Mint Tea

The mint patch is exploding! There is spearmint, peppermint, pineapple mint and chocolate mint. We have been enjoying fresh mint tea every day.

I just grab a handful of assorted mint from the patch, four or five large sprigs. I wash them outside so any critters stay outside. I tie the sprigs together with a bit of twine and hang them in a pitcher. I pour boiling water over the mint and let steep for a long while. While the water is still hot, I mix in a bit of raw honey. You could skip this step, but raw honey has many healing properties and it gives the tea a full taste.

We drink it iced, as it has been warm here in Southern California. It is also great hot. I usually take the pitcher outside so I can refill my glass as I enjoy the garden. Try it, it soothes the tummy and tastes delicious! Blessing on your day...

Ripped Away From the Garden

Last year at this time, I was hoping for insurance approval for a back surgery. I could do nothing more than lie on my back, looking straight up at the ceiling. Still needs to be painted, by the way.

This spring, I am able to plant seedlings and paint flowers on bed borders. I can hoe a little and plant a little. I have to be careful not to overdue. I want to crouch down and sink my hands in the dark earth, play with the worms and notice the baby praying mantis make his way up the lavender bush. Yet, now I am more mindful of my body, my back. I am learning that this life is not meant to break our back. We must learn to support ourselves, physically and spiritually. For many years, I have worked so hard, mindlessly, really, to please others. Through this back breaking injury, I have gained some clarity. This humanness, is not meant to be frittered away doing work that injures us, or others. Even work that seems fulfilling can be deceiving. The only voice that counts is the sweet whisper we hear when all is quiet. It is an important tool, honing that hearing aid. The voice is so slight, so pure and at a tone we can only hear when our hearts are open and our ego is otherwise occupied.

I have been hearing it in the garden as I greet the worms, welcome the butterflies and call to the honeybees. Yesterday, a blustery wind blew through the valley. At first, bringing heavy rain and wind. As the rain clouds emptied, the sky appeared in all of it's glory. Fluffy clouds with hints of pink and gray, silver and heaven danced above our heads. The wind blew in blustery gusts, clearing the air, washing away that which the rain had missed. 

I am itching to go out to plant the eggplant and cucumbers. Please do not forget about the 100th Post Give Away. Leave a comment of one of your magic moments. I will pick a random winner on Thursday evening. I will iron, fold and pack it away to some lucky lover of magic moments!

It was recently Billy Collins' birthday. I leave you with one of my favorites:


On Turning Ten

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

Billy Collins

The New Sunrise

The morning comes in a quiet gray dawn. I miss the sun greeting my eyes as he rises, I miss the shadows cast upon the walls over my bed. This Daylight Savings time always irks me a bit. I am not sure why. Perhaps because I wake with the sun and now I must wait until the tea water is bubbling in the kettle to see the first pink rays. I should be grateful to see it all, to be blessed with sight, inside and out. 

The birds are chattering loudly this morning as they streak across the periwinkle sky, maybe they are irked too. I know I will get over it soon, I just liked the way things were, I liked the tilt of my head as I gazed at the birth of a new day, just a slight lift from my pillow. Now, I am up and about and am forced to peer through the cottage's wee windows as our morning preparations are done.

I am a lucky one, indeed. For I see.

Buttering the Sky

Slipping

On my shoes,

Boiling water,

Toasting bread,

Buttering the sky:

That should be enough contact

With God in one day

To make anyone

Crazy.

-Hafiz

Hanging Photographs

 I tend to procrastinate if I feel the finished product won't be exactly as I desire. I would rather live with apple boxes to store my clothes in, than spend money on an a chest of drawers that I do not love. I  work on the same painting for weeks and then leave it if I feel it is going in the wrong direction. Procrastinating perfectionism. 

A couple of years ago, I purchased a photo session at a school auction. I tend to shy away from this type of portrait photography, preferring to fill our home with photos from daily life. However, this photographer had a bit of an edge. I like that. The price was right and I figured it was time to have a couple of good photos of my children. The photo shoot was fun, he had us bring in lots of props from our life. My son brought along a tattoo sleeve. No, those are not real tattoos. 

 The gist of the story was that I was afraid to buy the giant frames for the matting and photos. I thought the size would overpower our small living room. So, the photos sat in a box. For two years. 

