Some Spring time Pictures and The Common Cold, Disguised.

It seems that you can turn any corner, unawares, and be floored by the Common Cold, disguised as a slight headache and a scratchy throat. Once it has you in its throes it diabolically expands into a full blown sinus event, with all the symptoms....headache, sore throat, achy ears - and then everyone whispers at you to make life even more miserable.

This has been a busy week during which I held the cold at bay, but when we came home last night and I relaxed it moved in for the kill....

We have been traveling, - once to the south-east over the Richter Pass to Osoyoos, to have a delightful lunch with our friend, who turned 101 at the end of December.

And yesterday we took a different route into the Okanagan Valley, over the Yellow Lake Pass to Penticton to attend the funeral of a dear friend, and later to have a glass of wine with other old friends from Charles' school days.

Let me share with you some of the pictures we took on Tuesday from the moving car as we went whizzing through the countryside, late leaving and hurrying like the White Rabbit.

As we passed through the Valley far off in the west the peaks of the Cathedral mountains poked their head inquisitively over the shoulders of the Similkameen Hills.



And Chapaka, off to the south and still topped with snow, straddled the border with the U.S.A.



We skirted the river, around the cliffs high above it, and then turned to the east, up the winding Richter Pass road.



The road cuts through the Elkink Ranch, - green grass dotted with hundreds of contented cows and calves. They have built ingenious corrals from old tires, - sturdy and ecologically friendly.



The Ranch lies in a lovely narrow valley, and within the circle of slightly lower land if the water level is high, some years there is a small pond.



The road gets steeper as we continue up, and I am delighted to see on the hillsides great swathes of black eyed susans....lovely to look at, but a danger to pick in the spring because of the ticks who find them delicious too.



We come to a small benchland, and off to the right is Spotted Lake, long valued by First Nations for its healing qualities. Its colours vary, - sometimes it is shimmering and rainbow hued, but today the circles are quite a lovely shade of green and grey.



Here are the two sweet gentlemen I lunched with.



And on the way home we confined our picture taking to capturing the hillsides of Olalla (Saskatoon) bushes, more interesting snaps of Chapaka (where the snow makes slightly menacing primitive faces) and a nice country view of the farms closer to home.




_


From yesterday I can only offer a picture of the gorgeous blue of Skaha Lake, lying to the south of Penticton.



Well, I am off now to steam my poor head, have some hot water, honey and lemon, and perhaps a dash of rum........

SkyWatch Friday




Late afternoon clouds over the Cawston hills.

ABC Wednesday

N is for Nosegay

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
- Song of Solomon 2:10




Edouard Manet A Bouquet of Violets

A bouquet, a nosegay, a tussie-mussie - by any name a posey of violets is probably one of the sweetest things about spring.

Later in the season the roses and carnations and the lilies and other fragrant flowers call to be gathered and made into beautiful small bouquets for brides or as gifts that will fit into a tea cup and send messages of love and friendship.

But in the spring, the violets and the lily of the valley waft their fragrance and beguile the garden visitor into picking a few small stems to tuck into a sleeve or a neckline, - somewhere where the scent will delight as they go about their business.

Indeed, having existed since medieval times, 'they were once carried or worn around the head or bodice to mask the unpleasant smells of the times' (from Wikipedia).

And in Victorian times no lady would go out into the streets without carrying a small tussie-mussie to keep the sensitive nose content, (or gay). The more elegant bouquets would be carried in a silver holder, the better to keep the stems moist and the blooms fresh.



What a wonderfully romantic way to convey the language of love. A red rose for 'I love you' - a yellow rose for 'friendship' the lily of the valley for 'sweetness' and the violet for 'faithfulness'. And always the fern for magic and fascination.

Can you picture in your mind's eye a dashing gentleman, stopping on the street to buy violets from this small girl; tucking them into his own lapel and whistling on his way, off to see his love.....



