Old friends

Last month, as October opened her gates to heightened colour, snow flurries, and all that a northern autumn holds, Caroline came to stay for a couple of weeks, bringing with her a fresh air of enthusiasm and excitement; warmth and stories, generosity and love. It was a lovely visit, and rather fun to, all at once, want to show her everything that Vermont had to offer. The first day, we let her rest...and indeed, that was a good idea, since her luggage had never left England's green and pleasant shores! Surprisingly, it arrived on our doorstep by 10 o'clock the following morning! Here are a few of the things we did together: picked apples at the Shelburne Orchards; followed by an afternoon at the Shelburne Museum; dinner with the girls at American Flatbread; went to see "Where The Wild Things Are" (Papa cried!); dinner on the lake at the Eastside in Newport; Simon Pierce in Queechee, where we had lunch, then watched a couple of vases being blown and shaped by 2 glass-blowers; we went to the Billings Farm Museum in Woodstock, then on to the Woodstock Inn and a lovely amble through the town..a beautiful fall afternoon; heading north again, (and this COULD be the highlight of her trip!), we stopped off at Exit 17, and took her to the truck stop for dinner!! Real style! Caroline and I, one Sunday afternoon, took a mini-trip up to Averil and beyond to look for a moose, unsuccessfully of course..they rarely show themselves when you actually go looking for them! One day, Caroline took Murgatroyd (my little red VW Rabbit), and said she was off to 'explore' Newport! She had an errand to do, but when, after 5 hours, she hadn't returned, I started to feel a cold chill. The 'what ifs' started in my mind: She's lost! She's in a ditch! She accepted a ride! She's definitely lost! No map! No cell phone! Sun's sinking...getting dusky! So Larry and I jumped in the truck to go and look for Caroline. Just as he put her in reverse, along came Caroline and Murgatroyd down the drive....ahh! Unbelievably enough, she had parked the car, and literally spent 5 hours exploring Newport!! It was the joke of the century! But I've been thinking: this is a pretty neat little lakeside town, and because we live and work here, we don't see Newport as the charming place others see. The boardwalk and state building and the marina, she had lunch at the Montgomery cafe, popped into the newly renovated bookshop and spent ages in there perusing the books and drinking coffee, and a few more of the great shops on Main Street. She spent an extraordinary amount of time at the Pick and Shovel, marvelling at the variety within its walls. She came, she stayed, she went ... I miss her. It was lovely. Her she is hanging over Queechee Gorge!

Shopping

Sapphie Elizabeth is ready to go

Down to the shops, down to the shops!

Why is her mummy so terribly slow,

Terribly, terribly slow?

Sapphie Elizabeth is all decked out

With new coat and hat, new coat and hat!

And is trying so terribly hard not to pout!

Terribly, terribly slow!

Sapphie Elizabeth just loves to go out.

Out to the shops, those magnificent shops!

Come on Mummy, stop mucking about!

Let's down to the shops and play!

October

There's just something about October that makes me want to put the garden to bed, tidy things up around the place, get organized, make bread, eat honeycomb by the spoonful, knit, spin, sew, make jams and fruit butters....is there an internal instinct to survive that which is to come? Maybe, although the sense of urgency is not embroidered into the beckoning. We have picked apples, incorporating the delicious fruit in both sweet and savoury feasts, as well as simply enjoying their crispness along with wonderful cheeses of all moods. Larry bought some cheese back with him last weekend from a retreat up at the other end of the lake, where the monks make delicious cheeses...just the ticket for a sunny fall lunch, alongside a tall glass of Cold Hollow Cider. Here's a jacket, designed by a friend, that I have recently made for that Sapphie Girl, and a cozy sheep hat, the pattern to which I found in Woodstock a couple of weeks ago, on one of our fall exploring days...

There's just something about October...

Did you know...?

Almost home...and there you were with your brother, playing in the road, you poor, silly deer! I saw you, but it didn't help, because there was a long line of cars coming the other way...if you made it, you'll be a little sore tomorrow. Did you know that I tried to miss you? I almost did, didn't I? Do you know that my heart is broken tonight? Did your brother escape? No sign on the road at all afterwards; but a thump, and a dull, sickening ache in my heart are all that remain. I wish I could make you feel better...wish it hadn't happened.