I had recently thrifted some vintage pant hangers in dark wood. The handles boasted that they were 24 carat gold. I only paid $2 for the lot of them. I had this idea in mind and I thought these hangers would be perfect.  I think I saw it in a magazine, with just photos hanging from the hangers. I pulled the photos, with matting, out of their dusty box and hooked them into the hangers. My sweetheart hung hooks so the photos would be easily interchangeable and a bit away from the wall.

The finished product is beginning to grow on me. I am nervous that the photos are not protected from dust by glass. But, what I do know, is the alternative is to be tucked in their box, free from dust, but out of sight. I am beginning to like it... 

Quiet

I have been quiet of late, using other poet's words to distract you from the silence. I have tried to write a post several times, yet nothing appears of substance. The rain continues to fall here in Southern California. I love to lie very still in my bed and listen to the rain falling on our wee cottage. Sleep escapes me most nights, the falling rain provides a distraction from the dark, sleepless nights. 

I am constantly looking outside to check the garden and watch the earth soak up the holy water. I miss the birdsong during all of this water, but in the lulls of the downpour, they sneak out of their shelters and pounce along the ground with quick and short tweets, very little song.

I guess, I am feeling out of song these days. I have found myself refer to my old life in the past tense, my heart is breaking for what used to be. I am having a difficult time embracing what is. My other life seems erased, like it never was. I feel like the last seven years have been an illusion of a life I thought I loved. I have awoke in the dark night, to find my memories like the fleeting threads of a sweet dream. By mid-morning, we find ourselves asking, "What was the dream again?" But it is gone. Dreamily gone. An illusion.

It is difficult to grab onto the moment. My options seem limitless, but I am in mourning, experiencing the five stages of grief. I do not even know which one I am on now. Is it like a list we go down systematically, or can one vacillate from one stage to another? I feel like I keep backsliding into denial. Is it over?  My community is gone, the isolation grows and I am losing confidence in my ability to teach, to paint, to offer anything of substance. What happened? Did I chose this? 

I am forced to be strong, but not for my children this time, they are growing and well cared for, I feel I am fighting a fight for me. I am being forced to face myself, to summon strength for who I will be for the rest of my days. I am on a precipice and must decide, do I stand tall? Or do I walk away, with my shoulders tall and my heart and mind firm? Or, do I stay in bed? Bed seems nice, especially with the rain beating at my door, on my roof...

It's All I Have To Bring Today

It's all I have to bring today--

This, and my heart beside--
This, and my heart, and all the fields--
And all the meadows wide--
Be sure you count--should I forget
Some one the sum could tell--
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.


Emily Dickinson

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

- William Shakespeare

Just a little Saint Valentine's Day love...

it is only love...

Touched by An Angel

 by Maya Angelou

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

The Rains Are Coming

I can smell it in the air. It is damp and sweet and still. The birds are active, like they are busy chatting about shelters and food. There may even be rejoicing for the after the rain feast of displaced insects and worms. Although the sun rose in a pink haze this morning, bright white clouds with silver linings litter the expanse of sky.

I feel like sitting still, in one place, waiting for the first droplets. Once, on the rugged shore of Ono Beach in Oregon, I watched the rain arrive. I stood at the shore as a large dark cloud hovered over the ocean. I could smell the rain then, too. I stood rooted in the sand and watched as the blackened rain cloud approached. It announced it's arrival with cold winds whipping at my cheeks and through my clothes. As the first droplets kissed my cheeks, I thought I should go back to the shelter of our camp. I was curious though, to see what it would be like to stay and let the storm wash over me. And, so I rooted my feet deep into the crunchy sand and held my arms up to the black sky and welcomed the full and heavy raindrops. I opened my mouth and heart and let it rain down on me. The wind roared and the drops pelted me, soaking my clothes and hair, but igniting my spirit. Small orbs of hail began to fall. I lowered my head in surrender and for protection, but I stood tall. I did not flee. The cloud eventually passed over me, the droplets lightened in weight and intensity. The wind settled into a steady hum. Just as the cloud passed beyond me, I looked out over the Pacific Ocean to see the sun, hazy and pink and orange, shaking off the black and gray of the disappearing cloud. I stood at the shore as the sun began to gain strength and warm my cheeks, dry my hair and warm my soul. I only looked back once at the passing cloud, and then, turned my heart and head toward the sun.

Jam Pot

A few Sundays ago, we were driving along Colorado Boulevard. As we passed the large parking lot of the community college, I noticed that it was filled with vendors. We have lived in Southern California for some time now and we are in close proximity to two large flea markets. I went to the Rose Bowl Flea Market the first year we lived here. Although it was fun and I found a few nice items, the crowds put me off. 

