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!