Poetry Saturday . . . When Earth's Last Picture is Painted

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When Earth's last picture is painted,
and the tubes are twisted and dried.
When the oldest colours have faded,
and the youngest critic has died,
We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it . . .
lie down for an aeon or two,
Til the Master of All Good Workmen shall
put us to work anew.

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And those that were good
shall be happy;
they shall sit in a golden chair;
They shall splash at a ten-league canvas
with brushes of comet's hair;
They shall find real saints to draw from . . .
Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;
They shall work for an age at a sitting,
and never be tired at all!

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And only the Master shall praise us,
and only the Master shall blame;
And no one shall work for money,
And no one shall work for fame,
But each for the joy of the working,
and each, in his separate star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It
for the God of Things as They Are!
~Rudyard Kipling

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I have always loved the works of Rudyard Kipling.   I first encountered them as a school girl in my fifth year reader in the form of  the poem Gunga Din.   We had to memorize excerpts of it.   It was the thrill of my life when Todd and I visited Bateman's, his home near Burwash down South several years ago.  As a young girl I could never have imagined that I would one day be able to explore the house that he lived in and wrote much of his work, or walk in the gardens he once walked in.



We visited there several times when we lived down South and each time I was delighted by everything there was to see and drink in.

 

A beautiful old house and fabulous gardens . . . so much to see and enjoy.   It is owned by the National Trust and just filled with many, many of his treasures and writings and illustrations of his most famous work of all, The Jungle Book.



That is one of the things I love most about England . . . these fine old homes and castles . . . all of the history that has been carefully preserved and maintained for us to enjoy . . . the gardens, the characters . . . this beautiful country is just awash with it.

Speaking of characters . . .

  

I finished ButterCup yesterday, who is BlueBell's bestest friend ever.   I have had so much fun doing these paper dolls and all of the clothes so far.   So much fun that I cannot stop.   I must pursue it further.   I have a few delightful ideas playing around in my head.   Watch this spot!

Yesterdays silver lining . . . hot chocolate in town and beautiful biscotti shared across a table in a cafe with my man.  

A thought to carry with you through Saturday . . .

 “The past is to be learned from but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead; we remember that faith is always pointed toward the future.” 
~Jeffrey R Holland

 

Baking in The English Kitchen today . . . Apple Pandowdy!   Deliciously old fashioned!

Have a great Saturday!


 

Poetry Saturday . . . The Land of Beginning Again

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I wish that there were some wonderful place
In the Land of Beginning Again;
Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches
And all of our poor selfish grief
Could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the door
And never be put on again.

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I wish we could come on it all unaware,
Like the hunter who finds a lost trail;
And I wish that the one whom our blindness had done
The greatest injustice of all
Could be there at the gates like an old friend that waits
For the comrade he's gladdest to hail.

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We could find all the things we intended to do
But forgot and remembered too late;
Little praises unspoken, little promises broken;
And all of the thousand and one
Little duties neglected that might have perfected
the days for one less fortunate.

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It wouldn't be possible not to be kind
In the Land of Beginning Again,
and the ones we misjudged and the ones whom we grudged
Their moments of victory here,
Would find in the grasp of our living hand-clasp
More than penitent lips could explain.

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For what had been hardest we'd know had been best,
And what had seemed loss would be gain;
For there isn't a sting that will not take wing
When we've faced it and laughed it away;
And I think that the laughter is most what we're after
In the Land of Beginning Again.

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So I wish that there were some wonderful place
Called the Land of Beginning Again,
Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches
And all of our poor selfish grief
Could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the door
And never put on again.
~Louise Fletcher Tarkington


I wish that I had been able to find out more about this poet.   Louise was the wife of playwright Boot Tarkington. He died in 1946. They married in 1902 and had a daughter, Laurel in 1906. He was an alcoholic and she divorced him in 1911. Laurel developed schizophrenia and died of pneumonia at the age of 16. Louise died in 1923 a year after Laurel. Here is her obituary: 

 "TARKINGTON, Laurel Louise Fletcher (Mrs.Newton Booth Tarkington), 1100 N. Pennsylvania St., Indianapolis, Ind. Born Indianapolis, Ind.; grad. Smith Coll., B.I. 1900- m. Indianapolis, June 18, 1902, Newton Booth Tarkington, the well-known novelist; one daughter: Laurel Louise, b. Feb. 11, 1906. Contributor of short stories to the magazine. "

I loved the message of Forgiveness in  this poem of hers which I found in a book entitled "Best Loved Poems of the LDS People", a gift to me from my dear friend Lura several years ago.  I would love to find more references to her life, her personal pain, and her philosophy of living. 

