When I first met my husband there was a lovely little chemistry going on, so the fact that he had a sister didn't make me love him any more, but it was a definite plus on his side, and she grew dearer as the years went by.....
Wenonah Finch - a beautiful girl, lively and spirited with many of the same interests I had and a sweet, compassionate nature. She was to play a welcome part in my life, through books and music and family and philosophies. I looked forward to her letters, all beautifully written (she had her mother's penmanship and her own wonderful way of putting things) and full of news of the little ones, when we both became mothers, - books she was reading, music she was playing, nature, and later on the part she took in publishing the books and paper she and Grant wrote.
She also introduced me to word games - like Hinky Pinky (hinkity-pinkity, etc. etc.) but the very best thing she shared with me was her discovery of Scott Joplin when he became popular again. I have her to thank for his book of Ragtime, and in the last few years of her brother's life I played The EliteSyncopations, the Peacherine Rag, Solace, The Maple Leaf Rag or some of his other favourites each morning after breakfast as he got ready for the day, and invariably I thought of Nonie.
When we were quite young, and while Nonie was still nursing st St. Paul's, - before she and Grant were married, our first born (Steven) was admitted to St.Paul's with an auricular flutter.
Granny and I took him down over the Coquihalla when it was just a rail line, and after a few days left him there with Nonie, in pediatrics. Much lighter of heart knowing that someone who loved him was helping to take care of him.
We both had large families,
so there were cousins by the dozen, and just a few more....
My children, all grown now (Steven is seventy) remember with great affection the visits of the American cousins, all peering out from the top of the camper as they drew into the farmyard.
What an exciting time, - for grown-ups as well as the children.
They roamed the hills, investigated the caves on the hillside, and helped with chores. When they got older some of them came and stayed a few days and formed nice friendships.
They came with water skis and boats, and one winter they brought a toboggan and had an exciting time in the Fairview Pass. And I looked forward to those times when Nonie and I could have conversations about life and how it was affecting us......about books we were reading, how we thought about politics and religion (we had lots of ideas to exchange, carefully, having different views on both subjects).
There was Expo when Nonie and Grant came to Vancouver at the same time we were visiting the Perrins, - the BC Centennial, when Charles grew an old fashioned moustache and we did a side trip to Seattle, and I recall vaguely that we spent an evening pub crawling?
Time passed, - the children grew up and away. We all traveled a little more and increased our memories of lovely visits when Grant and Nonie came back to Seattle and the West. We took our friends to Mats Mats Bay and enjoyed sharing in the wonderful life they had there, - the boat, the harbour, the music and the conversation.
Nonie took me with her to Turtle Island when she went for a music lesson with Gwendolyn Moore, and on the way she showed me where Betty MacDonald of "Egg and I"fame lived, - the sun shone, we chatted, the music was marvelous and it was another day with Nonie to put away and treasure.
Before you could turn around twice and say Jack Robinson we were all Grandparents!!!
Now when Grant and Nonie traveled it was just the two of them, and the dog, and Charles and I would go to wherever they were camped close to the border, - sometimes at Chopaka and once, when we were getting quite old and not as mobile as we once were, to a lake, east of the Similkameen,
probably over the border? Grant took the little boat out (rubber???) while Charles and Nonie chatted on the deck of their cabin and I wandered between the three of them.
All fond memories of a tender family relationship that I learned to cherish.
I keep Wenonah Finch Sharpe's book of poems beside me as I write and am astonished at how beautifully and profoundly they define her, and her life. And how deeply I relate to them - this interaction with our loved ones.
Nonie's maturity, her compassion, understanding and acceptance speak clearly through her words. Her "Pantoum for Lena" is poignant and heart-breaking, as are all the poems From the First Five Years. "Irish Air" and "Retreat" bring back many memories of Granny Finch and how she bore the loss of her two sons in battle. I love "Sidney at 100", and see his staunch and sturdy figure out in the orchard, at a steady pace, or sitting playing crib with the children when he was with us.
She had a nice mind. Wonderfully articulate, quick-witted and sensitive to her role as daughter, wife, mother, sister and friend.
