Dear Dave,

It's been a year: a year of loneliness, sorrow, unimaginable grief, stress, anguish, fear, tears, hesitation, of slogging through the days, enduring the nights, even glimpses of joy. 
It's been a year.
I had no idea it would be this hard, this difficult. You warned me about the loneliness and the grief but the work has been unimaginable as well. It would break your heart to know of promises others made to you and haven't keep, the money you loaned and not returned, of how some people have simply disappeared. The lack of basic human decency has almost overwhelmed me, how do people live with themselves? It has dang near broken my back, not to mention my spirit but here I am, a year later and still standing. 
It's been a year. 
I've allowed given myself the gift of a year; now it's time to set aside grief and begin mourning. Grief is different; it's more immediate, more necessary, more now. Absolutely, it will continue to catch me unawares but, I'm hopeful, those times of being poured out onto the kitchen floor, sobbing my heart out with dogs licking my face, are over. Please God...? Mourning will continue the rest of my life, a dark horse but not out front.
As Jack Lewis said of his marriage to Joy, "This had reached its proper perfection. This had become what it meant. Therefore of course it would not be prolonged.' As if God said, 'Good; you have mastered that exercise. I am very pleased with it. And now you are ready to go on to the next." 
And, Dave, so you have.
The Baptist Minister came by last month, he didn't know you'd died. Dave, we both stood in the driveway and wept, both for the loss of you and for the knowledge you'd made your peace with God and now have Heaven as your residence. That man of God had so many nice things to say about you; I hope to remember his kindness all my days. It's a memory buffer against the others who didn't do their ministerial job.
Others who knew you have said you'd be proud of me. I surely hope so. That ancient advice, "don't make any major decisions the first year" is good advice...except when it isn't. I've made major ginormous decisions this past year: I've bought property, cattle, kept the farm going, traveled, continued helping with the Community Association and VFD. I've kept putting one foot in front of the other until...here I am, a year later and still thanking God for His mercy, grace, love and goodness poured out to me.
Yes, I know death comes either to us or for us and, no matter how much we anticipate it, it's always a shock, in fact, a huge surprise! I love you, Dave, and mourn for what will never be. Why is it some would rather remind me of arguments you and I had? Why don't they remember the good great times as well? Are they jealous? How sad if that's the case. You and I never understood jealousy; what a rotten, consuming, ugly emotion! And for what? When someone would say, "so and so ran off with another man's wife", you'd say, "if you cheat with me, you'll cheat on me." Loyalty is so needed today and there are so many men and women who don't have, nor give, loyalty. How can a marriage exist, much less flourish, without trust?
You taught me well, Dave. 
You were friend, lover, husband, mentor, provider, protector; you were, in fact a complete package. I complimented you but didn't complete you, except, perhaps in love. Of the lessons I might have taught you, learning how to love again was, perhaps, the most important.
Yet, I don't want to be one of those people who make saints of their deceased. You could be meaner than a two-headed snake when you chose. When I told Mary this, she said, "Yeah, but he was your two-headed snake" and we both laughed.
This past year has been spent not only grieving but putting myself back together. God has is doing His work in me. Yes, that work will continue for the rest of my days, but the major work of healing my grief He has done with a tender and gentle hand.
So, I am spending this week, of the first year anniversary of your death, by myself in a remote place where I know no one and no one knows me. Was it difficult, getting on that plane and traveling by myself? You bet! Did I question myself? Yep! Did I feel fear? Oh my yes! And then...I did it anyway. I don't want to be one of those women people who are afraid to travel, unwilling to leave the comfortable and known, who make themselves a prisoner when there's a great big beautiful world to explore. 
So, I am far from home, saying good-bye all over again. I am putting to rest all those dreams we shared...Thistle Cove Farm, travel, old age together. It is right and true although I, in my ignorance, would have it otherwise. In turn, I am dreaming anew because without a vision, I will surely perish.
I trust you were welcomed by those great cloud of witnesses gone on before. 
I trust Christ welcomed you with arms opened wide, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." 
I trust in the distant future smile, we'll see each other again. I wonder if we'll know each other in Heaven? That's a question that bothers some but not me. Heaven will be so glorious with Him what does it matter if we recognize each other? We knew each other on earth and it was here we reached "proper perfection"; it is there perfection will be achieved.
Dave, thank you. 
Thank you for all of it...friendship, love, marriage, life, travel, the farm, the animals, the coziness, and, yes, even the arguments for they taught me as well. 
Tu manques a moi, Beloved, good-bye.

