The Summer of Slow...and Quiet

How many of you listen to the Happier Podcast with Gretchen Rubin and her sister, Elizabeth Kraft?  I'm a long-time fan.  

Each year around this time, Gretchen and Liz talk about "Designing Your Summer" -- deciding in advance how you want your summer to go, what you might like to do (especially if it involves others in your cohort or family bubble or whatever in these COVID days), that sort of thing.

I've decided I need a Summer of Slow and Quiet.

"What?!", I can hear you saying. "Haven't we been 'slow and quiet' for 15 months now, forced into isolation by a global pandemic?"

Maybe this is true for some...but the 'quiet' of enforced isolation hasn't quieted my brain, or my soul.  Quite the opposite.  I've found myself struggling with grief, anxiety, irritability and downright anger at the circumstances in which the world finds itself -- globally and closer to home.  I've never suffered fools gladly, and there have been many of them out there -- down the street and on the airwaves.  I was becoming someone I didn't like very much.  My public personna -- wherein I tried always to be polite and thoughtful -- was cracking under the strain.

I realized that I'd not internalized that personna deeply enough to ensure it was who I was all the time, not just out there on the street or online.   What inner peace I'd ever developed in my life -- which had taken a body blow in the years I'd been care-giver/bread-winner/parent -- had not been restored to full capacity in the almost-15-years since.  

So...I've decided to do something about that -- and it begins with, as Wendell Berry would say, "The Peace of Wild Things".

I've long had a habit of journalling early, with a cup of coffee; that continues.  Over the last year I've added Morning Prayer with Dean Robert Willis in the Deanery gardens at Canterbury Cathedral -- in all weathers, with his cats and other creatures in the Cathedral's care.  

These things start my day well -- but in these chaotic times, they've been insufficient.  And so in the manner of Benedictine practice, I've been trying to pause at mid-day as well (anywhere between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m.).  I'm trying to spend more time outdoors, whether in the yard and garden, or on a good long walk.  I'm re-reading Wisdom Distilled from the Daily by Sr. Joan Chittister, taking my time over it so that the practical wisdom will seep into my pores.

And always there's a bit of Mary Oliver who, like I do, often woke early...

The 'making' -- of course! -- continues.  This month's "May-king" is focused largely outside.

"May Long", aka "May 2-4" aka "Victoria Day" Weekend in Canada is viewed by many as the start of summer (June 21 notwithstanding).  And that's when I began to write this.

Many of us -- weather bedamned! -- put in our gardens: seeds, seedlings, new shrubs, whatever.  Those of us in areas -- particularly prone to snow Every Single Month -- still do this, with plenty of covers at the ready.  I'm no exception.  

On the Friday, I mowed the front and back yards immediately surrounding my house and flower beds.  I added a columbine to one of those beds, and a bee balm to another.  I planted a new peony too. 

Saturday I planted my new geraniums, lobelia, baccopa and impatiens.  Monday?  It got colder and teamed with rain.  I didn't begrudge the rain and the cold didn't bring frost so I'm happy.

"Chinook Sunrise" Rose

All that said, in the last two weeks I've also put in my two new apple trees, three Saskatoon berry bushes, a beautiful hardy rose (gift from my daughter for Mother's Day), and have planted lettuce and green beans (seeds) and zucchini (risky!) from seedlings.  The zukes aren't happy -- despite being covered on a couple of frosty nights -- but everything else is fine.

The "East Lawn" is covered with dandelions this time of year.  I used to resent them, but in recent years celebrate them.  Along with the willows, they feed the bees.  This year they're feeding me too -- and some of my family and friends -- with their blossoms.  Yes, I've been making dandelion jam.  There are many recipes out there.  I prefer the simple combination of the liquid "tea" steeped from the petals, plus liquid pectin, sugar, and a bit of lemon juice.  Golden jam that is almost jelly, with a mild taste that resembles honey.

Removing the petals is a quiet, almoste meditative process.

Steeping the dandelion petals

The finished product.

