First Footing

My Scottish grandfather used to be the designated 'first footer'. This meant, the first person over the threshold of a home after midnight on 'old year's night', as my mother's family used to call it. In order to bring luck he had to be tall and dark, and 'Other Daddy' fit that description. I called him 'Other Daddy' because my father was away in the second World War and my mother and I lived with her parents during those years. 'Other Daddy' died at this time, on old year's night, but not from first footing!

There are a couple of other traditions connected with this. For instance, the first footer would bring in a lump of coal to represent warmth for the coming year. Also, some kind of a small cake for nourishment. An English woman I met once told me that silver coins would be scattered on the stairs and swept under the carpet, to be found and used by the housewife at any time during the next year. Presumably those were for prosperity.

Our New Year's Eve will be a quiet looking back and a beginning to think about what those resolutions might need to be. I'm feeling the need to do some getting rid of the past, in order to make way for the future. So I've made a small start by going through my emails and deleting as many as feels fit. It's somewhat horrifying to see how much time this has taken!

And now to do some housecleaning in anticipation.

Winter solstice and new moon

I don't know about you, but since the weekend something in the atmosphere has changed for me... for the better, I'm glad to say. Maybe it has to do with the combination of new moon and winter solstice, but I'm feeling a new mood of hope and energy for some new initiatives, the latter something I haven't experienced for quite a while.

Looking back, I realize the past six months have been some of the most taxing of my entire life. I'm grateful that I survived and managed to accomplish them.

And now I look forward to the coming thirteen Holy Nights and twelve days of Christmas. I wish you all happiness and blessings.

Today, the 16th December

I read/heard somewhere that today was Beethoven's birthday (if I remember correctly). What I'm sure about is that whoever gave me that information also suggested this was the day one could/should listen to all his symphonies. Much as I love Beethoven and his symphonies, I have to say that this idea fills me with horror. Truth is, I'd be as full as can be just by listening to one, and more than that would be sensory overload for sure.

Yes, as I get older I find the 'less is more' thinking closer to my heart. Certainly I read less and take more time to absorb what I do read.

On a completely different note, today used to be a holiday in South Africa. This was not a festive day, far from it. It was rather a solemn remembrance of a vow taken. Known as the Day of the Covenant, this was used year after year to help entrench apartheid. Maybe the 16th bears another name now. Goodness knows these days there are enough official holidays in South Africa to fill a month of Sundays. Maybe even more. The trend there seems to be more rather than less. In North America we're going the other way, reducing the number of days off. In this case I feel that's a shame. So many people work too-long hours these days and days off provide welcome and needed breathing space.

Penguins

Now I ask you, when and how did penguins become part of Christmas?

To answer my own question on a purely factual level... About five years ago I sent my husband out to buy wrapping paper. To my dismay he brought back a huge roll of red, black and white, yes, penguins. I say my dismay because I usually look for colours and patterns that have some kind of traditional connection with the season. And that paper lasted -- well, let's just say, too long. I think it was last year that we managed to use up the last scrap.

But it turns out my husband was ahead of the trend. Now I see penguins everywhere. We've even received a penguin Christmas card. And over the weekend when I was driving to visit friends, a blown-up figure in a front garden caught my eye. Yes, instead of a Santa, it was a penguin wearing a Santa hat!

So I'm baffled. All I can say or think is that they somehow look cute and cheerful.

On the water

Ships, boats and sailing on the water have been somewhat on my mind recently. This was sparked by singing the carol 'I saw three ships come sailing in...', and by news of a friend who was off to take a cruise. She told me how much she loves cruising. And then I glanced at a travel report that stated the one thing you don't get on a cruise is the sensation of being at sea!

I've been fortunate in my life to take short and long journeys across the oceans. My first experience was when, as a young teenager, I sailed from Cape Town to the U.K. This is a two-week trip I've done five times, and once I did the three week up the East coast of Africa from Durban to Venice, stopping at exotic destinations on the way. Smaller scale are so many crossings of the English channel on visits to and from the European Continent. Smaller still, sailing from Cape Town to Robben Island before it was the famous prison, around the Vancouver islands. Smallest of all sailings and boatings on lagoons, rivers and lakes.

So all this is a preamble to a deeper wondering (no pun intended): what really is the difference we experience while on the water? I don't think it's simply the fact that we're no longer standing on the earth with all its forces under our feet. There's something special about being free of the land that puts you (well, me at any rate) in a different soul space. Thinking about those cross-channel trips, I remember standing at the rail watching the sea drift past, breathing in the salty air and feeling enlarged and uplifted.

Yes, the boat carrying us over the water is a potent image, and one I'm happy to live with in these advent days.

First Sunday in Advent

Isn't it wonderful how the smallest thing can make your day and put you on the right track?

