CFFC: Eyes

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beach, birds, black and white photography, cat, CFFC, family, guinea pigs, nature, nature photography, pets, Photo Challenge, photography, Wilderness Wednesday

This is my submission for Cee Neuner’s Fun Foto Challenge: Eyes

CFFC: Apple Red

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birds, CFFC, Fall, nature, nature photography, Photo Challenge, photography, summer, trees, Weekly Photo Challenge, winter

This week’s Fun Foto Challenge by Cee Neuner is Apple Red.

Red is one of my favourite colours. I even wrote a Red Shoe Manifesto. Sadly, I haven’t been able to wear my red shoes this year, but I have enjoyed splashes of colour in other ways.

There is a shade of red for every woman.

Audrey Hepburn

CFFC: Caramel Squirrels

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CFFC, humour, nature, nature photography, Photo Challenge, photography, red squirrel, squirrel, squirrels, Weekly Photo Challenge, Wilderness Wednesday

Technically, they are red squirrels, but the Cee Neuner’s Fun Foto Challenge this week is Caramel Colour, and I’ve been looking for an opportunity to “show off” recent photos of the stars of my backyard! We didn’t have any backyard babies this year…or perhaps, these squirrels were the backyard babies of 2019 or the dynamic duo of 2020.

The red squirrel is more common and less dignified than the gray, and oftener guilty of petty larceny
about the barns and grain-fields.

John Burroughs

What’s in My Cup: Baked Apple Chai

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#whatsinmycup, food, food photography, humour, nature, nature photography, squirrels, tea, tea addict, tea cups, tea lover, tea time, what's in my cup

It would seem I’m not the only one enjoying apples these days.

Yeah, I see you. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t leave your half-eaten apples in a row on the fence!

My little friend has been enjoying apples for breakfast nearly every morning this week, and today I thought I’d follow his example.

I reviewed David’s Tea Baked Apple Chai (formerly Spiced Apple) back in the Fall of 2019, and since then it has become a staple in my stash. Apple and cinnamon is a common pairing because, quite frankly, they’re made for each other. They work well in sweets, in savouries, and in tea! And they definitely work in this tea. The flavour is piquant – intense, sweet, tangy and spicy. I called it a “potpourri for all the senses” and I still stand by that statement. From the intense aroma of cinnamon, chicory, cardamom and star anise to the warm and spicy notes that dance and play on the tongue, it’s probably the best apple cinnamon tea I’ve tasted.

It’s a caffeine-free fruit infusion with at least a 5 minute steeping time and requires a generous amount. Since it’s comprised of chunky pieces, it will swell and fill the infuser quickly. A word of advice, use an infuser that will allow the fruit to expand as it steeps in order to extract the most flavour!

Or you can follow the example of my little friend here and squat in the snow and eat it raw. I just hope he cleans up after himself!

Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within reach of every hand.

– Mother Theresa

Welcome October

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autumn, Fall, food, nature, tea, tea addict, tea cups, tea lover, tea photography, tea quotes, tea time, teacup

Pale amber sunlight falls across
The reddening October trees,
That hardly sway before a breeze
As soft as summer: summer’s loss
Seems little, dear! on days like these.

Autumnal by Ernest Dowson

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 36

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covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, family history, first day of school, food, humour, memories, nature

Dear Diary – I did my back to school shopping…

Dear Diary – While it was super awesome and super entertaining watching Eldest Son fell a tree, there was one problem: how to deal with a felled tree.

On Saturday, Dad loaded up the truck with the first pile of brush for a run to the woods. The “woods” is a small patch of scrubby woodlands near what was the family farm. As we bumped along in silence, passing familiar farms and villages. There were more houses than I remembered, but for the most part, all remained the same.

We passed the house where my grandmother grew up with an older couple who “adopted” her. She went to live with them following the difficult birth of another sister and her family’s move to the city. She found her own household too chaotic, and she was happier growing up in the quiet household. She quit high school and worked in a store so she could care for this couple in their golden years, before she married grandpa and moved into her in-law’s home…where she cared for them in their golden years too.

