Every Year is More Beautiful

Spring has shown her sweet side in the past two days. Sun mixed with cloud, no wind to speak of, and gentle warmth that pours like honey onto my head.

We walk, late afternoon or early evening, through house-lined streets where tulips and daffodils nod their pretty heads and airy riots of pink cover bare branches. 

Along the path through the woods creamy fawn lilies (Erythronium) shine like stars. Only by crouching low do we see the details of stamens and pistils. She's a shy flower that charms and entices the passerby to take a closer look. 

Miner's Lettuce (Montia Perfoliata) grows in these woods, too. An edible plant, its crunchy sweet leaves and stems make a fine salad. I pick just one round leaf from a plant growing on a steep bank, tucked into a tree stump where I know a dog wouldn't have graced with his presence. 

We stop to admire the magnificence of a magnolia tree in bloom for a few moments. 

"Everything is blooming most recklessly, if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of night," wrote Rainer Maria Rilke. Rather than shrieking, I rather think it would be music, a harmony of richness, tentative at first, then swelling into fullness. 

Returning home, I notice the rhododendron in the front garden that bloomed not at all last year is getting ready to put on a show.

How quickly the days and weeks and months pass. Term three is ended; one more to go. I love my job and interacting with students, but I'm pulled homewards, too. When I arrive home there's never enough time or energy to do the things I'd like to do. I know it's a matter of adjusting expectations, but I want it all.

John Burroughs wrote "I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read and all the friends I want to see." I'd like to teach for two more years and then retire. Again. 

In my garden the blueberries are forming flowers, each one, if pollinated, and watered, will grow into a round fat berry that will roll into my bucket with a little tug of my fingers.

A little patch, very small, of violets has seeded itself under a rosebush. I hope it spreads a little more each year. 

I feel a little blue just now, for no reason in particular. I've been thinking about people I love who are hurting, and of the uncertainty of life. I find some comfort in Tolkien's words, 

"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater." 

Rosemary in bloom in the late afternoon sunshine. 

I've always found the book of Psalms comforting. David wrote so honestly about his feelings. He whined, complained, grouched, despaired, and then turned towards his God. "All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you" he writes. How comforting to be known.  

What a rambling post this has turned out to be. It's like a rather aimless walk. I'll close here with a question for you. When blue days come, what do you do? 

Rambling Thoughts on the Second Day after Christmas

A thin layer of ice lies along the far shore of Tod Inlet. Dull skies cast a monotone light over everything. Bits of snow remain in the woods and the path is icy with compact snow. Our boots crunch.

Early morning on Boxing Day (December 26). I awake around 8 am and my mind feels curiously blank. No mental list of tasks to accomplish. Nothing on the schedule. My head feels physically lighter, somehow, as if there is room inside my skull, and my brain can rattle around freely. 

The woods are infinite shades of green and brown. Tangles of moss creep along branches.

No lessons to plan. No student management issues to think about. No marking to do. (I worked very hard the last week before Christmas to get all the papers marked and back to students.)

Abandoned dock pilings, each with their scarf of emerald and cap of white, stand stoic in the cold. A family of placid ducks swims in and around the pilings. 

No meals to plan - there are plenty of leftovers in the fridge. In the morning I drank my tea and visited with our daughter and son-in-law (who foraged for their own breakfasts). I did make my bed. 

In a clearing, one small tree holds a few ornaments, placed there by an unnamed someone who likes to delight the passersby. A silver angel blows his horn announcing the good news of Christmas to all. 

We dropped off our daughter and son-in-law at his parents' place around noon, then stopped for a walk along Tod Inlet. 

The woods are quiet. Not silent. Quiet with soft plops of snow, delicate rustles of birds, and one loud crack of twigs that startle me.

I realize that it's been too long since I didn't have something demanding my attention. One of my classes has been extremely challenging to teach this semester. I look forward to the switch over, and new classes at the end of January. 

My camera doesn't want to focus on this single rose hip. Tim puts his gloved hand behind it, focus happens, he moves his hand and I snap the photo. Teamwork. 

We return home and I continue to do nothing. I read a little, write a blog post, drink tea, nibble on cookies. Not much conversation.

Moss against snow. How lovely it all is growing greenly. The world is awash with beauty. 

Today is Wednesday. Tim is back at work. There's still nothing in my brain. It feels delightful. I have a hankering for beef stew, so I'll go for a walk to the grocery store. There's a library book to return, too. That will make the walk a little longer. That's okay. I have time. 

Rambling On

Friday morning. The end of a busy couple of weeks. Report cards were due this week and there is a huge sigh of relief when the grades and comments are finally submitted. Done! 