There's not been much produced in the art department, but one give-away quilt is finished but for the washing and mailing; a second is getting its binding.  I've finished socks for the May Socks from Stash challenge...

Pattern: "Funfetti"
Designer: General Hogbuffer on Ravelry
Yarns: assorted -- wool/nylon fingering

There will be a new pair starting June 1 -- when the challenge will be to use a pattern that's not been "popular" -- that is, that's had fewer than 100 makers.  I've picked my pattern and my yarn from stash...stay tuned!  

That said, the other day I counted my hand-knit socks: I have fourteen pair!  That's quite enough, really, especially as that doesn't include two pair that need repair.  So.  Going forward, the next number of from-stash socks will be given away.

Meanwhile, I've just finished the second sleeve on the "Climbing Vines" pullover -- so this next day or so will find all the pieces lying around the house, blocking out, so I can sew them together, add the neckline -- et voila!  Another long-time UFO (since 2009!!) finished!

In addition, my friends keep having grand-babies!  There's a new baby girl in Toronto, who'll be getting these -- sized for 6 months, when it'll be cold again:

Pattern: "Baby Socks" - River City Yarns, Edmonton

Her grandma has told me that there's a baby boy cousin due in August, so a smaller pair -- again to fit in the fall -- is on the needles and will be finished later today.

As well, in another family, there's another new baby girl  boy, so socks for her him are next up.  (Editted May 30, when I checked the grandma's post, getting ready to cast on! Good thing, eh?! 😉)

 

And the embroidery continues.  Lizzie Kate's "My To Do List" fits right into my Summer of Slow and Quiet, as she reminds me to..."Just Breathe"...

On that note, Gentle Readers, I'll finish this post.  If you've kept with me thus far, thank you!  I'm linking this to Nina-Marie's Off the Wall Friday.  She's having some challenging times herself these days so I wish her -- and all of you -- peace, comfort and joy, whatever comes.  One day at a time.  

Artist's Date

It's "August Long" in most of Canada.  This morning I'm off to visit friends on a small acreage south of Calgary.  We'll talk, laugh, stitch, weave, knit, sketch, play with paint and dye, look at art, nap, eat fresh foods and enjoy each other.

But before I leave, I want to share this gift, shared with me and so many others on Facebook by the wonderful Parker Palmer.  He always seems to know when the world needs a bit of Mary Oliver...

1499/65

I was hoping to coordinate my "65" (birthday) with "1500" (blog posts)...but it didn't work out that way, and I'm out of time.

I work tomorrow at The Shop.  I finish packing for Scotland on Sunday a.m.  I drive to Edmonton avec le chat (that's "with the cat", Miss Pooks) on Sunday afternoon...and fly to Glasgow (via Amsterdam) Monday evening.

No time.

Or, rather, what little time there is will pass too quickly to be captured in a "#1500" blog post.

So -- it shall wait till my safe return (God willing)...and perhaps be better for it.  By then I might have actually figured out a way to celebrate it!

Tonight?

Trio - (C) - 2012

In the hour-and-a-half that's left, I'll mark the end of my 65th year with a poem from one of my favourites...Mary Oliver. 

Here in Mirror, all the streets end in trees.  Most streets are gravel.  It is "Aspelund" (Aspen Land).  My art is shaped by trees.  Much of my work depends upon trees.  They shape me, they hold my attention, they shade and comfort me.

So...this gift from Ms. Oliver to me...and back to you.






When I am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myelf,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world,
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves,
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."


And to hear it read aloud, the loveliest way to read poetry...

Please "read" and savour and walk among those trees nearest you.

Celebrate their lives and yours...till we meet again.

P. S. Linking this to Nina Marie's "Off the Wall Friday".  This week she's talking about 'focal point'.  Artwork -- or at least, a piece thereof -- might have one.  Lives have one too...or two, or three, or four...sometimes vying for dominance, but ideally one at a time.  Wishing you all a smooth and easy journey to discovering YOUR 'focal point' -- that place in which you can rest a bit, knowing (for the time being) your Purpose in Life, or adjusting and adapting to What Lies Ahead, or simply loving Those Around You, and/or The One Who Created You to Start With.  Thanks again, Gentle Readers...I love you all!