Last week, on the 24th to be precise, I went to get a blood test as I have to do from time to time. The young nurse was probably from somewhere in middle Europe. When I remarked that we were a month away from Christmas Eve she gave the sweetest smile. I could see she was remembering some special, magical times. "I love it," she said.

Now over the years it's happened that I can feel overwhelmed by all I have to do in the weeks leading up to Christmas. But that little encounter switched something for me. It enabled me to start the preparations with enjoyment and anticipation. What a difference!

Quetions

Have you noticed how many questions there are around these days? It seems to me we're always asking small children questions. Do you want this or that? Shall we go here or there? I don't want to get into how we're forcing them into decisions which could cause stress because that's a whole 'nother subject. Sad to say, I fall into the trap and catch myself asking my grandson to make choices.

But more than this, we adults are also turning statements into questions, as if asking for affirmation, or maybe it's to be inclusive. You know the kind of thing "There's a new traffic light on XYZ street?"

Not that I have anything against questions per se. In fact, I think it's a good thing to carry questions whether they concern a present situation or a whole life. Generally I live with quite a few. Sometimes I get the answers, sometimes I forget the more trivial questions, and probably a few of my more important ones will remain unanswered in this lifetime. And that's okay.

To end this post, here's a poser: If all things in life are ephemeral, except for the internet, how's that going to affect our future evolution?

An auspicious day

November 9th is my husband's birthday, so yes, it has to be an auspicious day for me and us and our family.

However, there's another anniversary that I want to write about today, and that's to do with world events.

Twenty years ago today we saw two unexpected and extraordinary events that were to have far reaching effects. They were the fall of the Berlin Wall, heralding the end of communism in Eastern Europe; and in South Africa the announcement the Nelson Mandela was to be released from prison, one of the first steps in the dismantling of apartheid.

It's still amazing to me when I look back. And I have to wonder what particular forces were working into the world at that time. Both political systems had existed for forty years, and on one day everything changed. Truly amazing.

As we approach Remembrance Day on Wednesday, I'm reminded that November is the month when the dead are closest to us. And I have to wonder if there's some small relationship between this and that auspicious and extraordinary day, 9th November twenty years ago.

The Art of Gardening

I took a stroll around the block yesterday and came upon a lovely sight -- a maple tree, glowing yellow, that stood a little in front and to one side of a silver fir. The juxtaposition of those two brought such delight, and I thought, 'Isn't that part of the true art of gardening?'

Years ago I was fortunate enough to visit Sissinghurst in the south of England. Walking around, I was truly blown away by just this thing of juxtaposition. Not so much the flowers, but the shape and colour of leaves, how this plant set off the other at its side, or behind or in front. What amazing knowledge and imagination Vita Sackville-West and her husband (Harold?) must have had to create these exquisite beds and vistas. Also, of course, they planted with the awareness that their garden would only be at its best years in the future. Nowadays, in our suburban subdivisions its more of an instant thing: plant three shrubs when one would do so that the garden looks filled and established right away. Truly a different approach to garden design.

I wish I had the Sissinghurst kind of talent that I'm so in awe of, but it's not going to happen for me in this lifetime. Sometimes my husband and I achieve serendipitous effects, sure, but it's more by good luck than planning. Right now I'm doing the cutting down of dead perennials. Little by little it's getting done, and once the leaves have all fallen and been swept up, our modest garden will be ready for bed.

Songs and melodies (longer post)

In my life I often go about with a song in my heart or a melody on my mind. This is part of my birthright, a heritage from my Dad, who knew the words to so many songs, and cheerfully sang or whistled about the home. I'm happy with that, and so was my mother. In her later years I was kind of surprised to hear her say how much she enjoyed Willie Nelson, and in particular his song 'Crazy'. So I began to pay more attention to this artist, and soon after heard an interview with him by someone whose name I forget. But this guy asked Willie how he came up with so many songs and melodies and Willie answered in a most wonderful way. He said words to this effect: "Melodies are all around us, just out there, in the air. Can't you hear them? All we have to do is reach up and pluck one."

Doesn't this hark back to the time when we were all connected and could hear the harmonies of the spheres?

But today, our air is increasingly polluted, so I have to wonder if that's affecting all the music and songs that are being composed and widely distributed today. It struck me that most modern songs are by no means easy to sing. That, I'd say is really sad. I heard my step-granddaughter, who has quite a talent, learning to sing 'Roxanne' via Rock Band or whatever the name of that is. Hmm. Okay. She did sing it a couple of times around the house, but not much. And that particular song is actually a fairly mild example. Rap, of course, is quite another question.

These are the thoughts have have been fluttering around me, but I want to end with an anecdote. Years ago when I was at the Royal Ballet School, we were given the task of choreographing a small dance. The music I chose for mine (I can't remember, but maybe there were three of us) was Ravel's 'Pavane for a Dead Princess'. About thirty years later one of our sons learned to play it on his flute. Maybe because I love the silvery sound of this instrument it occurred to me that this would be a piece I'd like to have played at my funeral (no morbid aspect intended!!). I remembered that this morning, and thought well, I wonder if I would change my mind and choose something different now, all these years later (probably thirty, coming to think of it!). It was quite a while since I heard this music.

