Hello, spring!

Hello! It has been quite a long while since I last posted (six months!). Sometimes I am too busy with family obligations to write, and sometimes being on the internet depletes my spirit, but even in the best of times my natural tendency is to retreat to my garden, my books and little projects, and to keep my own quiet company. In 2018, I wrote only eleven posts--not a lot, but something. I have thought about closing my blog, and I have thought about posting more often. All I can say is, time will tell which way the wind blows.

 

Spring in New England is three parts silvery rain and one part cornflower skies and sunshine. I always forget this ratio in the middle of winter when I am dreaming about sunny days in the garden: pansy days,  strawberry days, lily and rose days. 🌼🍓  When the snow is swirling and the wind is biting, the imagination can only be decorated with blue skies and flowers. The guinea pigs, Honey and Blossom, imagine their cage is a parsley patch and dream of blueberries.

Today is cold and mizzling and of the kind that makes my joints and head ache. I had to go out anyway, because I made plans to do my Easter shopping (sunny days, at this time of year, are best saved for walks in the woods and gardening). I bought some lovely chocolates beautifully wrapped in foil and a few little gifts to put in my kids' Easter baskets--kids who are grown-ups now; the oldest is twenty-six, and the baby is almost thirteen!

My entire stack of books, at the moment, revolves around a single theme: gardening. I love every one of these titles and am reading them all concurrently--a little in this one and a little in that one each day. The Solitary Summer is Elizabeth von Arnim's second book. It was sent to me by a dear friend and I love it every bit as much as Elizabeth's first book, Elizabeth and Her German Garden. Both books are written in the style of journal entries and are considered to be autobiographical novels. The books are full of Elizabeth's gorgeous descriptions of her garden, as well as insightful, witty, social commentary that is still relevant today. (She is also the author of The Enchanted April.). I absolutely adore Elizabeth. But I am obsessed with Beatrix Potter.

And that is a topic for a future blog post. :)

In March I started crocheting this "neat ripples" afghan. I worked on it madly for a couple of weeks, but then the gardening books stole my attention, and also the Spanish television series "Grand Hotel", which (for me) requires reading subtitles, and the blanket has halted at half-done like so many of my other yarn-y projects.
 

This guy showed up at my feeder this morning wearing half winter and half spring plumage--much like my own wardrobe just now. I'm sure I look just as funny as he!

The kittens are almost a year and a half old now and still very playful and kittenish. This one is Rhys. He has the more serious and dominant personality. His eyes are brown, and he likes to curl up in a lap of an evening. Both cats have more than one nickname. We call Rhys "Squish" because he's squishably soft and goes limp when you hold him.

This is Wyatt, aka "Stripes", and "Wild Herb" (a play on the name Wyatt Earp). Wyatt is very sweet and affectionate. He is great friends with our boxer Presley and will curl up with him in the sunshine in front of the sliding glass door in the morning. His eyes are green. Both cats have four white socks.

We went for a few walks in the winter woods last month.  

As we walked through the Pine Forest, we were thrilled to hear the hoo-hoo-hoo-hooaawww of a barred owl calling from the top of a tall pine. I'm not sure if it was one of the babies from last spring, or one of the parents, but we were so pleased to get another glimpse of this magnificent bird.

 

One day in March, we went to the beach up in Gloucester.  Everything was winter gray: sand, sky, and water.

The tide was as far out as I've ever seen it--we walked and walked.

With the sandbar exposed, we got close to the lighthouse!

Back at home, we saw some gorgeous sunsets over the last few weeks, of an intensity I usually associate with October.

These two rascals make it very hard to keep the bird feeders filled. But they sure are cute, aren't they?