I avoid traffic at all costs. I deplore driving around looking for a spot to park. Even being of simple means, I will pay for parking in a big city or at a large shopping center before roaming the slow moving aisles of the asphalt parking lot. 

So, back to our Sunday drive. I screamed in the car, "A flea market! Stop!" My sweetheart, always accommodating and willing to put my desires before his, DID NOT STOP! "Turn around, please..." I begged. He looked at me quizzically and asked if I was serious. Was I SERIOUS? Of course I was serious. Sheesh.

So we maneuvered our way back to the side street along the flea market. There was a parking spot right across the street. I always take this as a sign that I am supposed to be there. I used this method at a cute clothing boutique in Old Town Pasadena. It is a traffic and parking nightmare there most of the time. If I drove past the boutique and there was a parking spot in front, or near the shop, it was a good omen and permission to shop and purchase an item that day. This method worked many times and I have a closet filled with lovely linen skirts and blouses to prove this theory.

My sweetheart expertly parked the car and we made our way into the flea market. It was the perfect day to be wandering about outside. It had rained the day before, so the air was crisp and clear. The San Gabriel Mountains loomed overhead, sparkling from their shower, there was even a bit of snow on the tip top of the highest peak. We enjoyed wandering around and looking at all of the treasures. This was the day when I had to vow to no longer buy vintage linens. It was difficult, but I didn't even look at overflowing piles of vintage linens. Really. I was very proud of myself.

I did find some inexpensive silver cutlery with Bakelite handles, an iron doorstop and a beautiful etching of Jacob's Ladder. I had been looking for a painting to hang in an empty spot in the living room. My favorite find of the day was the jam jar... It was an afterthought. I saw it after I purchased a few silver spoons from a table laden with items. It was $5 AND  it was half off. Half off! 

At the end of the day, and having spent only $25, we made our way to the car. These are the days I treasure. It has been difficult lately, lonely and isolating of late. I live for the days when the children are home and my sweetheart is home. I forget about the days alone, I forget about the emotional burdens I have been trying to release. Every time I look at this jam jar on the sill, or when I scoop jam onto toast, I am able to remember that some days, have sunshine.

Sunrise

I have been fortunate in my life that each morning, without fail, the sun has risen. There was a time when I rose with that sun, joy-filled and with a spring in my step. I have always had a roof over my head, good, healthy food to eat and warm blankets when I was cold. I even had a fan when the temperature was too much to bear. In all, it has been a blessed life. 

We live simply. I have always thought our house was about 600 square feet. A carpenter friend was visiting and we were discussing the size of houses, he informed me that this house was probably a a bit less than 600 square feet. Oh, well. The yard is large and has fruit bearing trees, raised garden beds, lavender, rosemary, sage and mint in abundance. It also has a clothesline, my favorite part. One year I painted the posts hot pink and painted flowers and fairies all over them.

I have lived across the street from the Pacific Ocean in Hawaii, and I have lived in a deep green Hawaiian valley blessed with nightly rain and sunny days. I have lived on the ocean in a small hut on Kovalum Beach in South India, and in a small village along the Yamuna River in Uttar Pradesh. I have lived in a sweet and simple cottage amidst the vines of a Banyan Tree. In fact, one of the largest Banyan Trees on the Island of Oahu.

I have lived along the shores of the Williamette River in Oregon and my children spent many a day with their toes in the cool Northwest snowmelt. The shore was covered in chamomile and on a hot summer day, it smelled as though we were swimming in chamomile tea.

In Seattle, we rode the ferry atop the Puget Sound when the children were restless and walked around the large circumference of Green Lake each morning. We even rowed a boat in the deep green water in the warm cloudless days of a Pacific Northwest summer.

I guess I have always been a searcher. A wanderer. Yet, this wee home that I have made with my children is more like home than all of the amazingly diverse places we have been blessed to reside. It has been just the three of us, the three musketeers. We have slept each night to the rhythm of our heartbeats. There has been no privacy, just juicy togetherness. It has not been magical every moment. Sometimes the healthy food was hard to come by, or we had to save for the fan to cool the dry, hot of Los Angeles in July. But, the rent is affordable and in the end, I knew I could at least cover that, and the nights would be safe.

