Saturday Nice . . .

 

(source)

I'll sing for you -- songs of our native land

The little brook you waded as a child;

A morning in September crisp and chill

Mid summer storms with lightening breaking wild.

I'll sing for you -- of dreams remembered still

As frail and beautiful as autumn mist;

Cool scented heliatrope . . . the pearly sheen

Of golden pools shot through with amethyst.

I'll sing for you -- of mothers gay and young,

With laughter on their lips and love-filled eyes;

Of little homes new as an army pin,

Filling the needs of your small paradise.

I'll sing for you -- of peace at middle age,

Green lawns to cut, hedges to trim and shape;

A clump of hollyhocks by the garage,

An old back fence smothered with purple grape.

I'll sing for you -- of little humble homes

Gilded with gold as with a Midas touch;

And all my heart's eternal wonder spilt

That little common lives can hold so much.

~Edna Jacques, I'll Sing for You

Roses in December, 1944

Something happens when you pass a certain point in life, when more of it is stretching behind you than what lays before you . . . the mind goes back to little corners of your life . . . and if you are lucky they are happy times . . . and you begin to unwrap them like little gifts, holding them in your hands tenderly as you revisit them. Perhaps looking at them with new eyes, and maybe even with a tenderness you have withheld from them in the past. The sands of time having softened the sharp edges and trimmed away the dross. You realize that all you have ever done is the best that you knew how to do  . . .  in living this common life you were given.  Mistakes, laid bare  . . . a part of the shaping process. Now seen with a different view . . .  one molded with the wisdom of time and experience. It was never really that bad. It was and is a part of the you that is you. 

And, if you are like me, 

you have finally come to love this beautiful creature 

you have become, and would not be, 

were it not for that and then.

 

(source)

She had one great day every year, when, every autumn, the dealer came to purchase the produce of her beehives. Then, in her pantry doorway, a large muslin bag was suspended to drain the honey from the broken pieces of comb into a large, red pan which stood beneath. while, on her doorstep, the end house children waited to see the 'honeyman' carry out and weigh the whole combs.  One year -- one-never-to-be-forgotten year -- he had handed to each of them a rich, dripping fragrant of comb. He never did it again; but they always waited, for the hope was almost as sweet as the honey.

~Flora Thompson (1876-1947), From Lark Rise, 1939

Lark Rise was one of the favorite of all the television series I have ever watched. I still watch it again, from beginning to end, from time to time.  Eileen loves it also. I had sent her the whole series on DVD from the U.K. so she could watch it as I knew she would enjoy it . . . and I was right, she did. 

There is something so sweet about these series set in historical times and places. Little glimpses into a past that no longer exists, but is a part and parcel of who we have become. A history of a people as it were. We look at them through rose coloured glasses at times. Picking only the good things and glossing over the bad. These small villages were full of simple folk, living as close to poverty as you could get. Working hard from dawn to dusk and sometimes even longer, for just enough to survive . . . but there was a goodness in this drudgery as well, a healthy respect for hard work and it's enterprise. A love of family and old ways . . . of neighbour and of friend. Of nature and of custom. These things were all important. Community. People with names and faces and lives.  You knew them. They knew you. You cared. Something sacred has been lost I believe. Oh, yes  . . .  we live richer, fuller lives . . .  and have more leisure time than we know what to do with  . . .  but somewhere along the way . . . something sacred has gone astray.

 

(source)

Each day I look out the front at the dying petunias and geraniums and think to myself, I need to do something about those and I will. I need to cart them down to the compost bins at the end of the street and get rid as they are looking very bedraggled now, and my chore this weekend is to take down the hummingbird feeder, clean it up and pack it away for another year.  It always makes me a bit sad to take it down.  I enjoy them so much while they are here and I hate to see them gone. They are such tenacious little creatures and I gain so much pleasure from watching them flit to and fro  . . .  and to watch their little territorial battles being fought. Oh, I know they will be back in the spring.  But still. I miss them when they are gone.

But it's time, to clean up the gardens and put them to bed for the coming winter months. Before it is too cold and too wet and too late.

