Saturday this and that . . .

 

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A silver thimble full of tiny holes

A Chinese coin . . .  a little rusty key,

Part of a buckle - dad's old signet ring

A tarnished cross from someone's rosary.

Old fashioned buttons on a piece of string

My brother had them on a velvet coat,

A pen nib bright as gold, a bit of lace

A fish hook and a little scarlet float.

A piece of beeswax filled with criss-cross lines

She used to grease the thread to make it strong,

For sewing buttons on - a crochet hook,

A little clapper from a dinner gong.

Worthless . . . I know, yet here I see her best

Rocking and sewing, singing to herself,

Her clean print apron gaudy as a flag

Her crinkled Irish eyes as blue as delph,

God gave us mothers with old fashioned rules

And scented baskets made to hold their tools. 

Edna Jacques, Mother's Work Basket

I used to love going through my mother's sewing box. It was like a little Aladdin's cave of treasures.  She had round tarnished tins filled with buttons and bobs.  Pins, threads, needles. A darning egg. My grandmother's old darning needle.  To a budding needle worker it was a little treasure trove of delights. 

My father made us knitting spools from empty wooden spools of thread.  He hammered nails into the tops of them and got them started for us and then we would use a large safety pin to work out way around the tops, looping bits of yarn that my mother had left over from  making mittens and such.  We would create long ropes of yarn. It kept us busy for hours and hours. It was called corking.  You can buy fancy spools these days for children to do the same thing.  It is very rare that you find a wooden thread spoon. 

 

The nights are really drawing in now.  It is getting dark earlier and earlier.  I am having to put the lights on in here in the evenings and I saw at the grocery store the other day that they are selling Halloween boxes of goodies, chips and things. Small packages to hand out on the night. I will have to ask the neighbors how many children they get in here so that I am prepared.  Or maybe with Covid children are not trick or treating?  I don't know.

It has been a very long time since I have experienced a real Halloween. 

The shops are filled with back to school things and yesterday my sister and I drove past a derelict apple tree by the side of the road, all of its apples falling to the ground to rot. I think I will make some apple butter this year.  I like apple butter. 

 

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Signs of the changing seasons are showing up all over the place. Not just fallen apples.  Leaves are beginning to turn color, wild flowers going to seed, gardens looking tired . . .  it seemingly happens overnight, even though we know it really doesn't. These little changes creep up on us by stealth, little by little until we can't ignore them any longer and they slap us in the face.

The summer is a waning  . . . 

 

Nutmeg and Cinnamon

These two continue to delight me.  Nutmeg on the left, Cinnamon on the right.  At the moment they are sleeping by my feet in a rare moment of quiet. My legs are all scratched up. I knew that would happen, but it does hurt. I'm not going to lie.  Its quite normal. I have a little spray bottle and as soon as they try, I squirt them and say no, really loud. They especially like to try when I am sitting at the computer and I can't have that. I will not get any work done otherwise.

But they are some cute. I think they are going to be beautiful cats and such good company for me. 

 

Nutmeg is very cuddly and quite affectionate.  He seems to want to be with me more than the other.  He likes to get up near my face when I am watching tv and stretch out. His little purring machine driving in overtime.  He stretches out and nuzzles me, giving me kisses. 

Cinnamon is more laid back and a bit stand offish. She wants to be near, but on her own terms. She is not really a cuddler. But she does like to sit nearby and purrs.  Likes me to scratch her ears, but only to a point and then she will move away.  

My sister says that Cinnamon is a Marmalade cat and Nutmeg is a true Ginger.  I am not sure what the difference is between the two, it is in the colors and markings I believe. 

They are both beautiful to me.  Cinnamon's eyes are changing now from blue to gold I think.  Nutmeg's are not quite changing yet.

My sister gifted them with a fishing pole toy yesterday. It is a toy her cats have loved. It is a pole that has some feathers attached to the end and you can swirl them temptingly in front of the cats.  It also has a little fish option you can fill with catnip if you want.  I haven't gotten any catnip yet.  They are wild enough as they are! 

 

My sister and I met my father for breakfast early yesterday morning before we went to Walmart.  Cindy and I each had pancakes and my dad had his bacon and eggs with toast. Cindy and I also had bacon with our pancakes. Why not? It was a real treat!  Best part of it was being there together. I am not sure how much longer we will have our father around to enjoy like this, but I hope it is a good while longer. 

He says he is getting tired of having fish and chips on Wednesday nights when he meets his lady friends. I told him he should shake it up a bit and have something else next time. Maybe a Hamburger Steak dinner or something like that.  But he will probably just have the fish and chips. Its in our DNA.  Must have fish and chips when we eat out!  

 

I watched the second episode of Time with Sean Bean and Stephen Graham last night. It is an excellent series.  But very eye opening as well. I am not sure what I thought prison was like. I think I saw it as being more open and with plenty of outdoors time, etc.  kind of like a hotel that you are not allowed to leave. Not as fancy as a hotel, but quite tolerable.  I must be pretty naïve.  Its not a nice place at all. I hope I never have to be in one. No wonder criminals come out of there as better criminals. Nasty places. 

I admit it distresses me a bit to think of my husband being in such a place.  I know what he did was horrible and he is horrible for doing it.  Its a really difficult place to be, where I am mentally.  To be able to separate the who I thought he was from the who he really was. I am not sure I can explain it adequately.  I am still grieving I think. Perhaps I always will. It will take a long time to properly get over it, if ever. In all truth, it would have been better easier if he had died. 

There. I said it. Ignorance is bliss.

I will leave you now with a thought for today . . . 

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

 *.˛.° As time goes on you'll understand,

What lasts, lasts, what doesn't, doesn't.

Time solves most things.

And what time can't solve,

you solve yourself.

~Haruki Murakami•。★★ 。* 。 

I have been slow at responding to comments this week.  I hope to get them all sorted today and to do some blog reading as well! 

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Mary Berry's Three Ingredient Fork Cookies.  Just like a shortbread, but very quick and easy to make.  Yummy!

Have a great Saturday whatever you get up to!  Don't forget! 

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And I do too!