On a hillside in the Autumn, on a warm September night,
Maples flashed their firy plumage, heralding the goose's flight.
Farethee well, deer honkers all, love you dearly, hear your call.

Glacial treasures

And can it be that these green hills have known the depth of glacial chills?

Have felt the slow, determined path of moving ice, and cracking glass?

When did the earth warm just enough to shape the lake, the ridge, the bluff?

And can it be that these green hills can know the joy and sense the thrills

That threaten to o'ertake me now, and leave me with the wonder 'how'?

Ceres - the goddess of vegetation and fruitfulness

Ceres, the goddess of agriculture in Roman mythology, balances precariously atop the gilded dome of Vermont's State Capital, hugging her wheat sheaf. Although, in this photograph, the illustrious deity has been overshadowed by a changing maple leaf! Apologies, dear Ceres, from an inexperienced photographer...

At this time of the year, I become quite domesticated, even fruitful, in my daily 'doings'. Making delicious soups and breads, knitting, jam-making, tidying up the place, all, I suppose, in anticipation of winter's blasts. It's an unwritten beckoning, an instinctive obligation, a 'just in case' feeling. Activities not peculiar to man, when one considers the frantic nut-hoarding of the squirrels in the woods!

And so, dear Ceres, whoever you are, figment of man's imaginings though you be: be pleased today, as this one, together with her squirrel friends, rushes madly about, doing this and that, at a ludicrous attempt to ready her house and home for the coming winter. Goddess of agriculture, vegetation and fruitfulness, we thank your Creator for His abundant blessings in the garden and in the fields, and for His Spirit who inspires us, and for His Son, who gives us life and that more abundantly!

Swan Song in the Meadow

Just look what I found in the meadow this weekend! A splash of floral splendour, that simply could not be left out there in the field for no-one to notice. I gathered them greedily then rushed home to let them drink deeply in my little Simon Pierce vase, almost hidden beneath the maple leaves. Autumn is here, and last night we had a chilling frost. It's time to start knitting and spinning and reading Robert Frost...time for jam-making and apple-picking, time for bread-making and leek and potato soup. Time to fill the house with warmth and provisions, logs and verse, prayer and praise...

Before I Was A Mom - by ?

Before I was a Mom

I never tripped over toys

or forgot words to a lullaby.

I didn't worry whether or not

my plants were poisonous.

I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom

I had never been puked on.

Pooped on.

Chewed on.

Peed on.

I had complete control of my mind

and my thoughts.

I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom

I never held down a screaming child

so doctors could do tests.

Or give shots.

I never looked into teary eyes and cried.

I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.

I never sat up late hours at night

watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom

I never held a sleeping baby just because

I didn't want to put her down.

I never felt my heart break into a million pieces

when I couldn't stop the hurt.

I never knew that something so small

could affect my life so much.

I never knew that I could love someone so much.

I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom

I didn't know the feeling of

having my heart outside my body.

I didn't know how special it could feel

to feed a hungry baby.

I didn't know that bond

between a mother and her child.

I didn't know that something so small

could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom

I had never gotten up in the middle of the night

every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.

I had never known the warmth,

the joy,

the love,

the heartache,

the wonderment

or the satisfaction of being a Mom.

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much,

before I was a Mom.

May you always be overwhelmed by the Grace of God rather than by the cares of life.

* * * * * * * *

This beautiful poem has touched my heart, so I have included it in the Mossfairy pages to bless others. Thank you so much, Linda, I shall treasure it always.

* * * * * * * *

A love song for Sapphie

Skinneraminky dinky dink,

Skinneraminky doo,

I love you!

Skinneraminky dinky dink,

Skinneraminky doo, I love you!

I love you in the morning, and in the afternoon,

I love you in the evening, underneath the moon!

Oh, skinneraminky dinky dink,

Skinneraminky doo,

I love you!

Love from Lalla xxx

Upside down in the garden!