We also passed the large, old cemetery my Dad would drive by slowly because I would hold my breath going past it.

I don’t know why I wanted to go with my Dad. Sure, it was to keep him company, but there’s also something special about this patch of land, like something calling me back to it. It’s a connection to the past and I feel a kinship with the families who came before me.

My great-great-great grandfather, Patrick, arrived in Canada from Ireland in 1837 with his wife and 8 children. They cleared and settled their crown plot by 1840. In 1843, his lawyer began petitioning the government for the title that was promised. The land passed from Patrick to Edward, who died in 1917. When he died, his wife walked across several fields to these same woods at the south end of the farm. She dug up and planted a small tree on his grave. I can remember looking for this evergreen tree in the cemetery (holding my breath), which could be seen from the road on the way to the farm. It came down in 2005. The farm then passed from Edward to John, and from John to my grandfather, Roy. The farm was sold in the early 1980’s, but we still own the woods.

These woods were used in WWII to train the Royal Canadian Electrical & Mechancal Engineering units in camoflauge and equipment recovery and repair. The pigs at the farm soon learned that big trucks might mean delicious scraps, and they would run to the fence every time they heard a truck. Once, my grandmother was taken on a tour of the camp and an young officer went ahead to remind the lads to watch there language and behaviour because there was “a lady in the camp”.

The roadways used by the trainees are nearly indiscernable around the trees, but Dad had no difficulty wending his way through the gap in the wooden rail fence and into a clearing not far from the road. We spotted this puffball mushroom on the way.

Dad measured it on his next trip and said it was about 14″ across.

The only sounds were crickets and the occasional lazy bumblebee. I saw dragons flies and ants, but no other creatures. I know that there are deer and bears, and smaller critters around. We were surrounded by cedar and pine, prickly ash, sumac, juniper, and plenty of moss-covered rocks.

Can you find the road?

On the way home, we took a different route, one that led down dusty roads and over hills. When I was a kid, my Dad knew just how to hit those hills so that my stomach would roll and I’d laugh out loud. It was better than any scary roller coaster!

We stopped in the last village at a bakery in an old limestone building. The windows are low with deep sills to display the store’s wares, and the door is bright yellow…with an old, sticky lock.

We bought 3 kinds of bars to share: maple walnut, peanut butter-chocolate, and nanaimo! We earned them (or rather, Dad did)! A yummy way to end a busy day!

Life is uncertain….eat dessert first!

Unknown

Dear Diary – It felt like Fall had arrived by the flick of a switch. On Saturday afternoon, Mom and I enjoyed a lovely, warm swim in the pool. On Sunday morning, I was reaching for a sweater and regretting not packing more than sundresses.

Monday was our last day together, a bonus day since school was starting later than expected and I remained at my folks with Youngest Son longer. Determined that Youngest Son was NOT going to spend it sleeping all day, as has been his routine for the month of August, I insisted he get up and go out with us for lunch. He was cranky, but he came.

Being a holiday Monday and a small town, our dining options were limited. It’s been years since I dined in MacDonald’s. Growing up, it was the only fast food restaurant in town, and one we usually frequented on Sundays after church. If Dad was working, we’d take it to the Fire Hall. We eat in front of an old black and white t.v. and play tag on the trucks.

After lunch we played board games until Mom needed a nap. I think Youngest Son did too.

We arrived home on Tuesday and I have been unpacking bags and boxes ever since. It’s amazing how much stuff accumulates over the summer, and how well I can pack it in my tiny car!

I’m always sad to see the end of summer. I like the sense of freedom from obligations and deadlines that it brings. I know if I didn’t have routines that I would literally waste precious time, but it’s delicious simply to know that I had the space to do so. Every season has its place and like it or not, the next one is beginning. It’s time for activities to start, jean buttons to strain, and pumpkin-spiced crap to appear in every coffee shop across the land!

