Friday Favourites and What I've Read Online

 

Are you familiar with Wendell Berry's "The Peace of Wild Things"? 

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

It's a good poem for our time, and one I thought of yesterday when I walked beside the pond with my grandchildren. A number of wood ducks swam amongst the much greater hordes of mallards, all quacking and splashing and diving with no care beyond who on the shore might have a bag of bird seed and thus become their new best friend. 

Spending time with these dear little people (grandchildren, not ducks) drove home to me again some of the loss of this pandemic. Felix started Grade One in September and I've spent no real time with him since last summer. So I was very surprised when I heard him reading out loud in the living room, smoothly, with confidence. When did that happen? While I sense the loss, there is great reassurance that the children have continued to grow and learn and even thrive in the midst of the world's chaos. 

I love the longer evenings when we can walk after dinner in the light. Garry Oak trees are slow to leaf out and I don't mind for I find their twisted branches more interesting in silhouette than in leaf. 

It looks to me as if the branch is reaching out with bony fingers to pat the moon on the head. Not a planned photo, but fun to see when I looked at it later. 

The next full moon is Sunday, but according to the weather forecast we won't be seeing much of it. Rain and wind are on the way for that day. We had planned an outdoor family birthday party, but have had to revise our plans considerably. I will be so happy when we can gather indoors and all sit around the dining room table. It's been far too long. 

Besides spending time with the grands, I've planted seeds both indoors and out. The tomato plants are up (indoors) and every day I check them and brush them gently with my hands as I've read that helps to strengthen them. I took a load of books and a few clothes to the thrift store and am slowly working on spring cleaning. 

I've linked below to some things that I've read online recently and thought you might find them interesting, too. 

Wool and moths - I ordered the moth prevention product mentioned in the comments (kritterkill1 on e-bay), and they've just arrived from the UK. Let's hope they work! I've done some mending of cashmere this winter!

Drinking cocoa - Apparently, sales of drinking chocolate have skyrocketed during the past year. Recipe included.

Be inspired - Agatha Christie's everyday inspirations

Have a good weekend everyone! Enjoy this last week of March. 

The Soft Side of November

I carry the sheets, warm from the dryer, up the stairs to the bedroom. Holding one edge of the sheet, and raising my arms high, I let the sheet fly upwards and billow like a cloud before it settles quietly on the bed. November bright sun surges through the window illuminating the African violet on the bookshelf. Crisp shadows, pale coloured flowers against rich green leaves. 
The sight was worth going downstairs for my camera.

Outside, the brilliant leaves of late October and early November are fading into pale shadows of themselves, settling deeper into the earth. Gingko leaves curl into whorls of creamy yellow.

Birds pick off the Hawthorne berries one by one, leaving open spaces among the branches. A few shriveled black berries are perhaps a reminder that the feast won't last indefinitely.

November comes

And November goes

With the last red berries

                             And the first winter snows 

On one hydrangea bush, the leaves and blossoms sing a duet of colour that will soon fade to palest brown. I've never noticed this colour on a leaf before, have you?

With night coming early

And dawn coming late

And ice in the bucket

And frost by the gate

The fires burn

And the kettles sing

And earth sinks to rest

Until next spring.

Elizabeth Coatsworth

Soon all the branches will be bare. Maybe snow will come, maybe not. We're having a mild November so far, with a rainy day or two following by a trio or more of glorious sunshine when there might be a little "ice in the bucket." I can't complain. 

I'd like to wish my American readers a very Happy Thanksgiving. We in Canada celebrated in October, but there's never a season to NOT be thankful, is there? 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Angie of Letting Go of the Bay Leaf. 

The Calm Before the Storm

Sunshine on autumn crocuses (colchicum autumnale) along the path where we walk. They look a bit out of place to me with their pale colour more reminiscent of spring. How pretty they are.

I just love Sunday nights with the prospect of a Monday holiday. We had a beautiful weekend (after rainy Saturday), and I clipped some hydrangea stems for the dining room table, and poked them into recycled bottles of various shapes and colours. 

The colours are wonderful - ruddy pink, pale green, deep purple, and pale blue. 

"October was a beautiful month at Green Gables, when the birches in the hollow turned as golden as sunshine and the maples behind the orchard were royal crimson and the wild cherry trees along the lane put on the loveliest shades of dark red and bronzy green, while the fields sunned themselves in the aftermaths. Anne reveled in the world of color about her..."I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it?..." (L.M. Montgomery)

"Listen! the wind is rising,

and the air is wild with leaves.

We have had our summer evenings,

now for October eves."

Humbert Wolfe

Fun with photo editing - a coloured pencil sketch done with a few clicks of the mouse. 

The wind is rising tonight. Our weather forecast is for a few stormy days with winds coming in off the Pacific in a series of storms.

October is one of my favourite months. It might be at the top of the list. I do love summer, but October has Thanksgiving, changeable weather, lovely colour, and my birthday. What's not to like? 

What do you like about October?

Transience

How to swallow a starfish? I wish we'd hung around to see how the seagull accomplished the feat, or if he gave up after awhile. I can't help but feel sorry for the starfish. 

Inspiration is low here this evening. Mother's Day was a bit of a mixed bag. I'm so thankful for my family and was happy to see or talk with all of my children, and my own dear mother and mother-in-law.