The shake down year of my back injury and what seems to be the loss of my career and community is putting all of these years into question. I am unsure of what my next step is, I am feeling lost. And although the sun keeps rising, the kick in my step is lost. I often find myself wishing I could sleep all day. Someone said the other day, what if you just stopped being depressed? Is that possible? Can you just stop? Can you turn it off, like a bad movie?

For today, I am going to remember that I have not always felt the way I am feeling today. There will be a light, it is coming, I can feel it. Until then, the sun continues to rise...

This Is A Gift For All of You Freezing From Frigid Temps

I spent MLK day picking up trash along the ocean. Our President called us to duty and I was happy to respond. The thing is, I always pick up trash at the shore, but this day I did it with more purpose and felt a part of a community of people looking toward the future of our country. I feel grateful to live in a place that on January 20, the beach is filled with surfers, swimmers, lovers, new parents and pirates.

There were boats along the horizon and a warm wind blowing our hair. Off in the distance was Santa Monica Pier and a different kind of recreation, ferris wheels and roller coasters, you could hear the glee all the way down the beach. Holidays and sunshine, service and community, breath and life...

The Wolf Moon

We have been enjoying the full moon and how close it is to us the past few nights. This is often called the Wolf Moon, as this is the time of year when the wolves would gather outside the villages and howl at the moon. The wolves are silent here in the City of Angels these days and rarely travel in packs. However, I am still moved by the close proximity of the favorite of my celestial bodies. 

As women, we are closely linked to the moon and the effect it has on our bodies. When our cycles are off, you can leave a jar of water out in the full moon light. The next day, bring it in and take a sip of it everyday. I know it sounds loony, but it really does help connect us to the cosmos. To ignore our connection to the dome above us is to break our connection to nature. When my daughter was young we spent many days along the banks of the Williamette River and the shores of the Pacific Ocean. I always felt that the watery connection helped to bring us closer together. As women, it is important to embrace our connections to the natural world, it is these elements that strengthen us and keep our inner core bright and shining into the world.

I watched as the moon was rising from my bed last night. My heart felt heavy as I knew the moon would be making it's way away from the earth and would not swing this close for an entire year. As I began to live into the sadness, I gathered myself together, gazed at the night sky and tried to take in the powers of the moon and hold it to me, to take with me through the year. I hope to tap into this reserve when my womanhood feels threatened or weak. I hope to carry this violet light in my heart as I deal with friends and loved ones, strangers and those who wish ill of me and others. 

Thank You Notes, Art And Good Friends

After a very trying day on Thursday, I spent the morning with my legs up and resting. There was tea and toast, long overdue thank you notes and a brief trip to the Norton Simon Museum. The afternoon ended with a dear, young poet singing his latest collection of songs at our table.

How blessed is life when our hearts are open? We only need to allow the sweetness in, call the sweetness to us, recognize when angels are in our midst. So a difficult day is followed by a day of enjoying the simple beauty of the blessedness of life. Blessings on your blessings this cool winter morning.

Feeling Empty

I am feeling stripped from the inside out this morning. I feel empty and torn and gray. What I know and have always known is that one must have courage for the truth. I have tried to walk this path for many a year. Have courage for the truth. Have courage for the truth. It is selfish really. Mostly, it is so I can review the end of my day and know that at least I tried to be truthful. I am certain, the truth is all that matters. It comes out, even when others lie and confidently spread falsehoods. Perhaps not everyone is able to see it or experience it, but one can feel it. You feel it so deeply in your soul that you cannot doubt the power of it, the truth.

Yesterday I was surrounded by individuals that I would otherwise choose to steer clear of in my daily life. Yet, somehow, my path is intersecting with theirs at this moment in time. My mantra is always, be full of grace, be full of grace. Yet, I was witness to so much bad behavior by adults. When did we humans begin to abandon the manners we learned as children. I was surrounded by professional adults who were rolling their eyes, guffawing, snickering and lying. At one point, I was fighting the desire to stand up and look at each of these grown-ups directly in the eye and say, "You have bad manners!"

I don't know how they slept last night. I didn't. I tried hard to release it, to decompress, but my back ached from sitting so long, from watching grown-ups strip away my hope in humanity. I would rather surround myself with children. They have manners, they usually speak the truth, at least the children I know. They could teach this group of grown-ups a thing or two regarding nobility, chivalry and having courage for the truth.

