WHAT DID I DO LAST THURDAY - THAT FOGGY, FOGGY DAY!


Well, first of all, I pondered amidst the dismal gloom.

After a while I took to my knees, - gazing into the innards of Honey, the loom, and searching for inspiration.

I was not exactly enthusiastic about Husband's idea of tipping Honey up, thus bringing into easy access her nether parts under the treadles, but I had to find some way of reaching the cords which needed to be attached with more precise measurements than had been achieved so far.

It finally occured to me that if I were to lift one treadle at a time with a looped linen cord attached to the beam I could maybe even sit on the little three legged stool I keep beside the loom for such extingencies and reach under the treadles with a minimum of effort. (FOCL) I don't acknowledge "a minimum of effort" any more, - just doesn't exist in my life these days.

When I was at the library today I watched a young woman with a beautiful free and bouncing walk, - full of the joy of living, - and I sighed and thought, "I used to walk like that, and revel in it".

Be that as it may, look at the picture below and imagine the depths to which I had to sink these stiff, sore knees! The pinnacle of effort in situations like this is in resuming your former upright position. Yikes! That surely deserves some kind of golden compensation.


And so it happened! The operation went off smoothly while Husband was out for coffee, and by the time he came home I was ready to take a deep breath and remove the locking rod from the jacks. Nothing moved! The shafts, the lamms and the treadles all stayed in balance.

I said a quick and fervent thank you, took another deep breath and pressed down the first treadle. The resulting shed was a joy to behold- firm and clean and at least 5 inches high. Wowy!!! I have to say that as I progressed down the line of treadles closer to the pivot point the beauty of the sheds diminished somewhat, but it was still a weavable situation and I started off with glee.

Two days later I am feeling that lovely euphoria that comes with achieving a certain degree of success, and I have decided that perhaps I am still up to Honey's demanding ways, and won't need to replace her with the four harness LeClerc just yet. Another victory along life's aging way, - another dilemna vanquished!!!

Life is good, - spring is coming!

Every gardener knows that under the cloak of winter lies a miracle ...
a seed waiting to sprout, a bulb opening to the light, a bud straining to unfurl.
And the anticipation nurtures our dream.
- Barbara Winkler

And so do the puddles in the driveway, and the ice which has coated the road, now in the process of decay.

And the faint fragrance of a promised spring that lends a bit of bouyancy to the step and a smile to the face.

Winter is wonderful, but when it outstays its welcome a little frantic depression sets in, as when one longs for company to leave: company that at first was cherished and entertaining, but after a while becomes wearisome and eye glazing.

From December to March, there are for many of
us three gardens -
the garden outdoors,
the garden of pots and bowls in the house,
and the garden of the mind's eye.
- Katherine S. White

Today I rescued the garden book from where it had been abandoned in November, and tried to envision the back yard, transformed from a tarp covered pile of practical treaures that will soon find a home in the new garage to an inviting spot to nourish the birds, please the eye and look nice and neat and tidy!!!

I know that our efforts must be minimal, considering the limited energy we have to expend, but I can see a wonderful array of sunflowers and grasses - simple but strikingly cheerful.

Ah dreams and fragile plans - they are the substance of our lives and we strive to bring them to fruition.

In the meantime, - while we wait for spring - the struggle continues to balance the treadles and lamms and shafts to accommodate this elegant but skinny warp I have put on the loom with such anticipation. Husband is advising tipping the loom to make it easier to reach the treadles, and be more precise about the tie-ups. I view this with some trepidation, but see the advantages to not lying on the floor reaching under the loom and blindly counting the number of loops in the tex solv before I insert an arrow pin. And besides, Husband has proven over the many years that we have existed together to be most often right! This adds to my security, but it is also a little irritating, if you know what I mean!!!

The Swinging Door

Today Husband and I closed a door on a part of our life that has consumed a great deal of energy, required a great deal of commitment, and has brought with it a sense of accomplishment, a sense of frustration and dismal discouragement, much love and friendship, and finally, - closure.

