The Simple Woman's Daybook . . .

 

FOR TODAY, May 28th, 2019 

Outside my window ...
Its dry at the moment, but it looks like it won't be for long.  Cold too.

I am thinking ...
I can't believe there are only a couple more days in May and we will be into the month of June.  The year is slip, slip, slipping away  . . . .

I am thankful for ...
A sister I can talk to.

One of my favourite things ...  

 

Oriental rice crackers  . . .  so crunchy   . . .  so good.

In the kitchen ... 

 

Creamy Tomato & Basil Soup.  Served with homemade garlic & herb foccacia crisps.  Great for a rainy day.  

On my "To Cook" list ... 

 

Lardy Cake from the Happy Foodie.  

Good to know ... 

 

I am creating ... 

  

I spent some of yesterday making these little tokens of friendship to take to a lunch I am supposed to go to today.    

 

Puff Flowers Baby Blanket.  Melody Griffiths on Ravelry.  

 

Crochet Geese Family.  Past Patterns Palooza on Etsy.  

 

Willowynn.  Toadstool ornament pattern.  

 

The Farm Chicks.  Make your own Dish Towels.  

I am reading ... 

 

The Dashwood Sisters Tell All, by Beth Pattillo 

 Ellen and Mimi Dodge have never been close, but their mothers dying wish sends them on a walking tour of Hampshire, England, that follows in the footsteps of Jane Austen.

Their mother also left them something else: a diary that belonged to Janes sister Cassandra. These pages shed light on the secrets that nearly tore the Austen sisters apart and inspired one of the greatest love stories of all time. They also bring Jane to life in a way that no one has ever seen before: through the eyes of her sister.

As the Dodge sisters embark on their walking tour, they too are drawn together in ways they never expected. They also discover that Cassandras diary holds secrets, and someone doesnt want Ellen and Mimi to discover the truth. As they stumble on their way toward love, the women learn how Jane and Cassandra Austen inspired the original Marianne and Elinor Dashwood and come to realize that despite their very different personalities, they are a vital part of each others happy endings.

I have only just started this. 

I am looking forward to ... 
 Summer . . .  warm, sunny, dry summer.

 Dreaming about ... 

 

Fluffy butts  . . . 

  

Fresh garden vegetables  . . . .

 

Cafe curtains  . . . 

  

Lace petticoats . . . 

 

Strawberry Season  . . .  its on its way  . . . 

Makes me smile ... 

  

So inquisitive  . . . 

Something to watch ... 

 

North & South on Netflix. I love good period dramas . . . 

A thought to carry with you  ... 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *You must not blame me

if I do talk to the clouds . . . 

~David Thoreau  •。★★ 。* 。

  

Corners of my kingdom ... 

 

Sheep at dusk  . . .  

 

And that's my daybook for this week!



  ⋱ ⋮ ⋰
⋯ ◯ ⋯ Take time to enjoy the small *´¯`.¸¸.☆
  ⋰ ⋮ ⋱ blessings in life.*´¯`.¸¸.☆ 



✿¸.•*¨`*•..✿✿¸.•*¨`*•..✿ ✿¸.•*¨`*•..¸✿ ✿¸.•*¨`*•..¸✿ ✿¸.• ╬♥═╬╬═♥=╬╬═♥╬╬═♥╬╬═♥=╬╬♥═╬♥╬╬═♥╬╬═♥=╬╬♥
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Have a beautiful day!  Don't forget!  

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And I do too!    

   

It rained tonight . . .

 

It rained tonight, a warm fine summer rain

Making long streaks across my window pane,

And in the dark I heard the rustling leaves,

The water running in the wooden eavs.

I smelt the fragrant earth all dripping wet;

Saw the drops shine like glistening pools of sweat.

What seemed like an early summer has now turned into wind and rain and chilly temperatures. Someone at church yesterday said that summers seem to be coming earlier, being brief and then turning to rain.  There were some Americans visiting.  I was sitting next to them in Relief Society and they remarked on how lovely and green we were over here  . . .  I said, it is because of the rain.  We get a lot of rain, which is why we truly appreciate a sunny day. 

Yesterday was very showery. Instead of a torrential downpour . . . we were having that light misting, trickling sort . . . as I watched through the window I thought about the first year I lived over here in the UK.

It rained every day.  I kid you not.  Every day.  I started to think I was going to develop webbed feet if it didn't stop.  That was in the year 2000 and it was the year that they had terrible flooding down in the south of the country.  That was our "Annus Rainus," in royal speak. 

 

I almost thought that I could hear the sound

Of tiny thankful roots below the ground.

The eager drinking up of leaf and stem

As the warm moisture drifted down to them.

The drenched sweet flowers folded dim and tight,

Giving their faint sweet fragrance to the night.

I wondered what I had let myself in for, truly.  Someone had told my youngest son that he would never want to go to England, because it rained all the time there.  I had told him that just wasn't true.  I'd been over here for three weeks in the September and it only really rained for the last couple of days that I was here.  I didn't want it to be true.  I didn't want that other person to be right . . . but it was beginning to look like she was.

That was the year I discovered that people don't melt in the rain.  Back home we never went out in the rain.  Rain.  Wet.  Ugh.  Poo poo . . . you don't go out in the rain.   You sit in your livingroom looking out the window and wishing for it to stop.  Over here . . . if you didn't go out in the rain . . . you would never go anywhere!   and . . . just so long as it isn't pelting down . . . people don't melt in the rain. 