I will bring you the lily that laughs,
I will twine with soft narcissus
the myrtle, sweet crocus, white violet
the purple hyacinth, and last,
the rose, loved of love.
Hilda Dolittle 1886-1961

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us.

Organist Jelani Eddington and pianist David Harris play Louis Moreau Gottschalk's "Grand Tarantelle" live in concert at Grace Baptist Church, Sarasota, Florida



What grand entertainment!

Tomorrow morning I will get up and go to church, free at last, free at last!!!

There will be no last minute hymn playing, no checking the music bag, no rushing to get to church in time for the Prelude, -

Because I WON'T BE PLAYING IT!!!

For the first time in six months I will relax, sit in the back pew with Charles, sing the hymns with frail gusto (spirit strong, voice weak) and rejoice in Linda's accompaniment.

Back from a winter in the South she is young and eager, and much as I enjoy playing the organ I am so happy to share.....gladly for the next six months at least.

As hard as I try to make the organ compete with modern church music, and as sprightly as I make the hymns, I never quite have the feeling that I have satisfied those amongst the congregation who swoon over guitars in the church and foot stamping music.

So it will be a lovely respite, and one that I am grateful for.

What in heaven's name is an Octogenarian doing playing the part of 'faithful organist' anyway........in this day and age!

Alleluia!

We are inveterate Sky Watchers.

Aren't all farmers? And although we no longer farm the habit now lends morning pleasure and evening delights.

In the evening Charles watches to the South and the East, while I keep my eye on the setting sun. In the morning the breakfast room faces the East and we are usually up for the show. But sometimes in the midst of summer, as the sun rises further and further to the north, we waken to a beautiful golden glow at the bedroom window.

We have been so fortunate in this Valley to have always been situated where we can view the sky at its most spectacular, or its tenderest. Where we lived down by the river the Valley narrowed to the West and some of the most amazing sunsets made our hearts skip. I would stand out in the pastures with my camera, hardly knowing which way to turn as the whole dome of heaven varied from vivid reds to warmest pink and peach. And it changes so fast, from second to second.



At the farm I can remember evenings when the very air was golden, and it felt as if you were floating through light......

Last night the hills in Cawston were bathed in a crimson light. The camera said yes, yes, - but you had to be there to truly experience it.




And sometimes there isn't any colour at all, - it is only the amazingly beautiful cloud formations - white against the blue of the sky, as if the tables of heaven were being laid with Delft.



A winter sunrise, full of colour, is a stranger here where we do not see the fiery sun rising over the distant flat horizon, as I did in my childhood on the prairies.
But the mountains and the shadows of the hills enhance them even more when they deign to come.



Here is a lovely soft April evening sky.....



It reminds me of the song we sang so many years ago -" All in the April Evening "- and I see in my mind's eye the sheep and their little lambs on the hills at the farm, and I remember fondly the people who sang it with us - so many years ago when we were so very young....

M IS FOR MEMORIES......

Elaine Paige singing Memory from Cats



Visit ABC Wednesday and see what other wonderful and interesting things M is for.....

It is late afternoon. The sky was mainly overcast after a sunny morning. And now tonight the setting sun is lighting up the Cawston hills.

But in the late afternoon Caspar and I set out on our usual walk, with the thought that we might lean on the new neighbour's fence and make their acquaintance. I had had a small chat with them the other day, but Caspar had not yet had the pleasure.

My talk with them was rather admonishing and concerned keeping things tidy, not letting garbage accumulate as they become more familiar with the neighbourhood. Their reply was pleasant but fairly off hand.

When we arrived at their fence today it immediately struck me that they weren't particularly house proud. The nice fresh grass that had surrounded their little house has been dug up, rooted up, - no doubt looking for truffles or some such exotic goodie.



Nevertheless, they greeted us pleasantly, with lots of breathy oof oofs (what did you bring for tea?) and a little cavorting around.



