All Things Nice . . .

 

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Great things come quietly to earth,

Sunrise is silent and the birth

Of the great Prince of Light and Life,

came in the stillness of the night. 

The mighty tides that wax and wane,

Move on a soundless mighty plane,

In answer to the pull and draw

Of some vast undisputed law.

A snowflake falling to the ground

Makes not the slightest breath of sound,

The stars come out in silent ranks,

Like daisies on the river banks.

The blessed seasons come and go,

Like a great pageant moving show

Across the stage of time and space,

With quiet majesty and grace.

The giant fir . . .  the stately elm,

Live in some peaceful silent realm,

While there is neither noise nor sound,

Below the surface of the ground.

And I have seen great rivers flow,

In soundless rapture as they go

To join the far depths of the sea

Held in some magic harmony.

Death is a silent guest and makes

No greeting to the soul it takes,

And Life comes like a breath indrawn,

As still and quiet as the dawn.

~Edna Jacques, Great Things Come Silently 

Well, I was really enjoying that poem until the very end. Yikes!  It kind of crept up on my silently. No pun intended.  I thought the words quite beautiful to this poem really.  I love poetry. It is always amazing to me that someone can string groups of words together in such a way as to evoke such tender feelings in the heart and soul. 

 

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There is a hillside we drive past as we go to my father's place in Greenwood.  We pass by where some of the married quarters which we used to live in as children lay many years ago. I also lived in them as an adult, raising my own family.  The houses are all gone now.  No trace of them remains. No streets. nothing.  A childhood erased as it were. Its quite strange.  But the hill is still there.  We used to slide down it in our sleds and snow saucers, crazy carpets flying  . . .  when we were children.  Looking at it now, it doesn't look so steep and I wonder at what it was about that hill that drew us all there.  There is not much of an incline to it at all, and yet as a child it looked and felt monstrously fun to slide down.  Could it have somehow shrunk through the years?  My sister thinks they drew from it to fill in the multiple basements of the houses they pulled down, but in thinking about that, it doesn't make sense. Would there not now be a hole where the hill once stood? 

I think that we just grew up and as we grew up so did our dreams and expectations.  What once was tall is now just small.  The steep only really existed in our minds.  That hill used to be crowded on winter days, especially after the first snowfall of the year.  The air would ring with children's voices and laughter.  Now only echoes of the past.  I can still hear them in my mind's eye and wonder at the passage of time . . . and how something that was so alive, so vibrant, so pulsing  . . .  can just simply disappear as if it was never there. 

And yet it did.  There were streets of pavement and concrete that rang with the sound of children at play. Babies were born, hearts were broken, lives lived with joy and laughter, with tears and pain.  No inkling longer exists of what once was. 

But as a child I believed that I could still hear the padding of ancient native feet as I wandered through the tall pines that stood sentinel on every street and in every space and which stand there still.  The padding of feet having been joined with the echoes of the voices of children sliding down the hill, and the sounds of  bicycles with playing cards clicking against the spokes . . . 

 

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Bird watcher, birder, ornithologist  . . .  twitcher  . . .  I have been, and am, all of those things.  To be honest, I have been a bit disappointed by the lack of visitors to my feeders really.  I had more sparrows come to my feeders in the UK than I have had come to these here where I live.  Perhaps there are too many of us feeding them??  I do get lots of crows and jays, and there are plenty of pigeons and doves scattered about. I've seen the occasional rat, but not much in the way of winged creatures. I did see a small group of goldfinches one day, their brilliant summer coats now dull.  But not much else. I had hoped that the kittens would also enjoy watching flocks of birds come to the feeders, but no.

They do hop to it when they hear a jay cry or a crown caw  . . . 

I feel for the birds in the winter months.  I wonder at the miracle that is their survival against all odds.  How they cope with the frigid temperatures and the damp and the cold, sleet, snow  . . . it is a marvel to me who feels the cold even now against my ankles.  I am sitting here hoping that the heat pump comes on again soon.  What are the odds?  I think pretty good.

 

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Thinking back to New Year's Day as a child. My parents always, always went out on New Years Eve.   My mother always looked and smelled so pretty to me and my father too, handsome in his good suit. Mom always wore a corsage when we were really small.  I loved watching her get ready to go out.  We would be long asleep when they came home in the wee hours.   We would wake up in the morning knowing that there would be noisemakers to play with and to blow,  party hats to wear . . .  but we were not allowed to play or do anything with them until my father got up.   

Mom, of course, was always up with us at the crack of dawn, no matter what time she had gotten into bed and asleep. I don't remember her ever having a hangover, but I am sure there were times that she did.  If she did, we never knew it.  She was just there.  A constant in our lives that we could rely on like the sun coming up each morning and going down each night.

New Year's Day always meant Ham.  We had ham twice a year.  New Years and Easter. You could depend on it. It was always served cold with mashed potatoes, carrots and mustard.  That's how my dad liked it.  Maybe she would have baked a lemon or apple pie. My father loved both those things.

My sister is having ham today, but we are having baked beans with it. Homemade baked beans.  I love those. I am baking biscuits to bring, and dad will be there too.  It will be a brilliant start to a new year.

I wonder at what 2022 will bring to the table. I am almost afraid to think about it. 2020 brought such a great surprise to us, and 2021 much disappointment . . .  2022 is starting off in much the same way as 2021, we still hope for an end to the virus, and a prayer that we will get out of it alive.  And we thank God that we are all still here, along with our loved ones as so many are not.  And we secretly wonder how much longer we can go on without being touched by it . . . fears that are not spoken out loud.  We take our blessings where we find them and are grateful for them.

The kittens are in their basket looking out the front window.  I just had to rescue Cinnamon from behind the washing machine and dryer again. I could hear her scratching, but no cries this time. Nutmeg was holding guard at the front.   I used a towel again to get her out.  Threw it over the back and she crawled up it as I held it in place.  I would have thought she would not have done that again.  I will need to think of some kind of solution to that.  Perhaps I can put up a long shelf behind there. Maybe if I buy a plank and some brackets I could get Dan to put it up for me? Then I could put my laundry stuff on the shelf.  The gap behind would be covered and the cats wouldn't be able to jump down in behind them any more. I will ask Dan today. 

I really enjoyed my supper there last night.  My sister had made a nice pizza with loads of toppings.  We had a few laughs together.  Family times are the best of times.  I came home afterwards,  it was more than a bit foggy and drizzly on the way home. I fed the cats and had a shower.  The cats are always anxious to get into the bathroom after.  I don't know what they think I am doing in there, but they are very curious about it, and both run in as soon as I open the bathroom door.  I watched some television, with lots of warm cuddles, and was in bed by 10. All comfy cozy.  My son woke me up at midnight with a Happy New Year message, but I fell back to sleep quickly and didn't wake up until this morning.

I have not let them come in to sleep with me yet.  They are too rambunctious.  Perhaps as they get older they will settle down more. I am sure they will.

They are great company . . .  for me  . . .  and for each other.

Happy New Year everyone. I hope it will be good to us.

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

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

 *When it rains look for rainbows.

When its dark look for stars.•。★★ 。* 。 

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Coffee, Cardamom, Walnut Cakelettes.  Very tasty! 

Have a wonderful first day of 2022!  Be happy. Be blessed. Be well.  Don't forget! 

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And I do too!