November Ends, December Begins

 

The excitement around our parts this week has been the weather. Snow fell thick and fast in some parts, but we saw just a wee bit that was gone by the late afternoon. Birds flew thick and fast to the feeder and the fig tree all morning looking for food. 

Here they are filling their faces - a male House Finch, a Dark-eyed Junco (also above), and behind, probably a sparrow. Cold weather is forecast for the rest of the week, with a possibility of more snow. Not a good weekend to be moving house, as our daughter and her husband will be doing.  

During these colder, darker days I've enjoyed reading Nigel Slater's The Christmas Chronicles, full of tasty tidbits of Christmas lore, comforting recipes, and thoughtful reflections on such topics as the scent of winter, about which he says, "But winter has its own smell: step outside on a frosty morning and you are smelling the cold." Two of our neighbours heat their homes with wood and I love seeing the neatly stacked chunks of wood, and smelling the wood smoke as it curls up from the chimneys. And often, in the evening, I will stand outside on the porch for just a few moments, breathing in the cold night air. 

Slater gives a recipe for a Fig and blue cheese salad full of crunchy apples and thinly sliced raw beets. I had no fresh figs, but added a few slivers of dried ones. In place of hazelnuts I used pecans. I love recipes that are adaptable. 

Cora turned two this week. When I gave her the bag with her birthday crown, she fished the crown out saying "My own crown" - she's been wearing her sister's from time to time. A Nana-made felt crown for a second birthday is another tradition. 

And so December begins. A busy month, if we let it be so. Slater says about Advent: "The point is sure more than a Christmas countdown, but a moment each day to stop and think of the more spiritual essence of the season. Maybe even to say a little prayer."

December can be such a busy time full of list-making and checking, of rushing from here to there with no time to enjoy the moments. At the end of the Christmas season, I find that what is remembered are the small moments: the mug of hot chocolate sipped while watching the snow fall, a particular piece of music, a game played with a child, the flicker of a candle on a grey morning, or a simple meal shared with friends. 

My intention this December is to slow down and create peaceful moments, and hopefully, wonderful memories to tuck away for the future. 

Advent Begins

 

The bright carpet of leaves under the acer tree is thick and colourful, even in the rain. It's thicker today as wind last night blew almost all of the leaves to the ground. Just a few stalwarts hang on to their branches. 

Each year before Christmas we plan an afternoon / evening of fun with our grandchildren. This year we had hoped to include the two youngest grands, but they were sniffling and coughing and everyone thought it best that they stayed home.

The three eldest cooked hot dogs over the fire outside in the light rain, then watched a Christmas movie while they ate, then decorated star-shaped cookie trees.

Before all that they created winter dioramas. Didn't they do a wonderful job? It was fun to observe their interactions and their unique ways of approaching the project. Tim and I prepared the frames (from shoe boxes) ahead of time, but they decided on the backgrounds, the lights, and all the decor items that we provided. 

Just before we drove them all home, they put on their new pajamas and had an impromptu dance in the living room. I'm a little sad about the poor quality of the photos due to inadequate lighting. 

And so it begins once again. Advent. The season of hope and longing. The season of preparation for the celebration of Christ's birth. 

Birds in the Garden

 

This week we filled the bird feeder and were instantly rewarded by lots of visitors. The feeder is clearly visible from our breakfast table, but on weekdays we eat earlier than the birds. It's on weekends that we eat together with the varied crowd that gathers round the feeder. 

We notice which birds get along and share the feeder, like the Sparrow and Chestnut-Backed Chickadee above. Others scrap and fight and won't tolerate others on adjoining perches.

Dark-eyed juncos come in great numbers, flying in and landing on the feeder singly or in pairs, while others perch on the trellis or railing to wait their turn. Their soft colours are so pretty. 

The Sharp-shinned Hawk doesn't approach the feeder, but we know when he's around for all of the other birds disappear into the hedge in a flash. 

The Spotted Towhee is another favourite. He's hard to capture on the camera because he tends to feed on the ground under the feeder and isn't so visible from the house. Here he perches on a leafless lilac bush, surveying the garden. 

"Every day, birds that are identified as common are overlooked. However, as you immerse yourself in the world of birdwatching, you come to appreciate the beauty in the common species as well as the scarcer ones." 

Joe Harkness, Bird Therapy

I am not a bird-watcher, per se, but I do enjoy watching them and observing their habits. 