To her children who gather to remember and honour her life I send my love and my appreciation of the extraordinary mother you were blest with. And I know what a blessing you all were to her....
I get up reluctantly from my loom with just ten more inches left
before I finish the pretty new scarf that I am so anxious to take off and wash
and see if the gracefulness of the drape is everything Jane said it would be
if I were only to concentrate on making the sett balance.
The same number of ends per inch in the reed as I throw picks per inch with the shuttle....
Jane is Jane Stafford, a whiz of a weaver who is conducting an online studio
that I am so happy to take part in.
I am a self taught weaver. I developed the passion when we had sheep, and I learned to spin.
It was also an era when many of our helpers on the orchard
were hippies living the easy contented life.
Some of the girls had taken to old crafts and were doing odd, primitive weaving,
which inspired me to go further into fabric arts.
There were no teachers or Weaving Guilds nearby,
so we bought a small loom, a number of books
and dozens of skeins of wool
from the Canadian Cooperative Wool Growers, and I was off!!!
Soon I bought a floor loom, a spinning wheel,
and eventually a counter marche eight harness, which really challenged me.
But I was learning, and that really brings me to the thoughts I have been having lately,
about learning something new every day!!
I am astonished at all the things I don't know!!!!
Even about weaving, although I have been involved with it for forty years or so.
I knew a balanced sett was important, but I didn't know what an amazing difference
it made in the "hand" of the cloth. Very exciting!
My children are teaching me oodles of things.
Sometimes they tell me about mischief they indulged in while growing up,
all new to me!
But more often they tell me of new ideas about the universe,
about physics and sometimes different spirituality.
or set me straight about technical tips and ancient
happenings.
One of my sons is reading Durant's History of the World's Civilizations,
all thirteen volumes.
They sat on our bookshelves for many years, for research,
- but now he tells me all sorts of amazing things
about the ancients Greeks and Romans and Byzantines, etc.
I am content with reading Durant's Pleasures of Philosophy.
The sons who live on the meadow in the Chilcotin are full of tales
about the creatures that inhabit this lovely spot,
and the great variety birds who come to visit in the summer,
and the accommodation they provide for all the swallows
who make the meadow their summer home.
When will it all end - this gathering of knowledge
(oh, some of which I forget, I must admit).
It makes life so interesting, and I realize how lucky I am
to have the energy and interest to absorb it.
Tomorrow I will finish the nicely balanced scarf
and if it all falls in a gentle heap
when I let it drop I will post a picture.
What I learned today was that if I spend more than an hour in the garden with trowel and snippers
my back will ache and my knee will freeze up!!!!
No matter how golden the daffodils are or how tenderly green the new leaves appear!!
Not that it is getting on in the evening - I have really just finished dinner, but had a session in the garden this aftenoon and all that fresh air and battling with the cutch grass has left me a little weary, a little sleepy.
And the book I am reading is long (667 pages) and the print is very small. The Los Angeles times says in its review "that it is actually possible to live within it for the brief time one spends with this book. You may never leave the chair." I find that very hard to believe,
but the words are encouraging, if far-fetched....
I am at Chapter 18, page 231 and I have to confess to being gripped by this story Abraham Verghese tells, about twin boys born in Ethiopia to a Sister, who dies in childbirth, and a surgeon who is so wrought up he disappears and has not yet re-appeared in the pages I have read. I could tell you all the wonderful words the many reviewers have written, but all I shall say is that I find it to be an amazing, imaginative, generous story. And I guess I could say compelling, as well.
The name is "Cutting for Stone".
Abraham Verghese is Professor and Senior Associate Chair for the Theory and Practice of Medicine at the Stanford University School of Medicine and the founding director of the Centre for Medical Humanities and Ethics at the University of Texas Health Science Centre. Also an exhilarating writer.
I am reading this book for the Library Book Club, and luckily have another
couple of weeks to finish it.
I hurried along at the end with the last one, too ...."It's all true, no lies here" ....a story about Daniel Boone that possibly contained some of the myth that surrounds this American pioneer hero.