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We had some more snow through the night.  There's about an inch or so on the car this morning, but it appears to be melting fast and I see some sunshine on the horizon, so I think it will quite quickly disappear as if it had never been.   I hope that we don't go back to rain, rain . . . and more rain.

I much prefer my rain to be frozen and flaked!



Somebody had a sulk on yesterday when we got her back from the dog groomers.    I know she hates being groomed.   I suppose I would not like having the hair in my ears plucked either . . . poor dear, but it's just a part of the price one pays for having been born a Spaniel!  They are very prone to ear infection and so the ear plucking helps to prevent that, or so I am told!  Anyways, she looks and smells pretty now and this morning all has been forgiven . . .

Yesterday's Silver Lining:   An extra bit of money for our Winter Fuel Allowance as the temperatures had been below freezing for a week.   It's always nice to have a little bit extra in our coffers to help to pay the bills!

A thought to carry with you through the day:

"Who touches a boy by the Master's plan
Is shaping the course of a future man,
Is dealing with one who is living seed
And may be a man whom the world will need."
~Unknown

 

Baking in The English Kitchen today . . . a simply delicious Apple and Cinnamon Tea Cake.

Enjoy your Saturday!!

 

Poetry Saturday . . . Winter Park

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If I could paint the blues and greys,
That blend into that filmy sheen
As if an artist dipped his brush
In silver paint to draw a scene
From some high hill in fairyland
A man with magic in his hand.

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The frozen rutted pathways run
Like rabbit tracks among the trees,
The bushes weighted down with snow,
Bent old women on their knees,
Webbed tracks like feather stitching made
In warm quilts by the ladies' aid.

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The trees are decked in white array,
Like vestal maidens at a Feast,
Behind the hills the sun comes up
Like a great monarch of the East,
Whose golden trappings shed a glow,
On the white glare of frost and snow.

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A dozen children play about
Like dwarfs from Snow-white come to town,
With merry eyes and laughing lips,
And all the antics of a clown,
With cheeks as red as Santa Claus
Playing to win the crowd's applause.

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And so a winter park becomes
A painting framed in frost and snow,
Where common things of every day,
Take on a radiance and glow,
Like figures acting on a screen
Doing a lovely winter scene.
~Edna Jacques

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Of course the big news here in the UK today is all the snow which fell yesterday, creating chaos all over the country.  Snow is always big news here as we seldom get much and when it does fall . . . well, we just don't deal well with it at all!  People never do what they are asked to do which is to . . . STAY HOME . . . with the end result being traffic chaos and disruption all over the place.  Stuck lorries, delayed trains, canceled flights, shut down motorways,  etc.   I even saw photos on the telly yesterday of store shelves which had been absolutely stripped of all the necessities of life such as bread, milk, water . . .

We had a quiet day here at home actually.   We never went anywhere (coz we do what we're told to do) and just stayed warm and cozy in here by the fire, periodically looking out the window to see how much had fallen.   At the end of the day we had a couple of inches, perhaps three, which was just enough.   I know they had a lot more in other places!  We're quite protected here in Chester.

No plans for today except more of the same.  Staying warm and cozy in our little house.

Yesterday's Silver Lining:   The two Sister Missionaries who walked over to our place in the afternoon.  (The missionary house is just around the corner.)  They were here for about an hour.  I fed them freshly baked cake and milk and we read the scriptures together and just shared.   It was really special.  They always bring such a special spirit with them.

A thought to carry with you through Saturday:

The Winter is a stillness and a darkness and a sleep
But not a death, for in the earth the roots of life go deep.
A rest . . . then re-creation and a glad new burgeoning.
Every day in Wintertime is one day nearer Spring.
~Patience Strong



Baking in The English Kitchen today . . . a delicious Spiced Orange Cake.

Stay warm and safe people!!

