Wintry Weather



The weathermen - and the TV weather girls, - rumoured the imminent arrival of wintry weather well before it finally arrived.

The first morning we woke to snow the Johnny-jump-ups were sheltered under the remnants of the fall mums.

All around the hills were blanketed, but the clouds were still light and bouyant.













The garden looked gentler than it has during the past weeks, when the dry stalks of faded summer flowers and plants gave a sad atmosphere of neglect.













Meanwhile, back in the house where it's warm and cosy, Caspar the dog, inspects with interest the process of cutting vitamin D pills in half, and discovers that the noise that snaps and sends him woofing down the hall is really not so bad when he understands the operation!!!












Tomorrow we brave the wintry weather to go and pay our respects to the doctor and enter the fray as we start Christmas shopping venture.

Putting the garden to Bed

The sun shone brightly this morning and one would not have given credence to the dire weather report that is currently being touted for the week-end.

However, experience has made me aware of how temperatures can plummett, especially when the skies are clear and brilliantly blue, and the snow on the mountains is glistening in the sunlight. So as the temperature rose this morning, so did my gardening spirits.

I went out and tidied up all the pots and pathways, snipped back the long stems on the roses, admired the few violets that have mistaken the mild weather for spring, and even a little clump of johny jump-ups. The allysum, which grew abundantly and kept the garden sweetly scented all summer, made a wonderful addition to the compost pile.

While I worked I was heartened by the sounds of the young fellows installing the new garage doors. They were young, and full of vim and vigor. And competent as well!

Not ever having had a garage before, - let alone one with doors that open and close automatically, - we are luxuriating in this up-town addition to our lives. And Husband looks forward to finally having a place where he can go and tinker and fix things. I am happy for him, although he is still welcome at the breakfast nook table when the weather is bad. At least by me, - Caspar, the dog, is another story. His sensitive ears disturb him greatly when Husband makes any sharp noises. Even the three hole punch causes him to retreat along the hallway, woofing in distress. After thirteen years of doggie loyalty he has a fair amount of influence about what goes on. Who'd a thought it!!!! What next, I wonder...

I have been sorting through pictures with my final goal to put them into albums and pass them out amongst the family. I am amazed at how many snaps of faithful canine friends I find in the boxes of pictures. We have never been without dogs, since the first Doberman Pincer we were given for a wedding present over 61 years ago. Mostly wonderfully intelligent Border Collies who worked with the Sheep and were dearly beloved by the Shepherd. May the grass grow sweet o'er the spots where they lie sleeping.

The Church Bazaar

Here are a few pictures from the Church Bazaar, setting up for the big day, all the hurly burly of the selling tables and the friendly chat over tea and the ladies' scrumptious dessert.

The Bazaar is a well loved and well attended tradition in the community. In that it draws people to help who look upon the church as "their own", even though they don't attend or support in any other way, it is a form of mission into the communityl And one that is hard to give up.

After a fifty year run its future is considered year by year, but the congregation is loathe to abandon it. Nature hates a vacumn - what might replace it?????














Dessert was delicious, wonderful time was had by all, - but at the end of the day I wondered if there wasn't some little niche I could fill that didn't require so much work!!!

Remembrance Day was observed with due respect and loving memories. The Day has passed, but the memories are eternal.

Life turns over so quickly, - we are now into busy Bazaar times, at the same time we cope with shifts at the Bargain Centre, (the church's mission outreach). A traditional event, the Bazaar is part of the vitality of the Church and the Community, in cooperation. As is the Bargain Centre.

I muse about this cooperation in the secular society that has evolved in the last forty years, and am grateful that the spirit lives on in many non-church-goers, as much as it does in those who gather to worship and keep the church alive.

The congregational members of the church age, and we lose them, one by one. The few young people who are still part of the parish have found other places to put their energies, - all of them of the utmost value.

If I go back fifty years and remember the Evening Branch of the ACW, - all young women with young families, and full of young ideas - I have a better perspective of what keeps the young people of the Parish from participating in this "old ladies" endeavor.