 

(source)

I have a small rack in the bathroom that holds all my bath and kitchen linens. It can get messy at times, especially during the week when I am always reaching in and grabbing a clean tea towel or dish cloth, bath or hand towel, etc. This week only one of my cleaners came as the other one was sick with some type of bug.  When she left I noticed that she had tidied up my rack.  All the facecloths were neatly folded into quarters and stacked beautifully, same with the towels and other linens. It looked so nice. I was most impressed and have vowed to always keep it so, or at least try.

There is a kind of simple elegance in using and cleaning household linens.  Clothes, sheets, towels, curtains and kitchen items always look better when they're well cared for. When I see them in homes I visit, fresh and neatly stored away, especially when they hold a certain age to them, I get the feeling there is a lot of love in that home.

It is not a bad goal to want to keep these things just so  . . . a bit of time and some consistency. Oh yes, I can be lazy. I need to be more organized.

Household washing used to be done at the riverside, a community chore. A time for women to gather and share as they worked away.  What was a chore of drudgery became almost holy in the sharing of it with each other. As they worked and scrubbed the dirt away, they talked and laughed and sometimes, yes even cried . . .  together. Again  . . .  community.  I think somehow the sharing of these chores made them a bit easier to bear.

(source)

Cindy and I took an impromptu trip up to Pelton's yesterday afternoon. Dad's friend Maryann has gone to Quebec with her daughter to visit family so the usual trip to the Mall was not on. She took Dad in town to Tim Hortons instead so while he was there we went up the mountain to  Pelton's.  I had been hoping that they would have some bread, but alas, there was none, but we did get eggs.  And a few other bits. He was just bringing in freshly canned salsa so we each picked up a jar of that. Cindy had been wanting some ground beef, as had I, but they didn't have any.  They always carry the best locally sourced grass fed ground beef. They are not sure if they are going to carry it any longer or not. It has gotten so expensive. We assured him that we did not mind paying more for something that was sustainable and of better quality. So much better than the supermarket ground beef. At least the one that they were selling came from only a few animals rather than thousands.  I am hoping that they reconsider and get some more in.  Their chicken is also really good. They are going to have fresh bread in today and we have asked them to set aside some for us (white and brown) so we will be going back to pick up that and I think I will get some chicken as well. It's always so good. Never tough.

Plus this is Cindy's weekend off from cooking so I will be cooking Sunday dinner for Eileen and myself and I think I might like some chicken.  We will see what they have. Maybe even a nice roast chicken. We will see. It will be Canadian Thanksgiving two weeks from now so that will be a big roast dinner in and of itself. We will probably stay home as Eileen will  be recovering from her operation.

 

(source)

I don't have a lot more to share this morning. I will be picking Eileen up about noon and we will make our little trip to the grocery store so she can get her snacks for movie night and some drinks.  We haven't decided which movie we are going to watch yet. We have all day to figure it out.

So, in the meantime I will leave you with a thought for the day, to carry with you  . . . 

☾ ° ★° * 。  

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*I walk among the rows at dawn

The dew still clings, the world feels drawn.

Each leaf a prayer, each bloom a sign,

That peace can root in hands like mine.

~Thackery

 

 

I am breaking away from the sweet today with Open Face Garlic Bread Sloppy Joes.  Simple. Hearty. Delicious. Another small batch recipe.

I hope that you have a really nice weekend. Its cloudy here and I believe they are calling for rain.  In any case whatever you get up to, I hope it brings you peace and joy.  Don't forget! 

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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And I do too!    

   

Dear Neighbor . . .

 SEPTEMBER 25th, 2026

Estate Lane, Nova Scotia

5*C/41*F

mostly sunny

Dear Neighbor, 

Well, I have had to put some heat on this morning. Four days of the temperatures dipping down into the single digits each night means I need to warm things up in here. My front window has been dripping in condensation every morning. The sun doesn't get around there until much later in the day as it is North Facing.

We took the phone calls from the hospital for Eileen yesterday morning. There are a lot of instructions to follow in preparation for the surgery. I have written them all done accordingly and will give her a copy to give to her father, since he will be the one in charge for those few days.  Of course, her sister (the one they will be staying at) is a Nurse Practitioner so she is probably well versed in the protocols necessary, but I have written them down anyways. 