I am going to be kind to myself today. I will care for my aching, healing body. I will attempt to soothe my tattered insides and forgive myself for judging others so harshly. In the meantime, I turn to Miss Mary Oliver, who often helps to soothe my soul...

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

© Mary Oliver

In honor of the strength of truth and the human spirit to overcome even itself. 

Epiphany-The Day of Spiritual Revelations

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany. I went to a Catholic school that was named in honor of this feast day. As a child, my impressions of the spiritual world were completely colored by the teachings of the Catholic faith. I must admit, there is a soft part of my heart that honors the ritual and pomp of organized religion. I adored going to church and continued to go alone after the rest of my family abandoned the Sunday morning ritual. I would walk to church alone, I would sit alone and I would pray so hard my face surely looked pinched from my concentration. I was a believer.

As I grew, my heart and mind began to explore other ways to obtain a relationship with God. I never doubted there is a God. My proof is in the beauty of the Passion Flower. That was my ah-ha moment. I must have been nine or ten years old, I saw a blooming Passion Flower on the vine behind our house. All I could think was, "Only God could design something this amazing." From that day on, I have been a believer, in many things.

I spent my twenties immersed in Hindu culture and lived in India with my daughter when she was just a year old. In many ways the Hindu culture is based on the same type of devotion and service to God as Catholicism. It was not a stretch for me. As the years wore on I was introduced to Anthroposophy. In many ways, Anthroposophy has made me search more deeply for what is true in me, what eternity for the soul really means and what our duty entails as a human being walking on this planet with other living beings.

My life has been enhanced through a deeper connection to these time honored festivals. Before many of these festivals were adopted by Christianity, human beings marked time and the passing of the earth based on these festivals, Michaelmas, Martinmas, Candelmas, May Day, Epiphany, the Solstices and the Equinoxes. These markers help us move through the year and allow us a time to reflect on the nature of humanity as we live on this planet. Recently, human beings have moved indoors, with the luxuries of electric lighting, heating and air conditioning, our lives do not necessarily have to reflect what is going on outside. This does not mean that these natural shifts do not occur. But are we aware of them?

We cannot argue that in the winter the days are shorter, the nights are longer. We cannot argue that in the height of summer we are able to reach toward the sky with outstretched arms. We can feast on the juicy fruits of summer, berry and peach nectar dripping down our chin. In the autumn it is natural for us bundle beneath our scarves, and crunch the leaves beneath our feet. The garden begins to bend back toward the earth, but what do our souls require in these transformative times? How do we mark these movements internally?

So this season, I embraced the darkness with bringing the light of candles into our home. We kept the house toasty warm and pushed our hands deep in our pockets as we walked in the velvety night. As the New Year approached I began a deep cleaning and clearing of our home. Yesterday, the last of the Twelve Holy Nights, the Eve of the Epiphany, I burned Arabian Frankincense and Amber. I smudged the corners of our home with sage and vocalized our intentions for the New Year. I kept all of the windows closed and gave the house a good smoke out. After the ritual, I flung all the doors and windows wide open, casting away the dust of the last year and welcoming the all the New Year has to offer!

I feel ready to make my first steps into the New Year. How about you?

All Packed Up And Put Away

The tree has been recycled, the vintage ornaments are wrapped and tucked away. The nutcracker is back in his box and all the signs of the holiday are safely put away until next season. I must say, after a difficult Christmas last year, this season was filled with light and cheer. Last year I was confined to my bed, unable to walk and unsure of what was wrong. It has been such a joy to be an active participant in our life again.

The New Year approached quietly and was welcomed with a few sips of champagne and a few sweet kisses. It is indeed a more simple life. Those things that matter are now at the forefront. My children, semi-grown, were off celebrating in their own way. My son spent the night on the Rose Parade route with several thousand other people. I am glad he was able to experience this silly kind of fun, staying up all night, sleeping on Colorado Boulevard, these are only things one does one young. Sleeping on the sidewalk? No thank you.

This weekend, I plan to give the house a good thorough New Year cleaning, sweep out the old year and welcome in the bright and shiny New Year. I have a lot of emotional dust from the last year that I would rather not drag around with me. It is better to let it go, clean it out of the corners and make room for something new.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

-Alfred Tennyson

Afternoon Tea And Other Delights

The gap between Christmas and the coming of the New Year has been quiet and filled with family and friends. We have been enjoying time together, playing with our new Christmas toys like a new camera flash and photo printer. There are new phones and surprisingly, a new remote control car and helicopter my 15 year old LOVES. I love that. Thank you notes have been written and posted and the house still glows in the evenings with candle light and twinkle lights. I have resumed some handwork and sewing and always find it so relaxing to keep my fingers nimble and create new pretties.

