Saturday Nice . . .

 

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I love the sounds of peace about my ears,

The slow and steady ticking of a clock,

A quiet river running to the sea,

The homey chatter of a farmyard flock.

The white of quiet wings above the roof,

An old cow slowly chewing on her cud,

A flock of sheep beneath a maple tree,

An apple falling with a little thud.

I love the sound of people in a church,

The choir coming in in cap and gown,

The old bell ringing in its ivory tower,

Sending its echoes half across the town.

The sound of oars somewhere beyond the mist,

An early fishermen put out to sea,

The creak of branches in the dead of night,

As a small wind goes by and rocks a tree.

The crackle of a fire in the grate,

A kettle on the stove that softly sings,

I am so glad that I have ears to hear

The little muted sounds of quiet things.

~Edna Jacques, Sounds of Peace

The Golden Road, 1953

I am like Edna; I love the sounds of peace about my ears too. A clock ticking, the snap and crackle of logs in a fire place . . .  the sound of Geese flying overhead.

I had my door open for a short this morning and heard a flock of geese flying overhead. Heading south for the Winter I expect. It is that time of year. Yesterday in the car we noticed that the leaves are really starting to change now, here in the valley and up the mountain.   The sound of geese flying overhead . . .   the sound of changing leaves . . . sounds of peace and certainty. We surely need them. Stability.  Immutable. These things never change. We will be long gone and the sound of geese flying south for the Winter and changing leaves will still be ringing in the ears of those who are wise enough to listen.

 

 

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To all appearance, summer's pomp was still at fullest height,

and although in tilled acres green had given way to gold.

though rowans were reddening,

and the woods were dashed here and there with

a tawny fierceness, yet light and warmth and color

were still present in undiminished measure, clean

of any premonitions of the passing year.

~Kenneth Graham, The Wind in the Willows

I have dug out my copy of The Wind in the Willows and am reading it. I love the classics. They never get old and always please. They bring a sense of peace, yes  . . .  peace to my soul. Like having an old friend come to visit that you have not seen in a very long while. You open the door and invite them in, throwing your arms around them in a welcoming embrace. Come in my old friend and sit a while beats the tune of your heart as you hold them close. I am so glad you have returned. Now . . . sit . . . stay a while. I'll put the kettle on, and we can warm our feet together by the fire.

 

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September is the thinking month. There is something about the soft September days that sets my mind upon reflection. For one thing a bit of the richness of summer is still with us, but it is tinged with the advancing thoughts of first frosts. The bounty of the garden becomes most precious because we do not know which day will be its last. We become more than a little intoxicated with the amounts of peppers, squash and potatoes, not to mention the tomatoes and last of the beans. The last of the zinnias and a few late roses, perfect and delicate.  Just like our days.

Do you notice how color follows the season? In the spring we have pale yellows, blues and violets. Scillia, hyacinth and then onto lilacs. In the summer we have the pinks . . . roses, sweet rocket and the magenta of phlox By September we have moved into the rich goldenrod, the marigolds, the zinnias. You cannot pursue this too far without argument, for we do have all colors at all seasons, but I feel the spectrum changes with the months with Autumn colors being the most dramatic and the Spring being the most delicate. We won't discuss Winter  . . . 

 

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I cannot think of a better present to anyone than a no-work day. A packed lunch, a mode of transport and an old blanket to sit on. Oh, those days of sitting on the ground on blankets are gone for me now, but I can still dream. A nice sunny September day is perfect for this kind of activity . . . down winding roads bordered with goldenrod and turning leaves to find the perfect spot. A basket full of ham sandwiches, and a jar full of drink  . . .  fresh apples and a chunk of cheese. What an adventure we would have.  Where would we end up?

Perhaps at that spot along the Northern shore which has a spot just right for pulling in. We can listen to the waves hit the rocks as we sit on the blanket, munching on our sandwiches and watching the seals sunbathing in the last of the summer sun. Such fun.