Another thing that's done is most of the autumn colour. Those glowing red maple leaves are sparse on the trees and soon the last one will fall, whirled away by the howling wind and lashing rain we've been experiencing. 

This paler version of leaves in the woods is now more dominant. With all the dreary weather, I've been feeling paler, too. One morning sunshine streamed in the windows to lift my energy. I seem to accomplish much more when there is sunshine, do you?

Christmas is not far away. I'm in favour of a slow run-up to celebrating the season. Anticipation and soul preparation are enhanced, for me, by waiting a little. So I watch what goes on around me, and I stand back, thinking, hoping, planning. 

Last night I finished up two soft and pretty flannel nightgowns for two grand girls. A pair of cozy pajamas is on my worktable for the grand boy. What fun it is to prepare in this way. 

Our new fireplace is taking shape. Tim framed it in, applied cement board, then stone to the surround, and drywall above. For the past two weeks there hasn't been much point in dusting, so I didn't. That will need to be done now that the primer coat is on, and the wall will be painted this weekend. He's working on a mantel, too, a live edge piece of maple. I think it will be lovely.

I signed up for an online course (free) from Future Learn, called "The History of Royal Food and Feasting" from the University of Reading in the UK. The first week was all about Tudor times, focusing on Henry VIII. This past week looked at Queen Elizabeth I's reign. I'm finding the course extremely interesting. Recipes are provided for participants to try. Above is a photo of my attempt at a Tudor "Tarte Owt of Lente." 

The "Tart out of Lent" is so-named because it contains many of those ingredients forbidden during Lent - butter, cheese, cream, eggs. Another participant mentioned that she makes these tarts frequently as part of her job at an historic site. She suggested that some onion marmalade or mustard adds to the deliciousness of the cheese and cream. So I added a layer of onion jam to the crust before putting in the cheese mixture. It's not really like a quiche because the tart is lidded, and because it's not eggy at all, but very cheesy. And delicious. It didn't last very long around here. 

This is the book I'm currently reading. Victoria's Castles - a bit of local history. I'm out of fiction just now, although I just re-read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, one of my favourite books. Do you re-read books? I find them comforting. In spite of knowing the end of the story, I still delight in the characters' thoughts and actions.

I'll leave my ramblings here, for now. The sun is shining in the desperately-needs-washing window and I have a pair of little boy pajamas I'd like to make progress on before going to teach my afternoon classes. 

Are you beginning Christmas preparations? I'd love to hear. 

Rambling Here and There

On Saturday, the wind blew in from the Pacific; a steady stream that boded ill for the wildfire situation in the interior of the province. The fires continue and about 45,000 people have been evacuated from their homes. We here on the Island are a bit distant, but no less concerned. Thankfully, no lives have been lost.

Saturday evening Tim and I went downtown. It's fun to mingle with the tourists and walk along the waterfront. The world comes to Victoria in the summer, via cruise ships, bus tours, and independent travelers. We welcome them. Dinner, for us, was at a favourite Mexican restaurant on Fisherman's Wharf, a bustling community where commercial fishermen dock their boats, people live on float houses, and a number of great seafood restaurants ply their wares. Combine that with live entertainment and the dramatic skies seen above, plus fish tacos, for the makings of a fun and casual evening.

On Sunday evening friends came for dinner. A pitcher of mint-raspberry water was both pretty and delicious. Next time, I'll put the raspberries in overnight - by the next morning the water was delicate pink with a marked taste of fresh raspberries. 

Paella was on the menu. One of my friends wanted to learn how to make it, so we worked together, chopping, sauteeing, and stirring. It turned out very well and the six of us went through an amazing amount of it. 

I went to Butchart Gardens two days in a row - once where I met a friend (previous post), and the second day with a favourite little man. I use my annual pass well. Mr. F's mother used to work at the gardens and, as a result, has a lifetime pass, so the gardens are very familiar to Mr. F.

He was quite clear on what he wanted to see. "I want to see the (s)pitting frog. I want to see the (s)pitting snail. I want to see the garden in a big hole (sunken garden). I want to see the (s)pitting dragon." So we crisscrossed the gardens to see what we wanted, without following much of the prescribed route. In the Japanese Garden, we walked over bridges and stepping stones, circling back around to do it all over again. Several times. All the (s)pitting things (s)pitted admirably. 

He drops the initial s and it makes me smile.

Backtracking a little to Sunday afternoon - we went blueberry picking. We eat a lot of them, mainly with yogurt or granola in the winter. Our bushes can't provide enough for us, so we went to a U-pick farm, and picked 40 pounds. They are all in the freezer now. 

Fresh dill and pickling cucumbers at the market inspired me to put up a few quarts of dill pickles.

