I remember, I remember...

I remember, I remember the house where I was born,
The little window where the sun came creeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon nor brought too long a day;
(But now, I often wish the night had borne my breath away.)

This is the first verse of a poem by Thomas Hood 1798-1845.

My mother used to recite it to me, but it wasn't until I saw it in print that I realized what a sadness it all is. It begins so beautifully, and I always think of the spare room at the Manor House where most of us were born. A special room to me it is, where I first gasped for life's breath, and where my darling Dad drew his last. There was a cupboard in the corner with a big step down, down, down, where my Grandmother kept her fur coats, and there were hat-boxes, and it smelt of mothballs and other smells that I can't describe; old smells; smells I wasn't supposed to smell because I'm sure I wasn't really meant to be in that secret place.

You probably noticed that Thomas Hood was only 47 when he died. So, how did he die? The last line of that first verse seems to tell that he wished he had died at birth. How sad. It doesn't get any better in the next few verses, so I shan't print them here. Did he die of a broken heart? Did he succomb to TB or smallpox or influenza or a common cold? I put the fourth line in brackets and italicized it because it doesn't belong to this sweet thought: I remember, I remember the house where I was born, The little window where the sun came creeping in at morn...I can even remember the scraping sound of the curtains in the spare room when they were drawn!...

The Rarity of Friendship

Pauci viri veros amicos habent, et pauci sunt digni. Amicitia vera est praeclara, et omnia praeclara sunt rara. Multi viri stulti de pecunia semper cogitant, pauci de amicis; sed errant: possumus valere sine multa pecunia, sed sine amicitia non valemus et vita est nihil.

Few men have true friends, and few are worthy. True friendship is splendid, and all things splendid are rare. Many foolish men think always about money, few about friends; but they err: we are able to be strong without much money, but without friendship we are not strong and life is nothing.

Cicero - De Amicitia 21.79-80

Total Lunar Eclipse

It's two o'clock in the morning
The moon is shining brightly
Which wasn't the case four hours ago
Her image hovered slightly
Behind the shadow of the earth
Oh, how her aura glowed
For just a wink there time stood still
And life on earth was slowed

It's hard to think on just Whose hand
Controls the paths of moons and stars
For 'tis in the hollow of that hand
Life's traumas turn to blessed calm
The storms of life would never dare
Disturb the peace I treasure there

Night Visitor

He came this evening, while we were out. In my laziness, I had put the kitchen garbage bag, all tidily tied up, on the porch, onstead of popping it in the car and taking it up to the dumpster. You know, it doesn't pay to be lazy, that's a lesson instilled in us by our well-meaning parents since our earliest days. But it all depends on your perspective: not too long ago, a lone deer benefited greatly from my laziness in the vegetable patch last fall. I'm inclined to believe that this is another such occasion. We can't be sure exactly who came to dine at our front door: Foxy Fowler, Rocky Raccoon, Pepi the Piyoo, but whoever it was, I noticed how very tidily he tore a hole in just the right spot, and extracted the chicken carcass (from the chicken soup on Saturday.)He meticulously cleaned the bones and left a tidy pile for us. Nothing extra, just the bones. How very thoughtful!

Just Sitting

Papa saw him first. Just sitting there, up in the pine tree, all fluffed out. 'What in..what is that? Quick! Oh, no, he's g..no there he is! Quickly. Come and see. Do you see him? Go and get the camera. What is that?' Well, we now have another beautiful bird to add to the growing number on the list. This time a Great Barred Owl came and sat on the pine tree right outside our window for the whole afternoon. He just sat there. At least that's what we thought he was doing. Actually, I think he was biding his time, just waiting for one of those pesky red squirrels to take a trip to the peanut pile by our kitchen window. The storm was just blowing in, so he had fluffed himself up like a huge pillow. He's probably about 20" long, enormous. What a treat for us to be able to study him at such close quarters, without him becoming spooked. 63 years ago, my sister, Gay, had complained to my mother, 'Wigga-Woo come a me nex!' Looking at this majestic creature, I can see why she would have been daunted by the prospect of being carried off to the top of the beech tree, to be shared equally among the fluffy nestlings...!

Does anybody know...

Does anybody know, does anybody care,
Where slugs go when the trees are bare?
Do they all slide south to some warmer clime,
Then slide back again when it's summertime?
I don't really care, but I'd like to know
What happens to slugs when we're covered with snow!

