I am the blossoms of a by-gone spring,
Pressed in the book of time, a lonely thing,
The hunger of an unfulfilled desire,
The ashes on the bed of last year's fire.
I am the balm that softens all life's scars,
The heights, the depths, the anguish and the stars,
Into my cooling dark your minutes cast,
I am, the temple of the living past.
I am the days you joyed, the days you wept,
In my vast vault of silence, safely kept,
I am your laughter; I, your sobbing cry,
The echo of a voice that cannot die.
I am the link that bridges night and dawn,
I am the soul that lives when all is gone,
The Yesterday, where this Today shall dwell,
I am your life, your death, your heaven, your hell.
I am Memory.
~Edna Jacques, I am Memory
Beside Still Waters, 1939
(He leadeth me beside the still waters,
He restoreth my soul. ~Psalm 23
In all my time of reading this book, I
never made the connection until
this morning.)
Memories. We all have them. They have the capacity to bring a warmth and a smile to our hearts or to cut us like a knife, abusing us all over again. Joy filled, pain filled, and everything in between. Selective at times. Rose-colored at times. Some we like to share, others we like to hide. Some we like to run from. I cherish all that I have, even the ones filled with pain. These are the things which have shaped me, which have built my life. They are a part of me and who I am, what my life has become and is, and I love my life.
I posted this on my Facebook page yesterday. It resonated with me. I have often been guilty of this habit. When it is hot and sticky in the summer months, I am longing for cool crisp autumn days. When I have an appointment, or a test, or some such, I am guilty of wanting it to be done and dusted. I forget to live in the moment at times. I know that we do need to protect our futures, plan for rainy days, etc. but at the same time we need to remember to hold our todays in the palms of our hands as well and treasure them for the gifts that they are.
Old windows . . . if peeling paint could talk, what would it say? When I look at old windows I think of all the scenes that have lived themselves out on both sides of the glass. Of the joys and the sorrows harbored there. Laughter and tears. Glimpses. Patterns of light and of dark.
A window doesn't move, but it sees all. Windows shake with the sounds of the earth. They rattle and they hum. They carry the soft drizzle of the summer rain and withstand the pelting of harsh winds, and hail, and snow. They are avenues to both the rising and the setting of the sun. We can hide behind them if we wish to.
Jack Frost can paint his pictures on them, and they delight our souls. We can hang fairy lights across the panes and set candles on the sills to delight the neighborhood and bring the warmth of welcome to passersby. Window boxes can be hung in front, filled with flowers that feed our souls and eyes with beauty and with joy.
I love windows. I wish I had more in my wee house.
I had a phone call yesterday morning from Jane who lives at the end of my street. She was the first one to welcome me to the neighborhood, even before I moved in. My sister and I had come to look and were just sitting in my car out front. She drives a Red Kia Soul, just like mine. She was wanting to know if I would be willing to give a small donation towards the cleaning of the compost bins that lay at the end of the road adjacent to the small guest parking lot that sits there. Not a lot, just a small sum. There is a man who is coming to clean them up and get rid of the pestilence of maggots that have infested them. I am not sure what he does, but he gets rid of them and treats them with something to prevent their return and will put salt in the bottoms, or some such. I said, of course I will contribute. Nobody likes going down there in the summer months and seeing/smelling them. They are nasty. Really the property owners should be taking care of them, but like most things they are not. It is wonderful that we have such a community minded soul as Jane to take these things in hand.
I took my money down to give to her and sat for a while and chatted with her. I did not know, but she has leukemia now. I often see her driving past with the lady that she lives with and cares for. Say hello when I see her, but I think yesterday was the first time I had actually sat and had a real conversation with her. I was sorry to hear of her leukemia. She is coping well with it. People do these days. They can live with it for quite a while. My Aunt has it as well. Drugs help to keep it at bay. The wolf at the door. Please keep Jane in your prayers. I told her if she ever needs anything at all, she can give me a call. She probably won't, but I was sincere when I said it and I hope that she will call if she has a need.
Bumble Bee Bumble Bee
Yellow and Black
Four buzzing wings
you have on your back
I love bumble bees. They make me smile. They look cute enough to make you want to cuddle them but cuddle them not. They will probably sting you. In the U.K. they are the harbingers of Spring. When you see them bumbling from crocus blossom to crocus blossom you know that Spring has truly arrived. In Canada it is the Robin which announces its arrival.