She is having a "robot" surgery, so it is going to be much less invasive than they used to do in the old days. That was nice to hear.  She still has to go for an MRI, but that is this week sometime. Blood tests as well. Things are moving right along. It's a good thing. I am grateful for that.

All will be well.

 

(source)

The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out

Through the blinds and the windows and bars;

And high overhead and all moving about,

There were thousands of millions of stars.

~Robert Louis Stevenson

The cool and sparkling days of late September flow like a bottle of golden wine into the bowl of autumn. I cannot have enough of each day; I try to measure the minutes sparingly, for this is the time of enchantment. The leaves are turning, each day bringing more and more colour into our lives, and I wonder whether I ever saw them before, for the colours are a new miracle of blended tones. Surely this year it is a lovelier autumn than in years gone by. (I know I say that every year.) The maples have a clearer fire, the oaks are a richer burgundy and the goldenrod . . . was it Thoreau who called it spilled sunshine? The wild asters break their purple waves over stone fences. The upland meadows are beautiful, a brown suffused with gold . . . I almost mistyped "god" there, and really is there much difference between the treat we are experiencing at the moment and God?  It is a gift for sure.

When I walk down to the end of my road where it meets the main road up towards the North Mountain and the TransCanada, it is like looking through a living vivid kaleidoscope of colour, with golds and scarlets and burgundies, oranges, ochre and vermillion . . .  lining the way, some of the trees arching over the road . . . a tunnel of colour leading to the mountain which grows in splendour with each day that passes. I have tried to photograph it, but no photograph really does it justice. It must be seen in person to get the full effect.

  

(source)

With shorter days and cooler air, I can't help but look forward to all of the magic autumn brings to our doorsteps.  Crisp air, cold and limned with the promise of frost.

Pumpkins, hollowed out and carved with faces, some happy, some a little gruesome with their jagged teeth.  Or stewed into soups and made into pies, cakes, breads, cookies. Oddly enough, pumpkin was not something I really enjoyed as a child. It took me maturing into adulthood for me to fully appreciate it's gifts and benefits. 

Each year I am tempted to buy a bag of gourds to decorate my table and each year I don't. I never have, but I so admire the gourd heaped bowls of those who do. I really admire the larger ones that are dried and then hollowed out and used as bird feeders. How very clever people are I think.

Warmer jackets and coats. Not quite of winter weight just yet, but the time for walking about in our shirt sleeves is done. I had bought myself one from old navy, waterproof with a hood, but then I thought of Eileen walking back and forth each day to Tim Hortons in rain and whatnot and so I gifted her with it. I can always get another one. She was pleased, and that in turn pleased me. I do have my old powder blue one. I think I have had it for nigh on 25 years or more now. I have replaced the buttons on it several times.  Why break with tradition. It is only for a few weeks, and when I do go out, it is mostly in the car. I am not in as much need of a new jacket as she is.

Life lived in little squares

There is nothing really aesthetically pleasing or captivating about my Instagram life. I dutifully post every morning. I post a gazillion photos of each recipe I share. I don't really know how to turn them into a perfectly cohesive story or reel.  I do add music, that that is the extent of my knowledge. I so admire those who know how to do more with what they share.  There is no personal brand I am trying to exhibit, or a hyper-controlled narrative. Its simply food. No exciting photos of my non-exciting life. If I was smarter or more creative, or had more knowledge,  it would/could be done so much better. But it simply is what it is. In reality not many people look. I guess that's okay. I don't know what I would do if it suddenly blew up overnight. That comes with all kinds of things I don't really want to have to deal with.  That anyone comes and looks at all has always been a bit of a mystery to me. It is the same with this page. Many of you have been coming here and reading for years and years now. I am grateful for that.  

I have had to ask myself the question on occasion . . .  would I still do this if nobody came to read?  I think the answer is yes. I would. It is my diary and chronicles my life as it were. I started it for my children to have a place where they could catch up with my goings on. Or at least that is what I tell myself. I wanted to have a place to store my memories and happenings.  I can still remember how excited I was when I got my first comment. I still get excited although with my bad back I am very slow to respond these days. I wish my iPad would let me as that is a lot easier to cope with, but for some reason blogger and my iPad do not get along. If I could ever figure it out and change it, I would do so in a flash. 