The swinging door closes, and with an extra little push it opens on a brand new world where the sun shines, mild breezes blow, and the air is fragrant with the scent of freedom - figuratively speaking.

More time for this, - more time for that....with the Ego laid to a well deserved rest the mind gives us permission to frolic (so to speak!) The vista opens on a certain amount of liberty to pursue things that have for a long time been neglected. Visits to old friends, (the number of which seem to diminish with each passing year) so that this has a priority that we ignore at the risk of melancholy regret.

Time and the inclination to pack a picnic lunch and go exploring, perhaps with a fishing rod packed in the trunk in case we find a pleasant stream.

Time to dream dreams and make plans for the back yard - to plant some more trees that we will probably never see come to maturity, but which will give us shade and pleasure for the years left to us.

Time to weave with some kind of serious commitment to it.

Time for music, and reading and irresponsible hours. (Can two depression raised people ever achieve irresponsibility???)

Time for husband to cultivate the habit of casual coffee and lunch visits with friends and to organize his workbench for happy hours of fixing and fiddling.

Most importantly it is time to wake to a day free of fretfulness about dissension. That is a wonderful gift - life is how we perceive it, and a mind freed from dratted worry is a mind alive and open to new adventures.

Perfect days! Happy days! Now, if I can just get the loom to gather herself together and start to work in harmony, - shafts, lamms and treadles all working in sweet cooperation, - what bliss!!!

Silence in these quarters for the last little while.
But that doesn't indicate a lack of activity.

With the arrival of the black silk with which I plan to dress the loom, great enthusiasm blossomed forth, along with prodigious planning of warp and weft.

How to best determine the amount of yarn to put on each bobbin, so that it was exactly what was needed and none of the precious black silk wasted? Without a counter I could rely on I went back to the warping board, - measuring off the lengths of warp, winding them on to a ball, and from there to the bobbin, using the bobbin winder which Husband made so cleverly many years ago. A job that I found I could not do all at once, so it has been spread over a number of days, in odd and pleasurable moments.

At last the moment has arrived to clamp on the tensioner, thread it from the bobbin rack, figure out how many turns of the sectional beam, and start to dress the loom.

Husband has contributed greatly to the practical side of weaving, having made the spool rack, the tensioner, and the sectional beam. A veritable treasure, and well worth keeping I think! Both Husband and the sectional beam with accessories.

The picture is a tea towel warp, and the overseer is Miss Roo. Gone from these parts, but not her spirit. Her grave by the fence is marked, and planted with flourishing meadow rue, and the new little kitten mirrors her image and her friendly disposition.

Winter continues in these parts.....













But Groundhog Day approaches, and then can spring be far behind????? I have not yet given in to scraping away the snow to see if there are any signs of green bulbs pushing through the ground. Certainly the Lenten Roses have not made any signs of forming buds, but they are such little stubs they could be loitering just below the surface. If that is so it must be Hope that is springing around, dropping faint intimations of approaching green grass, new calves, lambs and mild weather.

Amaryllis 2 - even more beautiful and delicate than Amaryllis 1. Almost translucent and an enchanting shade that I cannot quite put a name to.















Today the grocery store had small pots of miniature daffodils in bloom. Gorgeous soft pink mallows and heady violets.

I resisted, - but I am going to town tomorrow as well, to resume our Ladies' Thursday Lunch Date!

........................................................................................................................................................................

Here it is tomorrow, and it has been snowing since midnight. Lovely Christmas Eve snow, - soft and tender as it falls, but definitely has lost its way timewise!!!

No lunch date, - no town - bad roads- nervous drivers. Spent the day hemming tea towels, playing cards with Husband and saving pictures of the summer garden to CD.

A picture of a little sparrow at the kitchen window bird feeder.


The troop of quail were feathering along in the snow, hunting for the seeds that lay under it, on the ice. The wiser Contingent gathered around the bottom of the bird feeder in the apple tree and snaffled the seed that the small birds spill.