This week I've made Christmas cake - out of love, because I cannot abide the taste. My husband eats it, and some of our children. I've been sewing pajamas and nightgowns and have nearly finished. It's very cozy to sit at my machines and stitch away while the rain falls outside. Inside, the fire glows, cups of tea are sipped, and Advent preparations begin. 

I wish all my American readers a very Happy Thanksgiving. 

Friday Favourites: Beautiful Walks

 

Uncommon weather continues. After our extended summer followed by a short blast of winter, calmness prevails. Little rain has meant plenty of outdoor excursions, alone and in company. On a misty morning I wandered around Beckwith Pond. It was a slow meander with plenty of stops along the way to admire the ducks. Lots of ducks. My little companion was enthralled with the ducks. 

Fog-shrouded foliage vibrant with colour lines the banks of the pond. When I saw the photo on my computer I wondered how the Eiffel Tower got into the photo. Do you see it? A closer look reveals the truth - a power line tower transformed by the mist.

On another afternoon this mellow pastoral scene reminded me of harvest season and the flat prairie of Canada's wheat fields. It's a gentle scene, and gentleness has been much on my mind recently. 

I'm craving gentle reads just now. Miss Read, Rosamunde Pilcher, Patrick Taylor. I'm dipping in and out of The Wind in the Willows, and Gladys Taber's Stillmeadow Calendar. I love reading books that go through the year and have occasionally thought that it would be fun to write such a book. In a way, blogging is similar, for here I comment on the weather and seasonal occupations. 

The "sunny stillness and the haze that dreams over the woods" is a line of Taber's that I found myself nodding along with after a walk in the forest. In the inlet at the end of this walk, hundreds of moon jellyfish pulsated in the clear green water, and white gulls swooped over the water before perching. 

In thinking of gentleness, I came across these words by Henri Nouwen - "A gentle person treads lightly, listens carefully, looks tenderly, and touches with reverence. Let's dress ourselves with gentleness. In our tough and often unbending world, our gentleness can be a vivid reminder of the presence of God among us." 

Here is my misty morning companion climbing the porch steps. She proudly wears the backpack her mother designed and stitched, complete with all-important pompoms. It's just her size. At almost two, independence is very important. "Do it myself" is a constant refrain. 

A sunny weekend is in the forecast, with rain beginning early next week. We do need the moisture, but now, these gentle sunny days are a balm. 

As my American readers prepare for Thanksgiving, I wish you all a wonderful time with family and friends. 

November Quiet

 

Our unexpected snow is gone. Melted in a day. The cyclamen plant I received last weekend sits on the window ledge and stands in for soft white snowflakes. 

Sunday afternoon. Late. From my window I see pinky yellow skies on the distant horizon just above a hazy blue silhouette of the mountains across the strait. The air is still. We just returned from a walk on a new-to-us trail along a creek where poplar leaves glinted golden in the sunshine and brown grasses nodded gently. 

In one area we came across a considerable number of  Woolly Bear Caterpillars crossing the trail. The grandchild who was with us gathered up as many as she could to help them across the path so they would not be stepped upon. 

The tomatoes I harvested a couple of weeks ago are ripening nicely. This week I made Spicy Tomato Jam, a distant relative of ketchup in which ginger, cloves, cinnamon, and red pepper add lots of flavour. 

The result of some chopping and simmering is 7 jars of deliciousness to pair with cold meats, cheeses, and crackers. 

The recipe is from the cookbook Food in Jars, but it's also on line and can be found here. 

With darkness falling sooner, a flickering fire, glowing candles, and lights contribute to the sense of coziness and close comfort that we all crave at this time of year. Light. Warmth. I love this little breakfast nook where we eat when it's just the two of us. 

What adds to the sense of coziness for you? 

edited to add: Jan from Low Carb Diabetic mentioned that she had posted a comment but it didn't show up, so I investigated my spam folder and oh, my, there were lots of them there! I have now published them and will be checking it more regularly in future. 

Surprise Snow!

 

On Monday morning fat flakes of snow drifted slowly downwards. Rain mixed with snow later on made for a chilly day. Last night the snow began in earnest with temperatures dropping down to just below zero (Celsius).  

This morning it looks like a formal occasion in the garden with everyone wearing top hats. It's a little odd in that many leaves are hanging onto their branches, and a lot of them have not yet turned colour.

An odd year all around. Record high temperatures long into October followed by a couple of weeks of autumn sun and rain, and now this! 

