All Things Nice , , ,

 

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The world has put on loveliness

And every street and bit of yard

Is clothed in beauty like a bride,

The church looks like a Christmas card,

With mullioned windows glowing bright,

And a thatched roof of carded white.

A little group of fir trees stand

Like five small maidens in a row,

Each one has on a tufted hood,

With lovely petticoats of snow,

You'd almost fancy they might bend

To make a curtsey to a friend.

An old house on the boulevard

Has put on majesty and grace,

The lamp-posts wear a coronet,

The little fence is trimmed with lace,

And every twig and bit of vine

Is festooned like a valentine.

The curving street has taken on

A lovely mantle of romance,

The roads and houses -- everything

Is sleeping in a lovely trance,

Bewitched by fairies overnight,

And shrouded in a cloak of white.

Like earthly souls at last set free

Who take on immortality.

~Edna Jacques, Snow Storm

Back Door Neighbors, 1946

There is nothing so beautiful as the muffled silence of the yard after a heavy fall of snow.  Everything looks as if it has been kissed and draped with sweet marshmallow. All is still and so very quiet. Untouched . . . I love to see the small footprints left by the birds along the railing of my deck and across the floor.  The prints of other small creatures too.  It is as if we have stepped through the wardrobe into Narnia. Magic beckons to us and awaits our arrival. If I was a child I would be bundling up and tripping out the doorway to make snow angels all across the yard, or at the very least a snowman or two. I sit and watch it falling from my chair and I am grateful that I do not have to go out and clear off my car. It is safely tucked into my garage. I am also grateful that I do not have to shovel. What a luxury this is.

 

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A blizzard is a beautiful thing if one does not have to go out in it. As the drifts pile up I can see from my window the yards across the way brimmed with silver. Pines stand dark and silent in the veiling snow. The maple in the back yard tries to reach the pewter skies, its bare arms outstretched and empty. But soon, they too are covered, their burden laying heavy as the snow accumulates.

Inside scented candles burn, and I listen to the last of the Christmas music as I put my cards away, a smile on my face and a loving prayer yielded towards each sender.  Happy New Year wishes for each special soul. I do so hope that the coming months will be kind to us all.

I put a roast into a pan, just a small one. This is a real luxury these days. I had thought to cook it when the boys were here, but they were not here long enough. I say a little prayer that the power will stay on long enough for it to cook. As I peel my vegetables, I think about the baked beans my sister had on New Year's day and how delicious they were. I really must make room in my freezer and bake some of my own one of these days. 

I remember the Saturdays of my childhood when the smell of beans baking in our mother's old brown stone crock tantalized our taste buds all day through . . . bubbling with sweet brown goodness for Saturday night. More often than not we would enjoy them with wieners and thick slices of buttered bread. They were always so delicious.

Yes  . . .  I really must make some room in my freezer so that I can bake a pot and then freeze the leftovers to enjoy in the coming weeks.

 

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Seeing in the new year is a quiet thing for me these days.  I am in bed long before the hands on the clock ring twelve. When the children were growing up we were always on our own for New Years' Eve. My husband always had to work. We would celebrate the evening with a few tasty nibbles and a movie or two and Dick Clark's Rockin' New Years Eve. It was the same every year.  The children would try their best to stay up until the clock struck 12 but inevitably one or two of them would have to be awakened as they dozed on the sofa . . .  just so that they didn't miss it and be disappointed in doing so. Then all would trot off to bed where I would tuck them in all snug and sound.

There are no children here now for me to watch movies and munch popcorn with.  I don't even like popcorn anymore, and the magic of the hands of the clocks hitting twelve no longer has a hold on me. I am just grateful to have made it through another year peacefully and without too much drama. To have loving family close by. I am so not a party animal.

 

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When I was younger my New Year's celebrations used to come with resolutions. A list of things that I wanted to make new and improve upon in the coming months. Usually that would involve losing weight of some sort.  Now I just resolve to be a better person.  To find joy in my days. To have a peace filled life. To be happy. To enjoy the company of my loved ones both near and far.

My New Year's resolutions are simple now. I resolve to be more patient, less selfish, cherish my friends, and in my small way help whoever needs help. I cannot conceivably influence the world's destiny, but I can make my own life worthwhile. I can give some help to some people; that is not vital to all the world's problems and yet  . . .  I think if everyone did just that we would see a much better world in our time. 

 

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New calendars are hung and the old ones taken down. As I remove the old I wonder at just how quickly the past twelve months have gone. Most of it is now what Emily Dickenson would call "an amethyst remembrance." Perhaps some of it is best forgotten, but there is still so much to remember and treasure. As I open the calendar to January, I think soon the lilacs will be in bloom  . . .  just four pages away . . . . and then the roses. I remember that my children will be coming for visits and the grandchildren will be celebrating their birthdays.

But right now, Winter walks down the low hills and brims the meadows with her tides of snow. Winter arrived and has invaded this small valley that I live in. Snow tops picket fences; drifts run long and deep. The whole landscape has changed as the dune-shaped, wind-rippled snow lies beneath a leaden sky. There is a coldness, a purity, such as we seldom see, and landmarks vanish.

I do not mind one whit . . .  this advent of Winter. It is as it should be.  That we should all hunker down into a season of rest. Rest for our weary bones and souls.  We have permission now to crack open those books we have been waiting to read, to take out the needles and yarn and turn them into small treasures, to sit and doze by the warmth of the fire as we toast our sock covered toes. I love this time of year.

It is still fresh and has not yet become tainted with rose colored wishes for daffodils and budding leaves. They will come in time, but not now  . . . 

 

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I am off and out today to get in some cat food and kitty litter and a few other bits and bobs. I have not been really to the shops since before Christmas. We have five days of snow awaiting us beginning tomorrow and so today I really need to stock up in the wake of its advent.  Hopefully I get enough to last.  It is good to just get out of the house and to breathe in some fresh air. I do not do it often enough.

A thought for today  . . . 

☾ ° ★° * 。  

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。

° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚

˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛

˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*How many lessons of faith and beauty 

we should lose, if there were no

winter in our year.• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。

~Thomas Wentworth Higginson• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。

 

 

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Apple Pecan Bread Pudding for Two.  A great way to use up leftover bread. Delicious and comforting.  

I hope that you have a beautiful weekend. Whatever you get up to stay warm and stay safe. Be happy. May your days be filled with joy and with peace. Don't forget!

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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And I do too!