All Things Nice . . .

 

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I took a trip today -- myself and me

And journeyed without price by land and sea,

With queer companions I am bound to say,

I found them on my pantry shelves today,

In packages and little painted tins,

Among the magic of my cupboard bins.

A quaint old-fashioned caddy full of tea

Became a white winged ship that carried me

Across the broad Pacific where the fields

Older than Time, produce abundant yields

Where patient Chinese work with spade and hoe,

Just as they did two thousand years ago.

A row of spices, cinnamon and mace

Became a flaming chariot of space,

I went to far Bombay and Singapore

Saw sunlight falling on a temple floor,

Heard nightingales where tropic seas unroll,

Singing to ease the burden of a soul.

An apple with its russet coat of tan

Was all at once a shining caravan,

Bringing me home again where orchards lie

In the safe peace of a Canadian sky,

A busy housewife happy and content

In a small kitchen where my days are spent.

~Edna Jacques, My Trip

Aunt Hattie's Place,1949

Cindy and I took a trip yesterday in a manner of speaking. We had dropped dad and Maryann off and gone to Sobey's to pick up cat food, (I remembered) and were on our way back to Walmart when we noticed a new place across the road from the mall. Indian Masala Grocery and Takeaway.  We thought we would stop in and check it out!  It actually had not even opened yet. They were having a soft opening yesterday evening, but they welcomed us in and were ever so nice and so helpful.  The place smelled amazing.  Simply amazing. Like spices and sandalwood.  I picked up some cinnamon sticks and whole cardamom, star anise, some ginger and garlic paste and a bag of gram flour. Oh, and a bag of frozen parotta bread. I think we will be stopping by there often. I hope that they do very well.

 

I tried very hard this morning to get a clear photograph of the hummingbirds coming to the feeder. I was not very successful.  I am having to clean and fill my feeder about twice a week now. They are voraciously feeding at it.  I do not mind in the least for all the pleasure in watching that they bring to me and my feline companions is worth its weight in gold.  A real treasure.

I have always loved watching hummingbirds, for as long as I have had feeders. They were not a bird that we saw in the U.K. I missed them there. I can remember being very excited one afternoon when I was living in the cottage down south. I saw a creature flitting amongst the blossoms of the honeysuckle that grew in the hedge at the back of the cottage. I thought for sure it was a hummingbird for all the way that it was acting. Upon investigation I learned that it was a Hummingbird Hawk Moth. So delightful all the same, just not for the same reasons.

I had always thought that hummingbirds were the only birds which could fly backwards, but I was wrong. Flycatchers, egrets, and herons can fly backward occasionally when faced with a predator or another danger. However, they can only fly backwards for a few seconds.

 

 

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We have been enjoying the fresh locally grown beans these past weeks. They must be almost finished now. They are so delicious. I could eat them for every meal, steamed until crispy tender with some salt and pepper and a bit of butter and cream.  I know, very naughty.

When I think of beans I think of Yeats and his "Lake Isle of Innisfree."

I will arise 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.

Somehow there must be magic in the number nine. However, if he were to live in a bee-loud glade, I wonder what he would do with nine rows of beans?  That's a lot of beans for just one man. Maybe they are short rows. Or maybe the fairies would gather in the bright light of the moon to pick and eat beans?  Otherwise, I think Mr. Yates would have had little time for his golden singing, at least in summer. He would be too busy picking and eating beans.

 

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Reading an article recently, I wondered if I am not just all about hobbies? This was somewhat of a disconcerting thought to me. Would I put Cooking first?  Photography? Collecting books? Reading? Painting? Needlework? Dolls? Armchair travel? Music? Writing? Daydreaming? Am I a Jack-of-all-trades and master-of-none?  Sometimes I think I am.

Of all my hobbies, I think that I love writing and the written word the best of all.  It is my favorite occupation. When I am not writing letters, or emails, I am writing short stories, or thinking about short stories I could write, writing poems or even just lists and notes to myself. I find these days if I don't write things down, I lose the thoughts. I write notes about the things I want to get the next time I go to the shops, or I write down small observations that I don't want to forget. Thoughts that strike my fancy . . .  such as "Chickadees wear about their necks three cornered cravats of jet silk."  or  "The silver trunk of the birch tree is like a silver wand glowing in the moonlight, a pencil reaching up towards heaven and pointing the way."

But most days I spent my time writing on here.  Recipes and descriptions of recipes.  My thoughts to you here on this blog as well. I am not sure that I am really very good at either one, but I am sure that it brings me a sense of satisfaction, whether I do it well or not.

It is something that I have loved doing since I was a child, and it has brought me a lifetime of joy in one way or another.