I love just messing about in the garden! I spent the best part of this morning upside down in the front rose bed, and as I weeded and trimmed, I remembered that Mum had given me my very own spot in the garden at Marston Magna. It was a corner wedge, right behind the brick wall that held the iron gate from the front to the back garden on the side of the house. My little bit of earth never felt the warmth of the sun, nor did anything grow in it, but an acacia tree, backed by the stone wall onto the lane. This wall seemed to wick any water from the soil, and try as I would, the acacia tree remained the sole live corner dweller. But it kept me out of mischief for hours on end...mostly I made fairy houses and fantastic worlds out of rocks and twigs and moss...always the moss!

This weekend we had a surprise visit

from Hannah, who spent her waking

hours upside down in the garden, thinning out the baby beets. She seemed so content to be just pottering, continuing the generational delight of pulling weeds and growing things. I took a photograph of her through this sunflower, because it had an enormous bumble bee on it...heaven only knows where it went to! She went home with a beautiful red cabbage, a few onions, and 3 jars of that scrumptious crabapple butter!

...and after!

Here is my very first batch of crabapple cider butter! I'm so pleased with the result: it's absolutely delicious. I could have possibly been a little more proud, however, had I not spilled 2 jars of this heavenly concoction onto the floor! The dogs weren't terribly enthusiastic about cleaning up the dreadful mess, but between us, we managed to do a good job while the first batch was having their boiling water bath to seal them. So, in my advancing years, I'm still learning lessons: it's never to late to learn; if a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well; and always play it safe! For the first lesson, I found a wonderful Amish recipe, but as a matter of fact, it called for 18 gallons of crabapples! So I put my algebra to work, and figured out the formula!! The second lesson involved the idea of not trying to hurry things up; by taking my time, I would have been more successful, and the last two jars would have remained standing. The third lesson received quite a good grade until excited anticipation sent the last 2 jars toppling...I shall be much more careful next time.

The apples came from the crabapple tree outside the church on Crawford Farm Road. It has never failed to produce an abundance of apples, and is always a delight for sore eyes when it blossoms in early summer. We shall enjoy the apple butter in the ramekin for dinner tonight, as an accompaniment to the chicken we shall cook on the spit outside. Hannah's coming!!

Crab Apple Butter ~ Before The Fact!

The colour of these crab apples is exquisite, and it seems such a pity to put them in a pot with sugar and exotic spices and boil the Dickens out of them! The resultant crab apple butter, however, soon eradicates any pity I may have had earlier. Poured into glass jars, sealed and set on the shelves until Thanksgiving, this is the true beginning of Harvest Home! Let the pickling begin!

Poor knee!

Just look at this amazing flower! One of the few that the darling deer left unscathed. If you look closely, you can just about see a honey bee enjoying his breakfast, packing his trousers with the golden treasure. That's when I thought about bees knees, and hoped that this bee's knees were feeling a lot better than my poor knee, which seems to have conked out altogether! I was on my way to the orthopaedic surgeon, when I noticed the sunflower simply shining in the morning's glory, so I took her picture with my phone, and I'm so glad that I did because the rest of the morning went slip sliding down the hill at an out-of-control rate! The sorebones asked me (quite seriously!) how long had my legs been so crooked!! So I told him 62 and a half years! But I was quick to add that they'd done me right proud for all those years, with no complaints until now. So after a thorough examination of the offending knee, they drew 3 vials of fluid from the knee joint! I can't even begin to describe the intensity of the pain! The needle was fatter than my fattest tapestry needle, and in it went, right into the angry joint. The following cortisone shot was a breeze...in fact, even produced a chuckle! An MRI has been scheduled soon, then we'll go from there. I wish I was a bee!

Bringing harvest home...

This week has been incredible! Beautiful sunshine, renewed energy, and up until today, an almost pain-free knee! I have taken every opportunity to be outside soaking up the Ds, and being productive in the garden. On Monday, I cleaned the oven!! Well not exactly, since, of course, nowadays, they clean themselves. It was exciting because it was the first time I'd ever cleaned this one, and now it's all clean and shiny. On Tuesday, I tootled up to Holland to pick blueberries at the Lionel Fortin patch, and, although the bushes looked pretty picked over, I lay down under the bushes to find them beautifully laden. I picked 6 quarts, and a basketful of early yellow apples, some late raspberries, and Lionel threw in an heritage tomato and others and a couple of cucumbers, which was just fine since Moses has pulled up and eaten all the cucumber plants! When I returned home, I froze 6 quarts of blueberries and 2 quarts of applesauce! I dined on tomatoes and cucumbers and salad greens. So begins my most favourite time of the year: bringing in the harvest and laying it up for the winter months; jam making; bread making; knitting and spinning. Here's a lovely photograph of Lionel helping to fill my basket! He and his wife, Simone, are the very salt of the earth.