I loved this book so much that I renamed my blog in honor of it. ♥  

Six months have passed, but as you can see, things are mostly unchanged in my little world. Every day is different yet the same, and now it is springtime once again. :)

Recently, someone asked me if I am having a good Lent. Well, if  I'm honest, I've never cared much for Lent. Late winter/early spring is a difficult season for me, physically and mentally, and forty days of forced suffering is truly beyond me. Besides, I have never found that giving up the things I enjoy has increased my Faith, Love, or Thanksgiving; it has, however, added to my misery (and I am convinced that the kindest thing we can offer our loved ones on a daily basis is our cheerful presence). So, I am continuing to learn to trust God completely, and to give Him thanks always and everywhere for everything, and to be of good cheer. 

Wishing you all the delights of spring!

Love and roses,
Sue

Back in 2013 I wrote a post about an article I read depicting the traditional lifestyle of Transylavanian hay farmers.  In the article the photographer interviewed a young woman, and what she said has stayed with me all this time. The young woman's name was Maria:

One woman she (Ms. Effendi) photographed, Maria, 23, was pregnant and working in the field when they met. She spoke more English than most villagers and told Ms. Effendi that she and her husband had spent a year in France, where he worked in construction. But she missed their home in the fields, and they returned.

In Maramures, Maria told Ms. Effendi, she has room for activity of the mind. People in France were preoccupied with the daily distractions of urban life, and they didn’t have any room left for “beautiful thoughts.” (A Fairy Tale in Transylvania: NYTimes Lens)

When I consider all of the troubles of our times, the senseless violence, moral confusion, disparity, oppression, inequality, antagonism, hopelessness, etc. I wonder what would happen if we allowed our minds to only dwell on beautiful thoughts.

♥

Spring came in breathtaking splendor at the beginning of May and lasted just two weeks. The pear trees that line our lane looked like brides in white lace. 

 "The soul that does not attach itself solely to the will of God will find neither satisfaction nor sanctification in any other means, however excellent by which it may attempt to gain them. If that which God Himself chooses for you does not content you, from whom do you expect to obtain what you desire?... It is only just, therefore, that the soul that is dissatisfied with the divine action for each present moment should be punished by being unable to find happiness in anything else."
— Fr. Jean-Pierre de Caussade, p. 14 Abandonment to Divine Providence

This week is the first one of the entire year that there are no doctors' appointments on the calendar. YAY!!!  The last few months have been so busy, I don't feel like I have had time to come up for air.
So far, the year has not turned out the way I expected it to, but a very long time ago, I learned to surrender my expectations and turn my heart to the needs of the moment and the well-being of those I love. However, I cannot say with any degree of honesty that I am always content/satisfied with the way things are. But, if I could think beautiful thoughts in the midst of every moment, regardless of what happens within that moment, I can see the result would be, if not "happiness" the way most people define it, then at least peace. 

But, it is by far easier to "count our blessings" than it is to acknowledge that all is blessing. Especially when quite a lot of life involves suffering that is beyond our ability to control.

Our little chicken flock is only two now: Trixie and Henrietta. They are seven years old and still giving us eggs. I love keeping chickens, but I wouldn't do it again unless I lived in the countryside. Rodents have been an annoyingly relentless problem for us for the last year and a half. We have cats, but don't dare let them outside in this busy neighborhood after our dear Mischief was killed by a car a few years ago, when he was just three years old.

One of my favoritest things about springtime is the annual warbler migration. I love bird watching, but the window of opportunity for good viewing is a short one in New England, and I pretty much missed it this year due to family obligations. Still, there are plenty of backyard birds to watch: orioles, house finches, cardinals, hummingbirds, and blue jays. Sometimes, Love sends a golden bird to sing right outside your window.

And the kittens. 🐱 🐱 So much cuteness! Even the word kitten is nice. Rhys and Wyatt are six and a half months old now. Wyatt loves making death defying leaps onto the tops of book cases and playing in the kitchen sink:

We went to Boston on May 5th for the Pugs Take Boston event at Boston Common  It was a gloriously, lovely day with every tree in full blossom.

Elvis had a marvelous time. That's him wearing the red leash, and next to him in the neon yellow harness is a quite famous pug called Mochi . He has his own instagram account, comic strip, and even books. 

We had a lot of fun meeting other pugs and their owners. Afterward, we enjoyed looking at the beautiful architecture of the City.

