All Things Nice . . .

 

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I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, 

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; 

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, 

And live alone in the bee-loud glade. 

 And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, 

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; 

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, 

And evening full of the linnet’s wings. 

 I will arise and go now, for always night and day 

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; 

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, 

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

~William Butler Yeats,  The Lake Isle of Innisfree 

 

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Did you believe in Leprechauns and Pots of Gold when you were a child?  I did . . .  and in fairies, magical worlds and the like.  Perhaps I was a peculiar child?  I don't know.  

I loved all the Enid Blyton books about fairies and elves.  I devoured the stories like candy, and could not get enough of them.   The idea of this small world that existed within our own was really delightful to me.  I can remember seeing rainbows and imagining how lucky the person was to find themselves at the end of the rainbow with the pot of gold within the reach of their hands.  I am not sure what a store keeper would do did you show up to pay for your goods with gold coins, but my child's mind did not lend itself to that way of thinking. 

I think that is why I enjoyed Brownies so much.  You got to wear a uniform with a fairy pin, and each group within the group had a fairy name. I was a Little People. You got to dance and sing around a toadstool. For me it was pure magic.  It did teach me a lot though. I learned a lot of skills in the Brownies and the Girl Guides for that matter.  Leadership being one of them. I loved every year I spent in them.

My sister and I were talking just the other day about a hike we both remember taking here in Middleton with the Girl Guides.  We went down into the woods along the river and cooked in tin cans over an open fire.  Its interesting that this shared experience made an impact on both our memories.  A special kinship shared. I loved that. 

 

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We could not remember exactly where we went, only that it was near the river.  They re-routed the river in our town, at great expense . . . at some point in our childhoods. It was too close to the town and people were having their homes flooded every year and so they changed where the river actually lay on its journey through the town.  It was a really big deal and a fascinating thing to watch.

They say a river never forgets where it belongs however.  I wonder at the truth of that.  It is mighty high this year.  We had a lot of snow and then a lot of rain that had no place to go, and later today a lot of rain and wind is expected again, turning to snow at some point.  This the transition period between Winter and Spring.  Weather like this is to be expected before it settles fully into the next season. 

The snow piles on our lawns are shrinking, bit by bit  . . .  and the pot holes on the roads are growing. it has been ever so.  I remember when I was a girl there was a  pot hole hotline where you could phone in the appearance of new pot holes.  They would announce them on the radio. 

 

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Radio was a big deal when I was a child.  The television used to move to a test pattern at midnight most nights, with the exception of perhaps Friday and Saturday nights, and it wouldn't come on until a certain time in the morning.  The radio was our companion most mornings.

My mother would turn it on as soon as she got up in the morning.  It was a green melamine plastic radio, rectangular shaped with a dial on the front to tune in the stations.  Music from the radio was the companion to our breakfasts every morning when we were growing up.  It would have seemed odd without it.  We listened to Art Linkletter on it and the funny things that children said.  There was another man on it who would relay a true story from life and keep us guessing until the very end about things. 

There is something very whimsical and endearing about eating your  rice crispies to the sounds of Herb Albert and the Tijuana Brass.  It really got your toes-a-tappin'

Every time the fire engines went screaming past, the fire location would be announced on the radio.  It would always be pre-ambled by a radio siren and then the voice would interject   . . .  "The fire alarm is a chimney fire at the home of so and so on such and such road."  Perhaps this was to let any volunteer firemen who had not heard the alarm know where to go.   It also attracted  people who liked to watch fires and gawp.   I can remember as a teenager once driving to a barn fire.  It was spectacular to watch and more than a bit sad.

And of course the once a week radio hit-parade was not to be missed.  I don't expect many listen to radio these days, except in the car.   The newest thing is Pod Casts which allow almost anyone to have a listenable radio show of their own.  I don't think I could ever be interesting enough to host something like that. 

 

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Someone left a comment on my Twitter post yesterday of the Ballymaloe House Roast Chicken recipe asking me to reconsider the promotion of the business of a convicted child sex offender.  When I first read their comment, I held my breath because, well  . . .  you know.  I thought they were talking about me, but then I realized they were talking about Ballymaloe house.  It is a well known Irish Cooking School and its original owner, the father of the family, was convicted of having child images on his computer back in the early 2000's.  He is no longer associated with the business.  

I had to think about that.   His wife and children are not who he was/is.    I don't think it is fair to take away the rights of a family to make a living because of the sins of the fathers. Are they not also victims of what he did?  Of course I am speaking from the peculiar position of having also found myself a victim of something similar, or even worse.  I am not who my husband is or ever was.  I have a right to earn a living, to support myself without it being tainted by his actions.  

I know some will disagree.  And I admit at one time I might have been a person who would entertain the question "How could she not know?"  . . .  but having lived through it myself, I can say with a certainty, very easily. It is very easy not to know. You only know about a person the things they choose to show you about themselves.  And love is based upon trust. You believe what the person you love shows you and tells you. It is possible to live with a person and love them for 20 year without really knowing who they are.

So no, I will not revictimize these people and this business by judging them to be guilty of the sins of the father.

 

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Which brings me to another situation. I have been invited to attend a special Zoom get-together/reunion of the England Manchester Mission later this month. I did not attend the last one.  I am not sure I will attend this one.  A part of me wants to because I really loved all these Missionaries I had the chance to serve with and it would be lovely to see them all again, and the Senior Couples as well.  I have friends amongst them all that I am still in touch with.    There is a part of me that really wants to spend some time with all these people I loved so much, but there is another part of me that doesn't want to feel like the "Barn Fire."  Know what I mean?  What should have been 18 of the most beautiful months of my life has been colored a bit by the actions of someone else.  We were Missionary companions.  I am not sure what I will do. What would you do?  It is a real conundrum for me.

I will close this now. I am off to clean the chapel this morning. The members are responsible to keep the chapels clean and tidy and so it is the turn this week for my "crew" to do it.  Its not my favorite thing to do, never has been, but I do for the Savior.   We all have to take our turn.

I will leave you with a thought for the day  . . . 

‎° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

•。★★ 。* 。

° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚

˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛

˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*“I am the forest, I am ancient. 

I treasure the stag, I treasure the deer. 

I shelter you from storm, I shelter you from snow. 

I resist the frost, I keep the source. 

I nurse the earth, I am always there. 

I build your house, I kindle your hearth. 

Therefore, you people, hold me dear.”

~Inscription found in a 17th century 

forester’s house in Lower Saxony, Germany 

I thought this to be a quite beautiful thought  . . . 

 

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Irish Stirabout.  A stirabout is the fanciful name the Irish call their oatmeal.  Its delicious, and very, very nice.

Whatever you get up to, have a wonderful Saturday. 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!