The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Dear Diary – I didn’t sleep well last night: ‘Twas the Night Before…

This morning, though the sun shone brightly outside, inside the mood was somber. I did my best to stay out of Youngest Son’s way as he finished making his lunch and gathered his belongings. It’s the first day of Grade 12, a year whose outcome will determine the next step in his life journey. And having attended virtual school for part of Grade 9 and all of Grades 10 & 11, thanks to covid, it feels like the beginning of Grade 9. Again.

Also, he had to get dressed!!

He wore his new jeans today, the ones I bought and exchanged for a smaller size. Though a 27″ waist, he still needs a belt. (Once again I’m reminded mine used to be 24″ and I start singing The Way We Were).

I dropped him off at the corner. I figured the day was tough enough without the long early morning walk. That walk will have to become part of his routine in preparation for Uni next year. Mama’s not living in his dorm (actually only in spirit).

Thus begins a new chapter in his life, and in mine. I was just beginning to settle into a routine at home, having quit my job, when covid shutdowns hit. Now, after 2 years I suddenly find myself in the same place I started the pandemic: home, alone, and wondering just what it is I’m supposed to be doing with my life.

So I’m doing just what I did then…starting a routine. I had breakfast. I had my quiet time with the Lord. And now I’ve said hello to you, dear diary. Time for me to begin my next chapter. Lord, have mercy!

Beginning
Just let that word wash over you
It’s alright now
Love’s healing hands have pulled you through
So get back up, take step one
Leave the darkness, feel the sun
Cause your story’s far from over
And your journey’s just begun

Danny Gokey, Tell Your Heart to Breathe Again

Fairy Tea

Tags

#whatsinmycup, food, garden, nature, photography, poetry, tea, tea addict, tea lover, tea party, tea photography, tea quotes

‘T was very, very long ago, in days no longer snug
When giant stood about so high and pixies all were young
The Queen of Fairies said one day, ‘I’m tired of honey-dew,
So hasten now, and mix for me a cup of something new’.

‘It must lift the drooping spirit, it must heal the wounded heart;
It must bring the smile of happiness, and bid the tear depart;
It must make the young grow younger, and the old no longer old;
It must make the poor contented, and the rich forget their gold’.
…

…
When it boiled, they cooled and poured it, so the ancient story goes;
And to the Queen they brought it in the chalice of a rose.
She sipped, delighted; then she cried: ‘I issue this decree;
The cup you have so deftly brewed, I christen “Fairy Tea”!’.

So when you see the fairy folk “at home” in Dingle Dell,
All sipping something dainty from their cups of heather-bell,
You will notice they are happy, as good as fairies ought to be,
And that’s because they always use their famous Fairy Tea.

Fairy Tea by D.K.S., Old Wives Tales, St. Nicholas: an illustrated Magazine for Young Folks, Volume 40, 1914

Happy Labour Day!

Wilderness Wednesday: Hummingbird

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birds, nature, nature photography, photography, Wilderness Wednesday

Life’s not about waiting for the storm to pass…It’s about learning to dance in the rain.

Vivian Greene

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 32

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apple blossoms, dear diary, family, food, humour, music, nature, summer, trees, worship

Dear Diary – I knew all those games of Operation would pay off one day!

On Friday morning, after I dropped my car off to deal with the whistle-wonk sounds my car’s been making for weeks, I got ambitious. I dusted and swept the main floor, backed up and updated my laptop, caught up with an old friend on the phone, and emptied the shredder for the next round.

But I emptied the bin into the green bin (compost) on the counter, and wouldn’t you know, one tiny slip of paper drifted into an open vent on the base of my new air fryer.

Thus ensued a sick and sweaty 20 minute game of Operation, with not one, but 3 tweezers. I didn’t leave the air fryer plugged in though, you know, to make it more authentic. 😉

Dear Diary – The other day, Mr. Cardinal was pipping furiously. I think it was Morse code.

..-. . . -.. / — .