Off I went to bath and when I came back to the bedroom what do you think was playing on Radio Canada? Uh huh. You guessed it.

Minimizing electricity use

I'm slipping in late here, but still wanted to blog on the climate change blog action day.

When we first came to North America, I was astonished at the proliferation of lighting in hotels, restaurants and supermarkets. It's admirable that some of the latter at least are making some sort of gesture towards a lower level of lighting, but you still see lots of artificial illumination even in places where there's plenty of daylight.

However, what I'm doing these days is trying to be mindful of the small things that add up to unnecessary use of electricity in the home. The thing is, every little tiny light that shines uses power. Think about the smoke alarm, the illuminated digital clock on your stove, same kind of thing on your micro-wave if you have one, even your toaster perhaps and so on and so on. Some of these, of course, shouldn't be switched off, but others certainly can. We actually have a printer for our computer that needs to stay on, and yes, shines a light. I would never have bought that if I'd known.

So I do what I can. If I need to recharge the battery on my laptop, I make sure to unplug at the wall when it's done, otherwise the current continues to flow. Same with our cell phone. Our son has gone one better. He charges his cell in the car via the cigarette lighter. This lead was ordered on line, and I think that's a good idea.

I make sure to shut the door of our drier so the light doesn't shine to no purpose, and of course to switch off lights when we're out of the room. I'm sure there are other things, but these are what came to mind when I started to think about how we live today. In future I'd love to be greener, and to make more use of solar power. Hopefully that will happen.

This probably doesn't add up to a whole lot, but I'm sure that every little bit of saving has to count. And if I'm using electricity, I try to remind myself to be grateful.

I can't resist sharing this! Plus, October 15 is Blog action day

Well, Tuesday evening we were heading to a potluck celebration for Michaelmas Day. The radio was playing jazz, someone on alto sax with a tune I knew, but could only remember part of the title, which was, La la la and Roses. So I'm trying to think of flowers of three syllables, marigolds, hollyhocks, and so on. My dear husband's contribution was... chrysanthemum!

Anyhow, I wasn't getting much further when we came to a stop sign. We waited while a woman who was obviously walking home after a day at work, having got off the bus, crossed the road in front of us. She was wearing a short skirt with sheer grey stockings, and they were embellished with dots the size of a quarter, at least. With my gaze fixed on that unusual legwear, behold, the missing word came to me.

Polka dots!!! Yes, polka dots and roses. Not another flower at all.

Hmm. I'm not sure what to make of this, but there you have it.

And I'll be blogging on the 15th about climate change, which is this chosen subject for this years' Blog Action Day.

See you then.

Hiatus

Forgive me, dear Readers. Although lots has been fluttering by, I haven't had the time or energy to actually post. This has to do with adjusting to my new day job, which is 9 to 5 four days a week and requires plenty of commitment and hands-on activity.

I hope to post sporadically and resume a more regular schedule once I settle in to my new routine.

Meanwhile, the last day of summer is past and the trees are turning. So the focus turns towards the last quarter of the year.

I love summer, and yet...

These early autumn days amaze me. There's the astonishing matter of body adjustment I've mentioned before, how 18 degrees last week felt freezing to me, and this week, fa la la, quite lovely and warm, thank you very much.

But more than that I experience a flood of creativity, energy and ideas flowing in both for new impulses and towards renewing the lagging and lapsed. I mean, yesterday, putting other projects on hold, I wrote a complete 1500 word piece, a memoir for a writing competition (and sent it off), and this morning, behold, a poem is right there, on my notebook in less than five minutes! Where does this all come from?

Quite the question, and one that science doesn't seem to look at or have any suggestion to answer. However, it seems to me there's a clue from spiritual science. Working as I do with the weekly verse from Rudolf Steiner's Calendar of the Soul, I wonder if this change in my conscious and creativity has to do with the 'light from the world wide spaces' that 'shines into the Spirit's depths'. I'd say that yes, to some extent at least this resonates and echoes with my experience.

Flying by

I'm lucky enough to have a good view of sky and tree tops from my bedroom window. Yes, I can also see a bit of neighbouring rooftop, but not much. So after waking I've enjoyed watching birds flying by, seagulls and geese, sometimes crows, all stretching their wings wide and gliding with the wind. Or, to be more accurate, with the thermals.

What I'm trying to observe is the different manner in which the different kinds of birds flap their wings. My husband seems to know this without thinking about it and can easily identify a duck, for instance. Me, I have to work at it, but it's an enjoyable observation exercise. I can do a humming bird.