In the meantime. Alexander McCall Smith's latest book has arrived "My Italian Bulldozer". I have a little stack waiting to be read, - Joanna Trollope's "Girl from the South", Emma Donoghue's "Frog Music; and Kate Atkinson's "Behind the Scenes at the Museum"has been hanging around, waiting patiently, for ages.
I was rash enough to pick up "spill simmer falter wither" by Sara Baume at the library the other day, being so fascinated by the title!!!
Ah well, - too much going on in the garden and at the loom for me to get a lot of reading done. There are rainy days coming up and I can't spend all day throwing the shuttle back and forth, so perhaps I will ignore the housework and immerse myself in all this fine print!
Look for me in the big chair, underneath the lamplight, with my reading glasses
While leafing through the last edition of the magazine "Handwoven" looking for something which would reinforce my thoughts on using a fine white linen as warp for a silk weft, - (both yarns that languish in the top drawer of my left-overs), I came to the last page, "Endnotes".
The article, by Benjamin Krudwig, tells how he was originally drawn to be a weaver, based on the official reason and "one that covers the deeper question of why I started" weaving.
"There is also a metaphorical reason why I love weaving.
It is one of the greatest metaphors for life.
We create this beautiful and unique piece of art called life, seemingly out of nothing -
weaving relationships, experiences, and stories into a fabric
that when viewed as a whole, becomes something.
We are stronger together than we are apart,
and each of us is an integral part of this world, this community, and this life.
Each thread gives character to the entire fabric."
It is an ancient metaphor... many have compared weaving to life.
some in more poetic words,
but this young man is only in his twenties
and his words did give my spirit a lift.....
Ancient picture of Greek Ladies weaving a tapestry
I have been "looming" (WEAVING) on a loom like this for a long, long time and as a consequence have gathered an incredible amount of wool, which sometimes wakens me in the night with thoughts of whatever will I do with all that yarn!!!!
Well, here is what I did recently with a very small portion of my stash!!!
I gathered a little pile of balls together, - chose three or four whose colours cosied up to one another and plied them through the Indian Head spinner, - then went back and chose some more, and then some more... until I had enough to create a happy warp.
I closed the LOOM room door so Callie the cat couldn't come in to assist me, - wound the warp, beamed it on the LOOM, threaded and sleyed the ends, and started to weave.
Callie and I (she sits beside me on the LOOM bench) finished off the warp in grand style, removed it from the LOOM and had that piece of fabric in the lower left corner of the picture, which Callie is inspecting for errors and places that need ends clipped and tucked!!!
Time to do the finishing bit, - washing and pressing and a little brushing!
By this time I was getting quite weary, but the light in the tunnel at the end sped me on, and we finished just before a late supper.......
I am quite pleased, and have in my mind great plans for a couple of cones of linen and a few half balls of silk to make a pretty summer scarf.....
I love my LOOM - Callie loves my LOOM, - and who knows, someday I may get my lovely 8 shaft countermarche set up somewhere and weave on it to my heart's content!!
It is generally thought that the Jelly Bean first surfaced when a Boston confectioner, William Schrafft urged people to send jelly beans to soldiers during the American Civil War.
That would be about the time my Loyalist ancestors came to Canada
but I doubt if they brought the Jelly Bean with them.
Today most historians believe that the jelly bean was first linked with the celebration of Easter sometime in the 1930'.
Who hasn't made a little nest of green confetti paper
to hold these sweet delicacies which they are going
to hide in the garden under the pretext that the Easter Bunny
left them there for the children in the house?
The Jelly Bean comes in a myriad of colours and flavours.
Even the Harry Potter series is available on the market...
including flavours such as earwax, dirt, and pepper, -
we would hope these are only names, and the actual flavours
are delicious and fruit based.
But who knows????
The Jelly Bean has also slang connotations.
In the electronics industry a "jelly bean" component is one which is widely
available, used generically in many applications, and has no very unusual
characteristics (Mr. Google told me this...)
In the United States in the 1910s and 1920s a "Jellybean"
was a young man who dressed stylishly to attract women,
but had little else to recommend him!
Mr. Google told me this, too.......