I loved this house on Beacon Street. There were bluebells growing in front of the basement windows:

And now, only two weeks later, summer has arrived to our backyard. The trees are lushly green and fully leafed out.

We celebrated my baby's twelfth birthday last Thursday! When he was born, he was two pounds heavier than any of my other babies, and my older kids nicknamed him the "Big Show". Now, at twelve, he is nearly six feet tall--the tallest in our family!

Wishing everyone a Beauty-filled week. ♥

Love and roses,
Sue

This pond, and the surrounding woodland, is the heart of the town where I live. It is an enchanted place that abounds with many stories and legends, some dating back to pre-colonial times when the water was known as Lake Innitou or Mirror of the Spirit by the Aberginian people. Over the years at least forty-five people have drowned there, which is astonishing considering that the average depth of the pond is about ten feet.

There have been many sightings of ghosts and other unexplained phenomenon at the pond.  One Native American legend claims that the pond was the ancient site of a battle between the gods of light and dark. The gods of light trapped the gods of dark in the water and drowned them. Some have seen mysterious blue lights floating over the water and in the woods. Last year, hundreds of fish washed up dead on shore. No one knows why.

Several local writers have collected the many legends and tales about the pond and the surrounding woods and hills of our town. Some of the best can be found in Marie Coady's, Woburn: Hidden Tales of a Tannery Town and Parker Lindall Converse's, Legends of Woburn (1642 -1892) [The full text of this book is available at the link.]
   

The pond is a place of remarkable beauty with some of the best bird watching in the area. I walk its wooded trails every day I can--it is my favorite spot on all the earth.⚘

 I have been thinking lately about stories and how they bind us to places and people. Perhaps it is the stories we hold in common, more than anything else, that imbue us with a sense of belonging and identity.

The digital age, with its emphasis on the individual, has led to solitary narrative building which has done much to unravel the old stories' cultural relevancy. Time will tell what effect this will have on us--both inwardly and outwardly. So far, I see a lot of  people desperately trying to find "themselves" (and a community) by grasping at each passing trend from simplicity to plant-based diets. Long ago, before fossil fuel made us magically mobile in our high speed trains, airplanes and automobiles, we were defined primarily by kith and kin. Kith referred to the land. The phrase "kith and kin" originally denoted one's geography and relatives. Out of those two elements sprang the ultimate uniting force: tradition--shared songs, stories, rituals, crafts, and folkways. 

Making my Great Aunt Clarabelle's scrumptious custard for banana cream pie.

My mother's dear friend Carol's braided Easter bread.

In these rocky New England hills bordered by the sea, I follow a path consisting of hearth, garden, woods/pond, and church. I never tire of this well-worn geography. Much of my time is spent in the kitchen making food for hungry people from "receipts" given to me by family and friends. There is so much love shared in recipes.

Despite weekly snow flurries, nature is slowly beginning to emerge from her slumber. On a recent pond walk, I saw a muskrat swimming in a vernal pool while the spirit of a birch tree watched on from one of his wise, old eyes. 

April ~ Pink Moon, so named for the wild ground phlox that blooms this month

Wyatt (gray) and Rhys (cream) turned 5 months old on April 6th

 

Last week I made a Hummingbird Cake from this recipe to mixed reviews. The frosting was excellent; we all agreed on that. If I ever make this cake again, I would double the pineapple and use half as much banana as the recipe calls for.

This past week there has been painting and knitting happening. Amy, Emmeline and I painted eighteen rocks the other day--little treasures for people to find on  the trail at the pond--as part of our town's "Kindness Rocks" project.

I'm knitting a peach colored, seamless yoked sweater and snowbaby bootees for my nephew's first little peach due in June.

If I'm honest, April has been a pretty miserable month weather-wise and otherwise, as well, with too many doctors appointments and generally low spirits; but, I know there are rose days ahead, and there is always, always plenty to be thankful for on a daily basis. ♥

Love and roses,
Sue

PS: My blog redecorating inspiration: Elaine, Sarah, and Lisa