Down in the meadow a squadron of large, black ravens circled the sky, landing and pouncing on the left overs from the recent butchering. The smaller birds pay them no mind as the ravens jump up and down in ecstasy, - dark exclamation marks on the white snow.

A day in the loom room

Good for the soul, but hard on the back.

Remember the green tea towel? Yesterday I finished it, and as I did a great longing came over me, - a longing not to have to do anything more on that particular warp that had eight weights hanging from the back and required constant misting and flaxing to keep it in proper weaving shape.

Whilst in this state of longing and reckless abandon my eyes fell on the scissors, and before one could say "Jack Robinson" (as if he had anything to do with it) I was snipping at the warp, great swathes at a time. The unwoven warp fell away and slipped through the heddles, and the woven tea towels relaxed their grip on the front beam and sighed mightly at the relief they felt at giving up the strain of remaining taut.

What a wonderful feeling of liberty and independance pervaded the room. This is bound to happen when warps grow old and emit a great feeling of anxiety that wafts through the loom room door as you pass hurriedly down the hallway. The chains that warp entwined me with were gone, and in my mind arose great visions of the gorgeous, exotic things I was now free to weave....

Today I ordered some black silk!

Once that was done it was time to minister to the loom, - to pick up all the nuts and bolts that had fallen from unused lamms and were hiding under the treadles. To retie the belts on the sectional beam and replace all the withered elastic bands that keep them in place - so long had they been there since the warp was first put on, fresh and full of promise. To dust and vacuum, and promise the loom the joys of a new and gorgeous warp to cover its nakedness!

A studied survey of the stash stored in plastic containers in the loom room closet revealed a little of this, a little of that, but nothing that excited my imagination. Hence the call for black silk, and the hurried retrieval of the ancient weaving book where all the plans are recorded. Probably the most exciting part of any project, - dreaming dreams and engaging the brain in the math of the warp and weft.

A great day, all around!!!

Tomorrow I will hem the tea towels, apologize for such a long birthing, and pass them on as the housewarming gift they were meant to be.

O Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire,
What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turn
Dismayed, and think thy snow a sculptured urn
Of death! Far sooner in midsummer tire
The streams than under ice. June could not hire
Her roses to forego the strength they learn
In sleeping on thy breast.
- Helen Hunt Jackson, A Calendar of Sonnets: January

HERE IS A POIGNANT LITTLE POEM WHICH I THINK IS TELLING US THAT NOTHING GOOD COMES WITHOUT HARDSHIP, - THAT BEAUTY IS BORN OF SUFFERING, THAT FOR HEAVENS SAKES, IF WE WANT THE ROSES OF JUNE WE'D BETTER APPRECIATE THE SNOWS OF JANUARY.

That's all very well, but this snow has been around since November, and we've put up with it long enough!!!

I scan the weather forecast for some sign of encouragement, but there is nothing in the future except more cold weather.

When Spring does decide to favour us, about March or April, she dallies on her way, waving one day from the top of a mountain, and then disappearing from view and sending a storm in her stead. Why am I even thinking so far ahead???

Well, in my heart of hearts I know why. I am drifting through January, oblivious to the resolve that in my imagination saw the warp on my loom finally finished, and a beautiful silk warp in its place.

One can easily see the length of warp that is left on the loom, and the state of the green linen tea towel that I have to stop and minister to with a flax solution to keep it from shredding..... It is five of a series of six, so the end is in sight, but the days are going by, one by one, while I dither and dream.

In the evenings I go through photographs that I need to scan and enter into the Power Point genealogy program that was due for Christmas distribution to family members, but it is a desultory occupation, and my enthusiasm is dampened by the sheer numbers of snaps we have taken, or have had sent to us. Wonderful to have, but where, oh where, is the particular one you are looking for!!!

Am I suffering enough to deserve those roses of June? Not yet, - not yet!