My kids never come to read this. I am not sure they even know it exists and if they do, its not really of any interest to them, but someday it might be, and so I keep it up.  Besides  . . .  it is a great exercise in keeping my mind alert and working, this penning of my thoughts each day. Sharing. And I do so love the ones who do come and read and make their presence known.

But viral?  Please no.  I do not wish to be viral in any way, not here and not on the IG where I share little squares of what I've been cooking. In a world obsessed with  image and status I am a small fish, and that is what keeps me happy.  What I hope my friends see most on my pages is my heart.

"When I die, what do I want people to remember about my heart?"   Perhaps this. Moments that mattered to me.  Food I shared that I enjoyed that I wanted others to enjoy as well. The day to day minutia of my wandering thoughts.  The fact that I loved and I cared. Most post reflect where my heart wants to go and has wandered, now and in the future.

That's it.

(source)

 

I had not thought that I was lonely.  I know I am alone, but I had not thought that I was lonely, or missing the affections and attentions of someone of the other sex.  But I have come to realize as of late that I do miss the specialness of that companionship and relationship between two people who care about each other in that way.  I see Glenna across the way stepping out with her beau, and She is no Scarlet and he no Rhett, but they are happy and I envy them that.  Mind you, I am not free to look as I am still married and in my church you can't date or look for anyone in that special way if you are not divorced and single. Furthermore I have no desire to hand over half of what I have worked for and accumulated to that degenerate   . . .  and so I sit in limbo. 

I do cry about it sometimes, mostly late at night when I am in bed and done my prayers. That's when the loneliness descends and I wonder as to why I was not ever able to find a special someone worthy of sharing my life with. I look up and down the street and I know I am not alone in this. We are all on our own. I find myself wondering do they cry at night with a longing to be held by someone who wants to share their lives? I don't know. I am too embarrassed to ask. I did try to join a chat site, just for friendship, but I quickly gave that up because of men who were messaging me and calling me darling. They don't even know who I am, and are looking for much more than friendship. It seemed most insincere and false, and I am done with lies. I want truth. Lies like that chat site are what got me where I am today anyways. It's too easy to pretend to be someone you are not.

I listened to a talk last night by Dieter F. Uchtdorf and in it he spoke of just such a thing, people feeling lonely. I had been praying about it and then thought I would listen to a talk, and oddly enough this is the one that came up. It suggested to lose myself in serving others.  I don't know if I do that enough. Perhaps I need to do more. 

When I was a girl I went through a period of time where I wanted to become a nun.  I think sometimes I probably should have done so. Life would have been a lot less complicated.

 

(source)

Over the past couple of weeks I have gotten quite a few emails from a supposed book writer, and one from a supposed editor at Harper Collins. I did respond to the first one from the author answering a couple questions they had, but after that when the emails came a couple of times a day, I started to ignore them. The one from the editor at Harper Collins looked legit, but I am sure it was a fake as well. I have ignored most of them, except for that first one.  I think I was right because I got one from that author this morning which said,

HI    Marie

I KWON THAT YOU HAVE ALREDY READ MY MESSAGE WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SEND A DETINLAD PROPOSAL

To be honest this creeped me out. All of the other emails were well written and sounding legit and conversational. They were not asking anything of me really. This one sounds a bit threatening to me. What think you?

 

(source)

I have just looked out the window and the fog has rolled in, probably it's come down the mountain from the shore.  So much for the sun.  It will break eventually I am sure.  In the meantime, my day is marching on and I have a ton of things I want/need to do so I best end this now. 

I hope this finds you well.

A thought to carry with you.

☾ ° ★° * 。  

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*There are many paths but

only one journey.

~Naomi Judd

 In the English Kitchen today  . . .  A really good Bolognese Sauce. This is the product of years of trial and testing and is what I love. The bare bones of something that can be adapted to your own tastes, loves and flavours.

I hope you have a great day.  We have hit 10*C/51*F already so the day is warming up.  Be happy, don't forget!