Cicada joins us for breakfast!

Out of the blue, 'twas the least we could do,

We invited Cicada to breakfast!

It hadn't been planned for Hannah to land 'pon his back,

So impromptu, ere breakfast!

Tucked hidden away, seventeen years to the day,

He stretched and he grew under bark.

'Til at last he was cooked, and out of there booked

It, though hard 'twas to see in the dark!

So merrily skipping, careful not to be tipping

The cream, she came to set table;

But alas, and alack, landed right on his back,

Which rendered that poor thing disabled!

People weren't that keen, to invite him, I mean!

For unhealthy thoughts 'twould awaken.

But with membranous wings, though he now couldn't sing,

We sat him right next to the bacon!

So thanks for the song that you'd taken so long

To develop, but now you lie still...

Under JP's hydrangea, what could be stranger!

You lie silent on top of the hill!

Rain, rain...

There's no doubt about it: the joy of downpours is certainly growing old! However, having said that, it's always a joy to go into the sunny garden after any such recent downpour, to find everything simply dripping. And so I went this very morning, to find the Black Cherry roses bashed and washed by the 'stair-rods' shower that had descended upon us in the past hour. The sun was blazing now, and their upright mates were happily absorbing the brilliant sunshine, while it was quite plain to see that there was simply no going back for the fallen roses. So I snipped them off, carefully remembering my grandfather's instructions to cut on an angle just above the next 5-leaf grouping down, and popped them into Soe's swirling silver (get it? swirling/sterling!) christening cup that had been her Granny Dot's. What a picture!

Moss Down by the River

Over a month ago, I wrote...and we're back! But I wasn't, not really. I'm not sure that I'm really back yet. I'm feeling pressured to write from all quarters, so I shall write, but it's not from the heart...yet!

This weekend, Soe and Colin have come to stay, and we went to the river in Derby, and marvelled at the beauty of the rushing stream, dyed by the ever-present tannin from rotting oak bark. There was a moss-covered rock...

...and we're back!

We (Moss Fairy and I) are fully recovered from a debilitating Russian virus, and it's so good to be able to write again. Much has happened since April's entry, and my heart is full! In a nutshell: the snow has gone; the garden is finally daring to throw caution to the wind and bloom; Hannah's home; Emi has been hooded; Latin teacher~hood has ended; the christening dress is completed and Sapphie has been dedicated!

The Great Awakening

Today was a delicious day packed with different weather patterns and full of activity. Blue skies in the morning, perfect for tilling up the garden, forming the beds, pruning all the fruit trees, (yes, I know it's a peculiar time of the year to be pruning, but it just felt right, and it's always worked before!), pruning the roses in the back garden (ditto, above!), digging the dandelions. In French, they're called 'dents des lions' which means teeth of lions, and I could almost hear them growling at me as I carefully removed them in one piece, tap root intact! It's so exciting to see that all the roses made it through the winter unscathed, and all have lots of strong, new growth starting up around the bottom of each bare stock. The climbing rose is totally out of control, and when things are just beginning to come alive, the old rambler is simply covered with new growth. It'll be a sight for sore eyes a little later on. We have added a couple of plum trees this week to our developing orchard, a generous gift from Sim and Lionel Fortin. Next week we plan to add another pear, a couple of apples, and a pair of cherries. That should do it for a while. There are forget-me-nots all over the place which gives a wonderfully domesticated feel about the place, despite the fact that our old chum, the naughty Black Bear, has come a few times to reorganize this and that. He wasn't at all sure that he liked the squirrel feeding station, and took tremendous pains to tear it all apart. Very clever of him to remove the squirrel house from the tree! He had to lift it up an inch or two and then pull. He tried to take the bench off the porch, but it proved too cumbersome for him, so he left his mark on it before stomping off. It's so lovely that we can all live in harmony with each other! A little heaven on earth...