But I am procrastinating, and O, Procrastination,

They name is Blog!!!

Inside Outside













Inside all is warm and cosy. The winter flowers bloom extravagantly - note the new amaryllis.













And the geraniums are happy in their winter abode, flourishing in the big bathroom.














The dog and the cat are learning to be comfortable with each other, and sometimes even show signs of enjoying each other's company.

The only time the dog gets upset is if Husband and I should discuss too loudly, when he trots off down the hallway and pees on the bedroom door jamb. Not good for the carpet, but he is old and precious and we indulge him without too much scolding. I am grateful for the Barefoot Lass's carpet tips on cleaning up after pets, though.







Outside it is a different story. The hills glisten with icy snow and it is cold and frosty. The yard is a skating rink, - Husband has furnished old boots with pointed screws that dig into the ice and make walking less of a hazard.

When the sun shines and the sky is blue I am caught up with the memories of prairie winters, but alas, it is more often overcast and cloudy here. And besides, sixty years has passed since those winters when I had a passion for skating and never noticed how cold it was.

The blood runs thinner now, - the legs are not as limber, and the joints complain about the frosty weather. The imaginations runs to spring days; melting snow and thawing ice; bulbs breaking through the ground and the Lenten roses pushing up their little stubs of bloom.

I am incredulous when I hear the fear mongers declare this the warmest winter ever in southern Canada, - we are ten miles from the USA border, and cannot get too much further south. We cannot get too many degrees colder, either, without it being a grave danger to the fruit buds and the vinyards in this valley.

Off on a little tangent --- I have heard it said that Climate Control and Global Warming is the new religion, - one never knows what is going to come along to fill a vacuum!!!

"In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments -- there are
consequences.-- "
Robert G. Ingersoll

Does this apply only to Nature?

It seems to me that this is one of the basic tenets of life, and that many of the problems that face us today are because people refuse to face up to the consequences of their actions.

I remember when one of our granddaughters was very young, but nevertheless very observant about life's rules, the results of one of her childish choices was not to her liking. She sighed and complained to her Grandfather that "she had made the wrong decision!" I can only hope that her realization of the consequences of making the wrong decision will accompany her throughout her lifetime..... If she still recognizes that the "wrong decision" results in unhappy consequences it will not be because the mores of present day society teach her that truth.

We seem to be sliding down the slippery slope that leads to a denial of personal responsibility for our actions. A google on "suing" will bring up a baffling array of petty law suits, all of them launched in an effort to lay the blame elsewhere, and profit from it. Does anybody "suck it up" when they trip and skin their knee, or spill a cup of hot coffee on themselves, or choose to do something that puts their life in danger and suffer an injury? How many organizations have had to curtail good events because the cost of liability insurance has risen so dramatically that they cannot afford to protect themselves against being sued? How many community buildings have had to raise their rents to accommodate outrageous liability insurance premiums, and thus made it impossible for non profit organizations to use their facilities? This year our Diocese requires that anybody who volunteers in any way to assist in the maintenance or operation of a church must be insured, - except those volunteers between 75 and 80, for whom they must pay extra to obtain insurance. Even the Altar Guild ladies!!! And for those volunteers over 80 there is no insurance.

Never mind, - that is the generation who early on learned to "suck it up" during a depression and a world war!!

Where did we turn the corner into never-never land where the Nanny State assumed they could do a better job of educating and caring for our toddlers than their parents?
When did we abdicate responsibilities for what happens on our own personal road through life and start leaning on the State for cradle to grave support? What have we lost in integrity and strength of character by letting responsibility for our own actions slip from us? How have we been robbed of these virtues by a State that assumes itself to be all powerful in controlling the lives of its citizens?

When I discuss this situation with Husband he grows somewhat irate and blames it on the liberal coutenance of our society - and of course I believe he is right. We have the Great Charter of Rights, not the Charter of Rights and RESPONSIBILITIES. How does civilization survive without those twin requirements of a sane and practical world. The Charter has hoodwinked us into a perpetual state of childish dependency, and a petulant attitude that the world owes us a living, resulting in a tragic loss of pride and initiative.