Thanksgiving

No...I'm not confused about which holiday this is.  :-)  It's just that it seems only fitting to go into a new calendar year with gratitude.  So... today I offer thanks

• For my Gentle Readers, which have doubled in number since last year, so I can no longer thank you individually -- but you know who you are!  Your comments, support and encouragement are a real boon to an artist living -- ahem -- in the boonies.

• For my friends and acquaintances -- over the 'net and 'up close and personal'.

• For my children, who continue to amaze me.

• For my hamlet-home, cozy in autumn and winter and glorious in spring and summer, a continual source of inspiration for my work.

• For the health, strength and joy with which to do that work.

• For enough to share and life to share it: both gifts to take me into this next year.

• For the Creator Who makes it all possible.

Now we are awake

and now we are come together

and now we are thanking the Lord.

This is easy,

for the Lord is everywhere.

He is in the water and the air,

He is in the very walls.

He is around us and in us.

He is the floor on which we kneel.

We make our songs for him

as sweet as we can

for his goodness,

and, lo, he steps into the song

and out of it, having blessed it,

having recognized our intention,

having awakened us, who thought we were awake,

a second time,

having married us to the air and water,

having lifted us in intensity,

having lowered us in beautiful amiability,

having given us

each other, 

and the weeds, dogs, cities, boats, dreams

that are the world.

- from Her Grave, Again - Part 7 - Matins

published in What Do We Know: Poems & Prose Poems

Mary Oliver, Da Capo Press, Cambridge, MA, USA 2002

Disappointment

Whoever coined the phrase, "You can't win 'em all" certainly understood life.  You may recall, Gentle Reader, that I wrote a few posts ago about an idea I had for a piece incorporating a Mary Oliver poem.  Alas, the artist declines permission to use her work in non-literary situations, so it's back to the drawing board.  Sigh.  I am understandably disappointed.  It's a beautiful poem, based on one of Jesus' miracles, and it tells the story by allusion, with overtones of mystery and a sort of contemplative encouragement:

Logos

Why wonder about the loaves and the fishes?

If you say the right words, the wine expands.

If you say them with love

and the felt ferocity of that love

and the felt necessity of that love,

the fish explode into many.

Imagine him, speaking,

and don't worry about what is reality,

or what is plain, or what is mysterious.

If you were there, it was all those things.

If you can imagine it, it is all those things.

Eat, drink, be happy.

Accept the miracle.

Accept, too, each spoken word

spoken with love.

- Mary Oliver, from Why I Wake Early: New Poems - Beacon Press, Boston, 2004

Read it aloud.  Roll out the words on your tongue.  Taste them in your mouth.  What do you see?

I have been given permission to use the poem as inspiration -- just not to use the text directly in the piece (which is what I wanted to do).  We shall see what God does with the idea now.  Meanwhile, I am working on something else.

01-01-11

Happy New Year!

Being a Morning Person, I was asleep before 2011 actually arrived here in my wee hamlet.  As I type, it's 5:30 a.m. Mountain Standard Time and all the revellers are fast asleep.  I'm sitting with one lamp lit, just here on my desk, enough to type by, enough to work on some knitting in a few minutes. The lights of my little tree glow behind me, reflected in the window before me.  Beyond this cozy spot, all is calm, all is night.  It is enough: this day, this hour, this moment; daybreak 3 hours away, and already I am full.

Work on The Argyles continues apace...I have finally reached the heel/instep part of the work on my first stocking.  The pattern calls to me, egging me on to find out how it's going to shape up.

But first...breakfast.  Steel cut oatmeal is bubbling away on the stove-top; I'm about to have a second cup of coffee...

"Watch now, how I start the day/in happiness, in kindness." - Mary Oliver, Why I Wake Early, 2004.