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This patch was once a dress that mother wore
When Madge was young, I see her plain as day
Bending above the little new-born one
Laughing at her small hands . . . she was so gay,
She bought it at a sale, I liked it too,
It matched her eyes that were so very blue.
This patch was Clyde's new shirt, he had a girl
A little neighbor living hear at hand,
And so he thought himself in love with her
Must have a fancy shirt, for they had planned
To go to town in the old carryall,
When he would finish plowing in the fall.
And this was Grandma's apron red as fire
She always loved bright colors, I declare
She'd pick out red or some outlandish shade,
She said she needed color with her hair,
and got the brightest shade that you could see
Somehow they seemed to suit her to a T.
And this was mine, pink with white flowers on
I wore it first the day I met your dad,
He said it matched my cheeks (but men say things)
I guess I didn't look so bad
It made a hit with him and anyway
It wasn't long before the wedding day.
The rose was yours, I saw it in a store,
The day we went to town to sell the cow,
It cost too much I know, but then and there,
I know I'd have to get a piece somehow,
I made it cute, with piping of pale green
It always washed up fresh and looked so clean.
Just an old fashioned quilt and yet it brings
Fond memories to set my heart aglow,
And bids me walk again down memory's land,
Held in the glamour of long ago.
Each day a patch with loving fingers sewn,
Holding the brightness of the days we've known.
~Edna Jacques, Patchwork Quilt
Aunt Hattie's Place, 1949
Oh how I loved reading this poem this morning. It brought back fond memories of my maternal grandmother's quilt which used to lay on our parent's bed. A mishmash of fabrics and patterns, it was a crazy quilt, yarn tufted with dark blue yarn. I loved to lay on it and trace my fingers over the patterns and wonder what they would say could they talk. So much life and so many stories, scraps loving gathered and sewn together and designed to keep a person warm. Almost as warm as the history held within its threads and the fingers which lovingly ministered to it all.
History, it only exists so long as there are those around to document it and to remember it. When that all stops then those days and people are lost . . . as if they were never here. That is a sad, sad thought. We must carry these stories and the people that lived them down to our children and our children's children, so that they live on.
Even when all we have left are the words to carry.
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Eileen is off and out early this morning to a yard sale that the People's First group she belongs to are having. I don't know how long she will be there, but it looks to be a fine day. It is a bit chilly still at 14*C/57*F but I am sure it will warm up as the day goes on. I must tell her to wear a sweater. I know she won't want to carry too much with her, but I don't want her to get a chill. She was excited when she got home from being out yesterday. She and her worker had hung her shower curtain up and laid the bathmat out in her apartment. And she found out she is getting internet. I think that there is a special program through the CSS people that provides them with internet. It is called GEO Connects. She was very happy about that. I think I will try to see about having my old laptop fixed up so that she can use it perhaps. So long as it doesn't cost a lot of money. We will have to see.
Despite all that is scary at the moment, it is also an exciting time for her. New beginnings. A fresh start. I hope and pray each night that it will all work out well for her in the end, and that I am there to help to get her to the point where she is healthy, happy and safe. That is all any parent wants for their children.
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A drop fell on the apple tree,
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh.
A few went out to help the brook,
That went to help the sea.
Myself conjectured, were they pearls,
What necklaces could be!
The dust replaced in hoisted roads,
The birds jocoser sung;
The sunshine threw his hat away,
The orchard spangles hung.
The breezes brought dejected lutes,
And bathed them in the glee;
The East put out a single flag,
And signed the fete away.
~Emily Dickenson, Summer Shower
Tomorrow is the first official day of summer, as well as it being Father's Day. Another season begins. I find myself wondering how did it happen . . . how has winter suddenly become spring which has suddenly become summer . . .
These days . . . they seem to pass far too quickly for my liking. I want to throw a lasso around them and hold them closer, tuck them in tightly so they cannot escape. So that I can savor each one for that tiny bit longer. Hours . . . they pass and before we know it they are gone. Time is like that I guess. It passes right in front of us and we scarce see it go by . . . as it trickles away, it does so slowly, so slow we do not notice it departing until it is gone.
Each summer I think I am going to get done many things . . . I make plans . . . plans to do this, that or the other . . . and if I am lucky I will realize but a few. But that is okay. God willing, summer will come again, and there will be new chances to accomplish what I don't get done this year. The important thing . . . the thing which matters most, is that I grasp each day as it comes and make it count for something.
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I love this picture so yes, I AM using it again . . .
My Great-uncle Silas used to live in a small stone reed-thatched cottage on the edge of a pine-wood, where nightingales sang passionately in great numbers through early summer nights and on into the mornings and often still in the afternoons. On summer days after rain the air was sweetly saturated with the fragrance of the pines, which mingled subtly with the exquisite honeysuckle scent, the strange vanilla heaviness from the creamy elder-flowers in the garden hedge and the perfume of old pink and white crimped-double roses of forgotten names. It was very quiet there except for the soft water-whispering sound of leaves and boughs, and the squabbling and singing of birds in the house-thatch and the trees. The house itself was soaked with years of scents, half-sweet, half-dimly-sour with the smell of wood smoke, the curious odour of mauve and milk-coloured and red geraniums, of old wine and tea and the earth smell of my Uncle Silas himself.
