All Things Nice

 

(source)

I'm hungry for homemade pickles,

For cookies kept in a crock,

For pumpkin pie with a tender crust,

Fowl from a home raised flock.

I'm hungry for pickled pigs' feet

For pork in a sugar brine,

Spare ribs . . . headcheese and liver loaf,

Sauerkraut shredded fine.

I'm hungry for apple strudel,

Date pudding with caramel sauce,

For buckwheat pancakes with syrup on,

And buns with a shiny gloss.

I'm hungry for milk fed turkey

Cooked to a golden turn,

For sweet June butter and buttermilk

Made in a wooden churn.

I'm hungry for country cooking

Flavored with warmth and grace --

A mother puttering around the rooms

With love in her quiet face.

I'm hungry for homes and people

In a house that is more than walls,

For a yard and a fence and a maple tree

Where warm still sunlight falls.

~Edna Jacques, I'm Hungry

 Hills of Home, 1952

This yearning  . . . a deep hunger . . .  for the past is something we all experience from time to time. I think we all tend to romanticize it all a bit and gaze on it with rose-colored glasses. It was not all perfect for sure. We think of only the good things, the better days and thankfully skip over the ones which were not so good. Memory is a beautiful thing in that it helps us to be able to filter out things which don't support us and to dwell on things which served us well.  Happy things, people, places, experiences. I am all for that. I don't like to think about the losses or the things which made me sad, which broke my heart.  But then again, these things  . . .  they are what has helped to build me. Things which have forced me to grow and evolve.  Things which have helped to, hopefully, create a better me and that is not a bad thing at all. Lessons taught in ways that served us well in the long run, and yes  . . .  peppered with memories of our mother's meals cooked with love and sacrifice. 

What I wouldn't give to be able to sit down to one of my dear mother's turkey dinners this weekend. Not the least because of how delicious they were, but mostly for the fact that my mother would be here with us, and I miss her terribly. Oh, how blessed I was to have someone in my life that I miss as much as I miss her. Grief, I have often heard it said, is the price we pay for love.

 

(source)

There is a gift shop in town that is going out of business. I know I mentioned this yesterday or the day before.  Cindy and I popped in yesterday afternoon, while dad was having his tea at Tim Hortons, just to have a gander and wander about.  They have lovely things, but very expensive. I did pick up a couple of little wicker baskets, and some soap and a red toadstool whirlygig thingie for the garden. The ground is too hard for me to push it in, so I will just have to wait now until next year when, hopefully, the ground will be a lot softer.

 

(anne wood)

The baskets, I have in mind to make a basket full of kitties. Except I won't make them ghosties.  This was in my email yesterday and when I saw the wicker baskets, I thought they would be perfect. Sweet little fabric whimsies to feed my creative soul.

(source)

One thing which is really nice about living by yourself is that there are not a lot of distractions.  I am able to sit and think about things whenever I want and there is nothing to pull me away from my thoughts.  Last night I had listened to a talk online from the last conference by Kevin G Brown. (Brilliant talk by the way.)  Anyways afterwards I was sitting and thinking about it and the following question came into my mind.

If you could see yourself the way that God sees you, what would that change for you? Would it change the way that you do things or how you live your life? 

We are often our own worst critics, but God . . .  He sees us differently.  He sees us as His children, and He loves us with an infinite love that only a parent can have for their children.  With a love more perfect than even the love we have for our own families. He sees our mistakes, but He also sees how very wonderful and unique we are.  He sees our talents, and He sees our beautiful hearts.  He knows our intentions.

I thought to myself, I need to judge myself and see myself in the way that I believe God sees and judges me.  To show and give myself the same grace and mercy that I give to others. All too often we care far too much about how the world views us when really, we should be looking at ourselves through the eyes of a benevolent, loving Father who wants only the best for each of us and sees us for the unique treasures that we are. 

Oh, I don't mean that we should walk around like we are God's gifts to mankind. A little bit of humility goes a long way, but we do need to be a bit kinder to ourselves. "I" need to be a bit kinder to myself.

 

(source)

I have put the heat on in here this morning as it is rather chilly. I can see outside that there has been a frost overnight. Not a really heavy one, but the rooftops and cars are covered. It will melt quickly once the sun starts to show its warmth. Anyways, I thought I would put the heat on just to take a bit of the chill out of the air in here.  I have added an extra blanket to my bed and I am thinking it may be time to take out my duvet and put it to work.