Jimmie Dupre, Sam Rosen and Joe Verges wrote a song
"Jelly Bean He's a Curbstone Cutie)
published by Universal Music Publishers
in the 1920s
and made popular in the 1940s by Phil Harris.
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F. Scott Fitzgerald and William Faulkner's both wrote about such a character,
As the Cheshire cat is purported to have said to Alice,
"if you don't know where you're going, any road will do"
I have been travelling along this dusty trail for the last few years..
the one that admonishes me to use up all my yarns, - cottons, wools, silks, - and all those silk blouses that I saved to cut into wonderful rainbow strips. It has been a heavy load.....and I have stuck to it with Puritan diligence.
I have fashioned scarves and tea towels and mats, all the while contriving to use leftover bits and pieces from projects in my heyday of weaving. At first it was a challenge, but now the range of yarns is not so inviting and the cotton warp is almost gone....
When yesterday, (as I was scrolling on the internet and as I came across the opportunity to buy the most inviting weaving kits) I had a strange reaction. A little bit of rebellion mixed with a great longing to scrap all the leftovers and make something brand new and beautiful, - gorgeous tea towels, - lovely silken scarves, - some bamboo yarn and other exotic bits of weaving material.
If, as some of my children attest, there is a possibility (not probability) that I might live to be a hundred, then am I going to follow along the same old trail, using up the leavings of the past? I was going to say 'dregs' but the past was really quite wonderful and what is left of it cannot be referred to in that manner.
Or am I going to make a right turn at the next leafy tree and follow the path lined with all these exciting new yarns and projects that have caught my eye(s), opened them wide, so that they see clearly a few years of perfectly harmonious activity in the Loom Room and lots of Christmas and Birthday gifts.
Well, what would you do??
Exactly, and that's just what I am going to do too!!!!
Someone at the Bargain Centre is going to love all the yarns I am going to pack in a wicker basket, maybe with some knitting needles and magazines!!!
The sun shone yesterday and I pooh-poohed the weatherman's sly allusion to "maybe a small skiff of snow overnight", but when I woke and opened the door for Bruce's early morning foray in the garden I was dismayed to see a brand new white coverlet snugged up in the garden, and up and down the apron to the garage (which, alas, contained no car - it was out the front all frosted up).
A few years ago I would have thought nothing of this situation, but today it caused a little stir - car cleaned of snow, or a walk with cane!!!! Only a half a block to church.....
I walked. It was delightful. Not cold, nice conversation with neighbours cleaning their walkways. And by the time I came home the sun was shining again!
We are just a Worshipping Community here in what was once a thriving parish, and we rely on visiting and often retired clergy. Our minister today was an old, old friend. He came to our parish in the early 1950s when he was just graduating from seminary, and when I was young and involved with the Sunday School. After a few years he went on with his career in other places, and Charles and I stayed here and farmed and continued at St. John's. But when we all grew older and retired he came back to help us in our hour of need!!! And he is so comfortable and his services so familiar and enduring....
We are on the cusp of Lent - Ash Wednesday on the 1st of March. The gospel for today was from Matthew, and the Psalm a small Stone of Wisdom.
I still my soul and keep it quiet, like a child upon its mother's breast
O Lord, I am not proud; I have no haughty looks.
I do not occupy myself with great matters, or with things that are too hard for me,
But I still my soul and make it quiet, like a child upon its mother's breast; my soul is quiet within me.
And the Matthew gospel was all about the lilies of the field and the birds of the air
and the faith that we require to avoid the anxiety and the worry about what we will drink, what we will eat, what we will wear, what will be our place, here on earth, tomorrow and in the future."so do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today"
Did you know that anxiety and worry affect our longevity, and that faith and trust will add days and months and years to this wonderful experience of being alive on this earth????
Day by day, - one day at a time!
I am reminded that the stillness, the faith and the trust, - and the humility - are all part of this struggle I have with the Ego!!!
Oh, this getting old is so complex. I have a book called "Lasting Words" - A guide to finding meaning toward the close of life". When I first dipped into it I was too active to absorb the admonishment to relax and meditate, but now I think I am more resigned to making room for a little stillness.
One of the most original Danes of the 20th century he was a many-sided man in the best sense.
