It's been sew long...

…. since I have done any sewing! But, the 'sewing bug' has taken hold after many years of dormancy and I have been thinking about sewing myself something pretty. But first I need to take my Montgomery Ward 1908b sewing machine to the local sewing shop and get it serviced.

This machine was a gift from my Mother when I graduated from high school in 1982. I loved it from the moment I first laid eyes on it. Over the past twenty or so years (yikes!), I have made many, many things with this wonderful little sewing machine.

In junior high and high school I took home economics and really enjoyed both the sewing classes and the cooking classes. I believe I missed my calling as I really, really want to be a stay-at-home wife who cooks, sews, and keeps a nice house.

Call me old-fashioned, but after a 20+ year career as a healthcare professional who holds a master's and a doctorate degree, nothing would thrill me more than to be able make a decent flaky pie crust. But I digress...

Some of my favourite things sewn over the years have included nightgowns, dresses, and skirts. I even made curtains for my first house, which magically transformed it into a home.

The first item on the sewing agenda: a long nightgown. It would be nice to make one long enough to cover my ankles as the store-bought ones are never long enough for my tall frame.

A month of Sundays...

If I had a month of Sundays I would…

• Read a raft of fairy tales and get lost in the pictures painted within.
• Bake carrot-ginger muffins with fat golden raisins hidden inside.
• Colour in my colouring books with paints and pencils.
• Knit a sweater for my Love that whispers "I care deeply for you".
• Stretch into yoga poses to ease the tension in my body.
• Nap in the pool of sunshine that covers our bed in the afternoons.
• Picnic in the park, sharing breadcrumbs with the birds.
• Sit in the back yard to simply listen to the wind in the trees.
• Take a long bubble bath.
• Give myself a tarot card reading with my favourite deck.
• Create a wild rice and vegetable soup with bright green peas.
• Listen to Van Morrison.
• Visit the Art Gallery to expand my mind.
• Learn a new-to-me constellation in the spring sky.
• Write a poem to the pussy willows.
• Bake shortbread cookies with a bit of Grand Marnier and cranberries.
• Take a walk through an unfamiliar park.
• Make a necklace using blue and yellow beads.
• Write a letter to someone I love.
• Write an English sonnet about the heavens above.
• Listen to our cat purr and watch her fall asleep.
• Sew a dress for myself.
• Make a berry smoothie for breakfast.
• Visit a friend and bring a gift of chocolate.
• Go to church and sing to God.
• Tidy up my desk.
• Make chocolate cupcakes with white icing.
• Learn a new knitting technique.
• Ride my bike outside.
• Prepare the garden for spring.
• Count my blessings.

Slowly...

'Upon A Snail'
By John Bunyan (1628-88)

She goes but softly, but she goeth sure,
She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do;
Her journey is shorter, so she may endure
Better than they which do much further go.

She makes no noise, but stilly seizeth on
The flower or herb appointed for her food;
That which she quietly doth feed upon,
While others range and glare, but find no good.

And though she doth but very softly go,
However slow her pace be, yet ’tis sure;
And certainly they that do travel so,
The prize which they do aim at they procure.

Although they seem not much to stir or go,
Who thirst for Christ, and who from wrath do flee;
Yet what they seek for quickly they come too,
Though it doth seem the furthest off to be.

One act of faith doth bring them to that flower
They so long for, that they may eat and live;
Which to attain is not in other’s power,
Though for it a king’s ransom they would give.

Then let none faint, nor be at all dismay’d,
That life by Christ do seek, they shall not fail
To have it; let them nothing be afraid;
The herb and flower are eaten by the snail.

Just pencils...

This sweet parable was sent to me so I thought I would share it with you. If anyone knows the author, please let me know. I would like to thank this wise person.

"A pencil maker told the pencil 5 important lessons just before putting it in the box:

1) Everything you do will always leave a mark.

2) You can always correct the mistakes you make.

3) What is important is what is inside of you.

4) In life, you will undergo painful sharpening, which will only make you better.