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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And I do too!    

   

My Favourite Things . . .

 

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens . . . these are some of the things in life that I enjoy, and which make me happy, inspire me, or put a smile on my face. Maybe some of them are yours too.  Let's share!

 

(source)

This  . . .  the blue roof's, the little houses, the trees. I love it all.

 

(source)

White on white  . . . 

 

(source)

The moon  . . .  it fascinates me.

 

(source)

Homemade soup. My mom made the best homemade soups. She was legendary.

 

(source)

A cozy chair by the fire  . . .  especially on chilly mornings like this. It is only 2*C/36*F this morning. We have had our first frost of the season.

 

(source)

Pearls  . . . 

 

(source)

This  . . . 

 

(source)

Apple season  . . . 

 

(source)

Geese  . . .  are they really silly?

 

(source)

Doughnuts  . . .  I'll have the powdered sugar one please.

 

(source)

A mug with a pretty shape  . . . 

 

(source)

A lighthouse  . . . 

 

(source)

An old Victorian  . . . 

 

(source)

Pretty book covers  . . .  I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but I sometimes do.

 

(source)

Stones and fossils. This makes me think of the universe  . . . 

 

(source)

The autumn kitchen  . . . 

 

(source)

Tweed . . .

 

(source)

Transferware  . . . 

 

(source)

Sea shells  . . . 

 

(source)

Yes please, all of it  . . . 

 

(source)

Windmills  . . . 

 

(source)

I love the colours of this cabinetry . . . 

 

(source)

Street lanterns  . . . 

 

(source)

Golden retrievers  . . . 

 

(source)

Autumn  . . .  love this vignette  . . . 

And those are my favourite things for this week. 

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

☾ ° ★° * 。  

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*Quite the mind,

and the soul will speak.

~Ma Jaya Sati Bjagavati 

In The English Kitchen today, Caraway Seed & Lemon Cake. A recipe from Tamasin Day Lewis.  She was a popular cook and food writer in the U.K. and this is a fabulous cake from her book, Food You Can't Say No To.  Delicious. Simply delicious.

I hope that today works well for you. May it be filled with light and love. Just waiting here for the medical calls re Eileen. Hopefully they call when they said that they would.  Whatever you get up today, I hope it brings you joy and peace. Don't forget! 

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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And I do too!    

   

Wednesday Witterings . . .

 

 

(source)

It's a bit chilly in here this morning. I may soon have to start putting on some heat. I am thinking it might be time to turn on the in-floor heating in my bathroom as well, as much as I hate to do so. I just really hate getting out of the shower and being cold. It's one of my pet peeves.  Why are bathrooms so cold?  Every house I have ever lived in sported a cold bathroom. It's like the heat runs out by the time it gets to the bathroom. We kept a portable gas heater in our bathroom in the U.K. We turned it on when we were getting washed. It made a huge difference.

 

(source)

Eileen had an iron infusion yesterday. She only found out about it the day before. I suppose they are getting her ready for her surgery on the 5th.  She will be coming back here to stay the night tonight as there is a couple of really important phone calls coming in tomorrow morning. Three to be exact. Pre-op calls. Getting everything ready and in place before the big day.  It will be here before we know it. Then we can concentrate on moving forward and healing.

 

(source)

Something told the wild geese

It was time to go.

Though the fields lay golden

Something whispered. -- 'Snow.'

Leaves were green and stirring,

Berries, luster-glossed,

But beneath warm feathers

Something cautioned, -- 'Frost.'

All the sagging orchards

Steamed with amber spice,

But each wild breast stiffened

At remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese

It was time to fly, --

Summer sun was on their wings,

Winter in their cry.

~Rachel Field (1894-1942)

I've heard a few flocks pass over already, and I am putting my hummingbird feeder away today I guess. It's getting to be that time. Every time I look at the trees at the end of the road or behind the houses across the way they have changed colour even more. It started at just the tips of the trees, but it is slowly making it's way down. Change is certainly in the air; all around the faintest flicker of russet and amber are appearing from leaves on the cusp of a spectacular transformation.