 

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All month I have been thinking about and wanting to go on a picnic.  To just pack up a wee lunch and take myself up to Margaretville and sit there at a picnic table looking out across the bay.  Watching and thinking, smelling the sea air and listening to the gulls and the waves lapping at the rocks along the edge of the shore.  Listening to the fishermen work on mending their nets in their shacks. Watching people walk their dogs along the water's edge.  Just thinking and pondering life as I munch on my sandwich and drink from my bottle.  Or maybe I could go up to Port George and park the car and watch the seals there bathing on the rocks.

If I had a dog I would go. An activity like a picnic by the shore requires company.  Someone to share it with. Preferably someone you care about.  I do not think the cats would gain as much appreciation of it as would a dog, but I could be wrong. 

Speaking of dogs, I dreamt of Mitzie last night. Someone had fed her grapes, and, in my dream, I was busy pulling them out of her mouth so that she would not get sick from eating them. For a moment, even though it was not the nicest dream, I was with her again and I cherished the moment.  I miss her every single day, just like I miss my mom. 

The people and creatures you love take up spaces in your heart that you have trouble filling with anything else.  They just stay as gaping holes, while you fill up other spaces with other things. In my heart I have both Mitzie and Mother shaped holes that nothing else will ever fill.

 

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Soon now, and I hope truly that the drought has not affected them too much, we should see Winter Squashes starting to appear in the local farm markets. I do so love Winter Squash.  Funny that because when I was a child, they were not top of my list of things that I enjoyed eating. Mom would cook a small squash at Thanksgiving or Christmas to enjoy with our roast turkey.  A little dab would be put on our plates, and I would gag it down.  It was not appealing to me in the least. I have, since becoming an adult, come to really love it.  I like trying different ones come autumn. Some are quite wet in texture, others quite dry. Most are somewhat sweet, and some are really sweet, and I do not mean sugar sweet, but a somewhat earthy sweet.

I enjoy them roasted until they are almost caramelized and then I mash them with butter and salt and pepper.  Sometimes, if I am feeling indulgent, I will add a bit of maple syrup or some brown sugar. 

I do not really have a favorite. At one time I would have said Butternut Squash was a favorite, but now, I just love them all. It is funny how your tastes change when you are an adult and how things you once greatly disliked somehow magically become really delicious!

Like Oatmeal. Hated it when I was a child. Love it now.

 

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I am not sure what I will get up to today. I think Dan is going to come over and help me to wash my windows and the siding on the front of my house and the inside of my garage door, which is not looking very nice at the moment. It really needs a good cleaning. Other than that, I am not sure what I will do. A bit of this and a bit of that I suppose. I have already done two loads of laundry this morning as I have sat here writing. That will need folding. 

I will fill my day in one way or another.  That is a certainty. Days get filled and days pass by. One after another, they slip off the calendar . . . never to come again. As I have gotten older, I have tried to make each day count for the gift that it is to me.  I think of many people, that I was friends with, or that I went to school with, that are no longer here. Their absence makes me cherish the time I am given even more for I know that these days I have been given are extra blessings. I need to make them count. In one way or another.

I do need to be gathering up what I want to put out for the fall cleanup. I will have to read up on the rules for that and see what is required as far as putting them together goes. I do see that already old sofas and chairs are appearing on the edges of some lawns in town. Oh, and the luxury apartment building that they are putting up is looking more and more like an apartment building every day, but that has nothing to do at all with fall cleanup. I know.  Just remarking on the changes I note.

And my boyfriend, he is still walking on the sidewalk here and there smoking his pipe.  haha, that is a joke. There is a guy in town who wears a ball cap and smokes a pipe that we often see walking here and there. Somehow, he has taken on the misnomer of being called my boyfriend when he is not even close to being that. Nobody is. And if I was looking it would not be someone like him.  He does not appeal to me in that way in the least.  But it is funny to call him my boyfriend, I guess, if for no other reason but we notice him and his pipe.

And with that I will leave you with a thought for the day . . . It promises to be a nice one. It is 14*C/57*F already and expected to be fairly warm and sunny. There are six wildfires burning in the province at the moment with the Long Lake one (the one that is close to me) being the only one burning out of control. We keep praying for rain. The firefighters, etc. are working very hard to bring this fire under control and we are grateful.

A thought to carry with you . . . 

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

*"It is only with heart that one can see rightly;

What is essential is invisible to the eye.

~Antoine de Saint Exupery  ° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

In the English Kitchen today . . .  2-ingredient Coconut Macaroons. Simple.  Delicious and yes, only two ingredients. Also, gluten-free.

I hope you have a beautiful weekend and that whatever you get up to, it makes you happy!  Don't forget!

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And I do too!