When I started to think of the various birds that we see around here, I also thought about insects that fly. In the garden I've seen a very few bumble bees, and quite a few wasps. Which leads me to the flying annoyances that have been far too prolific this summer -- the mosquitoes. I'm so glad they've given us a break this past week. Now all they have to do is keep away when the weather warms up again as it surely will.

The results of a wet July

For the first time in my entire life I'm wondering if it's worth having a garden -- flower and veggie. At the moment our garden is full of flowers and full of beans, and I hesitate to go out there, let alone pick anything. The trouble is, the mosquitoes seem to think all these plants belong to them and send their special attack forces out the moment they see me creeping across the grass, hoping to take them unawares.

They don't give my husband quite such a hard time and he says 'sorry to say it, but I'm glad they prefer you'. My daughter-in-law has a theory. She believes us O negative blood types are more tasty for the mozzies. She could well be right!

Anyhow, I'm still hoping this spell of very hot weather will kill some of them off and make the rest retreat, at least.

Walking

I was dismayed to hear recently on the radio about two studies done to determine the benefit (or not) or swinging the arms when you walk. One study concluded there was no benefit whatsoever, and that this was a throwback to when we were apes. The other said there was a slight benefit, because it actually took more energy to stop yourself swinging your arms than to swing them!

I don't buy into any of this. Why? Because my own experience tells me something different.

Earlier this year I was thrilled to find myself at the top of a canyon in California, a walk of about two hours altogether. It was a warmish Sunday, and many others took the opportunity for a ramble, among them some quite small boys who gave me courage. Now, parts of this climb were steep, and some involved steep hairpin bends. On the way down we encountered a party of three women, obviously seasoned hikers and canyon goers. The leader approached the hairpin bend, leaned right forward, and swung her arms higher and more vigorously than a crazed pendulum. And you know what? I could see the help and impetus she got, and tried this myself on a later occasion.

It's only in the last couple of decades of my life that I've got into walking as recreational exercise. Before that, for me, it was strictly a means of getting from one place to another, maybe because of my city mouse upbringing. But these days I truvel and refresh myself when I step out of the house to wander under God's heaven. And I feel the healthy benefit to my heart of swinging my arms in a natural rhythm that both helps my breathing and calms me down, bringing me after a certain length of time into a completely different space. Positively therapeutic!

More on my mind

A doctor once said to me (via Rudolf Steiner), 'The future is built on sacrifice'. It's a statement that comes into my mind from time to time especially as, recently, I've been immersed in a kind of sacrifice. This is because I'm swamped, trying to adjust to giving daycare to my two small grandsons.

A friend of mine adores moving, renovating and redecorating houses. That's not going to happen again for her because her much younger sister and her partner stay in a cottage on the property where she lives now, and they wouldn't be able to afford other accommodation. Now, what's happened? Over the years the two sisters have formed a close and loving relationship, something that didn't really develop in their earlier lives. This is will endure, be of value and work into the future in a good way.

So I wondered... Do you have any such examples to share?

What's on my mind

'What's on your mind?' so goes the Facebook prompt. At which moment, my mind immediately goes blank.

However, lately the '60s and the hippie revolution have been on my mind. I think this is because at this time last year we were in California, and staying, specifically, in Berkeley. While there we happened to catch on TV a documentary about the student movement at the university, the protests, sit ins and so on. It made a deep impression.

Having been a teenager in England in the '50s, I was just ahead of all the turbulence and turmoil that took place, the sexual revolution, the dropping out and tuning in and so on. Still, mulling over the whole phenomenon I'm aware of how restricted we were by old traditions in the '50s, how trapped in class and rigid manners and expectations. Yes, there were good things and bad about the hippie time, and almost I could say that a true impulse for social change was hijacked when other influences came in. But I remain impressed by my ex-hippie friends, and the way they still live their lives with idealism.

I was discussing it all with my d.h., who said he'd also been thinking along these lines. His words of wisdom was that it needed to happen, we needed to break free. I'd say this is true.

sound settings

Thanks to a generous son, I have two computers, a laptop and a desktop. I enjoy using both, but strangely enough, have the one set to make a 'coing' when an email arrives, or I save a document, and the other not. What I realized yesterday was that I now subconsciously wait and expect to hear the 'coing' when I hit control 's'. It's like a confirmation. But really, do I need that?

A while ago I was intrigued to learn that digital cameras had to incorporate a click sound when a photo was taken, even though that's not necessary. I'm not sure if this still apllies, and I'm not totally sure what my underlying thought is here. But perhaps it has something to do with how we create unconscious expectations for ourselves?

Happy 4th

So today we have the 4th July to celebrate. And last Wednesday it was the 1st, with Canadians gathering on Parliament Hill for Canada Day, many of them wearing red. Except my dear husband who made the mistake of wearing blue. He should have heeded the advice on the vanity plate of a car I saw recently viz: 'turn lft'.

