All Things Nice . . .

 

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The things that pine trees whisper

In the still and dead of night,

The ageless tune that wild geese chant,

Through the long hours of flight.

I'd like to know what waters say,

Flowing toward the sea,

I'm sure they speak of quiet springs,

Back where they used to be.

Of sloping banks where cowslips bloom

And trees whose feet are pressed

Against the heart of Mother Earth,

Where all things come to rest.

I'd like to hear the ageless song

That lonely mountains know,

When winter crowns their ancient peaks

With diadems of snow.

The language of the quiet beasts,

Must be a friendly thing,

When something deep within their breasts,

Is telling them of spring.

For earth and all that dwells therein

Are part and parcel to

The spark of that eternal life,

That beats inside of you.

~Edna Jaques, I'd Like To Know

Fireside Poems, 1950

This is the book that inspired my love of the poetry of Edna Jaques. I read every word of it when I was a girl and loved it then, and love it still. To me it was like she was singing the song of my heart.  She knew my ponderings.  The thoughts I had. She seemed to know the wonderings of my mind, heart, and soul.  And the wanderings too  . . . 

That is the power of words . . . to reach your very being.  Their strength has the ability to paint pictures, to make . . .  and to break. We must always choose them wisely. 

I admire the ability of poets and writers.  They are so talented  to keep us occupied and entertained with just their words. 

 

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I have come to the conclusion that Instagram doesn't really like me. lol  I post my recipes on there every day and I don't think my pictures are all that bad, but very few people pay them any attention. Especially lately.  Some people get thousands and thousands of people looking at their pictures.  I am not sure what their secret is.  I have never been a fan of popularity contests. I just  post my photos and then I hope that people will be interested in what I have cooked. I am sure there is some great secret that I do not know about.  I have noticed lately that a lot of the photos I look at (mostly food, no surprise there) will say in their write up to comment below to be given the recipe or recipe link. I am seeing this more and more.  What is up with that?  Is there something there that I am not understanding? Some magical key?

I am an old dog with no new tricks. I don't do reels, or videos. I haven't the know how to do so.  It is all Greek to me. It takes me hours and hours each day to just do what I do.  To respond to all the comments, etc. that get left on my EK Facebook page and blogs, and I respond to every comment on IG as well. I cannot imagine adding the time it would take and the work of making videos and reels on top of it all as well. Then, I think, my life would be nothing but work, work, work.  I am too old to want my life to only be about work, but I do need to make a living.

I did finish my work early yesterday and thought to sit down and paint for a bit. The cats were nowhere to be found so I thought it would be a great opportunity. As soon as I got my water and paints ready, they were all over me, lol.  I don't know what the appeal was.  Nutmeg was trying to lay on my notebook, Cinnamon was trying to drink the paint water.  Trying to grab my brush, etc.  I did manage to get my sketches painted, sort of  . . . but I soon gave up and put everything away.   This is not a great photo I know.  But I was quite pleased with how they turned out.

Maybe I will have some time to do some creating today. Hope springs eternal!

 I gave my window boxes to my sister yesterday.  I have not had much success with them really. Nothing seems to do very well out there. It is in shade for most of the day on this side of the street. In the Winter months, the snow across the road will be all melted and ours will be hanging on and on and on.   It doesn't get much sun there until much later in the day and then the warmth of the sun is waning.  I know she will find a better use for them.  I might get a hanging basket, or I might not get anything. It all depends on how I feel. I may just be content with what grows in that front bit.  Oh, I am not a gardener, not by a long chalk  . . . but I do love looking at flowers, and nature in general.  We are so blessed to live in a world which contains so much beauty.

My bleeding heart bush is well up. I cannot wait to see it in bloom!

 

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Love, love this pillow case.  I so love florals. I am so feminine in my likes.  I love ruffles and flowers, petticoats, lace, etc.  I don't dress myself in them because I don't have the look or body to be able to wear them, but I would fill my house with them if I could. 