Blessings ~ life...LIFE!...~ Dave ~

Travel Journals

~ trio of travel journals ~

Karen, My Desert Cottage, is hosting Where Bloggers Create, her third annual blog party to share creative spaces. This year I decided to take a deep breath, pull up my big girl britches and join in. In other words, I'm throwing myself on the mercy of others; showing my artwork and telling a bit about it and myself in the process.

Many, many decades ago, I had an art teacher...I seem to remember sixth grade...who told me, in no uncertain terms, "You have no talent in art; don't even bother." Needless to say, it crushed my creative spirit and it has taken me decades to quieten her voice in my memory and move forward. 

As an aside, recently a friend's daughter, was told by her "guidance counselor" (and I use the term Very Loosely!), "You only have a 3.5 GPA so I wouldn't count on going to university or on being a vet." My mouth dropped to the floor; the girl looked at me and said, "I'm only a sophomore, I have a few years to pull the GPA to a 4.0...right?"  "YES!" I told her and don't listen to that woman; she, very obviously, doesn't know what she's talking about!" 

What is it with dream stealer's and dream killer's? They seem hades bent on robbing others of pleasures well within reach. It makes me furious! Especially now that I'm older, wiser and not at all intimidated by the pettiness of folks who want to give me their opinion. Granted, it's taken me decades to get to this point but now that I'm here, it's best to steer clear! (smile) I refuse to listen to people who want to steal or kill my dreams and have found the absolute best way to deal with them is to sit, or stand, quietly and Not Say A Word. One thing I learned in sales, pitch your piece, ask for the order then Shut Up. The next person to say a word "loses". When someone attempts to steal or kill my dream, I simply look at them, never saying a word until they either speak or I turn and walk away. Trust me, it's a position of power and you've won your point without harsh words spoken or ill will made.

In the ensuing years my creative outlet has been the home. I'm not a great decorator but our home is a cozy sanctuary for folks, especially Dave and I, and it's a place where people feel safe and comfortable. I've made a dozen or more quilts for family and friends, knitted hats and scarves for charity, raised a garden, canned, dried and frozen food for family, friends and neighbors...generally, been a home maker, farmer and shepherd. It's been good yet I've always wanted to try my hand at Real Art. By the way, what is Real Art, anyway?

 ~ London journal ~

Last year, to celebrate Dave's milestone birthday, we went to London and had a marvelous time! How could we not, eh? (smile) The first, purple, journal in the first photo was my London Journal and it brings back such wonderful memories. Above, the incredible Felicity Kendal, a favorite from Rosemary and Thyme was in George Bernard Shaw's most excellent and thought provoking play Mrs. Warren's Profession.

 ~ rosemary for remembrance ~

 From our flat, a sprig of rosemary plucked from the garden, is a reminder of mornings begun with tea and crumpets; evenings finished with wine, crackers and cheese. The rosemary is held in a small business card holder from All Saints Spitalfields where 1,300 Singer Featherweights captured my attention.

I'd never made ART a travel journal and found the process delightful, challenging, frustrating and enormously rewarding. You see, I've always associated "art" with drawing or painting and, since I could do neither, I thought I couldn't be an artist. WRONG! I simply had to find where I was comfortable and now I've found figured out, the more I do make art, the wider my horizons, the greater my scope, the more pleasure and enjoyment, the more my wings grow because they are stretched...MORE! I'm like a child at Christmas, on her birthday who has been given this delightful gift by the First Creator and I'm growing growing growing little by little. It feels good; Very Good!

~ Europe 2010 travel journal ~

After the great success of our London trip, Dave said, "would you like to go to Paris, spend a day or two then board the train and go east?" Oh Babe, I am SO packed and ready! He also asked me, "do you think we're too old to do this?" My response, "Yep, but next year we'll only be another year older so let's go for it now!"Unfortunately, he became ill and that trip was put on hold but not until after I'd prepared the third travel journal.One of my favorite things about this journal is the tag that reads "

~ Dave ~

On one of the first pages, but inside a "folder" was the contact information for our travel agent. Underneath reads:

~some people walk in the rain, others just get wet. ~

The middle journal in the first photo? That's my journal for 2011, an upcoming trip where I'll travel solo on a great and grand adventure. The background is a page from a 1934 geography book showing shepherds, spinners, farmers and filled in with stickers, stamps, attachments and all sealed with modge podge. The bookmark is a green ribbon with Seize the Day in buttons, a purple heart, Celebrate (a charm) and felt flowers.