I love the light at this time of year. It seems to cloak everything in a golden glow shortly before sunrise and sunset, revealing the unexpected and casting the usual walks with a magic haze. These next few weeks are going to be filled with transition. The artist in me wants to crack open my sketchbook and pencils, my watercolours so that I can capture these moments. Perhaps I can just take photos and then sketch and paint later, in the winter months when I am looking for a little bit of colour.

Maybe then I'll have more time.

 

(source)

The kids have been back to school now for several weeks. How can that be that we are already on the wane of September??? Only 7 more days. It hardly seems fair, but there it is. We have had frost warnings for several nights now and the moon is "Waxing Gibbous."  I had to look that up. A waxing gibbous moon marks the Moon’s steady progression toward full illumination in the lunar cycle. It begins just after the first quarter and lasts until the full moon. Typically it rises in the afternoon, is high in the evening, and sets after midnight. 

Things like this fascinate me.  All of nature fascinates me. The next full moon, according to my Susan Branch Calendar will be on the 26th of October. The Hunter's Moon.

In any case, tis said the September moon belongs to lovers even more than the Spring moon.  Indeed, if we could fill a silver cup with that moonlight, and drink to the last pearly dregs, we should be young forever.  For the September moon has a pure luminous mystery that makes everything beautiful, everything magic. The masked colours of early autumn glow in it's light, all the little streams run silver, and silver rises the smoke from burning leaves.

There is as yet, no taint of withering or death in the garden, in the field, or the orchard. The world is perfect and the heart is happy.  The sky looks like a blue meadow full of gardenias, but the moon herself is a white rose. And down below, the old earth turns in her orbit under all this eternal glory of the heavens.

And the pale gold leaves begin to fall from the sugar maple.

 

(source)

On Sunday we dropped off all of Eileen's things to her place before we went to my sister's. We go through the industrial park for part of the way. There are a few empty fields and on one such field we saw some deer munching. Not a care in the world.  We have seen these same deer there before. They always spark my heart with wonderment. Deer are such gentle creatures. Well, the Does anyways, the Stags are quite majestic in appearance with that crown of antlers atop their heads.

Its funny how in most of nature, the male of the species always out-flounces the female in appearance, stature and behaviour. Brighter, more colourful and preening.  At least that is my observation. Feel free to correct me if I am wrong. 

 

(source)

Do you have fall clothes?  I seem to wear the same thing all the year through, perhaps adding a sweater on really cold days or in the winter months. My wardrobe rarely changes.  But I can remember when I was a child how at this time of year the box that was in the back of our closet would come out and all of the autumn/winter things would come out and the summer things would go back in. The ankle and knee socks, shorts and pop tops would be replaced with wooly stockings, undershirts and flannel.

I have added an extra blanket to my bed . . .  in obeisance to the changing season . . .  I could/should drag out my duvet. It is buried in my closet and finding it will take some doing, but 'tis that time of year I suppose. 

I regret to say I have not gotten far in my new crochet project.  I have found myself quite unable to sit and just concentrate on it. My brain seems to be all over the place these days. I am having a difficult time focusing on any one thing. It is chaotic at best. I have a lot on my plate I suppose. My adhd brain doesn't seem to be slowing down sufficiently for me to get in all that I need/want to do.

Top of the list is to transform that back bedroom from a store room into an actual room fit for Eileen's recovery. A part of me is afraid that my ex or his wife will take one look at it and say, 'she's not for staying here.'

But where to put everything that is stored therein   . . .  that's the fifty dollar question.  I better sort it out soon for time is quickly slipping by. Really I should tackle it like one would eating an elephant. One slow bite at a time.

And with that it's just about nine a.m. here and the time has flown so I will end this now with . . . 

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

☾ ° ★° * 。  

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*A friend is the first one to come in

when the whole world has gone out.

~Anon

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  A Traditional Old-Fashioned Boiled Dinner.  With meat, vegetables and a delicious parsley sauce. Simple, hearty, and delicious. Economical too. It makes a small piece of meat stretch affordably.

I hope you have a most wonderful day.  Filled with light, love, colour and hope. Whatever you get up to, don't forget! 

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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And I do too!