Chili for the Chilly

I made chili today! Jumping out of bed at 5 a.m., I plodded to the kitchen, barefoot and flannel-nightied, with an inner determination: chili and chicken noodle soup. Still half asleep, I waddled down to the storage room downstairs, and took my 2 largest stainless pots down from the shelves. The floor beneath my feet was wonderful, all warm from the below-floor heating, then up to the very cold stone-floored kitchen. I put the groats on to cook for an hour, and figured that they'd be just about ready for our breakfast, by the time I had the chili ingredients all chopped and caramelized, with all the special elusive spices dug out from the jumbled corner cupboard (one day, I have to make a big effort and clean this space out!). This particular chili was a first for me: it was the first time in my life that I had ever used jalapeno peppers! I continue to fight my lone battle that life can be quite exceptional without hot peppers, but today, because I was making a double batch for the youth chili fest on Sunday I decided to swallow my pride and pull out all the stops. So I chopped the onions and peppers, both sweet and hot, smooshed the 12 cloves of garlic, yes 12! Then I washed my hands and washed them again, then just for good measure, did it again, this time rubbing them on the stainless tap to neutralize the garlic. It worked. The 'carne' had been browned and the onions had turned a beautiful golden colour. I turned out the spice cupboard and found all the herbs and spices, some that had come from Arles in the south of France, some from Paris, a dollop of Marmite that Sophie had brought me from England, some from Puerto Rico, herbes de Provence. What an international chef-d'oeuvre! After this extraordinary mish-mash had simmered for a couple of hours, in went the 6 cans (rinsed) of dark red kidney beans, the pile of chopped cilantro and the juice of a lime. The crowning glory was when Papa, taking a spoon, lifted it to his mouth, closed his eyes, breathed in the pungent delight deeply, then tasted the lovingly prepared offering...I think I held my breath: "I think this has to be the very best chili I've ever had." I have fallen in love all over again, not only with my darling husband, but too, with the idea of never thinking that you've arrived, but there's always another adventure just around the corner, in this instance, chili con carne with jalapenos!!
Still basking in the delight of it all, I went to work on the chicken noodle soup: thickly chopped bacon, a nice little chicken, together with her gizzards, heart and liver, lots of veggies: onions, garlic, leeks, celery, turnip, parsnip, red potato, herbs galore, and carrots. Pop it all in the other pot and cover over with chicken broth. Side by side, the chili and chicken filled the house with delightful smellies, all before the sun came up!! What fun, and oat groats to boot! I'm not so sure I could do it every day, but for this day, at least, I'm in my absolute element: and all's right with the world! Bon appetit!

I'm Still Glad...

We used to live at the foot of a hill
If we hadn't moved we'd live there still
The Spring Thaw did our cellar fill
In the house where we lived at the foot of the hill

I'm Glad...

I'm glad I live on the top of a hill
The snow doth fall and the wind blows chill
The mounds of snow around us will
Come Spring trickle down to the foot of the hill

Back-scratching

Almost a year ago, we gave away the old black car that I'd been using for a garden shed! The chap to whom we gave it was so thrilled: he put some new shoes on the brakes, fixed her up with a new muffler system, and behold! She's as good as new. Today, he turned up with a few friends and a couple of loads of dry wood, and they're out there now, having the time of their lives, joking around and stacking the wood. I've made a feast for them to enjoy once the wood's all stacked: a couple of spinach quiches and bratwurst, apple and blackberry pies, fresh home-roasted coffee and thick cream. We shall enjoy a roaring blaze tonight in the fireplace that has remained empty and cold for weeks. We were saving the last few logs for a very, very cold night or if one of us became ill...I can't remember when we've ever felt so healthy! And so we're looking forward to a cozy evening, while the snow continues to fall, snow on snow, and our hearts will sing with thanksgiving for the friends we have who reflect the ebb and flow of life, dealing with the circumstances of lack and abundance, sickness and health, joy and sorrow, the yea and nay of it all, the fragile balance of friendship. We are truly blessed!

Crystal Earth

Tinkling fingers, darkest night,
Glass-like image, fairy lights.
All upon this winter's night,
Crystal covers giant and mite.

Don't fade in sleep upon this night
Or you'll miss the gay delight
You'll not be captured by the sight
Of tinkling fingers, darkest night.