~ seize the day, cultivate gratitude ~

I'm excited and have been preparing like mad; working on my travel journal, packing and re-packing trying...and succeeding...to fit everything into a 21 inch carry-on suitcase with a small duffel as my personal item.

~ celebrate indeed! ~

God willing, I'll find i-net/cyber cafes and blog from the road but I'm headed to remote corners of the world so that may, or may not, be possible.

~ remote corners ~

You know what though...it doesn't matter and it's okay; it's still a Great and Grant Adventure and I'm not letting allowing anyone to steal or kill my dream. The same God who takes care of me here at Thistle Cove Farm will take care of me where ever I roam so there's no need to worry or fret; I'm in Good Hands.

As Jack Lewis once said, "You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." So, I'm dreaming new dreams, setting new goals and urge you to go and do likewise. Please squelch the naysayers voices in your life. They don't know much anyway and if they could do, they would be doing it rather than being a dream stealer killer. Listen to your own calm center; it's there but you have to turn off the television, shut down the radio or audio book and...listen. shhhhhhhh....listen...

Blessings ~ travel ~ journals ~ folks who encourage ~

Home again, home again, jiggety-jog...

~ Periwinkle Colored Bowls ~

Do you remember the old Mother Goose nursery rhyme "To market, to market..."? It goes:

"To market, to market, to buy a fat pig,
Home again, home again, dancing a jig;
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog;
Home again, home again, jiggety-jog;
To market, to market, to buy a plum bun,
Home again, home again, market is done."

I've been to market, several actually, and loved them all. Petticoat Lane, Old Spitalfields, Borough Market,  Old Truman Brewery Market and others. That's when I wasn't wandering around museums or getting lost on foot -smile-. One place I found myself was Covent Garden and spent a pleasurable hour at a small tea shop before venturing, again, into the "unknown".

Londoner's are mad for "vintage" and I couldn't believe the prices! Wool coats from the 1960's were $100 and better. A long, champagne colored Victorian petticoat was $80 but "just for me" the price was reduced to $70. Shoes that had seen far, far better days bore rather precious prices as well. Now, I don't mind wearing thrift store clothes...after all, there's the washer and dryer...but I draw the line at OPS's...other people's shoes. That makes me a trifle squeamish and I've had my arm up to the shoulder in the rear end of a ewe, helping out with the birthing process.

I'm home and settling into a familiar routine. When I got home, a week ago today almost to the hour, the temperatures were above freezing since the first of the month. We've had our share of fierce January winter weather and the warmer temperatures and rain have melted the snow. We're now seriously into mud season but that will change as temps drop again before true springs arrives.

Today is Vintage Thingie Thursday over at ColoradoLady and I've several offerings, beginning with the periwinkle bowls at top. The one on the right belonged to my MIL and we just purchased the left one at a recent auction. These are beautiful bowls and the left one has a "raw" lip where women would sharpen their kitchen knives. I've seen Grandmother Bennett do it time and again and always thought having a bowl serve more than one function was quite useful. These are my 'go-to' bowls for making cat head biscuits and they are "just right" for making six to eight biscuits. 

~ Hand made Scottish tea cozy ~

This lovely little tea cozy was hand sewn by...??? Someone's Gran, do you think? It has a bit of lace, some batting to keep the tea pot warm, an embroidered thistle and the words "Frae Scotland"; frae means from.

~ Thistle and "frae Scotland", embroidered all

~ Top handle ~

This is so clever; the center square where the thistle is located, has an opening and this little rectangle was stuffed inside. It's to hold the tea pot lid on whilst pouring tea; I love this! It shows someone actually meant for this tea cozy to be put into good use and so it shall.

Home Sweet Home and it's dear to me even with the rain and sleet that's absolutely pouring from the skies as I'm sitting in the sunroom updating my blog. It's below freezing and the wind chill is horrid, taking the temps to around 10 above so it's a good dayi to put the tea pot and cozy into good use. I'm headed to the studio and will play Loreena McKennitt while I work, perhaps an audio book later. I promised to catch up with everyone and I will, eventually. I want to visit your blogs and see what I've missed.My desktop computer crashed and the computer doc has been called and will arrive sometime today to take said computer to the shop. Hmmmm...didn't I just say that a few months ago? Seems like an all to recent happening but maybe it's my memory that's playing tricks, once again.