Caspar could not see nor hear, but he knew there was something interesting on the other side of the fence, and Simba and Sparky from down at the Big House also came up to pay their respects.





We lingered for a few minutes and then waved goodbye and came back up the road to where things are just a jumping in the garden.....









And a sweet April sky saw us to the door....



Faintly, in the distance, I heard the soft, contented oofing of the new neighbours....

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us.

I close my eyes and listen - total romance!

It is the hour! We challenge heaven above
Now, to deny our slight ephemeral breath
Joy, anguish, and that everlasting love
Which triumphs over death.


Alfred Noyes

Easter Blessings

Spring made a late but definite appearance today,
with the arrival overnight of The Rhubarb,
long awaited, keenly anticipated.



There will be days that make us swoon, and days that make us shiver, but I think this is Show Time.

Here are the daffodils that just a few days ago were only promising glory.



Already flirting with the Bees....



Good Friday, and I scurried around this morning trying to polish up a few spots around the house before it was time for the somber morning service.

The Ecumenical Church in the village is a combination of Anglican and United Church adherents, and it is suffering all the ailments which beset the mainline churches in this Post Christian era. In addition, although we have done our best to accept a combined service, the form of worship depends a lot upon the denomination of the Minister.

At present we have a new United Church Minister, and so the worship this morning veered wildly from the traditional Anglican observance of Good Friday. We have been involved in this arrangement for almost forty years, and I am no longer familiar with the modern traditional Anglican way, but I cast my mind back (away, way back) to the three hour Good Friday Service at St. Faith's in Edmonton, commencing at noon, and continuing with reflections on the Words from the Cross until three o'clock.

But it was a come and go affair. Come for the first Words, but if you had to leave someone else would soon slip in to take your place.

Today's service was less than an hour. It was solemn and reverent, - the words were different but the Gospel and Tenebrae told the same story.

The only time I raised my eyebrows was when the Minister referred to being "suffocated by tradition". I do believe that tradition in moderation is important to a stable society, a source of guidance, and mindfulness and strength.

And what are 'memes' but modern tradition in the making? Spreading ideas, planting seeds of change, creating new traditions in a random world.

Off to toast a home baked hot cross buns, made from my mother's traditional recipe! Currants, - no peel.....

ABC WEDNESDAY ROUND 4: L is for....


L for Lavender



HERE is a pretty site to find out about all the wonderful pleasures Lavender can bring you, - its fragrance, its use in cooking, in aromatherapy, in cosmetics, and just making you feel you're pampered and in heaven.

And while you're there listen to this lovely song, sung by Burl Ives. It will stir your imagination and send you to wander in days gone by amid the romance of your grandparent's era.



And here are some lyrics from days gone by that are slightly more risque than the modern version of 'Lavender's blue, dilly dilly"

Lavender's blue, diddle diddle
Lavender's green,
When I am king, diddle diddle
You shall be queen.

Lavender's green, diddle diddle
Lavender's blue,
You must love me, diddle diddle
'Cause I love you.

Down in the vale, diddle diddle
Where flowers grow,
And the birds sing, diddle diddle
All in a row.

A brisk young man, diddle diddle
Met with a maid,
And laid her down, diddle diddle
Under the shade.

There they did play, diddle diddle
And kiss and court.
All the fine day, diddle diddle
Making good sport.

I've heard them say, diddle diddle
Since I came hither
That you and I, diddle diddle
Might lie together.

Therefore be kind, diddle diddle
While here we lie,
And you will love, diddle diddle
My dog and I.

For you and I, diddle diddle
Now all are one,
And we will lie, diddle diddle
No more alone.

Lavender's blue, diddle diddle
Lavender's green,
Let me be king, diddle diddle
You be the queen.

Lavender's green, diddle diddle
Lavender's blue,
You must love me, diddle diddle
'Cause I love you.