5) To be the best pencil, you must allow yourself to be held and guided by the hand that holds you.

We all need to be constantly sharpened. This parable may encourage you to know that you are a special person, with unique God-given talents and abilities. Only you can fulfill the purpose which you were born to accomplish. Never allow yourself to get discouraged and think that your life is insignificant and cannot be changed and, like the pencil, always remember that the most important part of who you are is what's inside of you."

Star Pie...

When I was a little girl, I absolutely hated leftovers. However, my mother thought leftovers were wonderful. Now that I have grown up, I understand why. The best thing I have ever created using left overs is a "Star Pie".

Following a dinner of a 'Mediterranean' pot roast, which had been cooked in the slow cooker, there was some wonderful left over beef.

I rolled out a rectangle of puff pastry. Then on one side, I placed pieces of the roast beef, roasted garlic, sundried tomatoes, and some fresh spinach. Next, I folded the puff pastry in half and pinched the edges closed. After brushing with a bit of egg yolk, I placed cut out puff pastry stars on top and gave them a little brush with the egg. The 'star pie' was then cooked in a medium hot oven for about 30 minutes, or until browned.

The results were spectacular! Flaky crust, savoury beef, plenty of green spinach with the sophistication of the sundried tomatoes and roasted garlic…. dare I say it was heavenly?!

If you haven't tried puff pastry, be brave, roll it out and get creative!
This is one 'leftover' dish that has become a 'star' in my cooking repertoire!

Less is more...

The issue of ‘stuff’ has been discussed between my husband and myself quite a lot lately as we are dealing with some end of life issues with my mother who is very ill, but currently stabilized.

We recently visited her where she lives in a nursing home. She shares a room with another resident. Over the past 10 years in various assisted living arrangements, and then nursing homes, she (or rather we) have helped her pare down to the bare essentials. It is amazing that when it gets to the later stages of chronic illness, stuff has little relevance.

Currently, her possessions are the following:

* collection of family photos in frames set along the windowsill (5 in total)
* wall clock which chimes the time of day with a little ‘bird call’ sound
* painting of two brightly coloured parrots (she is legally blind in one eye; other eye was removed years ago)
* personal care items (lotion, toothpaste, comb, etc.) which fit into one drawer
* two drawers which hold her nightgowns
* 1 robe and 3 sweaters
* Kindle Fire (avid Scrabble freak)
* compact DVD player (like small laptop) for listening to audiobooks from local library
* bird feeder outside her window so she can watch the birds
* 1 pair of headphones

She owns no underwear, no shoes, no coat, and no other items. When the time comes, it will take no more than 2 boxes to clear out her room.

We enter the world with nothing and, when we depart, we need nothing.

It was a humbling visit. She is bed-ridden but can feed herself and play Scrabble. She seems happy and at peace. She has finally arrived at a place where less is more. She seems to only ask for two things: chocolate pudding and Oreos. A simple request and we indulge her. Her strength and dignity shine through and she makes a point to make us feel at ease with her smile and her words.

We all go through life growing, dreaming, accumulating, down-sizing, dying. It all just depends where on the “Wheel of Life” you are at any given moment.

Not a judgement, just an observation.

Dancing Stars...



No matter what happens during any given day...

No matter how many clouds obscure the sun...

No matter how heavy my heart may feel…

It brings me immense comfort knowing there are ten million stars dancing in the sky…

Thank you, God.

Jelly Belly

Bought my first bag of Jelly Belly's is ages. Ate the entire bag in one sitting. It contained an assortment of 20 flavours. Jalepeno pepper, strawberry daiquiri, lemon, chocolate, tutti-frutti, toasted marshmallow, buttered popcorn, coconut. Need I say more?

But I shall.

On my one-hour train ride home from the big city to my tiny little town, I sat and enjoyed every last little bean of Jelly Belly goodness. I ate them s-l-o-w-l-y. I savoured each morsel of tasty goodness. Each explosion of flavour filled my mouth, awakening my senses. And to think this was all done in public! The people sitting next to me were bone-tired, nodding off, heads flopping forward, backward, and sometimes sideward in rhythm to the movement of the train. I sat there enchanted with my little bag of jellied treasures.