My studio time these past few days has been productive. I've finished one fleece throw, have two more to finish, a scarf for me and a couple of baby quilts pieced with batting and bottom and ready to be sewn. I am so blessed to be able to stay home and work on things that bring happiness so many times beginning when I purchase the fabric and begin to think of the project. Happiness is such a simple quality yet so necessary to our daily existence; so many people struggle to be happy and that is so sad. I find happiness in such simple things: a breath drawn deeply, a good body stretch, a baby's face when they see their quilt for the first time, an adult's face when they realize they were thought of and then action followed thought. Does that make me a simple person? Probably so but it also makes me a happy person.

Until next time,

Blessings ~ tea cozy ~ periwinkle bowls ~ home ~ warmth ~ happiness ~ simplicity ~

London III

~ Sumerian woman ~

This is, possibly, how a Sumerian woman of royal birth would have worn her jewellery in the City of Ur, located in now modern day Iraq. According to some, Sumerian writing is the oldest writing discovered by archaeologists.

The city of Ur of the Chaldees was the birthplace of Abraham, Father of Nations as later decreed by God. At age 75, Abram, his name not yet changed to Abraham, left Ur, taking his wife, Sarai, his nephew Lot, both families and all they owned, to, eventually, settle in his new home, the land of Caanan. Prior to settling in Caanan, they settled in Haran where God blessed both men greatly with  tremendous wealth and many possessions but soon the land couldn't support both of them. New grazing grounds were needed and Abram gave Lot first choice. Lot decided to pitch his tents on the plain of Jordan, near the city of Sodom while Abram moved on to Caanan. At this time, Abram and Sarai were childless and, in fact, beyond "normal" child bearing years, at least Sarai was too old, biologically, to bear children; her normal course had ceased. Bearing children was a woman's sole identity, especially the bearing of sons, and for Sarai not to have born her husband children, was considered a curse. She gave her handmaiden, Hagar, to Abram and Hagar became pregnant and bore Abram a son, Ishmael, when Abram was 75 years old. When Hagar knew she was pregnant, she began to despise Sarai and was mistreated by Sarai so Hagar ran away, to die in the desert. An angel of the Lord found her and told her to return to Sarai and Abram and to submit to Sarai. The angel of the Lord promised Hagar her yet unborn son would have too many descendants to count and "he will be a wild donkey of a man; his hand will be against everyone and everyone's hand against him, and he will live in hostility toward all his brothers".

Twenty-four years later, God appeared to Abram and told him he would now become a father for the second time. God made a covenant with Abram and promised, "you will be the father of many nations and your name will no longer be Abram but Abraham". This covenant also included all males, eight days or older being circumcised. God continued, telling Abraham his wife, Sarai, would also have a name change to Sarah and, through her son, "would be the mother of nations and kings of people would come from her". Both Sarah and Abraham found this too fantastic to be true; after all, Abraham and  Sarah were both aged and they laughed at this idea but the next year, Sarah did indeed bear a son, Isaac.

Many things happened prior to Isaac being born. According to God's decree, all males, eight days and older, were circumcised this when Abraham was 99 years old and Ishmael was 13 years old. Additionally, Abraham was visited by "three men" who came to tell Abraham Sodom was going to be destroyed due to the extreme wickedness of the citizens. Abraham knew his nephew, Lot, and Lot's family resided in Sodom so Abraham began to bargain with the Lord.

Note: those middle easterners have always been great hagglers, it seems -smile-.

In due course, after much bargaining, the Lord agreed if ten righteous people could be found in the city, the Lord would stay his hand from destroying Sodom. The men left Abraham and made their way to Sodom and Lot's home. It gets rather graphic, at least in my mind, because the men of Sodom or Sodomites as they were known, went to Lot's house and demanded Lot give up his guests for the purpose of sex with the Sodomites. Lot refused and went so far as to offer his two virgin daughters for that purpose but begged the Sodomites to leave the guests alone.

Perhaps you know the end of the story...? Ten righteous men could, in fact, not be found but Lot and his family were given the opportunity to flee Sodom. The wife was turned into a pillar of salt because she looked back after being told to only face forward. I've thought about that often and wondered how many blessings I've missed out on because I've neglected to look to my future because I was focused on my past. Only God knows.

The story of Ishmael and Isaac is the beginning of the "tension" between Jews and Muslims. Brothers, one illegitimate and the other legitimate, fought amongst themselves and their offspring continue to this day. They were both raised in the same household, one the son of a slave girl the other the son of the  mistress and both have many, many, many descendants. There is a lot more to the stories of Lot and Abraham and it's all interesting and relevant to modern day events but I've gotten off track.