We weren't old ladies then, - we were young and full of new ideas, vast stores of energy and enthusiasm. When "Rummage Sales" outgrew the small parish hall we looked for a place to store and sort and make these sales available to the community on a weekly basis. It was a lark, and great fun! It contributed to a growing friendship amongst the members, and established the Bargain Centre in the community as a place of outreach and help. We moved around from spot to spot as the enterprise expanded and required more room. In the meantime we grew middle-aged, - still having fun and making inroads into an ever growing mission in the community, - providing clothes and household needs at bargain prices from donations that arrived with generous abandon.

When the Anglican and United Churches came together to form an ecumenical parish the United Church parish hall was made available to us, and we grew by leaps and bounds.

And when the secular world had made sufficient inroads into the church family, so that church givings were not large enough to enable us to maintain a full time minister, then the Bargain Centre and the Community who supported it, helped in meeting these expenses. And everybody profited, - where there is a church there is a sense of spiritual stability, even to those who have lapsed. In this community there are people who refer to the church as "our church" even though they have not been inside it's doors for any reason except a baptism, a wedding or a funeral.

Ah, but alas, - now the original members who started with such enthusiasm, have grown old. The spirit is still willing, and the friendships which have been forged are strong and true. But oh, the flesh is weak, and so we value and appreciate all the younger people who come from the community to assist us in our Bargain Boutique.

Next month we will take them all out for a Christmas Lunch, - but our true thanks lies in our grateful response to their help, week by week. It is a wonderful example of friendship and cooperation between Church and Community that strengthens the bonds that tie us together.

I'm off to knit another scarf for the handicraft table at the Bazaar!!

O Valiant Hearts




Tomorrow Husband will once again read the names of the Fallen from this Community - those who gave their lives in the First World War, the Second World War, and the Korean War. In a neighbouring town someone else will have this honour, and the names of the Fallen there will include the names of Husband's two brothers, who were killed within six months of each other in France and Holland. There is a sharp sense of loneliness in a lifetime lived without that close comradeship between brothers.

This morning my niece sent me a video of the Juno Beach Academy ceremony at the Field of Honour in Queen's Park Cemetery, Calgary, where more than five thousand veterans are buried.

Under grey skies and in blowing snow, students from the academy marched to the Field of Honour to remember their comrades. The Piper and the Drummer leading them were my niece's sons, and close behind in the Division was her daughter. The Bugler who played the Last Post and Reveille was the Piper's girlfriend.

http://www.canada.com/calgaryherald/galleries/remembering/index.html

I watched the video through tears (hopefully you can too, by going to the above website).

The respect and understanding shown by these young people helped to counteract the disgusting suggestion I have heard in the last few days that Remembrance Day become a moveable "holiday" so that it can always provide a long week-end! Shame to those who do not observe the 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month to honour those who died to maintain the freedom they enjoy, and often abuse.

My father was wounded at Cambrai on the 11th of October, 1918. When I was a young child, between the two Great Wars and still in school, Remembrance Day was not a holiday. However, at the 11th hour of the day all commerce ceased, and wherever one might be the two minute silence was observed in memory of the sacrifices made in that most horrible of wars, fought in trenches and mud and with bloody persistence and valour.



The cemetery at Brettville sur laiz where Tom is buried, - near Falaise where he was killed.


In 1995 Husband and I visited the cemeteries at Groesbeek and Brettville sur laiz. From my diary of June 20th, 1995 - "Went out towards Groesbeek, and stopped in the town..... Then we went on to the cemetery, - had lunch there, picnic style, and spent a couple of quiet hours. Charles asked one of the attendent gardeners about putting the remembrance plaque on Gordon's gravestone permently, and got permission to do so - so he did, with the epoxy glue he had brought from home. We took some more pictures. It is so quiet, and peaceful, - the birds were singing, and it broke my heart to think of three thousand young lives sacrificed in these peaceful fields."



The Moyland Forest, on the German border








and the grave of the brother who is buried at Groesbeek.