It was a moment in 'moving meditation'. As the train sped northward, carrying me home at the end of long day, I focused my attention on the flavours of the little gems I was steadily devouring. And each one was absolutely, perfectly delicious.

My favourite combination was chocolate + toasted marshmallow… tasted a bit like chocolate cream pie. Followed by peach, cherry, and liquorice.

Hard to believe I ate the entire bag and you know what? I don't feel the least bit guilty.

The night and I are often at odds. Some nights march slowly toward the endless and infinite reaches of the sky. The distance to the dawn is unbearable. There is a depth and breadth about the night that overwhelms me as I lie in my bed, feeling so small and insignificant.

The pearl-bright moon bathes the world in silver, but I shut out her light and stare into the darkness, seeking elusive Sleep. Hiding in some unfathomable place, beyond my reach, always taunting me, but she never gives me that most longed-for kiss. This leaves me feeling a sense of hunger, like a vagrant seeking a warm meal or a derelict dying for a drink.

Last night Sleep became lazy and careless, covering me with her veil, transporting me to another plane. And while in her care, I became a mermaid.

The ocean was as deep as the night itself. The water was neither cold, nor salty. It was inert, yet supportive. I swam without effort or strain, as if I had always been a mermaid. I felt light, ethereal, and free. I held no worry or want. I swam with a strength I did not know I possessed. Everything seemed possible.

Exploring my watery world brought me a profound sense of peace. I felt confident and sure of myself. It was as if I had been given a secret power with no conditions attached. There was a certain provocativeness about all of this. So much was given to me in this watery, otherworldly plane.

When I awoke, I was quite astonished. There was such a strong sense of well-being that I could hardly believed I had slept though the night. I felt as if I had won some strange battle, waking at dawn feeling calm and rested.

My hope is to carry this mermaid spirit with me during my waking hours. My fantasy is to become the mermaid once again should Sleep provide me the chance. It was a most magical experience.

Summer Stars

Bend low again, night of summer stars.
So near you are, sky of summer stars,
So near, a long arm man can pick off stars,
Pick off what he wants in the sky bowl,
So near you are, summer stars,
So near, strumming, strumming,
So lazy and hum-strumming.

~Carl Sandburg

Simply charming...

Today I discovered a ‘new to me’ artist by the name of Julie Paschkis. Her artwork is absolutely stunning. One of my favourite styles of art is folk art. I love the simplicity and the directness. It is a “No fuss, no muss” style. But don’t let this genre fool you! It is often layered with meaning and folklore. This is part of what makes it so very interesting and intriguing. Often it is that which is simple that is the most profound.

What I love about Julie’s work is her eye for whimsy and detail. At first glance, the work seems simple and straightforward, but upon closer inspection, one might find a small mouse, or a little bird hiding in the perfect place, just waiting to be discovered. And then “Voila!”, the magical creature comes alive, adding a little bit more to the wonder of it all.

She has also illustrated many children’s books, including books of poetry. I look forward to reading them all! It does not matter that I have no children of my own. Such stories and poems are for those who are young at heart and still have a sense of wonder about this big beautiful world.

Her works are bright, cheerful, and inspiring. Art does this… it moves us in ways we might not expect. Sometimes it evokes an emotion. Other times it might call us to action. When looking at Julie’s work, it makes me want to become an artist. Oh, to be able to put down onto paper the amazing images I have in my mind’s eye- that would be a most wondrous miracle.

Please be sure to visit her website and take a look around. She has many wonderful paintings, posters, books, black and whites, and textiles. You just might discover something you fall in love with. I know I did.

http://www.juliepaschkis.com/index.html

Time to retreat...