~ In this same room at the British Museum, there were other mummies ~

 ~ Staffordshire dig ~

Move forward through history a few hundred years and we come to Great Britain and the Staffordshire Hoard. It's the largest Anglo-Saxon hoard ever found and the first pieces were found in July 2009. When the dig was finished, more than 1,500 pieces, totally more than five kilograms of gold were in Her Royal Majesty's collection.

~ Gold strip with Latin inscription ~

The Latin inscription reads, 'Rise up, Lord, and may Thy enemies be dispersed and those that hate thee be driven from thy face'. Numbers 10:35 The purpose of this strip is unknown and there are spelling errors in the Latin.

I've already shown the photo of the British Museum but wanted to show it again. There's something I missed telling you and I find it fascinating.

In this photo of the left section of the British Museum, do you see the lion in the lower left corner?

That is this lion, the Lion of Knidos, weighing seven tons! It comes from a Knidos tomb in a cemetery in south-west Turkey. It looks extremely large in the above photo but when placed in context in its position in the British Museum, it pales in comparison. Amazing how perception changes things, eh?

As one exits the British Museum, this apartment building is directly across the street. I've lived in NYC and Washington, DC and this brings back memories of "flat living". I'll take Thistle Cove Farm, ta very much! -smile-

Until next time,

Blessings ~ traveling safety ~ this fabulous trip ~ figuring out the Tube ~ making it all fit, history, that is ~

London, England

 

 ~ British flag flying high ~

St. Augustine said, "the world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page."  He's right, wouldn't you agree? Even if travel is to town or to the next town or adjacent state or country, or even across the pond.

I'm "across the pond" in London, experiencing, along with everyone else, the worst winter Great Britain has seen in more than twenty-five years.

It's amazing, wonderful, exciting, exhilarating, fabulous, exhausting and I'm lovin' every single second. Even those seconds where my eyes are closed and I'm breathing deeply and renewing my physical self for the next day and more of all the above.

Perhaps you remember I was to have gone on the missions trip to Tomsk, Siberia, Russia? For personal reasons the wise advice of Dave and my parent's was taken and I decided not to go. The London portion was already arranged so Dave gave me that trip as a Christmas gift. It's positively incredible to have found a wonderful man whose dreams match exceed my own.

WOOHOO!

Due to the major snow storm all over the East Coast, the trip began earlier last week and I'm now firmly ensconsed in the London Lodge Hotel near Earl's Court station.

When I arrived at London Heathrow Airport, Sky Shuttle a driver and car was supposed to pick me up and deliver me to my hotel. Unfortunately, said driver decided, for reasons unknown to me, to abdicate his/her responsibilities and not show up. Not exactly what I wanted to hear at 11:30 p.m. Fortunately, the Underground, or Tube as it's known here, was directly beneath my feet so I visited the ATM, got some English money, pounds sterling, and took the Direct line to Earl's Court station, my exit. So far, so good.

~ the Underground or subway system ~

The tube employees are fabulous and stand ready to help and I've never run into any who are ill tempered or ill mannered. I asked directions to the hotel and was given some which were, unfortunately, totally wrong. An hour later, after walking around a residential area in the pouring snow, cold and ice I found the hotel at 1:20 a.m. I thought the directions might be a little wrong but when I questioned the Tube employee, he said he was sure he was right. He meant well but he was wrong...totally wrong.

It turns out the hotel is about 4 or 5 blocks from the Tube station, straight down Earl's Court Road. You know what...other than someone "borrowing" my brand new gloves and not returning them -smile-, it's been, Thank God, smooth sailing. I'll take it any day...a wonderful and safe time for the price of a pair of gloves and a few long walks!

~ Natural History Museum ~

My time has been spent visiting museums, The Tower of London, a tiny bit of shopping and miles and miles of walking. The walking has been great because I'm not going to exercise class and one subs for the other, eh?

The Natural History Museum is a testimony to Victorian-ism, if you'll forgive the word. It's fabulous and half a day wasn't enough time to see even a small portion of contents.

~ Galapagos Giant Tortoise ~

~ Double Decker Bus ~

~ Grit, used for dusting icy sidewalks ~

~ statue at Victoria and Albert Museum ~

The Victoria and Albert Museum has a quilt exhibit...beginning March...sigh...so I wandered around looking a the amazing statues. I neglected to get the artist name but I dearly adore this statue.

 

~ Tower of London ~

A Beefeater explaining when the ravens leave the Tower of London, the monarchy will fall. To safeguard the ravens from leaving, there are six or nine ravens, depending upon whom you ask, who have residence at the Tower. I noticed bands on both legs of all the birds.