From my writing desk perch I see the dog next door romping through on the snow-covered grass. Dark-eyed Juncos flit in and out of the lilac tree branches, and a bright red-headed House Finch perches on the swaying cedar hedge. Are they as baffled as we are? 

A big pot of pumpkin soup is simmering on the stove on this chilly morning, and I'm on my second big mug of tea with honey. It's a good day for staying home and that's what I've got planned. Temperatures will rise today and all of the snow will disappear, but this early taste of winter has me wondering what the rest of the season will hold. 

Any weather anomalies out your way? 

On Friday: It's a Mixed Bag of Weather

 

My writing desk in a corner of the dining room. Photo taken a day before this writing.

A candle flickers on my writing desk this morning. Outside my window rain drips down. My view across the rooftops stops at a line of pointed fir trees not too far away, the distant Sooke Hills shrouded in soft mist. Below my window the gold of a fading lilac bush is dull, but the raspberry canes, still holding on to pale red leaves, glow through the droplets. 

My current writing project has me waking early some days, and as thoughts and words begin to flow, I pull myself from my warm bed, add a cozy robe, and go down in the darkness to this corner. A pot of tea is made, and a rice bag heated in the microwave, for it is indeed chilly. After an hour or so, I hear my husband stirring and I return upstairs to ready myself for the day.

Last night we had neighbours over for coffee and dessert. The guys drank coffee from mugs, we ladies enjoyed tea in china teacups. All of us ate a piece of Cream and Apple Pie, adapted from a recipe by Patricia Wells from her cookbook Bistro Cooking. As we stand on the porch to say our goodbyes, the cold rainy air washes over us and we are glad to return to the warmth of the fire. 

These rainy days are interspersed with occasional sunny ones, and how wonderful it is to see the blue through golden oak leaves. Soon they will all disappear and the spare architecture of branches will stand stark against the sky.

I've been eating vegetables as part of my breakfast. I actually enjoy vegetables more than fruit. Thinly sliced and oven-roasted sweet potatoes topped with a scrambled egg and accompanied with crunchy cucumbers make a satisfying breakfast. 

One more glimpse of gold and blue before I head out on this very different drizzly grey morning. There are groceries to purchase, and I plan to visit a local garden shop that is all set up for Christmas. I'm starting to get excited for the season, are you? 

October Daily 31:

 

The last day of October. We went from hot summer to chilly autumn weather, from drought to several days of steady rain. A lot happens in one month. On this rain-washed morning everything looked clean and fresh for several hours after the dripping stopped. How glorious the colour on the maple trees. 

I spent a good part of the day indoors, having tea with my youngest daughter and Cora. Ashley left and Cora and I played together, ate lunch, and then she went down for her nap. It was a good day for making date loaves, one for the freezer and one to eat now. I've grown to love dates more than I used to as a young woman. 

Halloween tonight. It's not a favourite day of mine. I find a lot of the decor tacky and don't enjoy the focus on death. Rather, I enjoy seeing the little ones dressed in their costumes and have fun with them when they knock on the door and holler "trick or treat". We had thirty-three this evening. Now, I hear lots of firecrackers going off. 

Tomorrow begins another month. And it's my daughter Cristal's birthday. She was born in a small mission hospital on the edge of the Amazon rainforest. (All three of our children were born there.) She is coming for a walk and tea in the morning, and I'm looking forward to a good chat. 

Thank you for coming along with me on this month of daily blogging. I so much appreciate your comments, and have hopefully visited your blogs in return. Happy November days ahead!

October Daily 30:

 

View from the restaurant, overlooking Saanich Inlet on a misty wet day.

Rain began in the night and fell steadily most of the day. No one is complaining for we can almost hear the trees sigh in relief and the earth slurp up the moisture. Tim and I enjoyed lunch overlooking Saanich Inlet - he had pizza and I had a burger and fries, a rare treat. 

We brought along our raincoats and waterproof shoes to hike around Goldstream Park on the way home. Above is a view of the end of Saanich Inlet, where Goldstream River joins the sea. 

Mallard ducks and Canada Geese paddled slowly in the rain, and gulls lined up along the shore in strict formation. 

Goldstream River provides spawning grounds for salmon. This year, because of the prolonged drought, the rivers are too low for the salmon to enter. The salmon are resting in the inlet, waiting for enough water to swim upstream, lay their eggs, and die. We did see a few salmon that made it, and there are hopes that with all the rain the streams will benefit, and the salmon will be able to complete their life cycle and lay eggs for the future. 

