Sunday Thoughts: Walking, Aging, Soup-making

 

Autumn is beautiful this year, full of sunshine, blue skies, and often frosty mornings. We went for a long walk beside a lake this afternoon. Along the shady side of the trail I wished for gloves, but along the sunny side I was neither too hot, nor too cold, but just right. 

More mushrooms. These growing in and around a rotting tree. 

I've been thinking about two books I've recently read. One is a memoir by Abigail Thomas titled What Comes Next and How to Like It. The other is the true story of a woman in Iceland in the 19th century who became a sea captain and campaigned for justice. Woman, Captain, Rebel is written by Margaret Willson. 

Thomas' memoir focuses on aging. She writes about drinking too much, smoking too much, napping too much, and becoming lazy. I was surprised to read that she was in her early 70s as she sounded much older. 

In contrast, Thuridor, the Icelandic woman, remained active and involved with her community throughout her life, working hard, challenging the status quo, and caring for others. 

We all age differently, but I know that I would much rather stay active and engaged as long as I have a choice. I look at my parents who continue to volunteer and who remain active in their church and community well in their late 80s. 

On another note, I made Hungarian Mushroom Soup from the Modern Proper again this afternoon. How good it is, hearty and warming on a cool day. Making soup is one of my favourite things to cook - the activity of chopping, sauteeing, and stirring - followed by gentle simmering while the remainder of a meal is prepared. And then the satisfaction of slowly spooning mouthfuls of savory goodness. 

One last week in November. I hope my American friends had a good Thanksgiving. Wishing you all a lovely week. 

Friday Favourites: Beautiful Walks

 

Uncommon weather continues. After our extended summer followed by a short blast of winter, calmness prevails. Little rain has meant plenty of outdoor excursions, alone and in company. On a misty morning I wandered around Beckwith Pond. It was a slow meander with plenty of stops along the way to admire the ducks. Lots of ducks. My little companion was enthralled with the ducks. 

Fog-shrouded foliage vibrant with colour lines the banks of the pond. When I saw the photo on my computer I wondered how the Eiffel Tower got into the photo. Do you see it? A closer look reveals the truth - a power line tower transformed by the mist.

On another afternoon this mellow pastoral scene reminded me of harvest season and the flat prairie of Canada's wheat fields. It's a gentle scene, and gentleness has been much on my mind recently. 

I'm craving gentle reads just now. Miss Read, Rosamunde Pilcher, Patrick Taylor. I'm dipping in and out of The Wind in the Willows, and Gladys Taber's Stillmeadow Calendar. I love reading books that go through the year and have occasionally thought that it would be fun to write such a book. In a way, blogging is similar, for here I comment on the weather and seasonal occupations. 

The "sunny stillness and the haze that dreams over the woods" is a line of Taber's that I found myself nodding along with after a walk in the forest. In the inlet at the end of this walk, hundreds of moon jellyfish pulsated in the clear green water, and white gulls swooped over the water before perching. 

In thinking of gentleness, I came across these words by Henri Nouwen - "A gentle person treads lightly, listens carefully, looks tenderly, and touches with reverence. Let's dress ourselves with gentleness. In our tough and often unbending world, our gentleness can be a vivid reminder of the presence of God among us." 

Here is my misty morning companion climbing the porch steps. She proudly wears the backpack her mother designed and stitched, complete with all-important pompoms. It's just her size. At almost two, independence is very important. "Do it myself" is a constant refrain. 

A sunny weekend is in the forecast, with rain beginning early next week. We do need the moisture, but now, these gentle sunny days are a balm. 

As my American readers prepare for Thanksgiving, I wish you all a wonderful time with family and friends. 

A Morning Walk

 

Mornings are frosty these days, and I put on my down jacket and gloves to go for a walk. Along one of my routes, a naturalized garden shows off the seasons. Today cyclamen provided such a welcome relief from browns and greens. 

More plentiful than the cyclamen were the early crocuses, pale stems ending in faint lilac buds that remained tightly closed in the cold. 