Feed Me

Dear Diary – I led worship a couple Sundays ago and vainly attempted to look slender in my new dress. Our pastors are currently speaking a series on the Armour of God. I have also shared from the same passage in Ephesians at a ladies’ event, but I used my own humourous twist in my examples of armour. Only this morning, my “armour” (aka corset) was not holding up!

It wasn’t the only thing.

Something had happened to the headset mic purchased to capture my itty-bitty intoning, so I had to use a boom stand. I don’t like them because there’s no happy middle ground. Either the A/V guys are unhappy because they can’t hear me…or I’m unhappy because there’s a mic stand blocking my view of either the sheet music or the piano keys.

Accomplished pianists play from memory. I am not an accomplished pianist.

Hubby was doing sound and together we found that comfortable middle ground…rather unharmoniously.

Something happened between rehearsal and service time. My mic was attached to a sinking stand, and was nearly resting on my clinging cleavage. Not only would it make it incredibly difficult for Hubby to pick up my crooning, but it also blocked both the keyboard and the bottom half of my sheetmusic, and in my mind, accentuated the straining lingerie. I knew it was straining because I could feel the bent boning digging into my ribcage.

With a sweet smile, I started talking and reached up to return the arm of the stand back where it belonged. In addition to bent boning, I could feel sweat welling up in my underarms. But while I managed to secure the mic higher, it refused to remain in position and the bolt to tighten it was immoveable. So was my determination. The service had started. I was going to keep smiling (and sweating) and we were going to sing.

I played and sang again this past Sunday. Someone took pity on me…and the saggy stand has become someone else’s problem.

Dear Diary – It has been a summer of firsts. Well, a couple firsts. Earlier in July, I sang at my first wedding. This past weekend, I played at my first funeral. I even broke out my little black dress. I can still zip it up but the lines hug some of my curves differently. It went well, from my perspective. I greatly appreciated the tall flower displays that partially hid me, as I felt very self-conscious standing on the platform without teammates. And I am very thankful I didn’t fall up or down the stairs.

I even wore heels. Just not to the funeral…or out of the bedroom.

I miss my heels.

Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world.

Marilyn Monroe

Dear Diary – I have definitely raised a city kid. This week we braved the heat to pick up rotting apples from our back yard. It’s the downside to owning an apple tree, but I love the blossoms in the Spring. And every tree deserves to live!

In past years, Youngest Son has used a stick to stab them. Unfortunately, these apples have sat longer than they should have, so while they may look solid, picking them up with anything but a feather touch spells disaster. The stick was useless. Rather than argue, I told him to pick up the fresh, red ones and I would deal with the goopy ones.

There was something satisfying about the “splat” they made as I tossed into recycle bins and old garbage cans. For every one he picked up, I picked up more than a dozen. He objected to the smell; it reminded me of apple cider. He slipped and slid once; I laughed. I got apple on my leggings. He thought that was gross.

He would not survive on a farm. Not even a hobby farm!

But he could muscle the barely filled bins and cans to the curb for me, and we nearly completed clearing the yard of the apples that were not soup.

I slept in a bit the following morning. The sun was shining when I got up. I pulled on my robe and opened the curtains. I laughed.

I laughed hard.

The yard truck crew had left me a surprise… again!

Only at our house.

Not only was it perfectly balanced…it was perfectly balanced over my head.

I left it, hoping it would last until I could drag Youngest Son from his slumber to take a photo. But, alas! Some “mean kid” punched it on his way by and it collapsed into the street. I had to retrieve them, close-mouthed, to avoid ingesting the cloud of fruit flies.

We don’t stop playing because we grow old.
We grow old because we stop playing.

G.B. Shaw

Wilderness Wednesday: Creative Garden

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flowers, garden, nature, photography, Wilderness Wednesday

The single greatest lesson the garden teaches is that our relationship to the planet need not be zero-sum, and that as long as the sun still shines and people still can plan and plant, think and do, we can, if we bother to try, find ways to provide for ourselves without diminishing the world.

Michael Pollan, The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals

Happy Wednesday!