All Things Nice . . .

 

(source) 

I love bright things -- a blue cup for my tea

A pottery place bright as an orange skin,

A drinking glass with yellow tulips on,

The gaudy sparkle of a jewelled pin.

I love a tablecloth where roses bloom

Cheerful and gay as any flower bed,

Red hollyhocks beside a garden wall,

A pewter plate to hold my daily bread.

I love bright curtains draped in tiny folds

To let the gleaming bars of sunlight through,

A cushion on a chair of colored blocks,

A tiny woven rug of turquoise blue.

I love a crimson coat gay as a flag,

A white sail poised above a quiet sea,

The royal blue grapes . . . the sheen of silk,

Red candled shining on a Christmas tree.

I love blue lightening . .  . raindrops on a wire

A golden hilltop . . . planes with silver wings,

The world is beautiful and fair to me,

I have the company of lovely things.

~Edna Jacques, I love Bright Things

Aunt Hatties Place, 1941

 

(source)

One thing which I really enjoy is sitting outside my sister's back door in the afternoon watching all the wild life and birds. There is a car port and its nice and cool in its shade. You can hear the birds singing and as soon as you sit down the wild life starts to gather. Chipmunks arrive one at a time, there has to be five or six of them altogether, although you may only get one or two at once.  They take the peanuts right out of her hand and carry them back to their holes. You can see them scurrying back across the yard in a pattern, it is the same each time.

There is the cooing of Doves and the warbles of their awkward flight.  Bluejays gather in the canopy of trees just outside the car port and crows align themselves on the wires out front.  It is a tranquil and peaceful place to be . . . under the car port on a sunny afternoon.  Bees buzzing, wires humming, birds singing . . .  and the company of someone who knows you better than you know yourself and loves you anyways. It doesn't get much better than that. 

 

(source)

I've actually managed to start crocheting a blanket based on this pattern this week.  I am about 7 rows in now. My colors are not quite the same, but very nice nonetheless. At least they are to me. I will take a photograph once it gets to a certain length so that you can see it proper. I am not that far in yet.  It is nice to be able to sit and watch the television in the evening and work away at it.  At first the cats wanted very much to be involved but I just kept telling them no and eventually they gave up. Nutmeg lays next to me on the sofa on one side and Cinnamon on the other.  It is a cozy companionship which I enjoy very much.  They are great company . . . 

 

(source)

I have always loved orange cats.  Since the old Dick and Jane readers we had in primary school.  With Dick, Jane and Sally, and their dog Spot and little orange kitten called Puff.   I had forgotten about Puff until yesterday when my sister mentioned it.  I am surprised I have never called any of my cats Puff.  Its such a sweet name.  

Did you learn to read with those books?  

Look Dick look. See Jane. See Jane run. Run Jane run. Run run run! 

I loved those books. There were different colored covers according to the level of reading you were at.  I was always a romanticist and used to dream of having a family just like the one in the books. It was such a simpler time and we had simple needs and wants.  Our lives were uncluttered by social media and things of that same ilk. If you wanted to change the tv channel you had to get up and walk across the room, but there were only about three channels anyways and with the exception of Saturday morning cartoons my parents were very much in charge with what was watched.

Oh how I loved the Saturday morning cartoons.  Do they still have a whole morning on the mainstream channels dedicated to cartoons?  I don't know!

Saturday afternoons were quite boring however  . . .  fishing shows and other like minded shows.  It was not very exciting to me.  I do quite like watching travel shows now though. I am an armchair traveler. Michael Palin does the best ones, but I have not seen them here. Michael Portillo does some great ones also. Based on railway travel. He even did some on the railway journeys in North America. 

 

(source)

I used to love watching The Flintstones when I was a child. I very much thought that life would be just like that when I grew up. That I would have a good friend like Betty next door and we would talk together over the clothesline while we were hanging out the wash and get together for teas and coffees, go shopping together and our children and husbands would be friends also. 

It never dawned on me that my own mother's life was not like that. My mother was never one to talk to the neighbors or get together with them for teas and coffees. She had far too much to cope with in taking care of our home or family.  She was exceptional at that and those were her priorities. Our home was spotless and so were we.  Our days and lives ran on a schedule.  There was a day and a time for everything.

Even when she bought groceries. She would buy the exact same things each time. You could tell what day of the week it was by what we were having for supper.

It was a much simpler time.

My father would go our for some drinks on the Friday nights but Saturday nights were always either spent watching the Hockey on television or my mother and father would get all dolled up and go to a dance. I can still remember the sounds of my mother dress swishing and the smell of her perfume. She always looked so elegant and well turned out. My father always looked very handsome in his suit.  Together they cut a fine rug.  They carried on this pattern of going out dancing on the weekend for most of their lives.  It is funny the things which stick in your mind. I am sure my mother had more than a few dancing dresses but the one I remember most is a powder blue one she had that had a full skirt with a multitude of crinolines underneath and a neckline very similar to this one here, with ruffles in it. I believe it also had a wrap that went with it. 

Mom had her hair done every Saturday morning for  most of her adult life. She was a woman of great class and elegance. Oh how I miss her.

We all do.

 

(source)

It is hard to believe that we are already in the middle of July. Our grass is looking brown in patches as we have not had much in the way of rain. I water my herbs and baskets of geraniums diligently. The corn in the fields is waist high now and growing every day. We are in the midst of our strawberry season  and the wild blueberries are already appearing. It seems early to me as I always associate blueberries with corn and August. 

I have enjoyed going through those community books that Marilyn gave to me the other night and seeing familiar names. Those types of cookbooks are the best kinds. Most people only offer up their tried and trues, best and favorite recipes. They are like the cream of the crop. I love them! 

I ran across this this week and wanted to save it. It resonated with myself. It is very much how I want to live my life, how I try to live my life. It is okay to feel sad about the past, but its not okay to carry it with you into your future or to let it drag you down. Take the lesson. Embrace it. Learn from it.  Then leave it behind and move forward knowing that you are somehow a better person than you were before the lesson. I don't think anyone gets the life they hoped for.  The best we can do for ourselves is to find joy in the life we end up with.

Another thing I did this week was to listen to this talk by Jeffrey R Holland. I have listened to it a few times. The Other Prodigal.  How many times do we allow the fortunes of others to somehow diminish our own fortunes, achievements and lives? Comparison truly is the thief of joy.

 

(source)

When you live on your own, with nobody else to please but yourself, it is very easy to let things become very haphazard. You eat what and when you want, you sleep when you want. Nothing seems to have much of a schedule. I can understand better now why my  mother kept to one, and why it was so important to her, my father also. I have never thought of myself as a scheduled type of person, but I am missing the rhyme and rhythm of doing things at the same time each day, and the same things each day of the week.   There is an order in most things  . . .  nature itself is an example of order . . .  with one season following the other, with certain plant coming at specific times and in a certain order.  Without order things can descend very easily into chaos.

My life has been chaotic enough.  I feel the need to bring more order into it. Maybe not as specific or as strict as was my mother's, but specific enough that things run a lot smoother I think.  I think human beings crave order and structure in their lives. What are your thoughts on this?

Perhaps I would get a lot more done!

And with that I will leave you with a thought for the day . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

•。★★ 。* 。

° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚

˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛

˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*I am grateful for always this  moment,

the now, no matter what form it takes.

~Eckhart Tolle•。★★ 。* 。

The recipe I am sharing in The English Kitchen this morning is for a Pineapple Coconut Breakfast Cake. Oh boy but this is some delicious!

I hope you have a beautiful weekend. Whatever you get up to don't forget!

═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ═══════════ 

⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿
═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ═══════════     


And I do too!