During the past week Husband has been in touch a number of times with a reporter who was interviewing him as a veteran and as a Lancaster Pilot. The stories he related about his experiences with his crew were interspersed with many passionate political opinions, but when the paper came out today we were pleased that the reporter had done an excellent job of sorting out the factual experiences from the philosophies which he has accumulated during the 61 years that have passed since his discharge from the airforce.

Time passes, but the memories of those who lived at the time of these wars remains vivid.

Time passes, and for many these events are something that happened in the dim and distant past, long before they were born.

It encourages me to note that the young are being made aware of the sacrifice of so many thousands who literally "laid down their lives" and I am encouraged that the stores now close on Remembrance Day.

Such a small thing to show gratefulness and respect most especially on this one day, - and to feel those same emotions in our hearts, each and every day of our lives.

An overly emotional post perhaps, but my comments on a day that we view reverently in our family. "In Flanders Fields" is joined by "O I have slipped the surly bonds of earth", and a heartfelt prayer of gratefulness for valour, and hopefulness for peace.

Yesterday Husband and I went to Penticton, - he to speak at a Remembrance Day event, resplendant, with medals all shined and his mind attuned to the points he wanted to talk about. He is a man of passion, and when he speaks of those things which he values greatly he sometimes walks on the edge of a political precipice. One never knows when he might lose his footing a little and digress to another point carrying political overtones that excite him to express deeply felt opinions! It's a risk we must all take when he is asked to speak!!!! Ask anyone who has ever interviewed him.....

I went along for the ride, and what a splendid drive it was over the pass into the Okanagan Valley. The skies were dour, but the hills glowed with a wonderful luminence.



The fall grasses dotted the hillsides with gorgeous patches of naples yellow, covering the small benches. Along the roadside the grasses were longer and more varied, - shades of orange and gold, with hidden spears of green. The small red shrubs that hug the rocks are indescribably soft and range in shades from pinks to wines. Words fail to express the wonderful feeling of quiet mystery that shrouds the mountain with these suble earthy colours. Unfortunately we were late getting away, which made picture taking impossible, and when we returned the sky was pouring buckets of rain. Perhaps we will be lucky enough to meet that same combination of sky and hill and colour the next time we go, but for now it is a picture in my mind that I remember as being wonderfully relaxing as we hurried to make up time and not be too late.



On Sunday a "Chicken Little" Lady bemoaned the lack of water in the riverbed, foreseeing this as a sign of the climate change that threatens to devastate us. On Tuesday the river was brim full with all those wonderful buckets of rain that come in the fall to feed the thirsty trees and plants as they go into dormancy.

I think you have to live long enough to experience earth's cycles of drought and heat and rain and heavy snows, before you can view climate change as natural, and not the fearful disaster that is forecast. Occasionally we are blessed with the perfect June, the most glorious fall, or the most benign of picturesque winters and I do pray that the doom and gloomers take them into account and are thankful for them.

“No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, - November!”

Thomas Hood



November! The melancholy month. The month of Remembrance. The month of gusts and gales, wild rain and dark mornings. The evenings draw in and the fog swirls throughout the valley as day dawns.

But still the beauty remains. Our days remain sunny and the nights are clear and frosty, but when the mists descend the remaining autumn colours glow with a beautiful translucence.

It was a race to get the geraniums in to warmth and safety, - when frost threatened it was a late evening task to bring them in from the deck after they had been potted from the garden. They are bringing cheer to the big bathroom, or else they are crowding the space around Husband's grooming sink, - whichever perspective you want to foster!



The Canna Lilies found refuge under an outside table while they dried in the sun, and eventually were stored in the Travel Trailer where I hope they will survive until spring. They are a new venture for me, - the first time we have grown them in the garden.

October left us with precious gifts, - lovely new Great Grandsons, - one for my sister and one for Husband and I. Born only hours apart on October 31st these sweet little Halloween spirits slipped ( an adjective I'm sure their mothers would not have used) into their new earthly adventure, no doubt trailling Wordsworth's "clouds of glory". Each generation lives life according to the prevalent traditions, culture, morality, and historical events and values them as the norm. I wonder what life will be like for them eighty years on, and in the intervening years, before they start to say "you call THAT music!!! - in MY day".......... What can a Great Grandma do but pray for their happiness and their safety, and pray for their souls that the beauty of this earth brings awe and contentment to them.