H.E. Bates, from My Uncle Silas, 1939
Old people do have a smell. I have been reading about it. As people age (from around age 40) their skin's natural antioxidant defenses decline, leading to increased oxidation and higher production of 2-nonenal. No, you are not imagining it. This compound has a distinct grassy, greasy, or musty odor. It is oil-based, which means it can adhere to various surfaces and textiles, making it difficult to eliminate completely through standard cleaning methods. You can get rid of it by airing out your home frequently and letting your house breathe. Keeping soft furnishings and textiles washed and fresh. House plants are nature's air purifiers. Air fresheners, scented candles, etc.
Persimmon soap. I recently purchased some. My sister told me about it. (I hope she wasn't hinting at anything, lol) She uses it. I bought some. It actually smells quite nice. I use it every day now, along with my regular soap. My friend Jacquie told me that she had been researching old people's smell also, and that old people really need to clean behind their ears very well, and their necks.
I knew that there was a method to my madness in having weakness for scented candles. I can now justify it.
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This is so true and it actually has nothing to do with possessions. Practicing gratitude is key to having a more abundant life. The more you appreciate what you have, the more you attract into your life. Gratitude is not just a fleeting emotion; it is a transformative practice that can lead to a richer, more fulfilling life. Embrace gratitude, and watch as abundance flows into your life in unexpected ways. A positive attitude can significantly attract abundance into your life by shifting your mindset from scarcity to appreciation, creating a positive cycle of receiving more good things.
The key to an abundant life lies in wanting and appreciating what you already have.
Practical Ways to Cultivate Gratitude:
Daily Gratitude Journaling: Write down three things you are grateful for each day. This practice helps you focus on the positive aspects of your life and reinforces a mindset of abundance.
Express Gratitude to Others: Take time to thank people who have positively impacted your life. This not only makes them feel appreciated but also creates a ripple effect of positivity.
Mindfulness and Reflection: Spend a few moments each day reflecting on the good things in your life. This can be done through meditation or simply pausing to appreciate your surroundings.
Start and End Your Day with Gratitude: Begin your day by acknowledging what you are thankful for and end it with a reflection on the positive moments you experienced.
This is the way I set out to live my life in recent years. There is nothing like losing almost everything you have to give you a fresh perspective on the things that are truly important and the things that matter most. I think I have always been a pretty grateful person anyways, but over these past number of years I have come to live and appreciate my life and acknowledge my blessings even more than I ever had in the past. Its like magic . . . an attitude of gratitude magically turns what you already have and who you are into more.
Bailey
I called Carol yesterday for an update on Sheila. She is doing very well it happens. The sister of our friend June (who lives one street over) is actually in the same room as her and they have a great time talking with each other throughout the day. She is getting lots of visitors as well, which is great. She is waiting now to be transferred from Kentville to the hospital here in town, which will mean she will get even more visitors. It is not known yet when or if she will be returning home, but for not the prognosis is positive.
I found out more about Bailey as well. He is only about 6 years old, not an old dog as I had thought. He is relatively young. Apparently until he came to live with Sheila he had been kept in a closet until he was rescued. Hearing that made me feel so sad. He is such a charming little dog with such a sweet personality.
He is living the life at the moment. Having such a good time at my sister's. Lots of attention and my father's cat is now courting him. (She is a funny cat that one.) My sister got him a bag of liver treats when we were out on Thursday which I am sure he really enjoys.
It is a source of great comfort to Sheila to know he is being well cared for. One less thing for her to worry about.
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Not to jinx the situation or anything, but since I started rubbing all of my air exchanger vents with peppermint oil and inserting peppermint oil soaked cotton balls I have stopped seeing wasps in the house. Now I just concentrate on the one in my bedroom, as I am entirely sure that is how they were gaining access. It is not a smell that I particularly enjoy myself but what needs be. I will do whatever I have to to keep the peace between the wasps and me.
Oh, and yesterday I finally received two of those flower things I had ordered, only half of what I had originally ordered. And I will be honest, they are cheap, cheap, cheap and look nothing much like the ones I had thought I was ordering. They look like cheap dollar store tat, which, considering that they have come from China, is not surprising. (I had no idea that is where they were coming from.) To say I am disappointed is a bit of an understatement. I have stuck them in the garden anyways, and live in hope that the others will arrive at least.
The original ad showed them being enjoyed by birds and all sorts. Oh, the power of AI. I need to learn to be much more discerning as do we all.
On a positive note, I had put the red and white toadstool wind thingie into my wagon planter on the deck. I believe it looks nice there, but it might not. Cindy will let me know. She is really good at these things.
And with that I will leave you with a thought for the day . . .
☾ ° ★° * 。
• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
*Kindness may seem small
but it carries with it
the power to change hearts,
brighten days,
and even transform lives.
~unknown
In The English Kitchen today . . . Rocky Road Brownies. Lovely little bites of fudgy chocolatey deliciousness!
I hope you have a great weekend! I will not be posting on Monday as I have an early eye examination. My yearly. I hope it goes well. I know my left eye has gotten worse. I will be ordering new glasses this time regardless as the nose piece is missing on the ones I am wearing and it's time to get a new pair. Whatever you get up to this weekend, I hope it bodes well for you. Be happy, be blessed, 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!
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