As Hours Go By

(With apologies to Marianne Faithful - 'As Tears Go By')

It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the puppies play
Doing things I used to do
They think are new
I sit and watch as hours go by.

In swirling waters deep they romp and play
They splash and woof the passing hours away
But now it's time to head back home
To find their dins and a parsley bone
I sit and watch as hours go by.

Moses Went Down The Stairs Today...

(To be sung to the tune of 'Here We Go Round The Mulberry Bush...)

Moses went down the stairs today, stairs today, stairs today,
Moses went down the stairs today,
And fell on his nose at the bottom!

My Best Friend

We first met 35 years or so ago. He, a lanky 19 year-old with thick wavy hair down to his shoulders, with an easy-going walk that betrayed his Puerto Rican childhood. A walk that showed the world that he held it in the palm of his hand. He owned a red step-sided Chevrolet that he named Ruby Truck. Ruby was awesome, and it was a sad day indeed when, many years later, he sold her for $150.

His cousin, Beriah, and I were good friends, and he taught me how to muck about with clay, and throw it on a wheel. I made some pretty nice pots, and spent many happy days at the gallery that the family owned. It was through Beriah that I met my best friend.

Our very first date was a picnic on the Battenkill River which flowed through our town. He brought his fishing rod, and I brought the oatmeal/apple cookies. We sat on a thick wool plaid blanket, and enjoyed the stillness of the day. He stole kisses in between casts!

We were married within the year. He had turned 20, and was by now quite grown up. We will celebrate 34 years in a week or so. Our favourite passtime? Sitting on the river bank, or in a canoe, throwing out the line, listening to the occasional 'plop' of a rising fish, enjoying the quiet of the afternoon.

It's good that we haven't changed too much.

It's good that we are still best friends.

Thank you, Larry, for the best years of my life. I love you so much.

The Passage of Time

I'm sure that last year, (can it only have been last year?) I planted the entire veggie patch in one day. I just decided that this was the day, and I did it.
This year, however, is slightly different. Although I planted the onion and leek seedlings earlier in the spring, yesterday the 7 young tomato plants were lovingly set to earth, firmly attached to their towers. Then I had to have a sit down with a chilled tonic water! Today was a new, warmer day, and I was thrilled and invigorated to know that at the end of this day, the rest of the garden would be in, following an unspoken tradition that dictates that your garden should be completely planted out on Memorial Day weekend. So I raked, cultivated, and generally prepared the row to receive Johnny's Provider beans. I set the seeds in a nice straight row, and having completed the task, realized that although I find it easy to bend down and remain in that position for a good hour or so, getting up again and staying in a nice upright position is another story altogether!! I'd had it. Completely side-swiped, I waddled over to the porch to rest my weary bones. It's all very sad and pathetic. But I'm not too worried: tomorrow is Memorial Day, and by the end of tomorrow...!

My Children

During the past couple of weeks, all 3 of my children have come to our house to visit, and each of them brought a good dose of sunshine with them.

Penelope Ann: The youngest of the three, came bearing gifts galore from the Farmers' Market in Burlington. The purple sage, a Mothers Day gift, keeping to the tradition of replenishing my herb garden. She found the most beautiful rhubarb, which was translated into a scrumptious Soe Rhubarb Fool, the best I've ever had, spiked with lemon and tangerine zest. Her plan was to create a delicious Mothers Day Brunch, and she succeeded, gaining a high honours accolade in the process. She produced this amazing Springtime Quiche, which included asparagus, spring onions, mushrooms, garlic and lots of other delectables, and we decorated it with pastry cut-outs of mushrooms. It certainly was a chef-d'oeuvre! (See PenelopePost - there's a picture!) Thank-you, Soe, for your warm, giving heart. Thank you for that soft love, with which you embrace us. Thank you for your careful, adventurous spirit, daring, yet cautious! Thank you for daring to be you, careful in purpose and exuberant in joy! I love you!

Emma Hull: The middle child! Yet she has risen far above the tags that are so often associated with this dilemma. Emi came this past weekend, bringing Kevin, Cooper and Cabot with her. Kevin is her best friend, a friendship that we see growing and maturing every time we see them, becoming more at peace, more in harmony, more in depth. Emi thinks that she's training Kevin well, but don't be deceived! Kevin is a very clever chap, and knows exactly which voice to use, which face to pull, which demeanour would work best for any given situation. And still, Emi thinks she's training him well! Yet, we saw with our very own eyes the colour of the new collar and leash for Kevin's brand new CHOCOLATE LAB, Cabot: let's just call it NORTHEAST KINGDOM ORANGE! Thank you Emi, for teaching us the social graces that you have learned along your journey. Thank you for showing me how to be organised. Thank you for being such a great communicator, encouraging us to be the same, especially in family matters. Thank you for your terrific sense of humour, and for getting us all hooked on Fawlty Towers, or was that Farty Towels?! Thank you for achieving your goals without wavering. But most of all, thank you for your soft heart and deep love, the glue of this family. I love you!

Hannah Holden: Our first-born. Our angel. Our joy. Our Hannah! How could our hearts hold any more blessing and joy! Hannah took time out of her busy schedule to come and visit us this Sunday, filling the house with her sweet spirit and laughter. She has left her beloved Brian in California for a couple of weeks, to go and be with her grandmother, Mama Sonia, who is weakened with years and sickened lungs. To go back 30 and more years, Hannah and I took a trip to England. I was 5 months full of new baby, a baby that couldn't make it, a baby that needed to return to its heaven. On the plane I kept passing out, and Hannah sat on my tummy and stroked my face each time. This was later told to me by the crew members, who praised this little tiny person for her presence of spirit and gentle ways. Yesterday, she called us from Mama Sonia's apartment, and told us how she had massaged Mama Sonia's face with her lotion. Mama Sonia was absorbing far more than her precious lotion, but, too, the love of this grand-daughter who had come so far to give so much. Thank you, Hanushka, for that abundance of love. Thank you for putting up with this unstable mother during our rocky times. Thank you for being the strength I needed. Thank you for being such a good friend to your sisters, an enduring and growing friendship through the years. Thank you for who you are, and the sincerity of your heart. I love you!