There's plenty more but time for bed; we're five hours ahead of you and it's time for me to find some shut-eye. Please, please accept my apologies for not keeping up with each of you. I'll be home soon and will make amends.

A Moorish proverb says, "he who does not travel, does not know the value of men." How true!

Until next time,

Blessings ~ travel ~ London ~ tube ~ Beefeaters ~ museums ~ proverbs ~ safety ~

~ Sandra ~

Ennui and Give-Away

 Lately, there's been a sense of ennui around here. Nothing definite, nothing I can, quite, put my finger upon but, a very real, air of ennui. The dictionary says ennui is "a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom". I am not bored nor do I have a lack of interest; in truth, I have so many interests I tend to be scattered without focus or concentration. As to "satiety", that's not true either except in the idea of being satiated with work. There's always work to be done and I am overwhelmed with work, to the point of being so far behind, I feel I'll never catch up. I owe people yarn samples, have for some time, and am kicking myself to 'just do it!'


Perhaps the ennui stems from the political scene: it seems so overwhelming and unbearable. We, the voters, are so divergent, so contrary in our opinions and beliefs and seem to have a hard core idea of where, how and when the direction this country should be headed. We don't seem to listen anymore, especially our "elected representatives"; they especially seem to be listening solely to WIIFM radio. They only want to know, "What's In It For Me" and no one else matters, especially constituents.
I'm fearful. For us all.

Perhaps the sense of ennui comes from living in a haphazard state. Regardless of what I, or Dave, wanted, our house is still not finished from the water damage of eleven months ago. We're headed into winter with things left undone even though I asked, begged, pleaded and, eventually, demanded the work be accomplished. All for naught but I'm still going to "fix up" like everything has been accomplished to my satisfaction. The dining room will have furniture moved in, hopefully, this week and the drapes and sheers have been hung. I'll unpack those many, many boxes of porcelain, china and "precious goods" that Dave's mother left behind.


Hmmm. Wait a minute. Perhaps that's also a cause of ennui. Dave's mother passed away a year tomorrow. I wouldn't be surprised if my body is responding to what my mind pushes away. That was a time fraught with overload; she became ill on 3 Nov and passed away on the 19th. A short, furious illness that was caused, essentially, by old age; she was well beyond 95 when she passed away. She died on Wednesday, a few moments before midnight, and was buried on Saturday; that time was full of details, details, details that are now, mostly, forgotten. Not the day though. That Saturday was bitter; the temperature was about 24F, wind chill was around 15F above, snow snugged the ground and sleet split the sky. The only good thing about that week were the people, family and friends who gathered to support, pray and love us through that time.

~ Mrs. Mary Crockett Bowen Bricker ~

Yesterday, we took Boscoe to the vet and there's yet another mystery. He wasn't getting better as quickly as he should have and a vet visit was in order. Dr. Anne hasn't a clue what the underlying cause of his epizootics are but she thinks environmental. She also thinks his immune system has crashed and his paws look like he's been "introduced" to chemicals that have eaten away the top layers. He was full of ear mites and fleas - both signs of a compromised immune system - and she stuffed him full of antibiotics, flea treatment, ear mite treatment and steroids. She thinks he'll pull through, we should know in a week to ten days. Bos is already feeling better; he greeted me this morning as a cat should, by stretching and taking notice of what was going on around him. His appetite is excellent and he's shown an enormous appreciation for the canned tuna we've been feeding him. Bos is eating dry cat food but we felt he could do with some pure protein as well; he agrees. He also thinks he should be allowed to go outside but, not yet, perhaps not ever again.

~ Bos Man ~

In the past week, I've mailed a baby quilt, three hats and a fleece throw to folks; have almost finished the quilt top for my nephew's Christmas gift and have knitted two mobius scarves.  I'm thinking some serious studio time might put me to rights or, at the bare minimum, leave me with something to show for my time. There are several quilts to finish as Christmas gifts, some more knitting, some mini-art quilts and a few other smaller projects. I'm having to plot my time carefully so things will be finished and received by folks by Christmas day.

~ Deer quilt, in hunter's colors, for nephew ~

Two days after Christmas I leave for Tomsk, Siberia where I'll spend time in an orphanage and then go to Moscow where Christmas will be celebrated with Russian Christians on Epiphany, 6 January. I love celebrating Christmastide, more so than just Christmas. It's an entire Season from Advent, 1 Dec., through Epiphany, 6 Jan., and prepares us, Christ's disciples, to look ahead to world missions in light of the Nativity.