It has stolen the virtues of personal charity and stewardship from us - organized it and put it in the hands of Government and Unions. Who can volunteer now if it offends a Union? Who can go and read to an aged person in a Care Facility without having a police check?

Oh, heavy, heavy stuff - and inclined to make one morose so close to bedtime.

Here is a picture of Missy, who leads an independent life, and enchants us all.....














And here is a picture from the deck of a beautiful sky, which is the consequence of the sun rising over God's world! Each and every morning....

Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments,
embark upon a sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour.
- John Boswell









Today I was able to capture a picture of the birds that gather for warmth and sustenance in snow covered yards, fields and orchards.

We have a brave troop of quail that delight in the bounty of summer, and follow the trail of seeds in the winter with diligence, hope and an almost military orderliness.. Here they are, scavenging beneath the bird feeder where the small wild birds have spilled seed on to the icy snow the surrounds the apple trees in the back yard.

One of their favourite route marches is a single file encirclement of the fence that surrounds the garden and upon which we grew scarlet runners this year, in a dense mass. I watch them through the lacy vines as they pass, one by one, - and above them the look-out on the fence keeps a sharp eye out for stealthy neighbouring cats, or circling hawks.

Out here in the country there are tangled vines and piles of prunings which provide shelter. Along our driveway, and around the house the quail pick at the gravel and small stones, so this is where we scatter seed to make their foraging extra rewarding.


The amaryllis today, - four beautiful blooms and a companion stem reaching the blossoming stage.

A little lull in the bitter cold of winter has given us two lovely sunny days. They bring back memories of winters on the prairies when I was a child, and the sun shone brilliantly in a bright, blue sky. And the touch of cold stirred my young blood into the most delightful activities, - walking in the snow, skating on the nearby rink, skiing and sleighing on the golf course hills in Edmonton.

Winter is not as delightful as it once was, but I can still enjoy these sunny days, and the flowers that live in our house while snow blankets the garden.

The amaryllis was slow in blooming, and missed Christmas by a few days. But the paper whites have been enjoying the light and coolness in the big bathroom for a couple of weeks, - so much so that I hate to move them out from where they are evidently luxuriating. The kitten and I enjoy their fragrance whenever the spirit moves us to visit.

The First Day of the Year 2007

And an indolent day it was, - scandalously so!

Lolling around, knitting a bit, dozing a little, browsing a smidgin in the current Christmas books, and organizing some inspirational reading for the year. The really serious resolutions have not yet kicked in, and I am content that the days should pass in pleasant retrospect for a little while yet.

Not so with Husband.....he is champing at the bit and getting himself all fussed up with the constraints the weather is putting upon his outdoor activities. Hard to ignore the mood this puts upon him, and it is enough to make me yearn for a little sunshine and mild weather.

The Christmas/New Year celebrations are passing into memory, and the Time of Birthdays is upon us!!! Six family members, and three good friends!!! Eliot brands April the Cruel month, but methinks it more the month of Romance and Passion.

Our Grandson, David, had a spectacular celebration of his 19th birthday on New Year's Eve - his coming of Bar age, at least! A great bonfire of the year's prunings, - music and family and friends.

Tomorrow I will observe my 82nd birthday - not too closely! At 82 it is best to let birthdays just slip into oblivion, and perhaps their effects will not be too blatant...... I know all the quips about having earned each line and wrinkle, but it is more the weak joints, the creaking knees and the general diminishment of energy that plagues me about the passing years. I try to keep the enthusiasms at a high level, and occasionally I read over the Words of Wisdom posted on my Fridge door.

"LORD, Thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but Thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others' pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a Saint - some of them are so hard to live with - but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And, give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so. AMEN "



Even the act of re-typing this strengtens my resolve to face the future with courage and with the most sweetness of spirit that I can manage to dredge up!!!!

