It's hard to believe that the month of July is already almost at an end . . . it has passed by so very quickly . . . but it has been a lovely month . . . well worth the wait of three years I think . . .
There is something quite beautiful and special about a July night. We sat in the garden last evening, enjoying the hot air as it ebbed across the back garden, sliding off into the night . . . while a light cool breeze stole it's way in. It was both delicious and exciting, and most . . . most . . . welcome.
The light of the moon rose like a pearl in the sky over the horizon, glimmering over the pond as the lilies closed up at the end of day . . . and all was put to bed. The small businesses of the day being put to rest . . . worries magicked away by it's soft glow. We stepped across the grass in the back garden, I in my bare feet . . . Todd in his shoes . . . our toes glancing upon the white foam of moonlight on the crest of the wave of the impending night. Bliss . . . Mitzie moving quietly amongst the deepening shadows, sniffing . . . sniffing . . . always sniffing, eyes shining like topaz as they caught the moonlit glimmer.
Off in the distance . . . a cow softly moos, and a dog begins to bark, laughter from a neighbors yard, the sound echoing across the rooftops in the stillness of the night. How wonderful . . . how pure . . . this still . . . hot . . . summer night. I feel the world revolving around me. The voice of the modern world may be troubled, but in my little world, in that moment . . . as stars begin to twinkle, bright and clear upon the darkening sky with the rising moon . . . I cannot feel the turbulence of modern life, only the surety of the seasons, which pass . . . no matter when, no matter what . . .
It is as if suddenly I am everywhere . . . in the orange grove of my friend in California . . . on the banks of Lake Superior with my Canadian friend, listening to loons cry across the water . . . on the front deck of my mother's house watching the sun set across the darkening shadows of the North Mountain which rises purple and violet upon the horizon as peepers along the river begin to make their nighttime music and the crickets begin to sing . . .
and yet . . . I am not there. I am here . . . watching the moon rise above the hedge which lays at the back of our garden . . . in England. As many journeys as my mind may make . . . my heart stays home . . . sweet . . . home . . .
Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
~John Howard Payne
Cameron and Maryn enjoying a day out together, with cat.
I never tire of seeing these two. I wish more of my children would post photos of the grand kiddies. That is how I stay in touch, via these snippets and photos I glean from their FB pages. I am so very grateful for modern technology which means I can stay abreast of what's going on in the click of a mouse!
I was quite chuffed yesterday to have made the top ten list of Cision's UK Food blogs list! It's always nice when your hard work is appreciated in such a way!
My newest piece of artwork. The Princess and the Pea. I had done one of these a long time ago, but wanted to update it. I think this one is much nicer than the original one. For one thing it is a water color and the first one was done in copics . . . someone had requested it, but with a little girl with blonde hair. I don't know how to change hair colour, so I completely re painted the whole picture, in water colors this time.
I added more detail. I love the tree bed and the sleeping cat who is totally oblivious to the Princess' discomfort, and of course the bird in it's nest. A tree has to have a bird's nest don't you think?
A thought to carry with you through today . . .
"Just like flowers in a garden, we are all here to play our part in making the world a beautiful place. So, bloom, spread your petals, and touch someone's life today."
Cooking in The English Kitchen today . . . Slow Braised Brisket Sarnies, with quick pickled onions. Delicious!
Have a wonderful Friday! The weekend is upon us!