Love to their parents, their grandparents, and all who treasure them.

Today in an e-mail I received the following excerpt.

"Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I'll focus on this new day and all the happy memories I've stored away. Just for this time in my life....

Old age is like a bank account. You withdraw from it what you've put in.

So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot of happiness in the bank account of memories!"

This little homily, together with the presence of four LARGE boxes of pictures that sit on the trunk at the end of the bed, has prompted me to consider the contents of the four LARGE boxes and the memories that we have accumulated there. Memories of
Husband and I, our family and our friends. For a number of years in the 60's and 70's we relied on a movie camera to record the passing days. Those memories are tucked away on film, in a box. All except a select few that we had transferred to VHS, and thence to a DVD. For the past few years we have used a digital camera, and there are a couple of thousand pictures of the Similkameen Valley, the Lost Garden, Sunsets and Sunrises, and family celebrations stored in our computers.

Well, what do you do about those thousands of pictures once you get to be an octogenarian, and you know that someone, somewhere, sometime is going to have to deal with all these memories. Husband's sister has tackled the job, year by year, and is creating extremely elegant snapshot albums recording each year's family gatherings, visits from friends and important events. I admire her work and the time, the love and the dilegence she has devoted to it. I realize, however, that the task is beyond me unless I wish to give up the garden, the weaving and all the other activities that fill our days now.

This is about the time that I realize I am not alone in enjoying rummaging through these abiding memories!! Husband is equally as sentimental as I, and far better at organizing a method for dealing with this problem than I could ever be. Given the 17 empty albums we have accumulated over the years, in hopes that at some point we will buckle down to the task or sorting pictures into family groups and passing them on to children, - and given the number of shoe boxes that are sitting around waiting to be used for sorting, - Surely the moment of truth has arrived, - the point of no return!!

To strengthen and support this project is the advance of winter, the need for Husband to find something to do that will favour his sciatica (now that the tractor is in decent repair).

I can see it now, - the happy hours spent in contemplation of times long gone, - precious friends who take their place either amongst the quick, or the dead. The stories associated with times and places, and the reminiscences of Christmases, small children, birthday parties, travel to well loved woods and fishing spots.

I pick up a handful of these pictures, and I am taken back to the time when we were young grandparents - and all the delightful times we enjoyed with young grandchildren.

Here is a picture of a distant cousin from the 1800's who is the spitting image of one of our granddaughters when she was the same age.






A picture from the 50's of Husband and young friends with a rogue bear they shot, with our oldest son looking on, wide-eyed.












One of dear friends, gathered together for New Year's Eve sometime in the early 90's; a picture of me that Husband carried with him when he was Overseas, together with a snap of some of his crew and Himself, on leave at the Spa Hotel in Tunbridge Wells.





























There are pictures of our grandparents and their family and friends - a few even of the generation that precedes them. All precious and worthy of good care, - all part and parcel of the memories that we have banked over the years, for just such a time as this.

At the end of this homily which arrived in my e-mail box were the following five simple rules to be happy.

Free your heart from hatred.

Free your mind from worries

Live simply

Give more

Expect less

All rules that reminded me how simple it all is, - this business of being happy!!!!!

Life holds many joys, and to the positive and cheerful soul each day contains within it the power to uplift and satisfy one's spirit.

However, just occasionally we are faced with disappointments that bring sorrow and dismay to our lives. Indeed, no matter how sincere the effort or how diligent the work that goes in to it, some things seem to be doomed to fail, and the failure brings a heaviness to our hearts and a feeling of despair.

Things get out of hand, egos clash and misunderstandings arise. Matters of discernment are twisted, and true meanings and intentions fail to reach from one person to the next. Idle gossip and dangerous assumptions ferment the cauldron, and soon the pot is boiling over with bitter invective.