In the western world, we've gotten away from the Christmas SEASON and are focused solely on the material aspect of the day - the buying, wrapping, giving and receiving of gifts - and not The Gift that makes the rest possible. Christmas begins what Easter finishes: God's Divine Plan.

One suitcase is being filled with little gifts for both children and adults and it makes me so happy to open it and think of the joy they will bring. The Children's Home, as orphanages are called, houses children with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, Down's Syndrome and those with physical handicaps. Gifts include small hand lotions, vinyl shopping bags, stuffed toys, balls, packets of flower seeds, bubbles, New Testaments, yarn, knitting needles, crochet hooks and whatever else can be found before Christmas. If you'd like to send a little something, let me know and I'll give you my snail mail address. I'll try to blog from the road so pray that and the trip will be a success.


A bucket of walnuts, soaking in water, will be used to dye some naturally colored Thistle Cove Farm yarn. I always enjoy using walnut dye on dark yarn as it gives a richness and depth of color that caresses the light in a way man-made dyes cannot.

~ Nut Bucket ~

  
I visited family this last weekend; we met at Mother and Daddy's cabin in Webster County, WV and rode over to Randolph County to visit my brother. Fairview Farm, his farm, is for sale and is absolutely beautiful! It's about 130 acres, bordered on two sides by National Forest, about 19 miles from Snowshoe, has some pasture, some wooded, all fenced, a pond, outbuildings, two-vehicle garage and much, much more. It's Very Private, with a quarter mile driveway that juts off from a dirt road that juts off from a two-lane, un-lined secondary road.

 Probably, the house and other buildings cannot be seen, photo on right, but this is from the top of the mountain, looking down upon the house.
The house and other buildings are in a small enclave, photo left.

 ~ Fairview Farm ~

 
It's not good, I don't believe, for me to focus upon myself too much; self reflection tends to result in too much belly button gazing and serves to compound what niggling little problems I think I might have. I much prefer to use my blog to focus on the Good Things but, if you've read this entry and said a prayer, please know you have my gratitude. That's one thing I enjoy about blogland - "meeting" other folks and tucking you into prayer as you are brought to mind throughout the day and week and, hopefully, y'all do the same.

If you're interested in having a first edition copy of Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift From The Sea, leave me a comment and your name will go into the drawing. Please note there is a name and address on the inside cover and that, probably, detracts from the value but it's still a free book, shipping included.

From Gift From The Sea:  
"...I want first of all...to be at peace with myself. I want a singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out these obligations and activities as well as I can. I want, in fact - to borrow from the language of the saints - to live "in grace" as much of the time as possible...By grace I mean an inner harmony, essentially spiritual, which can be translated into outward harmony...I would like to achieve a state of inner spiritual grace from which I could function and give as I was meant to in the eye of God..."

I'll take names until midnight Friday; draw will be Saturday and book mailed Monday.

Until next time,

Blessings ~ Advent ~ Christmas ~ Epiphany ~ Christmastide ~ giving ~ spiritual grace ~ dyeing ~

Alaska, A Year Ago, Part I

~ University of Alaska, Museum of the North, Fairbanks, Alaska ~

Soft adventure...we're too old for any other kind -smile- but we do enjoy taking smallish risks, being on the road, seeing what's around the next bend, over the next hill. We enjoy meeting people, engaging in conversation on how they live, what they think, what's important to them. A year ago, Dave and I flew to Fairbanks, Alaska where we spent a couple of days before flying to Barrow.

~ Two Musk Oxen stot ~

In Fairbanks, we visited the musk oxen program at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks and learned how they are saving these incredible "leftovers" from the dinosaur age. We were unable to visit the Musk Ox Farm in Palmer but the UAF provided us with a lot of information, a warm, hooded sweatshirt I still wear on the farm and some qiviut yarn and a throat wrap. Musk oxen and buffalo amaze and enthrall me; I don't tire of seeing them in the wild and even enjoy seeing them in captivity. I see a distance past where only God, truly, knows what was going on in this ole world and how He evolved this everything from nothingness into something incredible. He said it and it was so...isn't that simply awesome?!

The Oominqmak Musk Ox Producers' Co-operative is owned by around 250 Native Alaskan women who live in remote coastal villages. Qiviut fiber is eight times warmer than wool, more lightweight and is shed naturally in the spring and collected by hand; highly labor intensive. The Native Alaskan women have their own signature patterns, determined by their village and the patterns represent village life and Eskimo culture. Qiviut fiber won't shrink and is delightfully warm and cozy...as evidenced by me when we traveled further north to Barrow, the northernmost city in all of the USA.

