All Things Nice . . .

 

(source) 

See! the chickens round the gate 

For their morning portion wait; 

Fill the basket from the store, 

Let us open wide the door; 

Throw out crumbs and scatter seed, 

Let the hungry chickens feed. 

Call them; now how fast they run, 

Gladly, quickly, every one! 

Eager, busy hen and chick, 

Every little morsel pick; 

See the hen, with callow brood, 

To her young how kind and good! 

With what care their steps she leads! 

Them, and not herself, she feeds, 

Picking here and picking there, 

Where the morsels nicest are. 

As she calls they flock around, 

Bustling all along the ground; 

When their daily labors cease, 

And at night they rest in peace, 

All the little things 

Nestle close beneath her wings; 

There she keeps them safe and warm, 

Free from fear and free from harm. 

Now, my little child, attend: 

Your almighty Father, Friend, 

Though unseen by mortal eye, 

Watches o’er you from on high; 

As the hen her chickens leads, 

Shelters, cherishes, and feeds, 

So by Him your feet are led, 

Over you His wings are spread.

~D. A. T. , The Chickens 

There is a homey comforting sound  that comes with having chickens in the yard.  They coo, they cluck, they almost purr.  It is a sound I love. 

The color that surrounds us at the moment is quite spectacular.  This was a photo I took yesterday at the far end of my street.  Against the backdrop of that beautiful blue sky, the scarlets look so beautiful.  Its just a quiet little street. You hardly ever see a person . . . 

This is at the near end leading onto the main road.  Have you ever seen anything so spectacular?  I am sure you have.  I am wallowing in these days of such autumn splendor as I have not experienced in over 20 years.  The leaves did change colors in the UK in the autumn, but they did not treat us to as much splendor as all this, and I cannot recall seeing such blue skies, although I am sure that I did. Blue skies as this are not the sole property of Nova Scotia I am sure.

 

This is at the head of my street looking down the road that leads to the main motorway, away from the town.  A veritable tunnel of scarlet leaf.  Its really quite stunning. I don't think I was able to capture just how beautiful it all is with the camera's eye.  The leaves are now at their peak of color.  Or so they say and I expect that they know.  I strongly suspect that they (whoever they may be) know what they are talking about  . . . 

 

(source)

Oh how I long to have a stack of sweaters to enjoy at this time of year.  Not too cold, or not cold  enough that you want to put the heat on, but still a bit cooler than it has been. The type of cool that a nice knitted sweater would take care of. Who knows, maybe this winter I may better practice the art of knitting and make myself a sweater. We shall see. 

I got myself a ball of this yarn, Caron's Cakes, blueberry latte yarn. Its lovely and soft.  I could wallow in it. 

I purchased this pattern   . . .  

 

And also this one because I could not make up my mind. That is me.  A person who cannot make up her mind when given choices.  I wonder why it is that I am this way.  If I go to a restaurant, most times I am determined that given a choice, "this time" I am going to choose to get something other than the fish and chips. I will go to great lengths to peruse the menu and then in the end, what do I choose?  Fish and chips.  

I will sit and waffle back and forth. Do I want this, or do I want that. I mull them over in my mind, mentally choosing this, that or the other . . .  and then when asked the words "I'll have the fish and chips" pop out of my mouth. I guess the heart wants what the heart wants at the end of the day. 

 

(source)

I am meeting my father for breakfast this morning.  I had not been going to, but then I thought, who knows how much longer the opportunity will be there for me to do things like this.  It is a chance I could only dream about when I was in the UK, and now I am here, I should be taking every opportunity that I can to do these things with him. I am not really an egg in the morning kind of person, but I do like bacon.  I wonder if I could just get toast and bacon . . . 

When we were growing up my mother cooked bacon and eggs once a week for breakfast. On Sunday mornings.  I was not so keen on the eggs, but I loved the bacon. We each got two slices. I would enjoy mine with two slices of toast and peanut butter. I still love toast and peanut butter with bacon.

Darn, I am making myself hungry now and it is only just turning 7 am. I won't be meeting dad until almost 9.

 

(source)

I wish that I were the kind of person who enjoyed a hot drink in the morning. Alas I am not. I am not a person who enjoys a hot drink anytime really. It needs to be an occasion I suppose.  I do remember certain specific times when I have enjoyed one.  Once in Germany, we were staying in a small village called Todtmoos, which is located in the Black Forest. It was a beautiful picturesque village.  We had gone there on a coach trip. On this particular day we had opted not to go on the scheduled day trip which was offered, instead staying in the village.  We went for a very long walk through the village and ended up in a coffee shop and I had the loveliest hot chocolate I have ever had. I remember them asking did I want some whipped cream on it and of course, why not!  When it came there was so much whipped cream on top it was towering over the cup by about six inches.  I had never seen so much whipped cream on a hot chocolate. 

It was a particularly beautiful day.  March, but a hint of spring was in the air. We ended up walking up a small mountain path and I saw my first ever Edelweiss.  I had never seen Edelweiss in real life before.  We were able to look down from this mountain path onto the village and I remember it looking very quaint and beautiful.   That was a happy moment.

Life is filled with happy moments.  Each day is filled with happy moments. Sometimes far too many to count.  Yesterday was just such a day.   

What with the picture taking of the beautiful autumn colors, and my sister dropping me off an oat cake. My friend Glenna from across the roadway stopping by with some cat food that she thought I might like, my friend Jacquie calling me on the phone, several convos with my father and my sister  . . .  talking with Eileen and taking silly photos of the cats to show her  with my iPad . . . 

 

 

Nutmeg mid-meow 

And its usually Nutmeg, because he is Mr. Personality you know, with his little white boots, mittens and bib.

 

Cinnamon 

Cinnamon is far too dignified to be rubbing herself all over my face and trying to get between me and the iPad. 

 

She does like a fuss, but on her own terms and in her own way . . . 

 

He, on the other hand, just can't get enough.   I love them so much. I am almost getting used to typing at the computer with their heads resting on my forearms as I type. I am not sure what they think of it as their little heads bob up and down with the rhythm of the keys, but it must not bother them or they would not stay.  

They are such funny little creatures, and with that I best leave you with a thought for the day  . . . 

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

 *.A distinct smell . . . 

a mixture of the dried leaves on the ground

and the wood smoke from the chimneys

and the sweet ripe apples  . . . 

~Arlene Stafford Wilson•。★★ 。* 。

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Brookies, a small batch.  Part chocolate chip cookie, part brownie, totally delicious! 

Have a wonderful Saturday!  Whatever you get up to, don't forget! 

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And I do too!