 

Poetry Saturday . . . Paradise

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Once in a dream I saw the flowers
That bud and bloom in Paradise;
More fair are they than waking eyes
Have seen in all this world of ours.
And faint the perfume-bearing rose,
And faint the lily on its stem,
And faint the perfect violet,
Compared with them.

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I heard the songs of Paradise;
Each bird sat singing in its place;
A tender song so full of grace
It soared like incense to the skies.
Each bird sat singing to its mate
Soft cooing notes among the trees:
The nightingale herself were cold
To such as these.

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I saw the fourfold river flow,
And deep it was, with golden sand;
It flowed between a mossy land
With murmured music grave and low,
It hath refreshment for all thirst,
For fainting spirits strength and rest:
Earth holds not such a draught as this
From East to West.

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The  Tree of Life stood budding there,
Abundant with its twelvefold fruits;
Eternal sap sustains its roots,
Its shadowing branches fill the air,
Its leaves are healing for the world,
Its fruit the hungry world can feed
Sweeter than honey to the taste
And balm indeed.

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I saw the Gate called beautiful;
And looked, but scarce could look within,
I saw the golden streets begin,
And outskirts of the glassy pool.
Oh harps, oh crowns of plenteous stars,
Oh green palm-branches, many-leaved . . .
Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard,
Nor heart conceived.

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I hope to see these things again,
But not as once in dreams by night;
To see them with my very sight,
And touch and handle and attain;
To have all heaven beneath my feet
For narrow way that once they trod;
To have my part with all the saints
And with my God.
~Christina Rossetti

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Another poem here by Christina Rossetti.   I do so love her poetry.   It touches my heart in a special way.  I particularly love this poem Paradise . . . because it reminds me of a dream I once had which has stuck with me these many years.

I dreamed I was walking down a golden path, which went around a huge building which was encrusted with beautiful jewels and precious gold and silver . . . quite wonderful to behold.   I went inside the building and inside were too many rooms to count, each fronted by a beautiful door and each room being more beautiful than the last.  And all around me was such a wonderful peace . . . there was no fear.  I felt as if I was being given a glimpse of heaven . . . I don't know for sure, I only know what I felt in my heart as I explored this beautiful place, and I have always remembered it.  Even now I can see it as clear as a bell in my mind.

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My mother was a bit low yesterday when I spoke to her.  I think she is beginning to feel quite overwhelmed by it all.  She has received all of her papers via the post and it just seems too much for her to comprehend I think.   I told her to not look at the whole picture, but to just take each step one at a time.  If you could please continue to keep her in your prayers I would very much appreciate it.   Although I cannot possibly know how she feels at this time, I do know how overwhelming things can feel at times . . . and how impossible to surmount the odds can seem, especially when we are blinded by the whole of the picture.  How much easier things can seem if you don't try to take the whole in all at once.  Praying for her to have peace in her heart today and always . . .

Yesterday's Silver Lining:  Unexpected visitors which brought a smile to our faces and hearts.  It was so nice to sit and chat and enjoy each other company.   I had not bothered to put on any makeup or anything yesterday.   I was dressed however! haha  I just wasn't very pretty to behold!

A thought to carry with you through your day:

"Be believing, be happy, don't get discouraged. Things will work out." 
~Gordon B Hinckley

  

Baking in The English Kitchen today . . . Jam Filled Baked Cinnamon Donuts.
 

Poetry Saturday . . . Symbols

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I watched a rosebud very long
Brought on by dew and sun and shower,
Waiting to see the perfect flower;
Then, when I thought it should be strong,
It opened at the matin hour
And fell at evensong.

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I watched a nest from day to day.
A green nest full of pleasant shade,
Wherein three speckled eggs were laid;
But when they should have hatched in May,
The two old birds had grown afraid
Or tired and flew away.

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Then in my wrath, I broke the bough
That I had tended so with care,
Hoping its scent should fill the air;
I crushed the eggs, not heeding how
Their ancient promise had been fair;
I would have vengeance now.

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But the dead branch spoke from the sod,
And the eggs answered me again;
Because we failed dost thou complain?
Is thy wrath just?  And what if God,
Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain,
Should also take the rod?
~Christina Rossetti, Everyman's Poetry

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I think this poem is about our impatience and the capacity we have to take matters into our own hands because we tire of waiting for others to do the right thing  Or we judge others harshly, thinking to ourselves . . . they should have done this . . . or they should have done that.  But who are we to judge?  To take matters into our own hands??  Should we not leave all of that to a much higher power than ourselves?  There is a scripture which tells us that the same stick which we used to measure others will be used to measure us.