On the 14th I'll be thinking of the Tricolor and, being something of a francophile, humming the Marseillaise. I'll remember the first time I saw Paris when my father took me there for the Easter weekend in 1955, and we visited Versailles and the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower and Napoleon's tomb. That was also the first time I flew in a plane. Then there was another Paris, the snatched weekend away from the children when the dear husband and I met at Gatwick and raced down the wide corridors to catch our cheap flight (the last two seats) just before the gate closed. Waiting at the luggage carousel at Charles de Gaulle, I stood next to and chatted to a charming Diane Keaton.

Ah memories. These days they flutter by almost as often as thoughts.

p.s. And in case you're wondering, I made a start on tidying my study, a task I'll take up again today. Yes, I baked a cake and arranged some flowers for the house. The revision of my manuscript? Only got that done yesterday. Seeing as my goal was to finish by the end of May, you can see these things always take longer than I anticipate. But I'm happy.

Saturdays

I love Saturdays. They feel so brimful of possibilities. Today I'm going to sort out my office, finish the revision of my manuscript, bake a cake, clean and beautiful my house.

Yep, I know what you're thinking. For that, I'd need a month of Saturdays -- as opposed to time feeling long and drawn out in a month of Sundays. I can hear my late mom using that expression, and I suppose it came from my grandmother's Calvinistic upbringing when Sundays had to be kept as a day of church-going and rest.

Nevertheless, I'm going to do quite a lot on that list, even if I don't accomplish more than start tidying my study, and only get around to laundry and bathroom cleaning.

When I was a child I often used to spend weekends staying with a friend who lived in a mansion, with a garden to match. The lovely thing was, Saturday mornings were always devoted to baking and to picking and arranging flowers. That feeling is surely what still works in me today, all these many years later. Yes, childhood experiences can go very deep.

The good old ways. Better... or not?

Earlier this week I visited my favourite shoe store and bought new sandals. When I walked in, I saw right away that the middle-aged guy who'd served me a few times before wasn't there. In his place was a very pleasant young blonde, who was obliging and helpful. So, what was the difference?

I can say that the man was perhaps not so 'available' as the woman, but he did something I valued. That is, he'd open up the shoes for me to try. He'd unfasten the buckles, undo laces and so on. Both of them took the shoes out of the boxes. Or one shoe, anyhow.

Now that my fingers don't work so well any more, I kinda miss that kind of attention.

The old days came back to me, the days when there'd be a specially shaped stool the shop person would sit on. Your foot would be guided into the shoe, which lay on a kind of ramp. Then the buckles would be done up and you'd be ready to go. Stand up and admire your feet in the mirror. Or not. Decide if the size was right and if they felt okay. Or not.

Still, the blonde was sweet.

St. John's Day

I must confess, I haven't yet found my relationship to this festival. Still, it's interesting that both Christmas and St. John's Day fall three days after their respective solstices, so I'm holding a question in my mind: What happens during these three days to turn from the pagan into a Christian festival?

Today, the holiday in Quebec means a day off for me. Yay. I'd planned a bit of a catch up -- cleaning and computer, and maybe a bit of sales shopping as that's how I keep clothes on my back. However, the dh arranged a meeting and then lunch downtown so that possibility was nixed. And then I received a phone call from dear daughter-in-law to say she'd just taken a bread pudding out of the oven and would I like to come over and share it with her. I jumped on the bicycle and set off. Now, I like a bicycle, the pace of it that gives you a chance to look around at passing gardens, etc., and yet is quicker than walking.

We enjoyed an alfresco tea, the grandsons playing happily nearby. And I thought yes, that was a celebration, even though unexpected and unplanned. Sometimes those kinds of pleasures turn out to be the best.

Mid-summer day

What could be more uplifting than watering the garden early on mid-summer morning?

We have a smallish lot but this year have been reshaping and extending the small, straight bed we inherited from the previous owners. That's also meant that we've divided perennials and planted them again, sometimes in different places. So this got me thinking about landscaping design, and the idea of rhythm in the garden. You know, echoing a planting elsewhere, or creating a kind of symmetry and how that could work for us here.

And then I started thinking about rhythm in language. It seems to me that the way writing is taught today discourages rhythm, even in poetry. I can see what's gained, a certain taut energy. I always read a little before going to sleep, and I remember reading Hemingway and finding him too stimulating, to the point where I couldn't drop off. So I soon restricted him to daytime. But surely, if we write without rhythm, we also lose a certain quality connected maybe with breathing and feeling. To take a very simple example, it sounds very different and surely has a different effect whether I write, 'he began to walk' or 'he walked'.

So maybe the key has to be what I, as the writer, want to convey to my readers. And of course, if I wanted to present an idea and only an idea, the technique would be different again.