A short walk through a dripping forest of huge cedar and maple trees to this waterfall, also suffering from the lack of rain. 

Golden maple leaves fell slowly, one by one, and now so many of them carpet the paths and forest floor. Freshly fallen leaves look so bright and golden before fading to brown. 

Some leaves floated down the river, twisting this way and that before succumbing to the weight of the water and rain to sink. 

Goldstream River is in a narrow valley hemmed in by mountains and covered with trees that keep it shaded year round. 

As we were getting ready to leave, a Blue Heron flew above the river, banking and tilting his wings above the water. He landed in a little backwater, quite well hidden from the trail. I followed its progress in the air and was very happy to discover its hiding place. 

We came home, changed into dry clothing and spent the rest of the day indoors. 

It was a lovely day, made even more special by being my birthday. I spoke with all my children and my parents, and we will have a family party next weekend when three of us, my eldest daughter, my daughter-in-law, and I will be the ones feted. 

October Daily 29:

 

A quiet day at home punctuated by an afternoon walk in the neighbourhood. Many people were out enjoying the mild, cloudy weather. Young parents pushing babies in strollers, several groups of children playing basketball, one older man striding along with the help of walking poles, and a number of dog walkers. 

The trees look sparser every day with the carpet of leaves underneath becoming thicker. Gingko biloba leaves have such a delicate fan shape, and I stopped to admire the colour gradation. 

I saw this recipe for Parsnip-Apple Soup on Jan's blog, and while at the market I picked up a few parsnips. The apples came from one of our trees and I added a couple of carrots to the soup, which is why it has more colour. It's a delicious and warming soup for autumn. I omitted the milk and added a few tablespoons of cream, and I served it with a rosemary ricotta pesto. There is enough left for at least one more meal, and it's a recipe I'll be keeping in mind for the future, as well. 

Earlier I planted garlic, just a few cloves, in the garden. I was talking with my neighbour over the fence and he planted a few potatoes that had grown eyes. He said he did this last autumn, too, and they grew slowly over the winter and then more in the spring. I had a couple of potatoes in the same state, so planted them as well. An interesting experiment if nothing else. 

This evening I finished another Martin Walker mystery and will be taking a break from that author for awhile. I haven't decided on my next book. 

Another atmospheric river is set to arrive overnight, bringing lots of rain and mild temperatures to the island, so we have our raincoats and umbrellas ready. 

October Daily 28:

 

Yukon River seen from the Dome above Dawson City - photo taken at 9:30 pm on August 3

"There are strange things done in the midnight sun

by the men who moil for gold;

the Arctic trails have their secret tales

that would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee."

So begins Robert Service's famous poem set in the Yukon about a poor southern fellow who traveled north in search of gold, died, and was happily cremated because he was finally warm. 

Robert Service was a banker, born in England, who traveled to Canada and worked in Victoria, BC, where a local restaurant "The Bard and Banker" operates in the former bank building where he worked. He was transferred to Whitehorse, Yukon and worked there for a number of years, and wrote verse on the side. Sam McGee was a real person, but not from Tennessee, nor was he cremated on the shores of Lake Lebarge. McGee's original cabin stands on the grounds of a museum in Whitehorse. Robert Service heard his name one day and asked if he could use it in a verse he wanted to write. Service pieced together snippets of conversation he'd overheard, added poetic license and a local setting, and so created the ballad of Sam McGee.

After some time in Whitehorse, Robert Service moved to Dawson City, the center of the Klondike Gold Rush, and worked in the bank there. It is said that so much gold passed through this building that when it was renovated gold dust was collected from beneath the floor boards. 

Robert Service wrote a number of poems, or verse, as he called his writings about Yukon life and became known as the "Bard of the Yukon". He sent a collection of his poems back to England for self-publishing, but they became so popular and sold so well that he quit working in the bank and dedicated his days to writing.

He rented this small two-room cabin on Eighth Street in Dawson City and wrote, tacking large sheets of newsprint to the walls on which to lay out his verse. The cabin is now maintained by Parks Canada. 

Robert Service left the Yukon and moved to France where he married and continued to write. He served in the first World War as an ambulance driver and medic, having not been accepted as a soldier because of "varicose veins" at age 40. 

St. Paul's Anglican Church was well-established by the time Robert Service lived in Dawson City. It, and other buildings of the Klondike Gold Rush, have been restored to give visitors a glimpse into life as it once was.

Have you read or heard The Cremation of Sam McGee?