When such situations arise it is hard to regain serenity and hope, but with the passing of even a little time our perceptions of the troubles become more bearable. With the dawning of a new day and a little breakfast conversation, the future looks brighter. When solutions appear even faintly possible we can greet the day with a hey-ho and a smile, - and I suppose a certain amount of naive trust that maturity and intelligence will win through; and that intransigence will give way to cooperation..

I quote Pope on Hope....it springs eternal!

O suns and skies and clouds of June,

And flowers of June together,

Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather.

October's poplars are flaming torches
lighting the way to winter.
- Nova Bair

In this case it is a Sunset Maple, but just below us is a straight line of pears, which reach like golden torches to the sky.

Many years ago, in the 1960’s and 70’s, we owned the orchard just across the highway from the land these trees stand on. At its eastern end was a block of magnificent old pear trees, and I remember one autumn in particular when the leaves on these trees turned golden, scarlet, subtle and luminous shades of green, soft yellows and glowing earth tones. What a gorgeous tapestry it was.

We pastured sheep amongst the trees on this property. The apple trees were old, - gnarled

Macintosh and red and striped Delicious. It was more like a park than an orchard. The sheep cropped the grass and lent a pastoral air to the land.

The sheep were a family enterprise, - everybody participated, right down to the littlest ones feeding the occasional orphan lambs with bottles. But the Shepherd and the Shepherd’s Border Collie, Candy, were the ones who had most rapport with the flock. Candy arrived in the Shepherd’s pocket one day, to the children’s delight. The Shepherd trained her well, and they made an extraordinary team.

At one time we had four hundred ewes, and lambing time was a mixture of pleasurable anticipation, as we picked out the ewes who were liable to lamb that night by observing them at feeding time, and intense maternity activity in the hours to follow. The Shepherd calmed the sheep, just by walking into the barn and speaking to them, and Candy kept vigil at the door.

The flock were not the most profitable venture, but we had some sheep all the time we were on the farm, and they were the part of farming that brought us the most satisfaction and delight. And sometimes frustration. I have a cameo of trying to herd a recalcitrant ewe back to where she belonged without the help of the dog, tears and rage vying for dominance..

Eventually we planted rutabagas as a ground crop, - seven miles of rutabagas, - up one row and down the next. It was a labour intensive operation, but it was also a time of free spirits and “hippies” who turned their backs on established lives and sought the wonders and adventures of the open road. A lot of them found their way to us, and in particular a University Art Professor who had chosen the alternate style of living, and seemed to be a mentor to all the young people who traveled with him. We learned a lot from these people, and grew especially fond of some of them. Some of our children were at a vulnerable age, and took to smoking the funny cigarettes that were so prevalent at the time and contributed so much to the way of life. It is hard to judge the ambivalent influence these children of the New Age had on our family, but they came back year after year and were a great help to us.

Our farm ran parallel to the highway, and it was not hard to judge the influence the topless turnip workers had on the community driving by!!!!

The Aged Apprentice GoFer

I have mastered quite a few things in my life, but have, most unfortunately, neglected to get my Papers qualifying me as a Journeyman GoFer.

However, what I lack in learning I am making up in experience, and I am just about the best apprenticing GoFer around these parts.

Ask anyone (except the Master Mechanic, my husband).

After my latest learning experience this morning, I feel I should make up a list of requirements for anyone else who wishes to make GoFering their Career. I would advise you to find another Master Mechanic to apprentice with, however. This one is busy with his own novice, and frustrated beyond belief.....

These are the Requirements for being a Successful GoFer, - as I perceive them to be!

1. Keep your eyes bright, your tail bushy, and cultivate your best bedside manner, especially when the situation is grave.

2. A cheerful and calm demeanor is a great asset.

3. No tears or brimming eyes when the Master Mechanic addresses you through clenched teeth. (It is O.K. to go around the corner and sniff a little)

4. Train your ears to hear only instructions. Shut out any extraneous comments from the Master Mechanic, no matter how profanely creative they are.

5. Avoid looking bewildered, - maintain an attitude of competence and understanding at all times.

6. As a consequence of this you will NEVER ask stupid questions (like, where will I find the jiggery thing-a-ma-bob with two greasy knobs on it? - any fool Apprentice would know that it is under the g-d hood somewhere!)

