All Things Nice . . .

 

I was a child -- not long ago

I heard the pipes from Elfland blow,

And waded brooks and little streams,

Lived half the day in golden dreams,

Chased butterflies across the moors,

And loved the blessed out-of-doors.

Made daisy chains and ran tip-toe

To find the place where shadows go;

Watched from a window tall and thin

To see my father's ship come in,

Picking its dainty right-o-way

Down the blue waters of the Bay.

Went with others to explore

The little coves along the shore,

Poked sticks at sea anemones,

Made little houses in the trees,

And ate our lunches crisp and sweet,

With sand piled up to warm our feet.

We let our childish fancies weave

A lovely world of make believe,

Where fairies lived and saucy elves

Danced in moonlight by themselves,

Among the ferns and lacy shade

A pair of playful moon-beams made.

They tell me -- those who really know,

That in the fields of long ago,

The fairies still hold happy jinks,

Among the daffodils and pinks,

And children -- if they're very good,

Catch glimpses of them in the wood.

~Edna Jacques, I was a Child

The Hills of Home, 1952

Another sunny day in the offing here. Its not yet gone 7 a.m. and it is already +11*F.  The perfect warm day to explore the countryside.  I do not know what children do these days, but when I was a child, we were relatively free to roam about the countryside. Hike in the woods, explore the realms of fairies, hoping to catch a glimpse.  

I was well versed in the fairy stories of Enid Blyton and I can remember firmly believing that fairies did exist. I would take them out from the local library and devour them from cover to cover.  I longed to catch a glimpse of one. 

I remember watching a musical on the television, black and white in those days  . . .  of Peter Pan with Mary Martin playing Peter and her coming close to the television screen at the end and asking, "Do you believe in fairies?"   . . .  a plea to bring Tinkerbell back to life and I remember shouting back, "I do!  I do believe in fairies!"  And then . . .  just like magic  . . .  Tinkerbell came back to life.

 

 

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I would spend hours when I was not in school, exploring the woods near our home looking for treasures and signs of fairy life in the underbrush.  Climbing trees. Looking for wild flowers and fairy circles.  Sometimes I would see lady slippers and even then  . . .  I knew enough not to pick them . . . those little boots . . .  empty and left behind by dainty feet that rushed away at the sound of my arrival.  Were they hidden in the bushes watching?  I liked to think that they were.

One of my favorite childhood memories is of a picnic my friend Cindy and I took one hot Saturday. We rode our bicycles up the road to Tremont, which was quite a hike as it was uphill all the way on a winding country road.  I remember sitting on a hill overlooking the tiny Baptist church there while we ate our peanut butter sandwiches and sipped cool-aid from glass jars, all hot and sweaty from the exertion that it had taken to get us there.  Oh the dreams we had and shared . . . 

And then,  the trip back down the mountain afterwards, soaring down the winding road, legs outstretched as our bicycles gained momentum in the downward climb, the wind blowing our hair back as the hum of cicadas filled the hot air.

Cindy passed away  about 2 years ago now, from a brain tumor. She was the daughter of Mr. McGregor who used to live across from me. He passed about 18 months ago now.  I have only a few childhood friends left now, many having gone on before me, but I think of them still and enjoy tip toing again with them through the pages of my memory.

 

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I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. 

They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. 

Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. 

We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been 

enriched by having shared their love.

~Leo Buscaglia

Memories are wonderful things.   They give us roses in December. I sometimes will find myself sitting in my chair gazing out the window as I stroke one of my cats, thinking back on people I knew and loved, and who are no longer with us. Doing so always brings a smile to my heart.  No life is wasted as has touched our own for good, and my life has been touched by some of the best people. I think of them often and always with love.

 

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Yesterday afternoon, Cindy and I took a little jaunt just down the road from where I live. We had read about this new produce and meat market which had opened up there and we wanted to see what it was like. They did have some lovely looking meat.  We each picked up a pound of fresh ground beef to try.  They said it was local and grass fed.  It was lovely and lean and a beautiful natural color, not that artificial red that you see in the shops. I froze most of mine after taking out enough to make myself a burger for my supper last night.  It was really good. Lean and with a nice flavor. I would buy it again. 

They also had some nice looking homemade sausage in a variety of flavors, smoked pork chops, etc. Not a lot of veg at the moment, but the growing season isn't yet upon us. They were quite busy when we were there, so they seem to be quite popular.  I hope that they do well.  It is hard to get a business up and running in today's economy.  We need to support our local businesses as much as we can.

 

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Lord, it’s easy to love those who love me, 

but I need help to love the difficult 

and unlovable. 

 Could they be the ones 

You’ve called me to love most? 

 Remind me when I forget.. 

 Remind me at my weakest.. 

 I choose to be gentle. 

I choose compassion. 

I choose to be kind. 

 I choose the way of love. 

~Neva

Oh why is it so hard to love some people . . .  and yet  . . .  we are called to love all, and to pray for those who despitefully use us. It is a great challenge at times. Especially when someone has deeply hurt us.  It is our natural instinct to want to hurt back . . . but I can say with a surety that to do so will not bring  any joy into our lives. 

May my hands always place a tender touch. May they guide softly and with kindness, those whom I love. I choose gentleness for nothing is won by force. When I don’t understand and rush to wrong conclusions… I pray my heart will remember the tenderness of grace realizing, I may not see the whole, but only a part, and therefore extend to others, grace of my own.

 

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I am going to go shopping with Cindy this morning. She always shops for my father and for herself on Saturday mornings. I don't really need much, if anything, but I like to tag along for the drive and to get out of the house.  Its also some exercise to walk around the grocery store.  I like to look and see what they have. We never go to just one place. We make the rounds.  Super Store, Giant Tiger, Wal Mart, Sobey's.  Sometimes we go to Dollarama. 

Of course we plan it all around the availability of toilets.  When you reach a certain age and have had a certain number of children, the bladder ain't what it used to be.   I do not like the public toilets in the Super Store. They are quite often dirty and they always smell.  I also don't like using communal toilets. I much prefer having a separate ladies and gents.  Not to insult any gentlemen out there, but  . . . if you are a lady,  you will know what I mean.  The ladies toilets at the mall are always impeccable, so are the ones in Wal Mart, and of course separate.  It does make a difference.

 

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I have my mother's bible and my great grandmother's also.  I suspect, unless my brother wants it, I may one day have my father's as well.  I also have several of my own.  I have an old pink one that is fairly falling apart, it has been cracked open so many times. My mother's and great grandmother's are worn a bit, having been often used and read.  I don't think my father ever opens his and yet he keeps it close.  It is important to him that it is there. 

There have been many times in my life when I have wanted   . . .  needed  . . .  the comfort of the holy word.  I know that if I open it just to any page I will find sustenance for my soul.   Comfort.  Peace.  Answers.  Inspiration.  Food for the soul.

And with that I best leave you with a thought for today as time is marching on . . . 

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

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

 *.˛.Sometimes the most honest prayers

we can pray are the ones that sound like,

"This is hard. I am tired. Please help."

~Ashley Morgan Jackson  ° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  a delicious Refrigerator Pie,  Hot Fudge Marshmallow Refrigerator Pie. This is fabulous!  A delicious hot fudge chocolate base, topped with a light and fluffy marshmallow filling.  Oh boy, some good! It is easy to make ahead and will keep in the refrigerator for up to a week.

I hope that you have a beautiful Saturday. Whatever you get up to be happy.  Be safe and be kind.  Have a very nice day. Don't forget!

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And I do too!