All Things Nice . . .

 

(source) 

It wouldn't be Fall without smoke and haze,

The hills all bare and the trees ablaze,

The cricket's song and dry, hot sod,

And wheat fields bordered with goldenrod.

It wouldn't be Fall without laden boughs

And warm, sweet fragrance of open mows,

Cluttered stooks, and the smell of grain,

Rich like the perfume after rain.

It wouldn't be Fall without frost at night

And birds, all ready to make their flight,

Chattering around in the garden bare,

Filling with song the golden air.

It wouldn't be Fall without sodden leaves

And drip of rain in the wooden eaves,

Purple asters to nod and fold,

Wide old gardens and fields of gold.

The feel in your veins of changing things,

The sound in the night of hurrying wings,

Scarlet vines on the garden wall ---

Had we not these . . . it wouldn't be Fall.

~Edna Jacques, It Wouldn't be Fall

My Kitchen Window, 1935

What a beautiful journey Cindy and I had up the Valley towards Cambridge the other day in the car.  We always take the old highway. It is much more picturesque and winds itself through small towns and villages along the way.  Farmer's fields, etc. We were treated to a panorama of beautiful Autumn colors bordering both sides of the highway. The trees were at their best with beautiful reds, ambers and golds. Not a lot had fallen yet, but we had high winds yesterday, so I imagine that a lot let go in the wind.  There were fields of pumpkins, and apple orchards abuzz as the farmers rush to get in the last of the crop and the late season apples and pears.  We are so blessed to live in such a beautiful place as we do.  A place of seasons and months that give us the gifts of change.  

 

(source)

All along the way there were clusters of these bushes that were the same color as those in the photo above, but not as tall, and they were filled with color right to the ground. Spectacular. I don't know what they are called, but I said to Cindy, whatever those are, you need to get some for your garden.  What a beautiful gift that would be each Autumn to look out your window and see such spectacular color.  You would never get tired of it.

If I were a much younger woman and I won the lottery I would build a house and surround it with trees designed to gift me with the most spectacular show of autumn colors.  Of course, if I did that now, I am at such a stage of life as I would never live long enough to see the trees grow into that stage, but what a lovely plan that would have been once upon a time. 

 

(source)

Always be a first-rate version of yourself,

instead of a second-rate version of somebody else.

~Judy Garland

It has taken me pretty much a whole lifetime to do it, but I think I have finally learned the art of loving myself.  When I think of the hours I have wasted trying to live up to the standards of others and always falling short, it's almost criminal, but then again, maybe that is an integral part of the journey towards learning to love yourself.

We can all be so very hard on ourselves. Critical. Demeaning. Of course, the media does a great job of trying to convince us that we should look, think, and act a certain way.  We are surrounded by images of great beauty and standard, both in home and deportment. Beautiful models that in reality are very young girls, teenagers really . . .  trying to sell us face creams and make ups, hair colors, clothing, etc.  All of which look spectacular on a fifteen-year-old with no wrinkles, slim limbs, pretty knees and ankles, long necks, and abundant heads of hair.

Instagram and other social platforms are filled with images of beautiful homes and gardens. And I do so love to look at them.  But the reality, for me anyways, is I will never have the time, money or energy to be able to curate such things for myself, and at this stage of my life, I don't have the will either. I have more important things to do.  I do so love to admire the efforts of others, but one thing I have learned about myself is I lack the patience to do things that way.  Nor do I have the funds, and that's okay.  I am content to just look and admire and give credit where credit is due.  I no longer have the need  or the desire to want to replicate any of it for myself.

Old age brings with it a gift . . . the gift of being able to love yourself.  When you realize that your days are numbered and that there is far more time stretching behind you than in front of you, things come into perspective in a beautiful way. The things that once mattered, the scales of comparison . . .  begin to fall away. You learn to be content with who you are and what you have.

You recognize the beauty in all of the wrinkles earned, and the value of experience in a way that the world does not. It is a wonderful gift to be able to accept the grey and not long for anything else . . . to be able to embrace the value in who you are and the journey you have taken. To value the time that you have left and to want to make the most of it for as long as you can.

Many people in my family never made it even to the age of sixty-five. My mother always said if you can get past sixty-four in our family you have it made. I remember waiting and watching every day of my sixty-fourth year for the axe to fall.  It didn't and I was grateful for that.