In this busy life it makes sense to step back every once in awhile and spend some time alone. I guess this would be called a ‘retreat’. It can be an act of withdrawing, as into safety or privacy. A retreat can also be a place of seclusion, privacy, or a refuge. Retreating or going to a retreat can have strong restorative powers. It can help one gain perspective, especially if troubles are being troublesome. It can also help one gather strength needed for going back out into the world again. It will also help one give more time and energy to others once they have been able to recharge their own self.

I am fortunate be have the opportunity this coming weekend to retreat to a place where there will be much silence and solitude; a place surrounded by nature. It will afford some much-needed time to step off this crazy merry-go-round of life. While I will be sharing the space with others, there will be plenty of time for each of us to pursue some time alone. We shall share meals and walks together, but there will be stretches of time where each of us can spend some time alone, recharging our selves so we are better able to handle life once we return back to the real world. It is in this spirit that I offer you the words to a beautiful song by Mary Chapin Carpenter called “I Have a Need For Solitude”.

I have a need for solitude
I’ll never be safe in crowded rooms
I like the sound of silence coming on
I’ll come around when everyone has gone.

I have a need for cool, verdant places
Beneath the trees in secret empty places
Nobody knows so no one will intrude
I have a need for solitude.

But you can find me when the light is changing
At that time of day, when there’s little day remaining
And you can find me, where I’ve been waiting,
Waiting here, for you.

I never was the pretty girl in school,
I never was fast, tough, and cool
All I ever was, for all my life it seems
So hard to love, and harder now to keep.

But you can find me
When the light is changing
At that time of day , when there’s little day remaining
And you can find me, where I’ve been waiting
Waiting here, for you.

I have a need for solitude
I’ll never be safe in crowded rooms
I like the sound of silence coming on
I’ll come around when all the rest have gone

~Mary Chapin Carpenter
“I Have a Need for Solitude”
Age of Miracles


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13l3w50a65o

Taking stock...

Every once in awhile it is a good idea to stop and make time to give thanks for what is present in this life. Lately I have had some significant challenges, but have come to realize that they are entirely surmountable. And in the process I have made the time to think about those little things in my life that truly matter to me. Of course, there are my family and friends, whom I love and adore without question. But it was important for me to also think about what is right and perfect in my life, right now, on a much more mundane scale. And while these things listed are certainly not of any greater importance than the family and friends in my life, they are what give my amazing life sweetness and spice.

So, in no particular order, I offer you 100 things that brighten up my life and I would not want to miss for the world. As you read them, I challenge you to think what would be on your list…