On our way back we can stop at a roadside stand and pick up some lovely richly colored pumpkins and squash and fresh ripe plums, the last of the summer corn . . . jars of golden honey and rose-colored crabapple jelly. I know a few farm stands who carry frozen meat pies, and smoked meats.  The smell of all of this is truly intoxicating. I know. Fearfully expensive, but such a temptation after a day spent in the sun. Who wants to cook???  Let the no-work day continue with a pie in the oven, hang the expense . . . full of chunks of beef, juices bubbling up along the edge and caramelizing . . .  those are my favorite bits, and maybe for dessert a cheeky bowl of ice cream with just a drizzle of the golden honey and sliced crisp red apples on the side.

At the end of the day we can curl up in our comfy chairs, watching the sun set, bathing our windows in gold and amber streaks.  We can light the lamps and converse about what a wonderful no-work day we have had and why don't we do this more often and we should all do it again soon . . . 

 

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I have come across a show on Brit box this week that I am enjoying immensely.  It is called The Hardacres. 

"A working-class family in 1890s Yorkshire move from a grimy fish dock to a vast country estate."

I do so love a rags-to-riches story. Combine that with a period drama and I am very happy indeed. I have watched two episodes two nights in a row. If you are a fan of period dramas, similar to Downton or Upstairs Downstairs, you might also enjoy this. It is like a Yorkshire version of the Beverly Hillbillies combined with Downton Abby.  The series is based on the best-selling novels by the author CL Skelton.

A cracking watch!

 

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Cindy and I took Dad and Maryann to the mall yesterday afternoon and then took ourselves off to a cheeky Indian lunch while they had their visit together.  We went to that new place in Kingston. I think this is the third or fourth time we have been there, so I think it is safe to say we really like the food.  We had samosas and a Chicken Biryani, plus some parotta breads. It was so so so good, and has only fueled my desire to cook some more Indian food here at home.  I was looking through my book and found a nice recipe for butter chicken, but there is also a chicken and potato dish that is looking rather tasty.

I wish we could get good lamb here, but alas it is very difficult to find. 

We also stopped at the Optometrists to see if they could fix my eyeglasses. Alas, they could not.  The frames are no longer in stock, and they could not pop my lenses into any others. They could also not fix the nosepiece, so they ended up knocking off the other piece.  I have another eye exam in December, and it doesn't behoove me to purchase a new set of glasses now when my prescription might have changed in December and I may need to buy another set then. I will just have to sit tight and put up with them the way they are until then. I only just got these lenses in April, and they were quite expensive then, I used my old frames. I was trying to save some money. You really don't save a lot as the lenses are the most expensive part. The frames cost next to nothing in comparison. Lesson learned.  Had I bought new frames as well, they would have been fixable.

 

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I am not sure really how I will spend my day today. I will probably putter. A putter-day now and then is a good thing. I have no desire to really go on a picnic by myself. I will do a bit of this and a bit of that. Funny how I will get into bed at night, and my mind will be filled with lovely plans for the next day and then I get up in the morning and I think . . . no.  Can't be asked. 

I will putter about here and light my candles and clean a bit, maybe cook a bit.  Iron some transfers onto a couple of pillowcases.  Settle in and listen to some good music and perhaps do some reading. It will be a good day, no matter what I choose to do. I only have a week and a half until Eileen comes to stay so a bit of organizing is due as well. I am fighting the urge to put on some heat this morning. 

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

A thought to carry with you . . . 

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

*With freedom, books, flowers,

and the moon, who could not be happy?

~Oscar Wilde

Also, a quote from one of my favorite past Latter Day Leaders:  Anger doesn't solve anything. It builds nothing, but it can destroy everything. -- Thomas S. Monson 

Let us always remember to be kind.

In The English Kitchen today   . . .  Peanut Butter Parfaits.  Simple. Delicious. Easy to make and very nice.  A real treat!

I hope that you have a lovely weekend. Whatever you get up to, I hope it brings you joy.

Don't forget!

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And I do too!