We are doing our best to avoid downtown Pasadena this time of year. The Rose Parade takes over our fair community and although it is fun and festive, it causes major traffic issues.

On this last day of 2008, I will go to the sea. This has been a year that has completely knocked me off center. I was seriously injured, I may no longer be working a job I thought I loved, I have lost a community and my reputation. Yet, the lessons remain. I think I can look upon this year with a certain amount of clarity, sometimes.

However, when I look around my home and the uncertain thoughts loom, I am greeted by a home filled with light and love. We had some surprise visitors on Sunday afternoon and I was able to set a lovely tea table with all of the sweets that have found their way into our pantry. As I look at this photo, I also realized that nearly every dish, cup, linen and votive were thrifted. The green floral juice glasses are a new addition. They set me back $2.95 for a set of nine. It is easy to enjoy life when it looks so pleasant.

I was up at 6am baking coconut cupcakes for a friend. We will go off to the shore, release our worries of the past year and contemplate the blessings this New Year has to offer, if only our eyes and hearts are open. We will feast on cupcakes and sea air. This morning I pulled out three Angel Cards. They read: Balance, Responsibility and Joy. I do not think I could argue with any of those blessings...

Blessings on this last day of the year and may your coming days be filled with love and beauty.

Happy New Year.

 

Oh, How The Times Have Changed And Stayed The Same

After years of sneaking around after the children were asleep, I actually filled their stockings while one of them was in the room. She was diplomatic enough  to keep her head turned. They are 18 and 15 now, so I feel a bit less guilty.  We have never been a materialistic Christmas kind of family. Each person got one or two small things they were yearning for and a few items of need. The stockings were stuffed to the gills with a piece of their favorite fruit, nuts, and a candy bar. 

The big booty came at their aunt's house. This is where the Gameboys, iPods and other gadgetry was won. We don't make lists here at home, but their aunt always requested one. It took me a few years to notice her selfless giving. Often times getting EVERYTHING on the list! I finally had to ask my children to be more conscious of their lists, I think they noticed she sometimes purchased everything too. My dear sister has always been aware that as a single mother of two, that funds were always limited. Certainly, my children did not NEED all she has given them over the years, but what they have witnessed what it means to give when you have the means to give.

I do not think it has made them materialistic or expectant. They are always very grateful and aware that giving comes in many forms. Here at home, we give more simply. At family gatherings, more elaborate gifts are showered upon the children. In the end, the heart force behind the giving is always the same.

This Christmas season, I am just so happy in our wee cottage. We have been blessed with time together and family nearby. The rain is falling out side my window, a cool, wet breeze wafts in from time to time. The Creme Brule French toast is soaking in the fridge and the breakfast table is waiting to be set. We have food enough for all, and love enough for all. There is nothing more to ask for this grey and wet morning.

Blessings of this holy season to all of you. 

The Aftermath

I love the aftermath of a dinner party.  I love the bread wiped plates, the last of the candle flicker and the dregs of the hot chocolate in fancy tea cups. We celebrated the Winter Solstice by feasting on sausages, roasted root vegetables and crusty country herb bread. There was rosemary infused olive oil for bread dunking, fresh butter for spreading and boughs of rosemary from the garden adorning the table.

The meal began with a reading of the importance of this particular Winter Solstice and them a moment where all present joined hands and envisioned one quality we want to see manifest in our new year. There was lots of laughter and a morbid conversation around murder ballads and inappropriate folk songs. We finished with a reading of The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes, zombie haiku and the lyrics of an old Nick Cave song, Sad Waters. Everyone at the table agreed that Jack should have jumped on the door with Rose at the end of the Titanic, for there was clearly room for him if Rose had just shifted over a wee bit!

We ended our feasting with lemon cake, violet hot chocolate with fresh Chantilly cream and peppermint bark. We did not even cut into the homemade apple pie! After dinner we sat around the tree while my dear friend insisted on straightening the wool Nativity scene under the tree. It actually looks very sweet now. We sipped the best egg nog in the world and giggled until way past our bedtime.

If this is any sign of how the new year will begin, I have high hopes surrounded by flickering candles, full bellies and warm hearts.