All Things Nice . . .

 

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To think that I shall move in company,

With stars and wind and cloud,

The hills that clap their hands in joy,

The brooks that sing aloud.

To think that I may know the earth,

Where pale white lilies blow,

Blue shadowed hills where tiny tracks

Are printed in the snow.

And here beside me walking now

Are hosts unseen I swear,

I feel their presence like a cloud

About me everywhere.

Oh world untouched by mortal hands

Bend closer still that I

May hear the rustle of the wings,

Sweeping across the sky.

~Edna Jaques, To Think

Beside Still Waters, 1939

I often feel my mother close by, watching over me, loving me still. I wish that I could just reach out and touch her arm, or feel her tender touch.  I have read stories of those who have been injured and are close to death being ministered to by those on the other side of the veil. My friend Lura, after she was in that bad car accident and was in hospital, her life hanging by a thread, she remembers her bed being surrounded by her loved ones, praying over here, ministering to her, aiding her . . .  and I have heard of many other instances. I like to think that these things are true. I love these thoughts . . . thinking that those loved ones of mine who have gone on before, and the angels which are on the other side, are cheering me on, praying for me, watching over me with love and care.  True, or not, it brings a certain level of comfort into my life. It makes me want to be the best that I can be. Or at least try. I am not perfect, after all  . . .  only human . . .  all I can do is to try.

 

Nothing moves the heart more than seeing spring plowing. It pricks the heart in a special way, so much so that you want to stop what you are doing and just watch and think, your thoughts turning over and back in your mind, just as the plough turns over the dark, rich earth . . . 

Plowing means rebirth of the growing season, that Nature will once again justify our faith in her rhythm, that there are still some things in the world that we can count on. There is a special security in nature, and it restores the heart to realize this as I watch the blades bite down into the earth, furrows of dark, damp soil rising up to meet the sky . . .  

Gulls follow the plow seeking anything good that might come from the earth.  I wonder . . .  what will they plant this year. Will it be beans or peas . . . potatoes . . .  In the fields near to us, last year was corn, and the year before that carrots. The carrots sat in huge piles in the autumn after harvesting, waiting to fill the beds of the trucks that would come to take them off to wherever they were going. 

This act of plowing, this ritual of spring. It is something which goes on, in one way or another, all over the world . . . whenever Spring arrives in whatever corner. I like to imagine people all over the earth, digging their hoes into the soil on the rounded sides of this ball we call home.  I feel a sense of brotherhood with all peoples who go out into the clear and early morning of a bright Spring day and say, "This is the day to plow!"

I know nothing of their worlds, and have probably never tasted the fruits of their labors, and yet I feel a special kinship with them in knowing how they might feel after a day of plowing  . . .  at the day's end as they face the clean receptive earth awaiting the touch of the seed. There must be a certain sense of satisfaction to be felt. To some this is their life's blood and how they keep afloat.  Hope held in every furrow of the cut of the plow . . . 

 

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This has been a busy week and next week promises to be even busier.  I love this life of mine with its full, full days.  I have a routine, and most days follow basically the same pattern, but they are days that are filled with activity and promise.  I love the days I spend with my sister most of all.  They are almost like we always planned that they would be when we got old and grey. Of course when I say grey, I speak for myself. I am the grey one. My sister has barely a thread of silver in her hair.  There is only the odd one when the sun hits her head.  Most of the time they are barely noticeable. She is like my mother, who had no silver or grey hairs until she was very old.  Her dark hair just simply faded as the years went by . . . 

I did one of those old filters on my snapchat the other day to see what I might look like and I was surprised at the result.  I can see my mother there. I never thought that I looked anything at all like my mother, but there it is.  It is quite obvious to me.  I think I look quite pleasant.  I am not bothered by it in the least.

Those filters can be quite fun. Sometimes I will play with them.  I have tried to get the cats to look into them, but they are most uncooperative. lol

There are filters out there that can do just about anything, even make you look 16 again, although I have yet to use that one.  This brings to mind thoughts about this world we are living in where anyone can be whoever they want to be.  You often see people using these highly edited filters as their profile pictures. I have quite an old profile photo of myself on Instagram, but I have not been able to figure out how to change it.  And I have tried. It is more difficult to change these things once you are Meta Verified. (Which I did to protect my account from being stolen.)

This  way of changing your appearance begs one to question a lot of things. What is real. What isn't real. We need to be ever more careful and discerning about the things we choose to trust these days.

 

Who you think you are chatting to   . . . 

 

Who you are really chatting to . . .

Sorry this just made me laugh. I thought it might make you laugh also.

I think the second one is the Gollum filter.  Oh the things which amuse us.  But it illustrates my point perfectly.  We need to be really careful with what we choose to trust today.  What was once just a roll of toilet paper, is now called a DOUBLE roll of toilet paper with a wider tube in the middle.   But at least it is still toilet paper. As far as we know, lol.

 

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All of the trees and shrubs are in bud now. I have noticed that the Maple tree out back has lots of lovely red buds coming out. I would think with a few warm days they will turn to leaf.  At Cindy's there are buds on the lilac and on her forsythia. 

The birds are sounding lovely now. Birdsong has the power to lift the mood and refocus the mind. It is one of the treasures of Spring and can be enjoyed anywhere, listening from the solitude of your bedroom window or front porch, to the sidewalks and parking lots of the town.

I like to take a few minutes every morning to listen to it at this time of year.  You can hear different patterns and notes. Some I recognize and other's I don't. The notes of their performance come together in a wall of sound that delights my senses. It is nature's symphony and sets the tone for my days.

Restorative and balancing.

Cindy and I tripped through the local fabric store yesterday, perusing fabrics for our plans.  They had these foxy needle threaders. I could not resist picking up one for each of us.  They were so cute. This needle threader is double sided for smaller as well as bigger needles. I am not sure just how small a needle it will help you thread.  It is a cute addition to the sewing box at any rate.  

A person could spend hours in a fabric store and a bomb of money.  I have always loved fabrics.  I find it very hard to cut into them. I hoard them almost like a pirates treasure. I am the same with buttons. I do use my yarn however, but I do tend to hoard that as well.  I don't know why I am like that with these things. Oh, and art supplies.  I think I am well intentioned, just lacking on time. I keep telling myself I need to make more time, and then  I don't.

And with that I best get on with my day and leave you with a thought  . . . 

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

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

˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

 *.˛.Nature gives to every time

and season some beauties

of its own.° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

~Charles Dickens° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 

In The English Kitchen today  . . . Blender Banana Bread. You put it together in the blender, or a food processor. Delicious and moist, and a very easy make!

I hope you have a beautiful weekend filled with joy, peace and happiness.  Whatever you get up to, stay safe and don't forget! 

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And I do too!