1. The stars in the sky.
2. The planets in our solar system.
3. Io, Callisto, Ganymede, and Europa (four of the many moons of Jupiter).
4. The sun, our closest star. May such light forever warm my shoulders and offer comfort.
5. Poetry- particularly sonnets.
6. Children’s literature. So many wonderful stories and so many amazing illustrations.
7. The dictionary. I began a love affair with this book in grade 6.
8. Chet Raymo, an astronomer and naturalist, who is an amazing writer.
9. Earth’s moon- fat, round, and ever present, reminding us of the cyclical nature of life.
10. Strawberry-Rhubarb jam. Sweet, tangy, and perfect on a hot buttered English muffin.
11. Camels. Lovely brown eyes with l-o-n-g eyelashes to keep out the desert sand.
12. Children’s laughter- the deep, belly laugh they give when caught up ‘in the moment’ of silliness and fun.
13. A cool gentle breeze coming in the window at night to caress my bare shoulder as I sleep.
14. Any song sung by my favourite singer, Van Morrison.
15. Slow dancing, with a sway to match the movement of grass in the wind, or kelp in the sea.
16. Puppies!
17. Pretty summer dresses that make me feel beautiful and feminine.
18. Dr. Seuss stories.
19. Morning coffee- a perfect start to any day!
20. Capers- little buds of zingy goodness to spark up tuna salad, potato salad, or pasta dishes.
21. The local public library- so many books, so little time! And all for free! Yeah!
22. Sugar cookies- especially when made with a star-shaped cookie cutter.
23. The soft call of a mourning dove…coo…cooo…cooooo….
24. The scent of fresh and growing lavender in the garden on a hot summer day.
25. Rainbows
26. The pitter patting sound of rain falling on leaves.
27. Bumble bees.
28. Colouring with perfect, bright felt tip markers and muted colouring pencils.
29. Pigeon, a loveable story-book character created by Mo Willems.
30. The sensation I get when walking barefooted on healthy grass in the summertime.
31. Shovelling snow- it is physical, outdoors, and works up an appetite!
32. An afternoon spent in an art gallery or museum.
33. Listening to live music performed by friends.
34. Waking up with a great poem in my head, one that is just insisting it be put down on paper.
35. Homemade blueberry cobbler with vanilla bean ice cream.
36. Fuzzy caterpillars. And by extension, butterflies!
37. The smell of a campfire and roasting marshmallows.
38. A good night’s sleep- deep and dreamless.
39. Cooking a special meal to honour and care for my family and friends.
40. Patchouli incense. Melllow and evocative.
41. The potential held within a single blank sheet of paper.
42. John Waterhouse prints.
43. Spying wildlife while out walking in nature.
44. Fiddle head ferns, and edible fiddle heads, too!
45. Using my imagination.
46. Art deco-style architecture and artwork.
47. Watching baby ducklings in the pond in the spring.
48. Black and white photography. Ansel Adams prints in particular.
49. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories.
50. The children’s poetry of Shel Silverstein.
51. Owls. Who doesn’t like owls?
52. Sitting under a tree in the summer and reading a book, especially short stories.
53. White tulips.
54. Creative writing.
55. Being trusted with a secret.
56. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla.
57. Orange-spice zucchini bread with orange glaze on top!
58. Claude Debussey’s “Claire de Lune”
59. Apricots.
60. Fresh dates.
61. Fresh figs.
62. Long, slow back rub- both giving and receiving.
63. The sound of a fog horn in the night.
64. Fresh cut flowers at the breakfast table.
65. Comfy slippers to keep my feet warm in the wintertime.
66. The smell of fresh pine needles.
67. The sound of the wind in the trees.
68. Kumquat marmalade- taught myself how to make it and it was delicious.
69. Salad- spinach with little treats such as berries, raisin, or nuts is really fun to eat.
70. Balvenie limited edition single malt scotch. So smooth.
71. Early morning bike rides.
72. Curling up in front of a roaring fire on a cold winter’s evening.
73. My large-brimmed straw hat.
74. The sound of a cat purring while contentedly sleeping in my lap.
75. Sweet peas growing in our garden as they learn to climb the trellis.
76. Grilled veggies- earthy, hearty, and filled with vitamin-y goodness!
77. “Chick-a-dee-dee-dee” song sung by the little black-capped chick-a-dees outside.
78. Fresh linens on the bed, especially after a busy day out in the world.
79. A foot rub.
80. Red vines licorice! And “Good and Plenty” black licorice candies.
81. Dark chocolate and red wine. Mmm.
82. An afternoon spent knitting.
83. The painting of Vincent Van Gogh.
84. The psalms in the bible
85. A walk anytime of the day or night.
86. Reading about the history of science, religion, and philosophy.
87. Key lime pie
88. Cross-country skiing with hot chocolate to follow.
89. My teddy bear.
90. The sound of crickets at night.
91. Hotdogs piled high with saurkraut.
92. Shiny new pennies.
93. Walking along the beach on the wet, firm sand without any shoes on.
94. Freshly ironed shirts
95. Orange juice and champagne…guess that would be a mimosa!
96. Spinning on my drop spindle to transform fleece into yarn.
97. Stained-glass windows whose picture tells a story.
98. The sound of a choir singing in a large, acoustically alive church.
99. Long, slow, deep kisses.
100. Life itself.