One homeowner has this large collection of bird houses mounted on a wall facing the path. We've seen a number of nesting birds there, but usually not this early. I heard the chipping of a sparrow and looked carefully at the birdhouses before I found him. He's in the pink house on right edge of the photo. 

In the same garden creamy catkins hung like earrings from slender branches. 

Nearing home, I stopped to admire my neighbour's snowdrops. She has a lovely bed full of them. 

I'm beginning a new routine once again, back at school in the afternoons. The teacher hired to fill my position as a Spanish teacher is unable to continue this semester. The school looked for a qualified replacement, unsuccessfully. So I said that I could fill in for this second semester. I have two classes, in the afternoons, mostly students I've taught before, and am enjoying being with them again.

I worked hard to develop the Spanish program at my school (it's an independent school), and I don't want to see it fail. There are costs - time with my little grandchildren is curtailed, and I am not as free as I was. However, it's just five months and then I will definitely be done. Today was the third day of class, and I'm a wee bit tired. To be expected, I know. And I also know that I'll get used to it once again. 

Morning walks will be a treat to enjoy as I adapt to this new schedule. 

Friday Favourites and What I've Read Online

 

Are you familiar with Wendell Berry's "The Peace of Wild Things"? 

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

It's a good poem for our time, and one I thought of yesterday when I walked beside the pond with my grandchildren. A number of wood ducks swam amongst the much greater hordes of mallards, all quacking and splashing and diving with no care beyond who on the shore might have a bag of bird seed and thus become their new best friend. 

Spending time with these dear little people (grandchildren, not ducks) drove home to me again some of the loss of this pandemic. Felix started Grade One in September and I've spent no real time with him since last summer. So I was very surprised when I heard him reading out loud in the living room, smoothly, with confidence. When did that happen? While I sense the loss, there is great reassurance that the children have continued to grow and learn and even thrive in the midst of the world's chaos. 

I love the longer evenings when we can walk after dinner in the light. Garry Oak trees are slow to leaf out and I don't mind for I find their twisted branches more interesting in silhouette than in leaf. 

It looks to me as if the branch is reaching out with bony fingers to pat the moon on the head. Not a planned photo, but fun to see when I looked at it later. 

The next full moon is Sunday, but according to the weather forecast we won't be seeing much of it. Rain and wind are on the way for that day. We had planned an outdoor family birthday party, but have had to revise our plans considerably. I will be so happy when we can gather indoors and all sit around the dining room table. It's been far too long. 

Besides spending time with the grands, I've planted seeds both indoors and out. The tomato plants are up (indoors) and every day I check them and brush them gently with my hands as I've read that helps to strengthen them. I took a load of books and a few clothes to the thrift store and am slowly working on spring cleaning. 

I've linked below to some things that I've read online recently and thought you might find them interesting, too. 

Wool and moths - I ordered the moth prevention product mentioned in the comments (kritterkill1 on e-bay), and they've just arrived from the UK. Let's hope they work! I've done some mending of cashmere this winter!

Drinking cocoa - Apparently, sales of drinking chocolate have skyrocketed during the past year. Recipe included.

Be inspired - Agatha Christie's everyday inspirations

Have a good weekend everyone! Enjoy this last week of March. 

A Weekend in October

 

There's a sense of quiet that comes in autumn as the earth settles into slumber. Colorless skies and a bit of rain today contributed to the quiet feeling to relax me. After the busy days and weeks of the school start in September, things have settled into a rhythm. I am more than halfway through the 10 weeks of full time teaching and am pleasantly surprised at how I'm doing. Workdays are busy, but on weekends I make an effort to disengage from thinking about classes and students, and focus on rest and preparation. 