Summer dreams and recipes

I know it's not officially summer yet, but I've been revelling in the warmth and the beauty of this time of year. June has to be one of my favourite months. I like the dreaminess of it, the sense of being able to relax and luxuriate in the sights of green leaves and flowers, the scents of lilacs and new-mown grass, the sounds of the birds and the drone of the lawn-mowers. Time was when poetry was the only writing I could do during these drowsy months. However, right now I'm busy with revising a teen novel, hoping it'll be good enough to sell.

But that's all by the way, because what I really want to write about in this post is recipes. I've been doing more cooking and baking of late and that got me thinking that I need to organize my recipes yet again. The difficulty is, as I realized to some surprise, recipes are rather like jewellery. They carry sentimental value, and therefore, some of them are hard to discard. I mean, there's the one I acquired years ago when our eldest daughter was still a toddler, and the mother of a friend of hers, as pressed for time as I was, gave me a chocolate cake recipe that begins, "Into your mixing bowl, hurl two eggs!" Then there are others that I inherited from my mother-in-law, and still more from my own mother, all in their own handwriting. Somehow, when I take those out, I feel connected with them once again. Maybe the best solution is to forget about throwing the recipes away and rather to find a good method of storing them .

From the sublime to the... manipulations of fashion

I suppose, sooner or later, we'll have to get used to it. Waists are back. After years of wearing our pants lower and lower and lower, fashion has decided it's time to go to the other extreme and do high waists. Michelle Obama wears her elegant cardigan look with a wide belt. Hey, I got rid of mine at least twenty years ago. And even longer ago, I remember when all of a sudden, the mini was replaced by... the maxi!!

But usually, it doesn't go quite so long. I mean, only a couple of years ago I got rid of my last 80's style, shoulder-strong jackets. And now, whaddaya know, the look's coming back. Argh. I think it's nice to look nice and keep your look kind of current. And that's exactly what the fashion industry banks on. Basically, it's the silhouette that makes the difference, how the proportion ratio works, although I think we do have more flexibility these days. When I was young and tiny waists were in, we either wore our skirts pencil, or full with stiff petticoats underneath. The 80's did full shoulders and peg-top pants.

To go back to the beginning of this post, I found the slightly-lowered waist comfortable. When it came to fitting about almost half way down my hips... nuh uh. Couldn't do it. Now, when I wear the one skirt and one pair of pants that fits right at my waistline, it feels kind of odd. No doubt I'll grow accustomed!

growth and gardening

We have two spruces on our front lawn. Looking out at the tops of them from our bedroom window I see they've got new growth of about a foot skywards and on every branch. Isn't that incredible? And looking at the fullness of the maple tree next door, all the flowers coming into colourful bloom, I have to wonder how anyone can doubt the existence of the divine. I mean, where does the profusion of growth come from? How can it be random? What really are the forces we see manifest at this and other times of the year?

Well, it's pretty much a cliche that we can be closest to God in a garden, but that doesn't make it any less true.

On a slightly different tack, I've been following the Chelsea Flower Show (to some extent). One of the exhibitors had the temerity to smuggle a garden gnome into her exhibit. All the shock and horror at the kitsch of it has been interesting to read. But hey, if she thinks that helps her plants grow big and beautiful, why not?

Pride and addiction

I've decided the deadly sin of pride can live in us in unexpected ways. You see, what I realized the other night was that I'm proud of the fact that I can drink coffee. Isn't that weird? To be more specific, coffee doesn't affect me, meaning I can drink a cup at say eleven o'clock at night and be asleep fifteen minutes later. The problem, of course, is that coffee's not actually good for me. After all, it's poison for the heart, not to mention the effect on my liver and the acid-alkalyne balance.

So I struggle with the addiction. Yes, I give up coffee entirely from time to time. But it's a bit like my cousin. She was indignant when her naturopath told her she was addicted to coffee.
"No, I'm not!"
"Well, see if you can do without for three months."
Yes, she cut it out for three whole months just to prove him wrong. And told him so. But, within a few days, she was quaffing the caffeine brew again.
Heigh ho.

Afterglow

As Mothers' Day draws to a close, I look out my window. Across the street, the houses are bathed in sunset's afterglow, such a magical phenomenon to see. My very first experience of this was breathtaking -- rolling hills in South Africa bathed in reflected pink light. So even if we're already experiencing the kind of dip in temperature associated with the days of the ice saints, I'm feeling the warmth.

For me the day has meant quite a bit of musing about what my own mother meant to me, and reflecting on her long life with much gratitude. She would have been 99 on the 15th of May, but passed over a month before her 98th birthday. How very, very fortunate I was to have her gentle yet strong presence in this world for so many decades. And still I sense her sheltering love. So it seems fitting to do her honour, to keep her memory dear and be inspired by her example.

Exclamation marks!!!!!