  

And even in  my sleep I seemed to feel

The quiet power of rain to bless and heal,

The peace of Nature working out her plan

Setting at naught the hurried ways of man,

For growth is slow, yet to my heart it brings

The mystery of all created things. 

~Edna Jaques, Rain at Night

That was the year I discovered that if you have nothing else to talk about over here, you can always talk about the weather, and everyone loves to talk about the weather.  It's like a favourite topic of conversation.  Even strangers at the bus stop will talk to you about the weather.  (We didn't have a car back then, and I used to spend a lot of time at bus stops.)   Everyone was always saying to me . . . "I'nt the weather 'orrible?"  Of course I would agree and then they would notice I was not from around here, and we'd be off and running.  Most people have a cousin, or an uncle or a sibling that has moved over to Canada and is living in the best part . . . completely away across the country from where I'm from, by the way.  It's not the best part.  Nova Scotia is . . . but I never bother to point that out.  Why burst their bubble . . .  besides to any Canadian, where they live is . . .  the best part of Canada.

That was the year I discovered that they love to name the years over here according to the weather.  Like . . . 1965 was the year of the "Great Drought" or 2001 was the year of the "Great Bombing," etc.  . . . 2000  was the year of the "Great Rains."    Last year was the year of "Short Summer."  

 

 Surely I jest you say.  No, I do not.  Tis one of the things I love about this beautiful country I have come to live in and call my own.  From the sky, it looks like a beautiful patchwork quilt of as many colours of green as you can imagine, every shade ever invented.  When you drive down the by ways and hi ways out in the country areas . . . it's like driving through a tunnel of green . . . moss covered tree trunks, and stone walls and fences, hedges which butt right up to the road . . . leafy green trees which meet together over your head.  When a sunny day does occur, it's the most beautiful place on earth.  There is nowhere on earth more beautiful than England on a sunny day, or at least that is my opinion and I think a lot of others would agree.

And that is all because . . . here in the UK.  It rains . . . rather a lot, and so yesterday as I watched it misting down, trickling from the eaves of the shed in the back garden, I thought . . . about how beautiful the garden was going to be this summer, with lots of flowers and green, green, green . . . and I said a little prayer hoping that it was not going to turn into a quagmire.  Perhaps this will be the year of the "Summer that Never Ended." 

 A thought to carry with you  . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *Rain hath come to quench

the thirst of May.

Waterlogged meadows bow

down below a swollen sky

and smile on nature's blessings.

~unknown  •。★★ 。* 。 

 

In the English Kitchen today  . . .  Perfection Salad.  A memory from my childhood. 

Have a beautiful Monday.  Whatever it brings to your table don't forget! 

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And I do too! 

 

Something for Sunday . . .

 

I hardly ever have enough time these days to do a proper post on Sunday mornings, so I am just going to post a picture, and then you can tell me what it makes you feel or think in the comments.  I will too.  

 

Homey things . . .

  

 

I like an old tea kettle

Sort of singing on the stove;

Petunias in a window-box,

Cerise and pink and mauve;

An old Dog dozing on the step,

One eye half opend like;

A little boy a-riding by

On an old red bike.   

 

   

 

I like to hear the birds at dawn

Chirpin' for all they're worth,

Digging for worms and bits of green

In the fresh morning earth;

The breakfast fires being lit,

Their smoke ascending high,

Spirals of hope that daily rise

Into the morning sky.   

 

  

 

I like a clothesine by a lawn

Where little panties blow,

Where kids with sturdy arms and legs,

Sleep and eat and grow;

The little homes of common folk,

Carpenters, clerks, and such,

The patient workers of the world

Who matter oh so much.  

 

 

 

 

A little house with four square walls

A bird-house painted red,

A father going off to work,

To earn the daily bread;

The mother faithful to her task,

A cobbled walk and gate  . . . 

These are the things, which, added up,

Make common living great. 

~Edna Jaques, Homey Things, Back Door Neighbors  

 

 

 

Oh I dare say I was probably born fifty years too late . . . our world is too noisy and too busy and too filled with the love of things that don't really matter.  I don't think my grandparents would not recognise the world we live in now at all and would be totally aghast at all they would see. 

Oh, some things are better of course . . .  I think we have made great in-roads as far as equality to a degree, civil rights, etc. there is still much room for improvement, but things are not as bad as they used to be in that respect. My heart does sometimes long for simpler times however  . . . uncluttered and unfettered by the tat of modern day living.  

 

  

 

With the advent of new technologies our world has become a much, much smaller place.  Sometimes I am grateful for that, especially when it means that I can reach out to family and friends almost instantaneously . . . but it is quite difficult these days to stick your head in the sand and be blissfully unaware of all that is wrong with the world, and with people . . . its all so very in your face all the time.  Innocence has been lost to a very large degree . . .  and I often mourn its dispossesion . . . 

 

There is oftimes a longing in my heart for simpler times and simpler pleasures . . .  do you feel it too?

A thought to carry with you  . . .

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *The glory of gardening,
hands in the dirt, head in the sun,
heart with nature.
To future a garden is to feed
not just on the body, 
but on the soul. 
~Alfred Austin  •。★★ 。* 。 

 

In the English Kitchen today  . . .  Everything Peanut Butter Cookies . . .  incrdibly moreish to say the least.

Have a beautiful weekend. It is a long weekend here with the Monday being a Bank Holiday.  Todd says it used to be called Whitsun  . . .  but I think now it is just called the Spring Bank Holiday.  I know it is Memorial Day in the US.  In any case, I hope your weekend sparkles and shines.  Don't forget! 

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And I do too!