Do find that you think about food a lot? I do. I enjoy preparing meals and planning, but sometimes it seems that food is on my mind more than it needs to be. I have found that preparing a few things ahead on the weekend makes the weekdays much easier, and we eat more healthily, too. To that end, this weekend I spent a few hours in the kitchen and made two trays of Roasted Enchilada Sauce with more of our garden tomatoes, Granola with Almonds and Honey, Butternut Squash Curry, a double batch of meatballs, and a Greek Style Roasted Mushrooms. You can click on the links to the recipes. 

These are not complete meals, but they give me a head start on dinner time. I like to make enough for Tim to take to work the next day for lunch. I usually take soup or a salad. I used to plan meals more deliberately, but now I just keep a general idea in my head.

On Saturday afternoon I went shopping for a bit. I've been looking for a pair of waterproof boots that are a bit stylish to wear for walking. This was my third expedition and I'm pleased that I found a pair of Rockport boots that fit the bill. Once home, I made a cup of tea and settled in for some reading - a book I found in the thrift store - "The Evening Chorus" by Helen Humphreys - dealing with the grief of war (WWII) played against the natural world. A quiet read for a quiet day.

This afternoon Tim and I went to Butchart Gardens and wandered around the gardens. It's beautiful throughout the year and now coloured leaves dot the green background. 

The dahlias are still amazing in a variety of colours and shapes. 

We ended our walk with a cup of hot chocolate (and a muffin for Tim), sitting outside in the cool afternoon air. Home again, filled with contentment and the anticipation of an evening of reading or watching a bit of television. And so ends another weekend in October. 

A Walk Along the Beach

 

When I get out of bed in the morning, I always pull open the curtain to see what the day is like. Lately, the garden is a misty place and I can barely see to my neighbour's house due to a combination of fog and wildfire smoke. This weather has a dulling effect on me, making me feel tired and lethargic. After a Saturday of doing a bit of housework, meeting friends for coffee at an outdoor cafe, and little else, Sunday was much the same. We participated in church online, read books, and I stitched a little. Finally, we decided to drag ourselves outside for a walk at Island View Beach. It was just the tonic we needed.

You can see that the lingering fog and smoke (it's hard to tell which is which these days) obliterated the horizon.

We watched this jaunty young California Gull stepping smartly along the water's edge. I think he looks very cheerful. The dull day didn't seem to bother him at all.

How odd the light was - sort of brownish. Island View Beach is on the east side of Vancouver Island and there are many smaller islands just offshore, between us and the mainland. The perching place of these gulls is not an island, per se, but a rock that is visible at certain tides. It's a "chunky bit", so named by Tim's sailing instructor from years ago and we've adopted that term. Chunky bits are important to avoid when boating.

 

I'm always intrigued by the driftwood structures people build at the beach. This was a large one, with plenty of room for four or more grownups to sit in, or a half-dozen children. They are most often built by adults of many ages - a fun way to be creative on the beach, somewhat like Lincoln Logs or Lego for grownups. 

The hawthorn trees are loaded with berries just now, and the berries seem darker to me than in other years. Soon the birds will be devouring them. 

We returned home, refreshed by our walk. There's nothing like getting outside to clear away the cobwebs. 

On Sunday evenings we eat a light meal, preferring to have our main meal at noon. A cheesy jalapeno dip with fresh vegetables and crisp tortilla chips is something I make from time to time. This one is cream cheese, 3 or 4 finely minced jalapeno peppers (seeded), and grated cheddar cheese, all mixed together, then baked for 20 - 30 minutes until bubbly. I like the crusty edges the best. 

Another week begun. This evening (Monday) I went out for a walk just before 7 pm, and by the time I returned around 7:45, the light had faded and only the narrowest line of red edged the Sooke Hills. Tim had the curtains closed and the lights on, such a welcome sight to come home to. 

Wishing you a good week ahead. 

Six on Saturday: Views, Tarts, and Garden

On these wonderful warmer summer days, I've been walking earlier than usual to avoid the intense sun. This week I climbed up Christmas Hill for a wonderful view over the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The mountains in the distance are on the Olympic Peninsula of the USA. The band of fog lies where the land meets the sea and is a typical feature of high summer weather. 