When my girls were really young, before they hit pre-teen years, I used to make most of their clothes. I would sew them matching outfits in different colors. I so loved to dress them up in pretty dresses and things like that. Every Easter they would get a new dress, sometimes with a hat if I could find one.  It was so much fun.   

I remember one year I made them matching cowboy shirts and pants with fringe down the side seams of the pants and snap closures on the shirts. One was in a pink and the other in a mint green. So much fun.

Mom used to sew matching things for us also.  I remember she made us all matching Santa Claus pajamas with a Santa Claus printed flannelette. The only difference was in the color of the ricrac she used to trim them. Those were my favorite pajamas when I was a child. My sister and I still talk about them.

 

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One of my favorite things to do as a child was to play on a swing.  I used to love to pump and pump and pump to get it to go as high in the air as I could. I always felt as if I was flying like a bird.  Soaring  . . .  and yet still tethered to the earth by the ropes holding the swing in place.  I have not been on a swing in years.  I wonder if I could still do it. Probably not, with my arthritis!

There used to be a large set of public swings on the way back from school to our house.  My mother always used to caution me to not play on them but to come home straight away.  I remember one day, throwing caution to the wind and playing on them for a few minutes on my way home, thinking that my mother would never find out. Of course when I went to jump off them my dress caught in the chain and ripped. 

How could I have ever thought that my mother would never find out?? Karma came up and bit me in the arse.  Always. I could never get away with anything. lol

 

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The gold cups of the daffodils are on the wane now as are the tulips, although the grape hyacinth are still blooming.  Spring flowers are such a re-affirmation of God's grace.  The lilacs are my favorites, I think, no matter the color, but the deep purple French ones are the prettiest in my opinion.  Their heart shaped leaves, so glossy and beautiful, with the clusters of flowers weighing down the branches in a most beautiful way of sweetness.  

Lilacs belong with old houses . . .  where they should lean and look into the windows, their extravagance brushing against old hewn clapboards with clusters of blossoms.

Their scent is intoxicating, especially in the early morning and the dusk.  It wafts in the windows bringing with it a special joy.  I would that I could bring in armloads of them and scent the whole house with their perfume.  Such a joy that would bring, but alas  . . .  I have none of my own.

When I think of lilacs I think of the apartment that my first husband and I began our married life in.  The drive to the apartment (which was an old house, broken into apartments) was lined with lilac bushes, and that first spring we lived there, they brought me so much joy.  I was pregnant for my oldest son and I loved to sit out on the veranda which happened to lay across the front of our downstairs apartment and just take in  their beautiful smell.  I will forever equate his arrival into the world with the scent of lilac and apple blossom.

May is the poetry of the seasons . . . such wonderful lyrics after the cold of Winter begins to abate  . . . 

One of these beautiful birds landed on my front railing yesterday. A redpoll . . .  I had not seen one in years and was so blessed to be able to catch a glimpse of it for only a few seconds.  Had I not been looking out my window at that exact time, I would have missed it.   What a great blessing that was that I just happened to be there to see it!  

Sometimes I think I need to put out more feeders  . . .  but then I remember the rat I saw running along my front deck that one morning and I change my mind.  A hummingbird feeder will have to do.  I have not seen any just yet, but hopefully soon. I changed the nectar again yesterday. I always like to put it up fresh every week. 

And with that I best close this off and let me and you get on with our days. Time is scurrying on even if we are not . . . 

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

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

˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

 *.˛.Learn now to see,

realize that everything

connects to everything else.

~Leonardo da Vinci° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛  

In The English Kitchen today . . .  the  most exquisite Lemon Filled Breakfast Buns.  A bit of a cheat but oh so delicious. A small batch and on the table in less than 20 minutes.  These taste just like a lemon filled donut.

I hope you have a beautiful Saturday. Not sure what I will get up to yet, but I am sure it will be wonderful no matter what it is.  Perhaps I will do some clearing out.  Whatever you get up to, don't forget!

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And I do too!