I often speak these words to myself . . . there, but for the Grace of God . . . go I.  I am not perfect, not by a long stretch.  I have my own weaknesses and failings that I will have to account for at the end of the day . . . never mind adding to them by being judgmental and harsh with my fellow man.  Oh, I do fail at times . . . but am quickly brought up short when I realize what I am doing and then repent.  Oh, thank God for repentance and His perfect love for us . . . for forgiveness.

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I love to read poetry and ponder on it's meanings.   I don't know if the things I get from it are what the writer intended . . . I only know how the words make me feel.  Oh to be blessed with such a talent to move hearts and minds . . . and to give pause to thought with only a few words.  Simply amazing.

Patience is not passive resignation, nor is it failing to act because of our fears. Patience means active waiting and enduring. It means staying with something and doing all that we can - working, hoping, and exercising faith; bearing hardship with fortitude, even when the desires of our hearts are delayed. patience is not simply enduring; it is enduring well!
~Dieter F Uchtdorf

 

In The English Kitchen today . . . A Simple Ice Cream Cake.

Have a fab Saturday!

 

Poetry Saturday . . . Strange and Wonderful It Was

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Strange and wonderful it was
that God the Lord of all . ..
Should show Himself unto the world
as something weak and small,
Choosing for this miracle,
a Jewess undefiled . . .
to be the wise and gentle
Mother of the Holy Child.

Source: Uploaded by user via Bonnie on Pinterest

Cradled in a stable!
The Incarnate Diety,
Love itself, the Word made flesh,
yet none was there to see,
Except a few poor shepherds,
and the Magi from afar,
Bringing gifts and guided
by the glory of a star.

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Strange and wonderful Indeed!
Too marvelous for me.
I could not hope to understand
so great a mystery . . .
Such a truth I cannot fathom,
or such love conceive . . .
but I can kneel on Christmas morning
saying.  I BELIEVE.
~Patience Strong 

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Bah . . . I have a cold.  I thought I might be getting one, yesterday morning.  I must have sneezed about 50 times before I could even get out of bed.  That usually precludes a cold.  I want to get it over with before I go to Canada as I don't want to expose my mom to it.   That is one thing she doesn't need to get on top of everything else!

We had a perfectly lovely time last night at our friends.  It was such a nice distraction.  There was about 20 of us from our Ward and it was lovely to be able to fellow-ship with each other outside of the chapel.  We don't do it near often enough!  There was lots of good food (Of course.  The people in our church know how to do good food!) in a beautiful atmosphere and fabulous company.   We sang carols and our friend Peter Lee gave a few poetry readings from Pam Ayers (A comedian Poetress) and we just enjoyed each others company.   It was . . . just plain NICE.

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Do you like my new Christmas play list?  I thought it would be nice to have a change here over the holidays.  I love Christmas music.  I always have done.  It always fills my heart with joy and I hope it fills your heart with joy too!

Last night was what is called "Mad Friday" here in Chester.  The biggest night of the year for all the pubs and bars, the last Friday before Christmas.  Any excuse for getting drunk and silly.  I hope the revelers didn't create too much chaos!  It's bucketing down rain this morning.  I had thought I might pop into the city to get a block of Stilton . . . but I don't know if I will.  Perhaps I will wait til Monday now.  I don't fancy getting wet and jostled about in the maddening crowd for a block of cheese.

A thought for today . . .

"Faith precedes the miracle. It has ever been so and shall ever be. It was not raining when Noah was commanded to build an ark. There was no visible ram in the thicket when Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son Isaac. Two heavenly personages were not yet seen when Joseph knelt and prayed. First came the test of faith–and then the miracle. Remember that faith and doubt cannot exist in the same mind at the same time, for one will dispel the other. Cast out doubt. Cultivate faith."  
~Thomas S Monson



Baking in The English Kitchen today . . . a long held family Christmas Traditional bake . . . Mom's Christmas Feather Squares!  Delicious!!

Happy Saturday!!  3 more sleeps.