Many of the people I knew when I was young, that I went to school with, that I was friends with, are gone now and at rest, and that is sad.  But I am still here, and I know what a gift it is that I am.  The gift of the present and in being present.  Each day should be unwrapped with joy and reverence, every wrinkle honored, every battle fought and won celebrated for what they are. You deserve to love you; you have earned every ounce of love that you can give to yourself.  Wear it like the trophy that it is.

 

(source)

So far, I remain healthy. Dad was already sick on Wednesday night. When I got to the restaurant Cindy was there and she said Dad had a bad cold and he coughed and snorted and blew his way all the way through dinner.  I don't even know why he came out. Cindy was already starting to feel a bit unwell herself.   But she had come with him because she knew he wasn't well enough to drive himself.  It was an act of service. She knew that he was bound and determined to go and would have driven himself in any case.  I don't think any of us thought that it was Covid.  I stopped in yesterday with some things for them. Masked of course and I kept my distance. Dad was still in bed feeling poorly and Cindy had had a bad night of coughing.  Of course, she is unable to fully rest as she has Dad and Dan to take care of. 

Myself, I have had a few times where I thought I had a scratchy throat and was a bit sniffly, but so far it has not developed into anything and for that I am grateful, and I pray that it continues. But I also know what will be will be and I am braced for whatever comes.

The incubation period for COVID-19, which is the time it takes for symptoms to appear after exposure to the virus, is typically 2 to 14 days. However, most people develop symptoms within 5 days of exposure. The Omicron variant of COVID-19 has been shown to have a shorter incubation period than previous variants, with some people developing symptoms as early as 3 days after exposure. It is important to note that some people may be infected with the virus and never develop symptoms. Others may have very mild symptoms that they mistake for a cold or allergies. 

I am not totally naive.  It is probably in all actuality already on my cards.

Typically, both Cindy and myself are not very social animals. We don't have a great need to be around other people and are quite happy with our own company or just with each other.  Dad, he loves to be around other people, and he loves his daily jaunts to Tim Hortons for his cup of tea.  He hugs everyone that offers him a hug.  His attitude is that he's 90, (91 in January) and he has lived a good life and is ready to go whenever.  We can't seem to make him understand that we are much younger and are not ready yet to go into the wide blue yonder. 

I think it is time for us to re-access what it means for us, this desire of his to gallivant around and be so social.  I think he needs to start being much more careful and less huggy with others and a bit more respectful of us.  I only go to those Wednesday dinners because he expects us to join him, and I hate to disappoint him. I know he will go whether we are there or not, plus his Saturday morning and Sunday morning breakfasts out.  I wish he would just stay home, but I am not his jailer, nor is Cindy.   It is a hard place to be really and I do not know what the right answer is. The acceptable compromise.

My brother took some really lovely photos of the Northern Lights. I have not been able to see them myself due to heavy cloud cover. I did witness them many years ago when we were living in Northern Alberta.  I could lay in my bed at night looking up at the sky through the window and watch them.  Swathes of undulating color and light across the expanse of the night skies. They were very pretty.  People all over the U.K. have also been enjoying them.  What an amazing gift.  Not only the gift of the changing colors here on earth, but in the nighttime skies.  Beautiful.

 

(source)

Time, something which we never seem to have enough of.  Time has a duality of nature for which the Greek's had two words . . . "Chronos" which is time at her worst.  The keeping of deadlines, agendas, schedules, clocks etc.  the world's time . . . and then "Kairos" which is transcendence, infinity, reverence, joy, passion, love, the sacred, etc. Kairos is the spirit's time.

We "do" in chronos. We "are" in kairos.  I would rather dwell in Kairos.   How is that possible:

• Slow down
• Concentrate on only one thing at a time
• Doing whatever we are doing as if it were the only thing worth doing in that moment
• Pretending we have all the time in the world, and tricking our subconscious into thinking it so
• Making time
• Taking time

The price we pay is our willingness to stop running long enough to hear the music around us.

And with that I will leave you with a thought for today  . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

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

 *.˛.°There is a magic in that little world, 

home; it is a mystic circle that 

surrounds comforts and virtues never 

known beyond its hallowed limits.

Robert Southey  ° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 

My newest recipe in The English Kitchen.  Peanut Butter "Butter" Cookies.  Crisp and delicious, loaded with peanut butter flavor.  I love these. A recipe from out of the recipe box Tina returned to me.  I also did a video on making them on YouTube.

I hope you have a beautiful weekend.  Happy Thanksgiving to my Canadian family and friends!  I hope you have a weekend filled with love and family and good food and good health and peace.  All things nice.  Whatever you get up to, wherever you are, don't forget!

═══════════ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ═══════════ 

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

And I do too!