Like somebody who sees things when he’s dreaming And after the dream lives with the aftermath Of what he felt, no other trace remaining,
So I live now, for what I saw departs And is almost lost, although a distilled sweetness Still drops from it into my inner heart.
From A Dream of Solstice by Seamus Heaney
This has been a year of stark contrasts for me: moments of acute pain, suffering, and sorrow but also moments of happiness, joy, and exuberance. I could not say that the lightest moments outweigh, compensate, or obliterate the darkest ones, but, because one cannot change the past, I choose to carry only the feelings and memories of the lightest moments forward.
“Before you can have a roaring fire, you’ve got to gather a good supply of wood.” Pierre-Auguste Renoir
I love this time of year! At the first snowfall, I start preparing to stay warm and cozy inside my house but also to make the most of the splendorous winter wonderland that awaits me outdoors. Below is my list of what I love to do during my favorite season:
1. Get out all my wool toques, mittens, and scarves, the down jacket, and the snow boots with the big snow cuffs.
2. Put my flannel sheets, down comforter, and wool mattress topper on my bed,
3. Walk through the woods and try to spot a hare or Snowy owl. Listen for the bird calls of a Blue Jay, Cardinal or Bohemian waxwing.
4. At sunset, as the temperature is dropping the fastest and the wind has fallen, listen to the rare crinkling sound of the ice crystals forming on a pond or gentle stream.
5. Before dinner, light a fire in the hearth. The sounds of the damper cranking open, match striking, and wood crackling – magical. The woodsmoke settles briefly in my hair and transports me to seasons past.
6. Change the recipes from the cool meals of summer to the warm, comfort meals of winter; stews, soups, and hot meat pies.
7. Round up my Christmas baking supplies: cookie cutters, plum pudding molds, mince tart tins, and best of all, my mother and grandmothers’ special recipes and ingredients.
8. Listen to the muffled sounds of the city when the snow falls, delight in watching the snowflakes dance as they descend from on high and feel them touch my face, make a snow angel, and jump off a snowbank.
9. Get my skates sharpened, check my snowshoe strings, and find the wax for my cross-country skiis.
10. Cozy up in front of the fire after dinner with a warm blanket, hot chocolate or apple cider, and significant other… or a romantic novel.
In addition, check out the beautiful YouTube channel featuring many winter videos from Jonna Jinton in Sweden.
Help Hoe Hay Harvest for Victory. Much like the Soldiers of the Soil in WWI, “The Farm Commando Brigade of the Ontario Farm Service Force is composed of all those men and women who offer their services to those engaged in producing and processing food (farmers and canners). The work they offer to do starts from early spring seeding (tractor, force drawn or hand sown) through hoeing, haying, harvesting, canning, threshing, silo filing, etc.”
During WWII my father was too young to enlist so he joined the Farm Commando Brigade of the Ontario Farm Service Force and worked on a farm in southern Ontario, Canada. He was born and raised in the city of Toronto, but he really came of age on the farm. The lessons he learned about farmers, large animals, raising crops from the soil, and the farming community stayed with him his entire life. More importantly, he learned about hard, physical labor – the value of honest toil – and he passed these on to his children. I carry these with me today, long after his service on the farm ended.
It must have been moonglow, way up in the blue It must have been moonglow that led me straight to you I still hear you sayin’, “Dear one, hold me fast” And I keep on prayin’, “Oh Lord, please let this last” We seemed to float right through the air Heavenly songs seemed to come from everywhere And now when there’s moonglow, way up in the blue I’ll always remember, that moonglow gave me you Moonglow also Diana Krall
The moonglow crept into my room last night. It beckoned me to the window to make a wish on that magnificent orb in the night sky. I thought of you.
When we know about our ancestors, when we sense them as living and as supporting us, then we feel connected to the genetic life-stream, and we draw strength and nourishment from this. – Philip Carr-Gomm
I have only a few memories of my Dutch grandfather, however, he certainly made an impression on me, and I wish I had had more time with him. When I looked through some photos of the first few years of my life, I noticed that there were many, many pictures of us together. I can’t help but wonder how not just his DNA, but his physical presence influenced my growth and my life.
There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty. – Steve Maraboli
When I renewed my driver’s license recently, I was surprised at the weight listed on the new license. I had made no changes during the renewal process, so all of the information was the same as it was several years ago. Was the weight listed my true weight at the time or an aspirational weight? If it were an aspirational weight, I wonder by how much? Short of requisitioning my medical records, I truly have no idea!
Amsterdam is like the rings on a tree: It gets older as you get closer to the center. – John Green
I love Amsterdam, not only because my maternal grandfather (Opa) was born and raised there but because of the canal houses and houseboats, art museums, flowers, and chocolates. I have visited Amsterdam many times, but until recently, I have always stayed in the southern part of the city. From there I explored on foot, but even with a good map, found it difficult to navigate and was always taking wrong turns. This time I relocated to the northern part of the city and had no difficulty at all finding my way around. I am still amazed that a simple change in orientation made such a huge difference. I now see the benefit of changing perspective everywhere in my daily life. Thank you Amsterdam!
Life is not always a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well.
Over the last several years I have taken many online and in-person art and craft classes. Instructors routinely have provided students with a list of materials needed for each class. At first I thought it was necessary to buy everything on the list, but unfortunately, practically every instructor had a different set of material preferences so the cost of the more expensive supplies became prohibitive. I finally decided to start making do with what I had. One of my favorite mop brushes came from the town of Saluda, South Carolina. I was walking along the side of a dirt road when I noticed a very large, and thankfully dead, rattlesnake in my path. Oddly, next to the rattlesnake lay a watercolor mop brush. Although it had seen better times – the wooden handle was chipped in many places and the ferrule was dented, the bristles appeared intact. I snatched it up and quickly moved on! On closer examination, the bristles were soft and full, and it has turned out to be the best brush in my stash for doing large color washes. I have made similar but not so exciting finds at Goodwill, garage sales, and in nature. Not having all the designated workshop supplies has not been a barrier to entry for my creative pursuits. In fact, sometimes the found supplies have been the most enjoyable to use!
Blue are the people here That walk around Blue like my corvette its in and outside Blue are the words I say And what I think Blue are the feelings That live inside me I’m blue… From Blue by Eiffel 65
I came across a bin of bed linens in the attic during this year’s spring cleaning purge. In it I discovered a much-loved Ralph Lauren blue duvet cover that I had packed away long ago for a bicoastal move. I had searched and searched for it for many months, but finally gave up assuming it had been lost. Instead of replacing the duvet, I decided that the new surroundings demanded a change in color palette: from the light and dark Denim blues and Linen whites that suited the clapboard Colonial house of the northeast, to the Celadon green, Tuscan orange, and creams of my new Hacienda-style home in the southwest. Over the years, I never really embraced this new color palette, so when I found the denim duvet cover, I placed it on my bed and instantly felt as if I had gone through a portal to wonderful times gone by. Blue has always been my favorite color and I started to think about how not only had I given up the comfort and familiarity of my exterior landscape when I made the move, but how my interior landscape had changed as well.
