All Things Nice . . .

 

(source)

A kitten walks with mincing steps

Along a snowy path,

A clump of frozen golden rod

Is tied against a lath;

They rustle in the shivery breeze,

Like cat-tails when the rivers freeze.

The cattle stand beside the stacks,

Their backs humped to the storm,

They crowd together stupidly

to keep each other warm.

A few brave hens have ventured out

Like women motherly and stout.

There is a stillness in the air,

The birds' bright laughter gone,

The clouds bank up in sullen heaps

Against the chilly dawn.

Yet in the kitchen there is warmth

And food for small ones growing,

And hearts where love keeps tender watch

However winds be blowing.

~Edna Jaques, Early Fall

Beside Still Waters, 1939

Yesterday morning as the sun rose, I could not resist taking this photograph of the shadows the tops of the trees were making on the garage door across the street.  I thought it so very beautiful. I am a creature of light. Light and shadow fascinate me.

When I was a very small child, I can remember seeing the light from the hallway outside our bedroom door and the shadow it cast behind the door. It looked menacing to me for some reason. Like a Wizard in a tall, pointed hat. Or perhaps that spooky Santa Claus that my mother hung on the wall at Christmas time. It was a German Sinter Claus and he looked very sinister to me. I did not like him. Not. At. All.  And he had a tall, pointed hat. Just like the shape of the shadow behind the door.

Yes, I was irrationally afraid of Santa Claus when I was a child. We had a weird relationship. I loved the presents, but I was seriously afraid of him.

Anyways, these tree shadows were not menacing or spooky. I just thought them beautiful. 

The trees across the way are naked now. Their leaves having been scattered by the four winds that pulled them from their branches. Were they torn, or did they abandon themselves willingly to the dance. I prefer to think it is the latter.   Carried aloft on autumn's tune, in a ballet borne of change, twirling and swirling to the music only they can hear.

But shhh . . . if you listen carefully, you will hear it too. That whisper of change in the air.  We can be torn, or we can fall into the dance willingly. The change will occur with or without us. It is inevitable. Time always marches on.  I prefer to be a willing participant. I go with the flow . . . knowing that in a few short months (and they get shorter with every year that passes) the leaf buds will form and start to unfurl once more in the warmth of the Spring.  But first . . .  the brr months.

What a delicious tangle of limbs and soft fur. Twisting, purring, willing me to rub her soft sweet belly. Cinnamon has become very affectionate of late.  She comes to me wantonly wanting me to brush her with the brush, leaning into its bristles and singing her happy song as she does.  

They, each of them, have their very own distinct personalities. She is more aloof, independent. She does not seem to need the constant reassurance that Nutmeg needs. She is not jealous of any attention he might get, seemingly she is filled with a great confidence and belief in her own strength and positive qualities. She does not seek attention, but from time to time deigns to give me hers. I am always quite flattered when she does. She is quick footed and would be a great mouser did we have any, and I am most assuredly happy that we do not. But it is nice to know that if we did, she would be quick to rout them out and rid us of them.  She does not hide in the face of danger.

 

Nutmeg, my little man, is much needier.  He likes to be the center of attention, but at the same time is quite lacking in bravery and confidence when faced with the unknown. He is the first to disappear when someone different enters our sphere of existence and does not reappear until he is fairly certain there is no danger afoot. And he is the larger of the two, being quite easily twice her size. He appears bumbling in his exertions and ability to catch things, but make no mistake, he will catch them.  He dispatched every fly that entered our home this summer with great expertise. Slow and steady.  He is usually to be found lying next to me when I am sitting quietly, watching tv or working with my hands. He often comes by for a scratch behind the ears, a word of loving reassurance.

Oh, how I love them both. I knew that I would. 

Love isn't real until you give it away. 

 

(source)

It is very chilly this morning. I noticed a change in the air yesterday. We have had days of mild, warm temperatures where you didn't need to wear a jacket or even a sweater. Yesterday it changed and the air became charged with a definitive bite. I noticed it when I brazenly went out without my sweater on to check my mail. The sun was shining, but there was no warmth in it. There was a definite brr in the air. I turned my heat pump back on. I had kept it off all last week.  I am sitting here this morning typing to its reassuring hum. I have my leggings on.  I picked them up several months ago in a sale. This morning I am grateful for the warmth that they are giving to my normally bare legs. The thermometer says -1 now but was at -2 when I first arose. It has warmed up one degree. The sun is not yet up, but I think when it shows its face, every fallen leaf will be painted with crystals from the brush of Jack Frost. It is to be expected at the end of October.

The other morning, I went to fill up my car with petrol and the North Mountain looked so lovely. It was a bright sunny day here in the valley, but the mountain was shrouded in mist, with pockets of color appearing here and there. I wished that I had had my camera with me. I am never prepared for these moments. They take my breath away when I happen upon them, enraptured and speechless in their beauty.

My friend Jaquie came over yesterday to help me hem my Temple dress.  I bought it about six months ago or so. I had left my dress in the UK. Alas, it did not fit me, so I have had to order a new one. It's not easy to find one that I like. I am not a young woman. I am not up for frills and such, I like simple and plain. We had a nice visit Irregardless. My sister finally got to meet her after hearing me talk about her all these long months.  Cindy had had to take Dad to Kentville for an appointment and the Convenience store had messaged her to say my pecans were there, so she had stopped to pick them up for me and brought them over.  Jaquie was still here and so they got to finally meet.

This morning Cindy and I are going to go shopping together. I need to get some fruit and vegetables. I don't really need much else. I need to eat more of those. I don't think I eat enough.

 

(source)

Most evenings when I get into bed, I spend a few moments in reflection on the day I have just spent. It's a soothing end of the day ritual that comes before slumber.  I take time to pause and reflect upon the goodness of God that I have found in the day that has just passed . . . in the ordinary details, promptings followed, tender mercies, in the little things.

I always find them . . . discovering His fingerprint here and there throughout my day, evidence of His love for me.  It is a simple thing, and yet powerful. In tracing His goodness, I discover His generosity and I am humbly reminded each and every night, upon my reflection, that He cares.  For me. In the small, in the large, and in everything in between. He meets me there. I am grateful for that.

A thought to carry with you . . . 

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

˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*Little by little

one travels far . . .

~J.R.Tolkien

•。★★ 。* 。

In The English Kitchen today, Buttermilk Maple Spice Cake. It's a simple cake, but incredibly tasty.  A Home Sweet Home kind of a cake. Perfect for this time of year.

Have a beautiful Saturday. Stay safe. Stay warm. Be loved.  Whatever you do, don't forget! 

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And I do too!