I rambled around my garden this morning, admiring the flowers, the bees in the lavender, the squash flowers and small fruits. The sweet peas are gorgeous this year and I keep them blooming by clipping regularly. It's a double win - sweetly scented bouquets in the house and more blooms in the garden. 

The sweet peas at Butchart Gardens are also doing well. I overheard some visitors saying, "oh, let's pick one and eat it," so I cautioned them that they are not edible. 

There's been some reading. Armchair travel via the two bottom books, and light mysteries via the first two. I can't decide if I like Dominic LeJeune, the protagonist of this series. He's a bit too moody.

The week also included tea with a cousin. She and I are both fond of blue. So I end this rambling post with a blue hydrangea blossom. The weekend holds ramblings of a different sort. How about you? Have you rambled near or far?

Rambling on a Friday

I visited Butterfly World with my daughter and granddaughter last week. I caught Shadow, the blue macaw, trying to nap, his head resting on one branch, his body suspended, and his feet and tail resting on another branch. As he relaxed, I watched his feathers slowly fold together, dropping one at a time before his eyes closed. Every so often he would jerk, as one does in such an uncomfortable sleeping position. I wanted to go straighten him out and tuck him in properly.

He didn't seem to mind the discomfort and woke up looking quite perky. "Ah, that's better," he says, standing once again on his perch.

In my kitchen a modest (some call it more than modest) collection of cookbooks collected over the years sits on shelves. Lately, I've been perusing some of the older ones. I find it interesting the way food trends come and go. What drives food trends? I know that we eat differently than we used to. I make fewer casseroles and less starchy foods. This week I made lasagna for the first time in several years, and very delicious it was. 

We had company last weekend and I wanted something simple for dessert. In the 70s and 80s a group of Canadian Women published a series of cookbooks whose titles are based on the game of bridge. The Best of Bridge is the first one and others that followed included Grand Slam, That's Trump and other bridge-related names. I've used many recipes from these books over the years. 

For Saturday dinner I made a Sensational Lemon Roll - a sponge cake filled with a tart lemon and whipped cream filling. Our strawberry plants are loaded with berries and so I decorated the top with a few, along with some sprigs of mint. Our guests enjoyed it, and then we enjoyed the leftovers during the week. 

I wish you could see the roses in my garden. They began blooming in earnest. Winchester Cathedral, above, is fragrantly ruffled. See the white spider making herself at home there? I flicked away part of her dinner - a fly she'd caught and brought home. 

It tickles my fancy to think that some distant relative of this rose also blooms in the Queen's Rose Garden at Sudeley Castle near Winchcombe where we spent some time last summer. 

More of Winchester Cathedral getting ready to bloom. 

I've been reading the Rhys Bowen Royal Spyness mysteries. I've read most of them now, but out of order, and I hadn't read the first one. That's my current book. They are light and full of fun details about life in England during the 1930s.

I immortalized this unwelcome, but bright and valiant, buttercup with a photo before yanking it out. We have several neighbours who do not care for their gardens very well and as a result, buttercups are rampant. I dig them out when I see them, but this one bloomed up against the fence, so I'm giving it its time to shine.

With all the turmoil in the world, St. Paul's words keep coming to mind. These days, I'm thinking about delightful things like pretty pink poppies, fragrant roses, the scent of freshly cut grass, cool air rushing over my face through the wide open window at night, blue and white china, how my grandchildren make me laugh, and a host of other lovely things. 

How are you handling the doom and gloom of the world these days? What's delightful in your world?

Ramblings from my Mazy Mind

I'm so glad that after lurking in the shadows for far too long, Summer decided to show herself last weekend. She not only showed up, she showed off! It appears that she is sticking around for awhile since she received such an enthusiastic welcome. 

We celebrated Victoria Day last Monday by staying home, working in the garden, and enjoying a dinner full of summer flavours - barbecued steak, radish salad, BLT salad, and some roasted tomatoes from last year, tucked away into the freezer for the winter. 

I'm keeping a close watch on the peony buds - there are many of them, and I love their ruffled blooms. Tim got the irrigation system working, and caught me unawares a couple of times by turning it on "just to check." I can move very quickly if needed! 

In the vegetable garden we're harvesting lettuce (need some?), radishes, and lots of herbs. I saw the first red on a strawberry this morning and am looking forward to their juicy sweetness. 

I'm keeping a jug of water and mint leaves in the fridge for a refreshing thirst-quencher. I only drink water, tea, and wine, (occasionally hot chocolate) and there's nothing like cold water for assuaging thirst. A square of dark chocolate and a few nuts fill the need for a little sweetness and crunch. 