Edward Rutherford, author of London, linked the song to the environs of London where in the 17th-century London lavender was cultivated for perfume.**

An enchanting fragrance.....

We had an early morning appointment today, - an hour's drive up and over the pass to Summerland for Charles to keep a seven o'clock date with the eye surgeon.

What better place to get new and improved sight than in Summer Land!

We topped the hill before descending into the Okanagan about 6.15, just as the sky was gathering in the morning light and the trees that rimmed the mountains were delicately silhouetted against the pale glow.



Making good time, - we passed Skaha Lake where a faint skim of ice disturbed the clarity of the water, and the reflection of the hills.



Down the By Pass and then we turned towards Summerland, following the winding road that skirts Okanagan Lake.



The bluffs that rise along the other side of the road remind me of friends from our newly married days, - artists who introduced me to the beauty and colour in these sculpted walls.



We turn towards the hill approaching the hospital site, and Giant's Head mountain is bathed in the morning sun. Unfortunately these pictures are all taken from a moving vehicle, and Giant's Head is a little out of focus, but look, there on the left hand side at the top is the Giant's head that surveys the southern part of the Okanagan Valley.



We arrive at the Hospital. Charles goes off with a kindly volunteer to have drops put into his eyes at ever increasing intervals, and then it is his turn to watch for the great light show that seems to accompany this type of cataract operation. In the meantime I am comfortable in the waiting room with a good book and interesting company.

No pictures on the way home, - I am driving and the patient is being tender with his blurry eye.

But when I get home the daffodils are out to greet me and the baby Daphne has small, beautifully fragrant pink flowers. The Delphinium were first past the post, and are a lovely mound of greenery, whilst the peony tips are just showing, pink and promising.



A long day, - we are off to bed....

BTW - in the 1930's when my grandmother had cataracts removed from her eyes she had to lie for weeks in a darkened room, with sandbags surrounding her head, to keep it still. Blessings surround us!

Music Monday

I think this is a really powerful and moving rendition of Il Silenzio, by the composer, Nini Rosso



The silence of the night, the silence of eternity, the Last Post - beautiful....

Oh heavenly days - spring dropped in today!!

We went for a late afternoon drive and saw two ducks swimming at the east end of Ginty's Pond.

And the sap rising red in the pond side willows.



We topped a little rise and stopped to take a picture of the valley, stretched out towards Chapaka and the border with the U.S. of A.


Great changes have happened in the Lower end of the Similkameen over the last year. In place of the stretches of sagebrush and grass above the road the land has been planted to grapes, - acres and acres and miles and miles...... This picture is of the land which adjoins our old farm and orchard. It is a private Indian reserve (deeded by Queen Victoria to this particular family). When we first came to the farm old Mr. Terbasket was nearing 100 years of age. He and Charles would converse, in Chinook, Mr. Terbasket on his side of the fence where the soil sustained the original bunchgrass that grew in the Valley, - and Charles on the other side of the fence, a newcomer on a Veteran's project, planting fruit trees.

At the top of the cultivated land is our old barn, where we spent so much time lambing and shearing and generally caring for the sheep.

The white portion is land which has been planted to grapes, and I hope fervently that economic times will not last so long that the sipping of wine will be abandoned! We are going to have to drink a lot of wine to put these grapes to good use.



Above the grape plantings there are rocky outcroppings on the sides of the hills, and the occasional Hoodoo stands out bright in the sun.



We turned to come home, and in the distance the mountains that stand behind our home on the other side of the valley were blue ridged and now, today, only topped with snow.



We passed great fields of cows and calves, lazily eating supper. I'm sure the babies caper, but calves don't gambol like lambs do, and I remember what a delight it was to watch them run and jump for sheer joy while the Mamas dined.



Alas, no sheep on our drive today, but glory be, it was a Spring Day!!!! And when I came home I inspected that little clump of daffodils and I can see they are going to keep their promise of golden blooms, - maybe tomorrow.....