7. Don't ever be a wiss about greasy hands or broken finger-nails, - they are a mere bagatelle to the pure Apprentice.

8. Try to ignore the sailorly language the Master Mechanic uses, - he learned it as his Father's knee when he was a young Apprentice Lad himself. (I can attest to this, having heard his gentle father cursing at his own tractor when he thought everyone had gone to town!)

9. Remember that your hand is probably smaller than the Master Mechanic's, so don't be shy about offering to snake it into the innards of whatever machine is being attended to, - if you are successful you will be the recipient of the slightest approbation. If not you will only get the clenched teeth treatment once again!

10. Most importantly, keep your eyes bright, your tale bushy, and cultivate your best bedside manner. If you follow these instructions you will be able to retire to the kitchen and assume your own Master Mechanic Mien.

One more mere piece of advice, - if the Career as an Apprentice GoFer appeals to you, I would strongly advise you to enter the field before you are an Octogenarian. And be careful who you choose for your Master Mechanic, - based on experience I would not usually recommend relatives, - definitely not Husbands. They have such a clenched teeth way of saying "No, not that way HONEY - ! Remember, the older the Master Mechanic the longer he has held this position, and the greater his grasp of the task at hand. Ergo, the greater he condescends - patiently, but grimly!

It's an experience no eighty year old wife should miss......

Togetherness and apple pies

We are coming to the end of apple picking time here in the Similkameen Valley.

David brought us two or three small boxes of Gala apples, and they sat in the pantry for a week or two before the spirit moved us to turn them into apple pies.

Lovely apples, - they are a mixture of red and gold, - small and round, fragrant, and wonderful for holding a tender shape in scrumptious apple pies.

We decided to tackle the job together, husband and I.

I didn't know that making apple pies in tandem could be such a pleasure!!!

Imagine - Husband all set up at the baking table with the apple peeler/corer/slicer (what an amazing machine) and a box of perfectly shaped Gala apples. Along with an ice cream pail and a couple of sharp knives.

Here am I, taking the previously mixed pastry out of the fridge, rolling it out into rounds and fitting it into the pie plates, - piling Husband's apple slices into the pie plate and sifting on the sugar, flour and cinnamon mixture. Then on to the next production pie, and the next. When all three have been filled we fancy up the top crust, and into the oven they go! These are to eat immediately!!! For Thanksgiving!!!

Are we finished?
Are there apples left in the box?
Onward and upward........
Husband continues peeling, coring, slicing, and storing the prepared apples in the ice cream bucket.

I tear off large sheets of foil, - fit them into pie plates, and pile them with apple slices and sugar mixture. I cover the unbaked pies tightly with the surrounding foil, tuck them in layers in the freezer, and when they have frozen rescue the foil pie plates for another batch - another day.

What a treasure in the freezer, - stacks of apple pie fillings all ready to pop into pastry and begin wafting the fragrance of cooked apples and cinnamon pie throughout the house.

Precious time together, and then a nice cup of tea and a sigh of relief from the little dog who finds the occasional noises the production line makes hard on his little old ears. And besides, it's treat time!

These are today's pictures, and here is today's news, such as it be!

As I was sitting at the computer this afternoon I looked out the window to the south-east and thought about my husband's comment on our extreme good fortune in having this wonderful view to augment our living room.

We can look upon the farm which we established when we first came to this Valley, fifty-five years ago. We settled on a 600 acre veteran's land project, - all sage brush. Dry and dusty, but a good opportunity for the young vets who settled here and were prepared to put their hearts and faith, and a lot of hard work into establishing a future.

Our farm was at the bottom of the main gulley, just right of the centre of the picture. The DVA provided each veteran with $6.000.00 which, with a lot of good luck and good management, would provide him with the price of the land, the price of trees to plant an orchard, whatever orchard equipment he could afford, and a house to live in, - with what was leftover after he had repaid DVA the price of the land.