To The Garden He Came

To the garden he came, silent and heavy.

To the garden he came, sorrowful, pleading.

In the dark of night he came,

Fording Kedron Brook he came,

Needing his Father he came

To pray.

He bade them to stay, except for the three.

He bade them to pray, on bended knee.

And so he went, and fell on his face,

And so He wept: Abba, gratiam Tuam da!

In the garden of Olives, all alone,

He relinquished His will to His Father's plan.

He relinquished His blood in the sweat that flowed

From His brow, in the garden, all alone.

He returned to the three, the sleeping three.

O, could you not stay on bended knee?

How weak is the flesh, yet the spirit strong!

Watch and pray. Watch and pray.

The chant is carried to us today.

The breeze soughed gently, that dreadful night,

The dove felt the rustling, took to flight.

The fruit of the trees, the olive trees,

Wept with Creator, wept in the night.

Wept throughout ages, that believers might

Along with the dove, feel the Saviour's plight.

Drink deeply, often, of the olive tree,

And remember the prayers that were prayed for thee.

Remember the Wind, the Oil and the Dove.

Remember the Anguish that was snuffed out by Love.

Remember, remember the Fruit of the Tree!

It seems like yesterday....

Once upon a time, when our family was almost new, Soe Woe and I went to pick up Hannah and Emi from their school, the Equinox School, up in Dorset Hollow in Southern Vermont. The school was started by a handful of parents who were looking for something exceptional for our children. We found it on our back doorstep, among our own friends, with the leadership of Ron Reuben, headmaster extraordinaire. We loved all the teachers. We loved the daily ebb and flow of the teaching program. We absogoshdarnlutely loved each other. Soe couldn't wait to join the gang in the following school year. She couldn't wait to learn those circle song-games like "Oats, Peas, Beans, and Barley Grow", and "Go In and Out The Windows". Dawn Pliner, the mother of her very mostest best friend, Aura~Joy, would be her Kindergarten teacher. And then, just like that, we were gone. Gone from all that we held near and dear. Sadly, we took all the sheep up to live with the John Thorssin family up in the Hollow. We packed up our meagre belongings in the U~Haul, and we were gone. Goodbye house and barn. Goodbye dear ones. Goodbye Equinox School. Goodbye Mach's Market. Goodbye Mill Pond and ducks.
Hello Boothbay Harbour, hello home-schooling, hello new world and new friends...but the sadness of leaving Vermont is engraven on our hearts forever. It was April 17th 1985: Soe's 5th birthday...

So, here's the orignal...

LEISURE ... by William H. Davies

What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep and cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait 'til her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this, if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.

With sincere apologies to WH Davies...

What is this life if, when cobwebs clog,

We have no time to sit and blog.

No time to gaze into our dreams

And write, contented, near the streams.

No time to see, when snowflakes fall,

The stately pines, majestic, tall.

No time to share the beauty found

Along the woodland's mossy ground.

No time to wait, to linger long,

To hear the earth's sweet, mirthful song.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stop and stare.

Happy Birthday, Moses!

