Wednesday Witterings

 

My sister's front window

Not quite as thrilling as it was last December, but not as bad as it could be.  We did have a bit of snow overnight. I guess about an inch or so.  No more is expected however and by Saturday the temperatures are reckoned to be in the double digits and it will be raining. April showers for sure.

This is just what you get when the April showers are too close to the freezing mark I suppose.

 

Had the unexpected pleasure of having my father over for supper yesterday. I made us pizza.  I think he enjoyed it.  He actually spent most of the afternoon here, which was a nice bonus. Cindy had to take Mac to the vets for a pain injection and so she had asked would I give dad his supper and I was more than happy to do so.  (Mac will have his operation tomorrow, so please continue to keep him in your happy thoughts for a full recovery.)

Getting to spend time with dad is one of the blessings I have received from being able to come back to Canada to live. I had never thought I would see my father alive again and now I have had almost five wonderful years to enjoy him. I love my father very much.  

It is a bit of a challenge these days as his hearing is really bad, even with his hearing aids and you do have to repeat most of what you say to him twice.  I know this is very frustrating for him also, but we manage as best as we can.

I love to hear him talk about his childhood. That's not something we got to hear a lot about when we were growing up.  He was busy then with work, and his moonlighting job, and his hobbies I suppose.  Or maybe we, ourselves, were just too busy to be interested, but I am not too busy now and I do love to hear about those days. It is a real treasure for me. A true gift.

 

(source)

This photo today made me think of the "diet" cookies that I used to make for my boss when I worked at the Manor. She loved them. What they were was a recipe from Cooking Light for a homemade vanilla wafer. One time I got a bit too much butter in them and she LOVED them!  I had to make them for her that way from then on, or else confess that I had erred, which I did not want to do.  

I had to make those cookies for her several times a week. Every time she was going away on a trip I had to have a shoebox full of them ready for her to take with her.  Freshly baked during the packing night.  I used to have to go and help her pack when she was taking a trip, and it was always an all-nighter.  (Those were a bit tough to take when I had already been up and working the whole day already.)  These cookies were a must however and I used to get them baked early in the evening when I was not so tired.

Even though those packing nights were hard, they were also enjoyable in a way. She was quite fun to talk to when she wasn't being overly demanding, etc. And there was always an air of excitement on those nights because you knew she was going to be gone for a few weeks, and you would have a chance to catch your breath.

 

(source)

I used to love my walks to go to work at the Big House when I worked there.  It was always early in the morning, the light was lovely, and the air was fresh and invigorating. Down the lane past the hedges, and the birds would be singing.  Stone walls covered with moss, the grass all covered with dew. That walk always had a magical quality to it.

I suppose in a way that whole job had a bit of allure and magic to it. It was hard work, and it was quite different than anything I had been used to in my life. What a beautiful environment that was to live and work in, however.  My boss was a very hard taskmaster, but it was work I loved to do for the most part and the gardens, etc. were so beautiful. Our cottage was also quite beautiful. 

When I was a child, I could never have imagined that one day I would be working in a Manor House in England as a Chef and that as a perk I would get to live in a beautiful cottage like that. 

It's funny how life goes. 

 

(source)

Soon . . . 

One of the first things I like to do each morning is to make my bed. I throw it open to the air for a little bit and then I pull it all together. In Europe, in a lot of places they will hang the coverlet out the window to let it air, but that would be impossible here. After my bed is made, sometimes I will sit on it for a few minutes in quiet and silence, just thinking about the day ahead. 

In doing so I am carving out a space in my day for quiet contemplation with no other distractions. I touch the tangible softness of the coverlet with my fingertips, the warmth of the rug that my bed sits on cradles my feet.  I spend a few minutes, not long . . . in the gift of silence. Ofttimes, I lay out my worries and my hopes, my questions . . . before God, spreading them out in His presence in the quiet of my day, inviting Him into my day and into the silence.

Silent. Sort of listening. Just sitting, sometimes with expectation, more often without . . . thinking to myself, "This is the day that the Lord hath made." He wrote it and named it and has a purpose in it. The maker and giver of all good things.  Treasuring the silence for the gift that it is.

 

(source)

Most of our days are driven by habit and routine. I am no different than anyone else in this way.  As much as I like to think I am not a creature of habit, I surely am. Our being-in-the-world works its way into us through repetition and ritual.  Our view of "the good life" is ingrained in us through repetitive practices that motivate how we live and what we love.

Whether we acknowledge it or not we are shaped every day by practices . . . the rituals and liturgies of our days that make us who we are.  Gifts from our culture, environment, religious practices, from the "air around us."  We do not usually think about our world view or beliefs as we go about the ordinary things of our day, brushing our teeth, shopping, driving, cooking, cleaning . . .

Whoever we are, whatever we believe, wherever we live, whatever our consumer preferences may be, we spend our days doing things, living routines formed by habit and practice, which shape our loves, our desires and ultimately who we are and what we worship.

The things and practices we choose to fill our days with matter, maybe even more than we know.  It is by these things that we build a life. 

Daily I ponder the importance of choosing wisely because . . .  this day, it will never come again.  

 

 

(source)

I hope to make a large in-road today towards getting everything ready to take to the tax man.  Sigh . . .  April, I would so love to enjoy it more, but.  Taxes.  I don't mind paying my taxes, I just wish that I had some of these tax breaks that these rich people have, or that they paid a fairer share.  What I really hate about taxes is that the tax installments that I will have to pay over the next 12 months will be based on what I earned over the last 12 months, and I know for a fact that so far this year my earnings are down by 2/3. This is going to be hard. I just hope that when push comes to shove I have enough to live on. It is a vicious cycle sometimes, and often a bitter pill to swallow. But it is what it is and I just have to live with it. I am grateful for what I do have, and for my ability to support myself.  That is a blessing in and of itself.

And with that I best leave you with a thought for the day, which is moving ahead, and I best catch up with it, or it will leave me behind.

A thought to carry with you . . . 

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

 *.The secret of life is

enjoying the passage of time.

~James Taylor  ° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

In The Kitchen today . . .  How to Make a Salad Pot.  I do so love to have a salad for lunch, don't you?  

Have a great day, whatever you get up to.  Don't forget to count your blessings and don't forget!

═══════════ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ═══════════ 

⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ═══════════  

And I do too!