Known for their large, hairy bodies clad in bands or stripes, bumblebees are some of the most important pollinators on Earth. This type of bee boasts fast-beating wings that help vibrate blossoms until they release large amounts of pollen, a method called "buzz pollination," which helps flowers be more productive. Thanks to their unique pollinating skills, these tiny insects are integral to the survival of many different plant species.
There are 265 varieties of Bumble Bee in the world and they have a lifespan of only 28 days. They do NOT produce honey. Honeybees collect honey to survive through the winter, but bumblebees don’t need to prepare for the cold because they die in the fall. Only new queen bumblebees hibernate and make it until spring. Their naturally depressed metabolism gives them a longer lifespan than the rest of the colony. While wild bumblebees do collect sugary nectar, they always consume it before they have a chance to convert it into honey.
The biggest Bumblebees, the Patagonian Bumblebee, live in South America. They grow as big as 1.18 inches long.
Bumblebees beat their wings 200 times per second, much faster than the human eye can detect.
They shiver to keep warm. Even though bumblebee species are designed to handle a wide range of climates, they still need to raise their internal temperature in order to take flight (this is why you may notice queens or workers on the ground in the colder months in early spring). The Arctic bumblebee is found in northern regions of Alaska, Canada, Northern Scandinavia, and Russia. Because of the cold, these bees have to work a lot harder to raise their temperatures, sometimes even basking inside conical flowers to concentrate the sun’s rays. To warm themselves faster, the bees shiver their large flight muscles, getting their temperatures up to the minimum for flight, 86 degrees Fahrenheit.
Male Bumblebees can’t sting. Like other bee species, only female queen or worker bumblebees can sting. However, since they are typically less aggressive than honeybees (who have valuable honey to protect), bumblebees will generally only sting if they feel threatened or if something disturbs their hive.
Also, unlike honeybees, a bumblebee sting isn’t a death sentence for the insect. Bumblebee species have smooth stingers without barbs, so they won’t automatically die after using their stinger. If it needs to, a bumblebee can sting the same victim repeatedly.
And now you know.
This is something I need to remind myself of frequently. I especially needed to remind myself of it over this past week when an external force was at work trying to keep my son and his family away from me. My son tried very hard to please everyone. I did not want him to feel pressured in the least to spend time with me. I was grateful for every moment he did, however, and I treasured them because I knew that he was with me because he really wanted to be, not because I had manipulated or pressured him into being here. I led with love or tried to. The Stepmom doesn't like any of my family spending time with me and tries her hardest to keep them away. I acknowledge the fact that for some reason she is quite insecure when it comes to me. I don't know why. I don't think I have ever given her any reason to be. In an ideal world, we would all get along, and that is how I wish it could be. It would be so much easier for my children. They wouldn't feel torn or think they needed to pick sides.
My parents got divorced when I was in my early 30's. Never once did they make us feel like we had to choose between them. They gave us permission to love each of them equally and they encouraged us to have good relationships with each of them. That was a real gift to us, their children. It made all the difference in the world. That is how it should be. We may have had our own opinions about what happened between them, but that didn't stop us from loving and caring about each of them. Our father lived with our mother off and on through the years, as friends. Her door was never closed to him. That was probably one of the greatest gifts our mother gave to us. I have always admired her greatly for that. It took strength and compassion for her to do that. I am grateful for her example.
I had a nice afternoon with Cindy yesterday. We got a few errands done. We stopped at the farm marker on the way back as Friday's is Chocolate Donut Day at Spurr's. They had the most beautiful strawberries. They are closed for You Pick now, so these are the last of their berries. I was so tempted to buy a basket and would have done if I had not already picked up a huge bag of cherries at Sobey's who had their cherries on special for $2.99 a pound. I do so love cherries.
I was also tempted by their Hodge Podge baskets. Baskets with everything in them to make a traditional
Nova Scotia Hodge Podge. I actually may go back and get one. My recipe needs updating with better pictures, etc.
And with that I will let you go and leave you with a thought for the day.
° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★ *.˛.You have a life!
Just imagine that. You have his day,
and maybe another, and maybe
another still another.
~Mary Oliver,
To Begin with the Sweet Grass
I hope that you have a beautiful weekend. I hope it is filled with lots of nice things, the people you love and some activities that you enjoy! Don't forget!
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And I do too!