In the meantime I wait patiently for the January spirit of resolve to fall upon me and get me stirring......the only thought for the future that has so far come upon me is that I should practise Scott Joplin each day until I regain some proficiency with his music, - it brings such pleasure to both Husband and I.

Here is Miss Roo in September, 2005. With a bell around her neck so that we could discourage her wandering spirit that yearned for "home" and the Lost Garden.


















And here is Missy, sitting in the same window, but looking in, instead of out! Methinks that portends good things, and she will hopefully be a stay at home cat.














Today Missy and Caspar had their first skirmish. He is being amazingly patient, but she became just a little too familiar when she decided to sniff his leg! Indeed, - decidedly too familiar. I had thought it would have been his waving tail that would initiate the first stand-off, if she should decide to bat at it with her little paw. Not so - and I'm afraid we have lost some ground in the friendship game.

All this happened later in the morning, but first thing, just after getting up, here is the spectacular sunrise that kept us outside in the cold wind, taking pictures and marvelling at the fiery beauty.

























Eventually the colours faded to a soft gold, and so began the day!

Somebody new has taken up residence, with headquarters in the Big Bathroom.




But she has quickly taken to roaming the rest of the house....




and capturing hearts right and left!!




When I first heard that David, our grandson, was wondering if we were ready for another kitten yet, the pain I felt at losing Miss Roo last spring twinged in my mind and behind my eyes.

When Christmas passed and no kitten arrived on the doorstep I thought an awkward moment had been avoided.

But when David and Missy arrived on Boxing Day I knew that he was wise, and I was beguiled by this little miniature image of Miss Roo, - friendly and sweet and full of adventure. When she first met Caspar I venture to say that she was the "spitting" imagine of Miss Roo, but after two days they are becoming comfortable with each other.

Any objection Husband might have had to another little animal around the house was immediately overcome by his soft and tender heart for all things small and vulnerable.

So we start our days with Missy - the only name she has so far, and perhaps that is the one she will end up with.

Thank you David!!

P.S. A wee, tiny, fragile kitten has inspired Husband to remember to put down the lid of the toilet in his bathroom. UP UP with MISSY!!!!!

In Praise of Boxing Day

This morning I had occasion to look into the kitchen pantry with my eyes wide open - my "housekeeping eyes" that is! I viewed the carnage that seemed to take place silently in this little catch-all in the days before Christmas, and mentally made a note of priority regarding restoring order.

But Not Today - Today is Boxing Day.

The day that I understand arose from the practise of taking boxes of food and essentials to the poor who lived on the estates of the rich.

When I was a child the day was devoted to visiting friends, - a continual round. I never figured out how it was determined who was to travel and who was to stay home to receive the travelers with good cheer and the traditional grog.

Then there was the practice of using up the left-over turkey to continue the celebration with those who weren't present for the actual Christmas Dinner.

And in the days when Christmas Parties were de riguer, Boxing Day was a favourite to gather all friends together for a "cocktail" and an exchange of Christmas stories.

Most recently Box Day has degenerated into an economic frenzy, and I could say more about this aspect of the secular take-over of a Christian religious celebration, - but that is a subject for another Blog.

But none of these things happen in this House. And not at this time......

Since the mellowing advance of age, this is a pictorial view of how Boxing Day is preferably spent around these parts! Not that friends aren't welcome, but in between times snoozes are delectable and to be indulged in along with left-over turkey and plates of sweets.




The Master and the Dog. And the blog person is about to go and make a quick turkey sandwich before falling on to the couch to join the slumberers.....

The days draw in as we reach The Birthday Celebration.

Already the shortest day in the year has come and gone, and if one had time to ponder the future surely the prospects of February, March and April would rouse one's gardening spirits.

However, here we are in the midst of busy and blessed days.

And I find I am not as swift as I once was. In my effort to stay calm and serene during Advent days I have reluctantly relegated some of the Christmas traditions to the Once-upon-a-time-we-used-to Era.