We moved to the Valley with three children and lived in rented accommodation while we planted the trees and built a house. My husband was the Water Bailiff for the project, - he cleared about 100 acres, in addition to our own 30 acres, planted it to hay and changed sprinklers on it all twice a day. In the second year, before we could move on to the land, he fell victim to the polio which ravaged children and young adults that year, but recovered his health and vigor until recent years when the effects of the polio have caused damage to the nerves in his extremeties

By today's standards it seems like an impossible task, but we were all young, strong and eager - there were tremendous feelings of comraderie and cooperation. We were all poor together, but full of hope and a spirit of helpfulness. And we had lovely parties!!!


Here is a bowl of Marigolds, picked today while I was out skirmishing with the dandelions!!!

I find the most amazing things that traveled up the hill to the new garden with the top soil we bought to get the garden established.

A sumac bush, three vigorous tomato plants that are just now starting to provide us with big ripe tomatoes, - a few ubiquitous elm trees and a splendid variety of weeds and wild flowers.

And here is the favourite rose which we rescued this spring from the Lost Garden. It is struggling to survive, but with a lot of TLC I think it's going to flourish.

It has a little super market rose growing along with it that was most unhappy when I planted it, but took to that new soil with abandon and is growing all over the place with its miniature roses. They keep each other company.....




Here is the garden, beginning to look somewhat the worse for wear and in need of a good "neatening" as fall gives fair warning of winter coming.

Today I found two oriental poppies that I thought had been swallowed by the alyssum that has been beating its dainty white chest and making its presence known up and down the pathway. They will have room to grow in the spring and to bloom as they used to!!


It has been a good day. Husband off to singing in the morning, and home to rejoice in the miraculous recovery of the generator on the Tractor. Plans underway for the building of the Garage, and a splendid big moon, waxing towards a full Harvest moon on the 7th - bathing us all in its glorious light.

Time to do the bedtime chores, gather up the current book and head down the hall to bed. Husband has turned off the Television, and is on his way to take over the den and his computer.

A good day! One at a time, and they make our lives comfortable and satisfying.

The last days of September have been full of a tranquil beauty, even as the leaves turn colour, quietly and imperceptibily.

I looked up into the Cawston hills late this afternoon and suddenly noticed all the deciduous trees which follow the water lines have dyed their leaves the colour of the fall sunset that graced the skies last night.

The garden needs to have a good trimming. Lots of tidying and dead heading demanding attention, but first the removal of dandelions and assorted other weeds that arrived with the marvelous soil we laid down this spring. I have taken to sitting on a stool to do this task, and when one little section is cleared I look at it with satisfaction and imagine the spot all planted with spring bulbs.

The spring bulbs are hiding in the hall closet......all except for the paper whites which are tucked away in the bottom crisper drawer of the fridge. They are Christmas bulbs, and are overly anxious to set forth on their growing adventure. I have grown wise to their ways, and know now just about when to pot them up so that they won't rush the season and be just a pot of limp greenery when they should be wonderfully fragrant white Christmas blooms.

I had the opportunity the other day of dropping Husband off at a Veteran's luncheon and skittering off in the car to the Garden Shop that is often off limits when he is driving. What a wonderfully confusing display! I was glad to have the time to go up and down the rows, filled with bins of daffodils, hyacinths, tulips and a great assortment of small bulbs. Came home with two large bags, - mostly tulips as I did rescue a lot of daffodils from the Lost Garden last spring. David and I bundled them into pots and baskets, and they made a lovely display along the front of the house, and on the steps. After they had finished blooming and their leaves had grown limp and brown I put them in a ditch in the meadow, where they have, I am sure, been gathering strength for another beautiful springtime display.

I found a beautiful new double tulip, - a warm apricot shade. It was it's name that drew me to it in the first place, - "Ramona". A song that holds a tender place in my childhood memories of my mother.

Next to September, October can be a pretty spectacular month in this Valley.
Wild sunrises and sunsets that call for the camera to be always at the ready.

Since I ditched EGO a few months ago, I find I have so much more time to just relax and enjoy the overwhelming beauty that fills these supposedly winter years of our life.

How late we grow wise!!!!

Roses in the New Garden

To delight the heart and feed the soul
Consolation for the Lost Garden