In the first year of my life, lots of amazing things have happened, just a few of them are worth setting down for biographical posterity!
Let's see now, I think we'll start with those things which I wish had been mastered, and yet look forward to this coming year when they will be, for sure:
1. Swimming. I'm not 100% sure that this is an enjoyable passtime. Last year the river was so high and raging from all the rain, that it took all my courage to follow Sadie in to retrieve various sticks, and each time I ventured forth, my life (short, as it was) flashed before me. Mama Sally tried her level best to convince me that this was what I was supposed to love by going in with all her clothes on, but the resulting image was so alarming, that all of my worst fears were confirmed, and I ran from the river with my tail firmly tucked!
2. Come! Yes, well, there's a very good reason why this command hasn't yet been mastered. First of all, when I was little, we went to Obedience School. I loved it! I made lots of friends and was rewarded with delicious bits of something or other every time I did whatever it was that was asked of me. Later, we'd practice, and again the treats were forth-coming. Now, when I Sit!, Stay!, or Come!, okay, there's a pat on the head, or a 'Good boy!', but hey, where are the treats? I mean! So now, when Mama Sally calls me, I look at her and then sit down! I'm trying to teach her to remember the treats, and I believe she is beginning to understand! Boys, some humans are really hard to train!
Let's look at some things that have transpired in this first year: some good, some not so good (apparently!):
1. I'm a great retriever.
2. I like to nose around in the waste-paper baskets.
3. My favourite things to chew are loo-paper holders, gloves, socks, fat-wood, and paper towels with bacon drippings on them.
4. I do have a basket full of toys. These keep me occupied when the above aren't around.
5. I just adore to eat Sadie's poos! Mama Sally says O God and walks away, but Papa runs at me screaming, which only makes the game more fun! Sometimes, I'll run away, and he thinks he's fixed it, but then I sneak back and get the rest when he's far away!
6. It rarely happens, but when Mama Sally is sick, Sadie and I are allowed to lie on the bed and make her feel better. We get lots of treats during these times.
7. Sometimes, Sadie and I get to go to the Oasis Pet Resort and Spa. We get to play with lots of friends and get our pedicures, groomings and shampooings done. We like to spend a little time here, yet sometimes, we've had to stay a bit too long, and we miss our walks in the woods.
8. A rare treat is when Cooper and Cabot come to visit. They're urbanites and live in Burlington, but you'd never know it. They fall right into place up here in the Northeast Kingdom, especially when Cabot wears his orange collar!
All in all, it's been a pretty fantastic first year, and I think I shall go outside and chase a red squirrel to celebrate birthday #1!

A Lullaby For Sapphie

Lulla, lulla, lulla, lulla-bysie,

Do you want the moon to play with?

Or the stars to run away with?

They will come if you don't cry.

Lulla, lulla, lulla, lulla-bysie,

In Mama's arms a-keeping,

And soon you'll be a-sleeping,

Sing lulla, lulla, lulla, lulla-by.

Two Weeks Old!

Sapphie my little one! My own and my dear!

Today is your birthday! Two weeks, to be clear!

I wish we could snuggle, I wish we were near,

To celebrate this milestone in your very first year!

Feeding Our Furry and Feathered Friends

We are extraordinary! Human beings, that is. Case in point: there is a multi-billion dollar business out there, which creates contraptions which prevent squirrels from raiding the bird-feeders. Poor little things! Thank goodness that in the Book of Genesis, the Almighty didn't tell us to "have dominion over all that creepeth on the earth, and make sure those pesky squirrels don't steal the sunflower hearts!" In response to the growing need for a separate squirrel feeding station, where none could possibly be accused of 'stealing' anybody's hearts, my beloved husband has spent a large portion of his annual income on setting up such a place. First of all, he had to make sure that this sanctuary, for so it is, was in close proximity to the red squirrels' winter establishment: the rock wall in our back garden. He hauled in a huge stump on which to plonk the block of 'squirrel candy': at $24.95, quite the deal! The next step was to attach to the huge pine tree the greatly 'engaging' Squirrel Spinner, which, he was assured, would capture the squirrels' attention in their relentless pursuit of corn on the cob for heaven's sake! All for the very affordable price of $47.95! Now for the chefs d'oeuvre! A rust-resistant/weather-resistant/bird-resistant little house, the roof of which is raised by the hungry squirrels in order to retrieve the tasty snack inside. To further enhance his purchase, he opted for the bargain kit of house and 5lb. of this tasty snack for the amazing price of $52.95!! It took the squirrels a few weeks to get the picture, but O the joy when we watched squirrel #1 raise the roof of the snack shack, to be followed a few days later by his cousin having a twirl on the corn-spinner! Last week a family of 9 wild turkeys, a Tom and his 8 wives, discovered the block of candied corn on the stump! What a sight for sore eyes. They were later joined by a pileated woodpecker, who was tired of looking for slumbering bugs. For the vastly extravagant amount of $125.85 we have, in our backyard, entertainment of the finest kind. We still feed the birds, but I'm so pleased that there is no sign warning: NO SQUIRRELS ALLOWED!

Sapphire Elizabeth Kouri

This is the whole reason for living...