Blossoming…

In the dark soil of winter the flower draws strength and energy from the earth, which is needed to nourish the roots. And then, when the sun shines her own energy and warmth down upon the earth from above, the flower slowly pushes through the dark soil, first exposing one green shoulder, then another. And then, miraculously, there appears a tiny bud. And with more courage, strength, energy, and love, there finally appears a tiny flower, with delicate colours that shine back to the sun, for all the world to see, as if to say “Look, I made it!”. That is how I am beginning to feel.

Daffodils...

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

~William Wordsworth

Red bicycle...

The other day I was given the gift of a brand new bicycle. It is really red and it goes really fast. Nothing beats getting outside on an early spring morning to ride along the country roads as the day is just getting started. For the “maiden voyage” on my new bicycle, I was blessed with the perfect morning for such a ride. I donned my ultra-sexy (not!) biking shorts, complete with built-in cushioning to protect my delicate “sit bones”, a jacket, earmuffs, helmet, and gloves. As I pulled out of the driveway, I felt a great sense of joy and anticipation. I love riding a bike. It makes me feel like a kid, as if anything is possible.

As I left the city behind me, heading north along one of the country roads, I noticed a faint mist hugging low along the roadside ditches and ponds. Dried, over-wintered rushes along the waters edge provided the perfect perching place for the first red-winged blackbirds of the season. They were calling to each other with their characteristic song, singing out to all who cared to listen. In fact, the world was teaming with birdsong, complete with robins, blue jays, and even cardinals. There were ducks and geese dotting the farmers fields, along with some cows and horses, who blinked their sleepy brown eyes at me as I whizzed past them at what felt like a very fast pace.

I could hear the wind rushing in my ears and feel the cool morning air on my face and it filled my lungs. My legs felt strong and sure; my hands gripped the handlebars with purpose and determination as I sped along the country road. I felt like I could ride forever. This feeling lasted about 20 minutes. Then, as exhilaration quickly turned to fatigue, I wondered if I might not just simply die right then and there. My lungs suddenly felt hot, as if they might explode. My thighs burned with a red-hot aching and turned to lead. My neck and shoulders felt as if I had been stabbed with a knife in my upper back. My movements became laboured and I felt as if I was moving in slow motion, peddling through molasses. So, I eased up on my speed. After all, I was moving at my fastest ever for the first time in years, so perhaps my body was just not up to the task. It seems the older I get there is a disconnect between what my mind thinks I can do and what my body can actually do.

And after a few minutes, I began to feel more human. My breathing returned to its normal rate, my legs felt less hot and heavy, and my shoulders and back were relieved when I shifted my body to a more upright position. It was then that I realized that it was a pretty good ride for the first one of the season. The days are growing longer and we have been promised a warm summer, so there will be lots of opportunities to get out and explore the world from the seat of my bicycle. It looks like we will have many happy hours together, my new bike and me. This thought makes me very happy, indeed.

Art Credit: Linda Apple

Ancient song...

The idea of nonsense words and poetry has been very intriguing to me as of late. I recently posted here on my blog “Jabberwocky”, by Lewis Carroll, the master of nonsense poems. Hope you enjoyed it!

Interestingly enough, while unpacking some belongings I came across an old journal that contains some writing exercises I had completed quite some time ago. And to my surprise I found I had completed an exercise in which the goal was to write a poem of nonsense words. So, I had made up some words with some of my favourite sounds. The exercise encouraged the writer to think of the rhythm of language and the rhythm of songs once sung and chanted by ancient peoples.

For my nonsense words and the little poem, I made it all up using some of my favourite sounds and rhythms. They just felt right on my tongue and in my ears. As a writer and listener, I love the low, round sounds. They are like a hug as they envelop your heart and soul. Such sounds are so very comforting. My favourite sound is “oo”, as in moon, spoon, and swoon. Other sounds I like are “ko”, “mah”, “vah”, and “shu”.

Here is my first ever nonsense poem, meant to bring back a sense of feeling one might get when gathered with the clan around a campfire, listening to a chant, and feeling its rhythm rock the soul, while offering peace and protection.