My Three Darlings. My Three Joys.

May God Our Father

Bless You and Keep You

May He Make His Face To Shine On You

And Give You Peace

I Love You All

Mama

Where E'er You Walk

Where e'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade,
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade,
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.

Where e'er you tread, the blushing flower shall rise,
And all things flourish, and all things flourish,
Where e'er you turn your eyes, where e'er you turn your eyes,
Where e'er you turn your eyes.

Some things just have to be written down right away, so you don't forget them, and this is one of them! A beautiful poem/song from George Frederick Handel's 'Semele'. I heard it today and wondered at the heart of the one who wrote these beautiful words. He must have loved deeply.

Garden Worms

They never rest from toil, ever churning up the soil,
Making tunnels, leaving castings there,
My gardens healthy, rich and rare,
My heart o'erflows with love so dear
For lowly earthworms ever near,(this poem is most strange and queer!!)

And during times of rain, something jingles in my brain,
An alert goes off inside my toff,
I don my coat and then I'm off,
Not caring for my cold and cough,
To search for stranded earthworms who have slithered onto gravel rough. (Looks like cough!)

The rain has gathered on the grass, the lowly earthworm there I pass,
To rid his gleaming outer coat of the nasty gravel overcoat.
I place him gently on my heap of compost where he used to sleep
The sleep that caused one end to smile, as he lingered on my compost pile.
A pox on any who would look to pierce him with a fishing hook!!

Fish Hook

A few days ago, my heart felt such loss at the devastation on the other side of the world. Then yesterday, my baby brother, Norman, came to visit with his dear friend, Bridget. There is absolutely no room left in my heart to contain any more blessings!! We were swept over by an overwhelming flow of joy and clung to each other for those precious moments of rememberance and fraternal love and connection. Oh, precious, sweet man!

And so, inevitably, I've been pondering the past, and realized that as part of a large family, we were always together: we played cricket together, we climbed trees together, we bashed nails in things together, there really seems to have been nothing that stands out that Norman and I did together without all the others joining in. One event stands out, however. He managed to get a fish hook stuck in his hand fairly seriously, and he wouldn't let anyone look at it except me. Not only that, I was the only one who was allowed to pull it out. He can't have been more than 4 or 5 at the time, which put me at the ripe old age of about 10. I can't really remember much about the screams of agony, only that a bond was born. I was the chosen one! Then we all went away to our separate schools and that was that really. And here we are, 50 years later, still connected by the ties that bind.

He's going fishing today...!

...without warning

Oh dear! It's so very difficult to know how to write this. I want to describe the enormous sense of loss I feel in my heart with the news that over 20,000 people are dead this weekend in Old Burma, and another 45,000 are missing, following the devastation of a cyclone across the peninsular. The satellite before and after photographs are an utter nightmare, the after photograph showing the entire south-eastern coast and inland lying under the Indian Ocean. They never had a chance, it hit without warning.

So how do you go about planting out the sweet peas, and building a trellis for the tender young plants? Where do you find the importance of teaching 12-14 year-olds Classical Latin? How can I carelessly tumble on the ground with the puppy dogs, while we play tug-o'-war with an old sock?

Because life is so very fragile, and there are no guarantees of tomorrow or even the next moment. Therefore, it's up to each one of us to live life to the fullest. We can't afford to waste a single moment on self- pity, self-importance or selfishness in whatever form it may materialize. It's up to each one of us to egg the next generation on, demonstrating every day, the preciousness of life, showing them through our actions, not our words, how to live the abundant life.

So, call up the Red Cross or Samaritan's Purse, those organizations who are on the cutting edge, to find out how you can help the survivors of this cataclysmic event, then go out and plant your sweet peas, while you whisper a prayer.

I do not love thee, Dr. Fell

Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare;
Hoc tantum possum dicere: non amo te.

I do not love thee, Dr. Fell, the reason why I cannot tell.
This one thing alone I'm able to tell: I do not love thee, Dr. Fell.

For some reason, this silly little poem reminds me of Papa Roger. He used to recite little ditties that his mother, Granny Anne, used to make him memorize, and I'm sure this was one of them. So in honour of Papa Roger, I asked my students to memorize the Latin version. They took it on with much gusto, except one. I suggested she put it to music. She decided to play the part of Olga the Viking, and sing it opera-style. We invited Dr. O, the headmaster, to the 'performance', and he graciously accepted, gallantly sitting through the extremely painful performance! She was a good sport and recited the poem with much wailing and hysteria.

After all, Latin could be quite tedious, if a little merriment were not injected into the lessons!

Leeks in a Row

Lately, I've been feeling slightly discombobulated, and until today, I haven't quite understood why. And now I know. By the time the sun set this evening, all the onion plants were in: red, and 2 different yellows; the tiny leeks are all dibbled in, lined up like soldiers in 2 very straight lines, and Larry sowed the peas under the fence, and finished tilling the new beds out back. Ahh! Peace, at last.

Tomorrow, Spates will deliver the 4 hybrid roses I ordered, and any day now, Eric will bring the bushes and a load of triple milled mulch, and our sunken garden out back will be well on the way to completion. A cozy place to barbeque and relax in the hammock, enjoying friends, being quiet.

Tonight, I shall sleep the sleep of the blest, knowing that I have all my (ducks) leeks in a row. God's in His heaven, all's right with the world.