                           For the Akond of Swat?

Does he live on turnips, tea, or tripe?

Does he like his shawl to be marked with a stripe,

                                               or a DOT?

                                         The Akond of Swat?

Does he like to lie on his back in a boat

Like the lady who lived in that isle remote,

                                              SHALLOTT?

                                         The Akond of Swat?

Is he quiet, or always making a fuss?

Is his steward a Swiss or a Swede or a Russ,

                                              or a SCOT?

                                         The Akond of Swat?

Does he like to sit by the calm blue wave?

Or to sleep and snore in a dark green cave,

                                              or a GROTT?

                                         The Akond of Swat?

Does he drink small beer from a silver jug?

Or a bowl? or a glass? or a cup? or a mug?

                                              or a POT?

                                         The Akond of Swat?

Does he beat his wife with a gold-topped pipe,

When she lets the gooseberries grow too ripe,

                                              or ROT?

                                         The Akond of Swat?

Does he wear a white tie when he dines with friends,

And tie it neat in a bow with ends,

                                              or a KNOT?

                                         The Akond of Swat?

Does he like new cream, and hate mince-pies?

When he looks at the sun does he wink his eyes,

                                              or NOT?

                                         The Akond of Swat?

Does he teach his subjects to roast and bake?

Does he sail about on an inland lake,

                                              in a YACHT?

                                         The Akond of Swat?

Some one, or nobody, knows I wot

Who or which or why or what

                                         Is the Akond of Swat!

More interesting Ss here at ABC Wednesday!!

Remembrance

ABC Wednesday
November 8th, 2017

The letter is R for Remembrance

When you go home

tell them of us, and say,

for their tomorrow 

we gave our today

John Maxwell Edmonds

more Rs here at abc wednesday

A quote by Anna Quindlen

ABC Wednesday
November 1st, 2017

The Letter is Q for Quote and Quindlen

I have just finished reading Miller's Valley

by Anna Quindlen

I have a feeling that I have used Quindlen before

in my search for ABC Wednesday's quirkiest letter

but Miller's Valley did not exist then,

although many of Anna Quindlen's other books

had delighted me.

An American author, journalist and opinion columnist

I first discovered her when I read

"A Short Guide to a Happy Life"

and she says of her writing that it is always about families,

they being the metaphor of all of living.

And it is so with Miller's Valley.

Read it if you can, - you will love it!!

As to one of her quotes...

"Think of Life as a terminal illness,

because if you do you will live

it with joy and passion, 

as it ought to be lived".

More interesting Qs here at ABC Wednesday...

This and that....

October 28th,  2017

Saturday evening, and I wore myself out in the garden today, snipping back spent flowers and plants and preparing the beds for winter.  I am about half way finished, and the wheelbarrow is piled high!!!

A cup of tea, a cookies, and a little nap revived me enough that I was able to start winding the warp  for my new planned project on the loom, having finished the last batch of tea towels. 

as they came from the loom

washed, pressed and awaiting hemming

This warp is delightful, - not as long, nor as wide - prospects of beaming and threading and sleying just eight inches of ends instead of twenty-four.  

The warp is a lovely wheat coloured Bambu and the weft a delicious yellow.....

I can hardly wait, but there are only a few days left to enjoy lovely October sunshine

and brilliant blue October skies

while I fill the wheelbarrow and feed the compost bin.

And then the Melancholy Month of November....

ah well - Christmas comes after and I have lots of weaving plans

for November.

ABC Wednesday
October 25th, 2017
The letter is P for Polliwog

Do you remember,

or did you ever

bring a bucket of frog spawn home with you

from the lake, or the pond???

And then watch it,

day by day, as the eggs developed into tadpoles

and then the tadpoles into

polliwogs.

The word "polliwog" comes from the old English

"polwygle"

Pol meaning head

and Wygle - to wiggle.

And how they do wiggle!!

Here is a nice poem by Albert Garcia

entitled "Frog Eggs'

They started as a small slime

of black dots.  After

wading through the pond

you and the boys,

sloshing a plastic bucket,

poured brackish water

into a clear bowl, and there

they were, a little jelly packet

of lives that grew daily

under our magnifying glass.

They're turning flat,

you tell me as you peer in

this afternoon, and I admit

I'm as caught up in this

as the boys who announce

any wiggle, any sign

of the tail, legs, gills.

But I'm content

to watch you watch the eggs, you

hovering over the bowl,

hair encircling your face

like dark ferns surrounding a pool

before a waterfall,

holding, accentuating the light.


and a light video on the life of a frog
hosted by Kermit!!!

There must be something to be said
for those lazy, hazy
polliwog days!!!

For more Ps visit here at ABC Wednesday
with thanks to those who maintain this meme.

O is for Owl

ABC Wednesday
October 18th, 2017

O is for Owl, and for Mary Oliver

Little Owl Who Lives in the Orchard

by Mary Oliver

His beak could open a bottle,

and his eyes - when he lifts their soft lids -

go on reading something

just beyond your shoulder -

Blake maybe,

or the Book of Revelation.

Never mind that he eats only

the black-smocked crickets,

and dragonflies if they happen

to be out late over the ponds, and of course

the occasional festal mouse.

Never mind that he is only a memo 

from the offices of fear -

it's not size but surge that tells us

when we're in touch with something real,

and when I hear him in the orchard

fluttering

down the little aluminum

ladder of his scream -

when I see his wings open, like two black ferns,

a flurry of palpitations

as cold as sleet

rackets across the marshlands

of my heart,

like a wild spring day

Somewhere in the universe,

in the gallery of important things,

the babyish owl, ruffled and rakish,

sits on its pedestal.

Dear, dark dapple of plush!

A message reads the label,

from that mysterious conglomerate:

Oblivion and Co.

The hooked head stares

from its blouse of dark, feathery lace.

It could be a valentine.

Lots more interesting Os here, at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to those who maintain this meme.

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....