Horum baloo anorum
Kaytango Qouray
Ipsalim honorum salichi
Rapoon harmah koquay

Seepshi chan moshu
Alpovin der havengrad
Tie tan blorum valeri
Kotouro te san solumdad

Nonsensical, to be sure. Lots of world sounds contained, some echo Latin, others echo Eastern tongues. Some sounds are reminiscent of ancient Norse gods, while others evoke spices of the orient. All in all it was a fun exercise. It was hard to creat the words, hard to give them a rhythm, rhyme, and meter, but in the end I am glad I stretched myself. And I am very happy to have found my little writing journal.

Oh frabjous day...

This spring day is in need of some silliness and some nonsense! Who better to turn to than Lewis Carroll, the grand master of the nonsense poem! Read on, intrepid poets, read on...

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Crayons...

When I was a little girl, one of my favourite things to do was to colour. There was nothing better than an afternoon spent at the kitchen table, or sprawled out on the living room floor, surrounded by the many colouring books I shared with my younger brother. We had felt tip pens, coloured pencils, and crayons.

The felt tip pens were smart, sharp, and full of vibrant, saturated colour. I did my best to always use them with each stroke placed in the same direction, so as not to damage their fragile tips. The coloured pencils were softer and more delicate in the colour they put down. Their effect reminded me of watercolour paintings, all at once both muted and magical.

But the crayons were the most interesting of all. They felt more organic, somehow. I could lay down the colour, soft or intense, depending on how often my strokes would recur. I could set out different effects, which allowed for more shading with a greater vibrancy that the pencil, and more subtle than the felt tip pens. In short, they were most versatile.

Perhaps one of the reasons I liked the crayons the best is because of the wonderful box they came in. One of the greatest pleasures was to receive a brand new box of Crayola crayons. The large yellow and green box held the promise of every colour under the rainbow. Burnt sienna, brick red, cobalt blue, forest green, marigold, and midnight black. I still remember learning there was something called ‘periwinkle’, from the name printed on the label of the pale purple-blue crayon.

When the small perforations of the box were broken, and the folded-hinge lid was held back, there, standing on the small cardboard risers within the box, stood all of the crayons, in neat rows, like singers in a choir, standing at attention with their perfectly sharpened tips pointing to heaven, as if to intuit from God himself the promise of creativity, imagination, and beauty.

It has been a long time since I have had a box of crayons. Now that I have some new colouring books, it is time to go get some. And then I shall spend a Saturday afternoon, sitting in the sunshine, colouring to my heart’s content. I can hardly wait!

Fresh figs...

Lately I have held a fascination with fresh figs. The reason for this is that an old Greek woman I once knew told me “I should be happy to die eating fresh figs”. She was most sincere and went on to tell me, emphatically, “You have not truly lived until you have had fresh figs”. Since then, I have wondered what they looked like, how they felt, how they smelled, and most of all, how they tasted.

And then one day I was given the gift of three fresh figs from the man that I love. He brought them home to me in his coat pocket. They were beautiful. Each was a dark purple, shaped like a small bell. These particular figs had a beautiful pattern on their delicate skin. From the stem there appeared a pale whisper of yellow-purple star-stripes that fanned out and curved around the most broad part of the fig. They were not very heavy, weighing less than a boiled egg.

When I sliced open the fig, the heart-centre was filled with a muted crimson flesh, filled with a thousand (or more) tiny seeds. It was surrounded by a smooth, white flesh, providing a sharp contrast to the dark purple skin that held this most delectable treasure. The fig tasted mild and sweet, and felt wonderful in my mouth. The seeds added an interesting texture and there seemed to be a bit of creaminess to it all. And then, surprisingly, there seemed to be a bit of a coconut taste that came through at the end. This seemed to me to be very interesting.

So now that I have tasted fresh figs, I want more. They are phenomenal. I have been collecting fig recipes and look forward to including figs in my life. It is as if a whole new portal to fruit has been opened, and I am blessed to have been able to experience such a simple, sweet little treat.