Part of my (strictly limited) daily time on line consists of checking out two British news websites: the BBC and the Guardian newspaper. The other day I was delighted to read an article titled "The return of the exclamation mark."

Now, I know I don't usually blog about writing matters, but this struck a chord with me. The gist of the article was that use of exclamation marks in composition used to be frowned upon, but emails and blogs have changed all that. And I'm glad of it! I think there've been some arbitrary 'good writing' rules that for me are just nonsense. I mean, why not use an exclamation mark? It's a perfectly valid form of punctuation, and if we're now swinging towards using far too many, so be it.

Then there's that other 'good writing' rule which says you should prefer 'he said', or 'she said' above all other dialogue tags. Surely this cuts out a whole lot of useful words, and English, by its nature, is blessed with an abundance of words. For instance, it's not considered good to use he murmured, he burst out, she cried, she insisted and so on. Personally, I think it's nonsense. I mean, how do you react to these two sentences?

'How beautiful,' she said.

'How beautiful!' she exclaimed.

Doesn't the second version call up more of a response in you?

Carless

For the first time in something like fifty years (!) my husband and I are carless. Or maybe, more like it, my husband is carless for the first time since he started driving at the age of eighteen -- which is when you get your license in the more sensible countries of the western world.

Okay.

I stopped having my own wheels about seven years ago, and that was actually quite a difficult adjustment. Somehow, not being able to take off on a whim (although I didn't do it often) took away some sort of sense of freedom, and also, sharing a car felt like I was second in line, that the car was more his than mine. But I adjusted. So now it's not as difficult for me, being without, as it is for my better half.

This set me thinking... why do we feel so personally attached to our vehicles? Do they provide us with an extra sheath perhaps? A comfortable carapace? You know how people have an energy field around them, and an aura (think of those who make you want to take a step back!), so maybe our cars become an extra layer of ourselves. Just think how some people clean and polish, even give their vehicle a name. It's well known that we feel enclosed and even cut off from the outside world and its realities while driving, and may behave in ways we'd never do otherwise. Can't you hear me muttering about that silly ### who just cut me off?

Which brings me to the positive sides of the situation. Not taking into account the environmental benefits of ride-sharing and so on, we are both walking more and soon I'll be riding my bike too. We'll be out in the open, more connected with nature and our fellow human beings.

Quick update

My apologies for being off screen for so long. I've been on my travels again, this time to South Africa via the U.K., where I spent two glorious spring days earlier this week. I'd forgotten how profuse the blossom is there, the branches thick with pink and white. And the trees burgeoning with new green leaves, or pale orange in the case of the copper beeches. Then there are my beloved magnolias... ah well, we live in a beautiful world.

There was more beauty in Cape Town, just beginning to feel autumnal. The interesting thing is that the local, indigenous trees get new leaves at this time of year. Strange hey? So I visited with old and dear friends, attended an exquisite wedding, the ceremony held at the end of a wharf where the locals were casting big fishing lines into the ocean. As my friend, the mother-of-the-bride said, the wedding was set for 4.30 and the spring tide was for 4.20! All was well, however, and none of us got soaked, although I did enjoy a slight ocean spray.

A road trip east through the winelands towards the garden route brought up happy memories of days gone by, and renewed delight at the old Cape Dutch buildings in Swellendam, surely one of the loveliest towns in the country. A night at an ostrich farm, and then I was deposited in Knysna to stay with family for my mother's death day. It felt good and blessed to be there, where she died a year ago.

Part of the reason for my travels was business. I did some of that, although it was complicated. I had thought this would be my very last visit to the country of my birth, but it seems there'll have to be another one because of said business and a lot of interest in my parenting book :-).

Spurred orignally by the wedding invitation, my initial thought was to get all travelling done before I take up grandson day-care duties in a few weeks time. Now I'm wondering if all the flying miles would add up to a round-the-world trip. No, I'm not going to do the math.

I got home on Thursday, a red-letter day for our family because our eldest son got married. That's all four of them now. This so-welcome and happy event took place on the beach in California. It was my dearest, oldest friend in Cape Town who offered an interesting point of view on the trend towards outdoor weddings. She said she thinks its because the young people want to be close to the elements for this life-changing and affirming event.

Conspiracy theory?

With that teaser, I'm going to add a p.s. to my last post because, of course, after I published it, I remembered the details I'd forgotten to put. Like, making stock out of the clean, brown skins of onions, plus stems of other veg, or peelings from carrots, or outer leaves of cabbages or all of those plus others. And then, there's lipstick. The other day I was reading some 'money saving' tips and one appeared that I haven't read for decades... 'use a brush to get the last smidgeons out of the tube'. Been there, done that long ago. Will I bother now, I wonder?