On Saturday morning, however, a friend left this life for heaven, at far too young an age, because of ovarian cancer. I've been reminded, again, of how fleeting this life is, and how important it is to live the gift of life to the full. My friend Sue certainly did. 

In English classes recently, I've been exposing my students to a bit of poetry. Today we studied Mary Oliver's "The Summer Day" which ends with the question "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" Alas, it seems that few young teens appreciate poetry, and I was left feeling a little blank. Perhaps, though, in years to come, a few of them will develop an appreciation for the distillation of thought that is poetry. One can only hope. I've asked the students to bring in lyrics to a favourite song and hope that they will be able to see them in a new light, as poetry. 

Do you enjoy poetry? Have you a favourite poet or poem? 

   

An Abundance of Blossoms

Today's walk takes me through streets dampened by rain in the night. Grass grows visibly these days, reaching up, up, up to the light. All is emerald and lime and parsley-colored.

   My route lies along wooded pathways, peppered now with clumps of bluebells. They grow, too, in my garden and I pick a handful for my kitchen windowsill where the scent of sweetness and spring wafts gently as I finish the dishes.

White stars have fallen to earth, it seems, in the form of fawn lilies. They grow 12 inches, perhaps, above the ground, faces downward.
 

I crouch low to look the lily in the face and am rewarded by brightness and intricate design, along with damp knees. 
 

Returning once more to Lily Avenue, I discover the naturalized lawn covered with shooting stars. Johnson's  Henderson's Shooting Stars. Paler pink than other years, poised to dive downwards into the leggy grass.(edited on 4/21) Thanks to Gretchen for being puzzled about the name.
 

Pink magnolias sit like cups on branches. Tightly closed tiny daisies, white petals tinged with pink and sunny yellow centers. Ruffles of pink cherry blossoms dance like bridesmaids. Hyacinths and tulips and daffodils. The world is bursting with color and life and an abundance of flowers. Soon the lilacs will bloom. A parade of purple, blue, white, pink and green and fragrance. Spring's assault on the senses. 

Perhaps ee cummings says it best, 

"i thank You, God for most this amazing

day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky: and for everything

which is infinite which is yes." 

I'll be taking a little break for the next few days. I wish you all a most blessed and happy Easter. May you know the joy and hope of resurrection life. 

Of Autumn and Life

During our short trip up Island, we visited the Little Qualicum River Fish Hatchery. It's salmon spawning season in the rivers around here. The photo shows a beautiful scene, quiet water with overhanging branches and picturesque gulls.

What the photo doesn't highlight, but that you can pick out if you look on the left side of the river, against the bank, just under the water, are the hundreds and thousands of dead salmon. They lie there, stacked up in some places three and four deep, lifeless, gray. The stench of death was in the air. Along the bank, picked-over skeletons bear mute evidence to bears, eagles and other predators, including the gulls.

The bright gold coins of autumn are nearly spent
Profligate, they lie sodden,
rotting.
 

Leanness settles deep upon the land
Bare limbs reveal austere architecture

Yet, as leaves sink into earth
Hope glimmers in the promise of spring.

The start of this poem came to me as we were driving. The first line was so clear, I wonder if it is from something I read somewhere else. If so, and if you know of the source, please let me know. If not, I guess I'm smarter than I think, because I like the imagery. 

Had any poetic thoughts lately? Care to share? 

 

October Gave a Party

October gave a party,

The leaves by hundreds came.

The Chestnuts, Oaks and Maples,

And leaves of every name.

 

The Sunshine spread a carpet

And everything was grand,

Miss Weather led the dancing,

Professor Wind the band.

 

The Chestnuts came in yellow

The Oaks in crimson dressed

The lovely Misses Maple

In scarlet looked their best.

 

All balanced to their partners

And gaily fluttered by;

The sight was like a rainbow

New fallen from the sky.

(George Cooper)

 

Maybe not great poetry, but lively and fun, and oh, so apt for my walk today. The late afternoon slant of the sun, the blue sky and crisp air signal the very best of autumn days. The leaves whirl off the trees, falling, twirling, and landing in great heaps on the ground. Have you noticed the way the leaves chase cars? The wind blown up by the passing vehicles stirs the leaves and carries them, skittering along until they run out of wind and give up pursuit.

And I'm curious - the photo above is of a Garry Oak leaf. Not red at all. Do you see red-leaved autumn oaks in your corner of the world? 

A bit of incongruous color - cyclamens blooming merrily in Easter shades of pink and purple amongst fall leaves.

Poetic Peonies

It's once again time for Vee's Note Card Party. This month I chose peonies - mostly from last year when I bought armfuls of them for Little Miss S's baby shower. I've included parts of a poem by Mary Oliver underneath each photo.

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
   to break my heart
     as the sun rises,
        as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

 

and they open--
   pools of lace,
      white and pink--

 

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
   and tip their fragrance to the air,
     and rise,
       their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
    gladly and lightly,
      and there it is again--
        beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.

 

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
   and softly,
      and exclaiming of their dearness,
       fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
    their eagerness
      to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
        nothing, forever?

Vee's Note Card Party is always a fun event, and a great way to get to know some new bloggers. Thanks, Vee, for hosting.