I'm thinking that I should harvest some of this mint, and the oregano behind the tray in the previous picture. The herbs are the first things I harvest, then they flower, get cut back, and grow again throughout the summer and fall. I like hot mint tea, do you? I also like fresh mint in salads. 

I smile when I look at our little "vineyard" - two vines of eating grapes, purple Concords, and a green variety that I'm too lazy to go and check. They remind me of little soldiers all in a row, growing straight up to catch the next support. Garden experts here tell us that our growing season is about one month behind normal years. It's been a long, chilly season. I think, though, that the heat and sun is causing everything to work hard at catching up. 

I planted squash seeds rather late, in pots in the house because of the cool weather. On Sunday I set the box out into the garden. They were still plain dirt. On Monday morning I noticed the first faint curl of palest green beginning to push up through the brown dirt. Throughout the day I checked on the pots and could almost see the progress. By the end of the day most of the plants had their seed leaves. Now I'll wait until the true leaves appear before planting them out. 

Before I do, though, I have the hard job of choosing just one of those plants from each pot to grow. I really hate doing that. Those seeds are all miracles and here I am, playing God and deciding which one of them will live. I feel the same way about thinning carrots, beets, and radishes.

I'm admiring the prettiness of radishes, and we're eating them by the handfuls. I inter-plant them with carrot seeds and by the time the radishes are finished, the carrots are almost ready to thin. But that's made easier by the growing of the radishes between them. I don't have to kill off so many carrots. Win, win. 

I'm pondering technology and its effect on my life. I think it is important for me to be intentional about how I spend my time. I've noticed that podcasts seem to be more popular. I've tried listening, but it takes so.much.time and I would much rather read than listen and watch. Do you listen to/watch podcasts?

I've joined Instagram and I'm not entirely sure about it. I see that a lot of the bloggers I follow are also there, and that's perhaps why blogging isn't as strong. I understand the instant appeal, but I'm finding it rather demanding. What's your experience with Instagram? 

Four more weeks of classes, then a final week week of assessment, report cards, and cleaning out the classrooms. Is it fully summer, (or winter) where you live? Any plans?

A Ramble Through My Mazy Mind

I once read an essay that categorized essays as rambles through an author's mazy mind. Hence the title of my post. Many essayists manage to wander around and yet arrive at some clear conclusion. This post is less of an essay and more of a ramble.

This evening I took a walk through the neighbourhood. Delightful smells of freshly cut grass mingled with sweet lilacs. Rain is in the forecast and I think everyone is cutting their lawns beforehand. We did ours last night. Tim does the trimming and I mow until he's finished trimming, by which time I'm happy to relinquish the mower as I will have arrived at the steepest part of the back lawn. 

I'm listening to the sounds of Tim retrofitting drawers into a set of kitchen cabinets. Some day we'll redo the kitchen, but I get so frustrated with the storage of small containers. I've tried baskets, but one can only reach so far into bottom cabinets without crouching right down and crawling halfway in. I'm thankful for a talented and hard-working husband. 

I'm also thankful for good friends, and a lovely Sunday afternoon of boating. We gathered at the boat launch and set our heading to Salt Spring Island for a late lunch. Being out on the water tends to make us forget about life on land for a few hours. We sleep very well after a boating trip, except that I tend to feel the motion of the boat when I close my eyes. The room seems to be going back and forth, just a little. 

I'm thinking about Mother's Day this Sunday. Did you know that Anna Jarvis, the originator of this day to honour mothers, regretted ever coming up with the idea? She was horrified at the way a simple celebration had been hijacked by the floral and card industries. 

Be that as it may, I'm very thankful for my mother and her love, guidance, and example. My mother-in-law is also wonderful. I'm thankful for the opportunity I've had to become a mother, and now a grandmother.

But I know of many women for whom this day is agony. Some have longed for children and have not been given any. Others wait in cycles of hope and disappointment. In the past couple of years, our eldest daughter and her husband have lost four little heartbeats, now safe in heaven. It's hard. We are all thankful for the little girl they do have, but the loss of the others aches still and there are times when I am overwhelmed with grief. 

We will celebrate Mother's Day with joy. Our three grandchildren will fill our gathering with exuberant delight. I am overjoyed when I spend time with them. But I will also be conscious of those for whom this day is difficult, and my thoughts will be filled with tenderness for them.

I'm looking at this bouquet of flowers, picked from my garden last night. Cornflowers, a few last tulips, Bluebells, Candy Tuft, and Lemon Balm.

I'm planning to pick some rhubarb tomorrow. Shall I make a rhubarb cheesecake bars, or just stew it to serve over ice cream? Decisions, decisions. Which would you choose?