An author, philosopher, mathematician, designer, scientist, game inventor, as well as the creator
of a new form of poetry he called "Grook".
In his philosophical writings he asserted that the great cultural divide in society was not between the haves and the have-nots, but between the knows and the know-nots - and to myself I whispered "yes, yes, yes".
"Piet Hein wrote over 10,000 grooks, most in Danish or English and published in more than sixty books....His grooks first started to appear in the daily newspaper "Politiken' in April 1940 - shortly after the Nazi occupation and under the Old Norse pseudonum "Kumbel" meaning "tombstone" Grooks are small aphoristic verses characterized by irony, paradox, brevity, precise use of the language, sophisticated rhythms and rhymes, revealing in a minimum of words and with a minimum of lines some basic truth about the human condition."
Here are a few examples to wet your appetite.......
T.T.T. The Road to Wisdom
Put up in a place The road to wisdom?
where it's easy to see Well it's plain to see
the cryptic admonishment and simple to express
T.T.T. err
and err
When you feel how depressingly and err again
slowly you climb but less
it's well to remember that and less
Things Take Time and less
On Problems
Our choicest plans
have fallen through,
our airiest castles
tumbled over,
because of lines
we neatly drew
and later neatly
stumbled over.
Today I really like this one, the February sun being loathe to appear......
The clouds are skirting the bottom of the hills and the sky is overcast and dour. A little while ago I saw a very small patch of blue (enough to make a sailor a pair of pants, as my grandmother would say) edged in a little reflected light from the sun that lurks behind, and shines on the higher hills.
The forecast is for more of the same, - perhaps even a little snow. But February is almost as fickle as April, and one never knows what she will cast down for us to cope with or enjoy.
I went to Penticton on Friday, and on the way home the setting sun made vision impossible - shining in the eyes and obliterating the road.
I went to Penticton with third son and his dear wife to attend the funeral of what would have been my oldest living friend. A very beautiful Celebration of Life, Anglican style. With a few little modern additions much appreciated by the non-church-goers. The Presider sang a lovely song. with guitar accompaniment, and my friend's granddaughter played a beautiful farewell lament on her violin, as well as an enchanting dance tune, for Granny. The grandchildren did readings and prayers. The church was full. On her 90th birthday the Arts community in Penticton paid her tribute for her years of creative contribution, both in painting and encouragement to younger painters.
Charles started Grade One with Jill. I met her soon after we were married, in 1947. After her husband entered the Ministry he was at St. John's for almost ten years, and in that time a friendship for life was cemented and grew stronger and dearer.
our last lunch together - ladies with canes.....
As I took part in the old familiar service I noticed that many of the congregation participated more as spectators, and I guess it is rather a drama in some ways.
But sometimes I think that those who are not familiar with the church, - who maybe left her to go their own ways after Sunday School age, - who maybe have a slight disdain for the intellect of the people who they think believe in the "Sunday School God", (Old Man with Beard recording misdeeds) - sometimes I think that they don't realize most church-goers have advanced beyond that view and have a more mature and sophisticated image of Life and Spirituality, and "God". And that their Services are a reminder of the morality and mysticism, of a human realization that this is probably only part of our journey......
Anyway, it was a fond and loving farewell. And I like to think that Charles was there beside me, saying his adieu (and welcome?), to a friend who was dear to him too. So few left. I can count them on one hand!!
The dear old priest who gave the homily ended with the analogy of death, as a sailboat setting off from shore; the friends and loved ones watching as it fades from view in the distance; and the friends and loved ones on the other side, waving their welcome when it comes into sight.
Comforting.....thoughts of Tennyson and Crossing the Bar passed through my mind - " Sunset and evening star/ and one clear call for me/ and may there be no moaning of the bar/ when I put out to sea......
I see a bigger patch of blue, above me, - and the clouds are billowing white in favoured places where the reluctant sun hides but sends a few rays to illuminate and tease.
I go to play the ukulele this afternoon, - how we who are left amuse ourselves, looking for pieces with easy familiar chords and tunes that echo our youth..... I found that the Chattanooga Choo Choo
is something I can manage quite nicely!!