There are no mince tarts in the pantry. None in the freezer, either...... The outside lights are simple - no elaborate displays of stars or fancy strings of lights along the fence and through the garden.

All the myriad pieces of silver we received for wedding presents lie tarnished as the elves who used to clean them grew up and go about their own fascinating teen-age business. This will be a down to earth Christmas, - lacking in elegance, but not in joy or in a grand feast.

Despite having to play at two church services Christmas Eve we will have a modified family drop in Christmas Eve gathering supper, - Oyster Stew for those who grew up loving it, - Chili and Ham and buns for those who entered the family not knowing of this exotic tradition, and not prepared to do more than sip a little oyster broth and try to look as if they were enjoying it!!

The morning sun comes up on intermittent days, and glorifies the skies where the clouds linger over the mountain tops. On other days the clouds hang low, but the air is milder and the wind is still.



All the parcels and letters and cards have been sent away, and the most intriguing boxes surround the Christmas Tree in return.

Nicky and David, - our family who are too far away to spend Christmas with us physically, have once again made donations of various farmyard animals in the names of the family, through World Vision, and it inspires me to do the same next year (God willing!!)

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;



William Wordworth, in his time, bewailed the lack of simplicity and the loss of the core of spiritual life as we spend our energies accumulating stuff and as a consequence keeping our head to the ground, our shoulder to the wheel, our nose to the grindstone - while above the stars shine brightly and unheeded.

Ah, I am sinking into the philosophical mode and I think it is time to take up my knitting and ponder the ways of the world in a meditative mood.

All the time wishing Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men, a joyous Christmas, and the spirit of love pervading the whole wide world.

How beautiful the march of days
as seasons come and go.
The hand that shaped the rose has wrought
the crystal of the snow.














Has sent the silvery frost of heaven,
the flowing waters sealed
and laid a silent loveliness
on hill and wood and field.














O'er white expanses sparkling pure
the radiant morns unfold,
the solemn spendours of the night
burn brighter through the cold.

























Life mounts in every throbbing vein.
Love deepens round the hearth
and clearer sounds the angel hymn,
goodwill to all on earth.


Francis Whitmarsh Wile

I keep these words in my heart as
the beautiful days march on to Christmas
and I busy myself with parcels and
letters and baking and music and
love of the season.

Taking a Toll of the Bell Choir










Well, actually we aren't the tolling kind of Bell Choir, - we are an English Handbell Choir. Nonetheless, we are wondering for whom the bell tolls as illness "takes its toll" and we have had to cancel all the Christmas events we planned and practised for.

We made this decision tonight, and I was caught in a mix of emotions. Sympathy for those who are ill; a little sadness for those who have looked forward to our concerts at this special time of year; but also a small and secret sigh of relief as I struggle with efforts to simplify Christmas celebrations.

This is not an easy thing to do! I yearn for a quiet December in which to prepare for The Birthday. It would be nice to recognize Advent for what it is, - a time of quietness and reflection, and yes, preparation. But not the frenzied preparation we seem to start earlier and earlier. Not the demands on our time and our budget that we inevitably seem to yield to.

Even the loving preparations, - the baking, the shopping, the plans for gift giving and for entertaining family and friends, the Christmas letters, the bazaars and the Christmas bake sales and teas...they all take their Toll (there we are, back to that word again)

However, this will be my 61st year as a wife and mother - she who is responsible for all the Christmas traditions and the aforementioned busyness. I scan my Christmas cook books for easy and simple ways to cut down, and all the traditional baking recipes jump off the page and pull at my sleeve. (or is that my heart)? How can we do without butter or mince tarts, - or lemon curd and shortbread. What about hard sauce and toasted almonds, and sausage rolls and oyster stew!!!!

And not put up a Christmas tree, or all the treasured wreaths and ornaments from years gone by?

It is a dilemna - one that calls for stern discipline and an unemotional approach.

Not sure I'm up to it!