~ A great cap for anyone who enjoys fishing! ~

Barrow was first known as Ukpeagvik, the "place where snowy owls are hunted." It was cold and we saw icebergs in the ocean but even the frigid temps didn't keep me from dipping hands and feet into the water. I guess that makes me a member of the semi-polar bear club.

Fewer than 5,000 folks live in Barrow and some of those aren't permanent residents. A majority of the residents are Inupiat Eskimo, who speak Inupiaq, and still live by subsistence hunting, fishing and whaling. Almost every residence has sled dogs on a run. Nearby is the Pigniq archaeological site, containing dwelling mounds of a culture some believe from around 500-900 AD.

~ Official Welcome to Barrow sign ~

~ Paglagivsi, aka Barrow, Alaska ~

~ 551 miles north of Fairbanks, Alaska ~

~Barrow, Alaska ~

~These boats are retired, having proved their mettle in the past ~

~ Umiak ~

Umiak is an open Eskimo boat used for whale hunting. When it's time to hunt whales, the Eskimo's cover the boat in seal skin which allows it to easily float.

~ Young Inuits demonstrate traditional dance, music and clothing ~

A large portion of Barrow income derives from tourism and we were fortunate to have these young adults and children demonstrate native dances and music. So much of their dance revolves around the hunt; understandable as "food, shelter, clothing" meant life in its most basic form.

~ This proud family sang along as they watched their young perform ~

~ Grandmother reliving days past as she participates from the audience ~

~ Grandmother and Grandson ~

While we only spent two days in Barrow, those two days were packed with activity. Below, whale bones form an arch where someone keeps their umiaks and other fishing materials.

~ Dave and I, standing beneath the whale bone arch ~

~ the Arctic Ocean meets the Bering Sea ~

This is the northernmost point one can go in the USA and is north of Barrow. If you look closely, you can see the line where the two bodies of water meet. There's nothing here but ocean, sea, beach, icebergs, sea gulls and polar bears. We didn't see a polar bear and that's okay with me; polar bears are totally unsafe because they have No Fear. Of anything. Each other, other animals, humans...nothing! It made for interesting foot travel as we walked around Barrow and we were told to Always Be Aware of our surroundings. A polar bear had been seen in Barrow the day before and we were told to give them wide berth...for good reason.

The Arctic Ocean, pretty much, lies above the Arctic Circle, 66.5 degrees N, and is almost entirely surround by land. The Arctic Circle is the southern point at which the sun does not rise on the winter solstice nor set on the summer solstice. The central part of the Arctic Ocean is permanently covered in about ten feet of ice and we saw icebergs being batted between the Arctic Ocean and Bering Sea. The Bering Sea is one of the largest ecosystems in the world and home to huge mammal and bird populations as well as marine life.

~ New Zealand traveling companions ~

~ In a eight-seater Cesna, headed for Deadhorse, Alaska ~

Our bush pilot got the most out of a tank of petrol. As we were flying over the tundra, the gas gauge, disturbingly, kept showing a lower and lower supply of petrol. Eventually, the pilot, very casually, reached over and flipped a switch to his second tank. WHEW! Thank God for extra tanks and bush pilots who are absolute pros and don't want to crash any more than do we.

Tundra is the world's youngest biome and is calculated at only 10,000 years old. Now, I'm one of those people who don't have any problem with someone saying, "the earth was formed 50 million years ago" or "tundra is the world's youngest biome at only 10,000 years old". I figure God has made things as He sees fit and one day, beyond the veil, all will be revealed. Heck, I don't understand grass and don't expect to until the other side of death!

The Finnish word "tunturia" means a barren land and that's where we get the word tundra. The ground is permanently frozen from ten inches to three feet, or thereabouts, and no trees grow. In winter, it's frozen, cold and dark and in summer it's soggy, light and covered with marshes, lakes, bodies of water and attracts birds, insects...lots and lots and lots and lots of insects...and provides food or food sources for moose, musk ox, arctic fox and other wildlife.

We flew out of Barrow, headed for Prudhoe Bay where we would spend a couple of nights at a Deadhorse oil workers camp. We spent quite some time in Alaska so the Alaska trip posts will be spread out over a week or three; hopefully, you'll enjoy.

Until next time...

Blessings ~ soft adventure ~ oil workers ~ tundra ~ oceans and seas ~ icebergs ~ heritage ~ bush pilots ~ congenial traveling companions ~