And now to my heading... First a question. How many times have you got lost/been led astray while following a Google map? While in Los Angeles last November, the d.h. and I set off to the Getty museum, wound around small streets and landed up in a dead end. Yep, we'd followed the map correctly, but we couldn't access the museum. So we asked an elderly couple we saw out walking. They set us right. It was obvious they'd done the same thing for other confused souls a few times already.

The other day I heard on the radio about research that shows men and women listen to music differently. Part of this discussion mentioned that we orientate in space differently, men more to the bigger picture, women to the details. This made sense to me because although I'm good at reading maps, I haven't a natural sense for orientation East, West, North or South, whereas my d.h. does, and can find his way because of this -- at least, when Google doesn't interfere!

And how does this relate to a conspiracy theory you ask?? Well, yesterday I was in Henry's, the camera shop, getting a passport photo taken, and something caught my attention. The man behind the counter must have been asked what he was selling most of. The answer? GPS systems. Ah yes, convenient and easy. Yet another device to make us more comfortable. What do you say, folks? Shall I continue striving towards awareness of orientation, or simply rely on the latest gadget?

Being frugal

It's back to reality. Usually it takes me a full three weeks to adjust to being home after a long trip, especially when I've been in the other hemisphere and opposite season. Maybe because it's nearrrrly spring, I felt settled after two weeks this time. Could also be because I felt strong and good after the holiday.

And now, it's tighten the belt time. And that's okay. I'm good at being frugal (foodwise anyhow) and even take a certain satisfaction in making our own granola, chicken and vegetable stocks and so on. For the latter two, I use a pressure cooker. Can you even find such a thing in stores today? Anyhow, mine is enamel on cast iron, so pretty heavy. I've had it ever since we lived on the farm, over thirty years ago! The pot is German and we've replaced rings and a couple of other parts, but still, I'd say that's pretty good going.

The thing with being frugal is that you've got to put in the time and energy. So much of what's available at the grocery store in recent years has been geared to quick and convenient. How much, I wonder, will the present world financial woes affect our life-styles? Remains to be seen. But I was interested to read a Guardian UK headline that quoted from Hillary Clinton's speech to the European parliament where she advised, 'Never waste a good crisis'!

Marching on

I see I ended with promising a new post 'sometime after Valentine's Day'. After six weeks very far away from home, with long-distance flights to throw off my circadian rhythms and mess with my head, it always takes me about three weeks to pull myself together. I'm about half way there. Hallo!

Rudolf Steiner indicates that during the first nights in a new country we can have significant dreams. That was certainly my experience when I first visited North America and encountered a few of the great spirits that belong to this continent. My first nights in New Zealand? Not so much, but kind of amusing. The second night we were there I dreamed three little bantam chicks hatched out and was puzzled to find there weren't any around. Hey ho, they arrived next morning. I'm still shaking my head over that one.

We soon got to know the two cocks, who seemed to delight in crowing right outside our window before five a.m. And kind of made friends with the two goats who do their best to keep some of the hillside tamed. Going backwards, the first morning brought the gift of two sweet kittens, dragged inside from their hiding place by their mother. What joy and delight they brought during the whole of our visit.

One of the most wonderful moments did, however, occur during our first night. Not having much accommodation in the converted shed our daughter, son-in-law and grandsons are living in while their house is being built, our son-in-law had the clever idea to hire a caravan for the dear husband and me. So we lay in a narrow bed under a wide window. I woke sometime during the night to take a sip of water and the d.h. said, "Look up at the sky. You'll see something special."
So I leaned across and looked out and there was the Southern Cross, hanging so bright and beautiful, like a special banner to welcome us.

Being in the Southern Hemisphere, going to the beach or the hot pools to swim, living a rural life that reminded me of our days on the farm, added up to the best, most restoring holiday I've had in years. I forgot all about the cold, and gradually managed to weave a relationship of sorts to this newly-discovered country.

Happy New Year

Last night I took down the art calendar that had kept me company through the year. As I looked back through the Klimt images and thought about each month and all that had happened, I got a sense of the huge span of the year. Yes, the years seem to go by more quickly these days, but they contain so very much.

It's almost past the time to look back, but it's still the time to dream dreams, the ones that come in the night and the ones that weave in my mind. I'm busy with both, but the day ones occupy me right now. Given certain parameters, how do I want to shape my life in 2009?Striving towards the spirit is important to me, and with this in my I'm looking towards enhancing the true, the beautiful the good. How can I do more of those three things, bring more of them into my life, my deeds, thoughts and everyday living?

As always in these realms where we're free rather than driven by necessity, it will take a conscious effort. And the most challenging of these will be finding and making the time. For instance, I need to find a way to include some colour work in my day -- whether it be by using crayons, pencils, pastels or water-colours. But where to find the slot in the day that is feasible and will work for me on a practical level?

In general, though, there's one ideal that's resonating through me right now. It's simply this:
'Be more loving'.

Untill sometime after St. Valentine's day, I bid you 'au revoir'.