With the rain that we had earlier this week the fires are now under control, which is a good thing, and we are supposed to have a full week of rain next week, so that will further help things out. The duckpond at the motel across the road now has water in it. It had pretty much dried up.

 

(source)

Have you seen the Jane Goodall video on Netflix? I found it quite fascinating and what an interesting concept to do a video that would only be shown after your death and not before. What would you say if you knew there was no possibility of any repercussions?  To be able to speak your truth without worrying what people might think or how it would affect your relationships. What words of wisdom would you like to share, to leave . . .  as your legacy to the earth.  Of course, I am not Jane Goodall, and nobody really cares what I think or what I might say, except for maybe my family. 

It made me think though. What would I say to them, and if I could say it in death, why can't I just say it now.

"I have loved you with an unconditional love. No matter what. No matter how. No matter when. I will always love you. I forgive you for your imperfections, failings and your weaknesses. We all have them. I hold nothing against you, not now, not ever.  Go. Be happy. Be kind. To yourself and to others. Love and be loved."

 

(source)

I am having Cindy, Dan and Dad over for supper tonight. I have bought a large ham that I am going to cook, plus I am making mashed potatoes (dad's favorite) and a few sides. I have some nice fluffy rolls, and I have an apple pie for dessert. It is a large one that we can have again tomorrow for Thanksgiving. 

I know. Two big dinners in a row.  

I wanted to do something for my family. To give Cindy a night off from cooking or thinking about cooking. 

I am looking forward to it. I hope that they are as well. I don't do this near often enough.  In years past we were always having people over for supper and occasions. Holidays. My house was always full at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Easter, etc.  Things change. Times change. It's called progress. Families live so far away from each other these days that it's not always an easy thing to get together for special occasions.

 

(source)

The autumn drifted away though all its seasons. The golden corn-harvest, the walks through the stubble-fields, and rambles into hazel-copses in search of nuts; the stripping of the apple-orchards of their ruddy fruit, amid the joyous cries and shouts of watching children; and the gorgeous tulip-like colouring of the later time had now come on with the shortening days. There was comparative silence in the land, excepting for the distant shots, and the whirr of partridges as they rose up from the field.
~Elizabeth Gaskell, from Wives and Daughters

I have read a bit of Elizabeth Gaskell through the years. Her writings speak of another, more elegant era. It was not a time of casualness, not even if you were poor or from a lower class. There was a special way and manner in which things were just done. When I read writings such as this, these kinds of words, they make me wish that I could part the words from my mind and place them onto paper in the same and eloquent way. That they might read like poetry for the soul. Occasionally I will come across words that I have written and they surprise me.  I am always writing down snippets of thoughts, etc. without any rhyme or reason.

I found this the other day, hand-written in pencil on a scrap of paper  . . . 

It matters not from whence it flows

It matters only where it goes

An acorn grows into a tree

A river flows into the sea

It is the same with you and me

There's great potential the eye can't see

Beneath the cold dark ground it grows

The tiny seed into a rose

A myth becomes reality

Through fruit that only few can see

Mysteries of God

Lay at their midst

A living, thriving catalyst

Through faith and tiny bits of rain

Come untold blossoms once again

Where only dirt and worms once were

A tender beauty, sweet and pure

The same is true of you and me

We may not grow into big trees

But seeds of faith when watered true

Can make a better me and you

A heaven-sent soliloquy.

I wrote it when I was living in the U.K. Probably up in the craft room. Written on the other side are the words, "Mount Kilmanjaro." In ink, in Todd's handwriting. He was always leaving notes like that on my stacks of books or papers. He thought he was being funny. I thought he was being an A$$. He was being an A$$.

Anyways, I had written the words I shared above on that scrap of paper. Its not great, nor perfect, but there is a certain something held within the prose I think. 

And with that I will leave you with a thought for the day . . . 

☾ ° ★° * 。  

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

*Let us hold unswervingly to the hope
that we profess, for He who promised
is faithful
~Hebrews 10:23• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 

In The English Kitchen today, quick, easy, delicious, Maple Pecan Scones.  A small batch. The recipe makes only four beautiful, buttery and delicious scones.

I hope that you have a beautiful weekend and a lovely Thanksgiving (All my Canadian readers and friends.)  Be happy. Find Joy. Be Blessed. Don't forget! 

═══════════ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ═════════════ 

⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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

And I do too!