While up on the hill I watched a hummingbird whirring from blossom to blossom. She stopped for a few seconds and I was able to get this not-so-great photo. 

Some years I like to try growing different things in the vegetable garden. This year it was onions. They took little work. A week or more ago the tops fell over, all of them, overnight, it seemed - a sign that they were done growing and could be harvested. I pulled them up and laid them on a table to dry for a week. Yesterday I braided them and hung them for further drying in the barbecue shelter. I'm rather tickled with the effect. This amount of onions should last us for a few months, at least. 

Using garden produce is the theme of meals around here. I made a zucchini tart - pastry with goat cheese spread on top (mixed with herbs and lemon zest), then thinly sliced zucchini that had been salted and left to drain for an hour. Brush the top with olive oil and bake for 50 minutes or so. Sprinkle with more fresh herbs. Lovely for a light meal. 

The figs are ripe! We don't harvest huge amounts of them - but we're learning how to prune to increase the first harvest and hope for more in the future. We will get a couple dozen this year. Mary, from A Breath of Fresh Air posted a recipe for these lovely fig tarts yesterday and I immediately pulled out some frozen puff pastry to thaw. Crispy, not-too-sweet, and a perfect dessert. 

We enjoyed them with a daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter last night. They signed up for Disney Plus over the summer and invited us to watch the musical Hamilton after the 8-year-old went to bed. We enjoyed it very much, but I've been doing some research about the historical accuracy, just to keep things straight in my head. 

A work colleague invited me for an outdoor visit this week. She clipped a beautiful rose for me as I was leaving. Orange and blue make a striking pair. And I leave you with the words of our Provincial Health Officer, who closes each update with "Be kind, be calm, be safe. 

Five on Friday

Fawn lilies shine like stars in the green woods where we walk in the evening. To see the yellow stamens one must bend low for they tuck their heads down and never look up. 

The light stays longer and longer and is so very welcome. We are in a stretch of warm sunny weather that feels almost like summer. My garden is thriving; snap peas, carrots, and radishes are growing well. I just planted beets, onion sets, and spinach. Strawberry plants are beginning to blossom. 

I am busy with teaching online. It is much less satisfying than the classroom. I miss my students, even the challenging ones. While I have a dedicated sewing room with a desk and a table upstairs, I wanted to be downstairs where there is more light and I'm closer to the centre of things. So we brought in an old table that we use outside and I scrubbed it up. At school I use a desk top to create my handouts, but at home I use a Surface Pro. We found an old keyboard and mouse that I enjoy using much more than the small keyboard that came with the Surface; it's much easier to use for typing the accents in Spanish. I need just the right height for videos and use some of my larger books to prop things up. The whole set up has been moved several times as I look for just the right light for video conferences and creating teaching videos for my students. This seems to work, in a corner of the dining room. I use that rice bag a lot as I spend a lot of time sitting and my back doesn't like it at all. 

In the woods the bluebells open, vibrant blue against green. The ones in my garden are a little slower. 

I've had a hard time settling into reading very much these days. My thoughts are scattered and I am easily distracted. I find that old books are comforting this is a selection of what I'm dipping into. The Quiet Center is a collection of essays published in Victoria magazine during its first 20 years or so, and there are many that I enjoy. 

Here is an excerpt from Meditations of a Beekeeper by Faith Andrews Bedford:

"In years past, as the crocus pushed eagerly through the soft earth, my honeybees greeted the arrival of the year's first flowers with excitement, diving into the deep cups of the blooms and covering their furry bodies with bright yellow pollen. Their buzzing echoed happily inside the purple chambers, and the blossoms shook. Each April, when the Andromeda bush by the back door was covered with delicate rosy panicles, the sound of the bees' quiet hum would greet our comings and goings. And as I snipped the tender new growth of thyme and rosemary, I would always find a honeybee or two already busy at work gathering nectar from her side of the herb."

In the woods an old apple tree blooms. Someone has cleared away the brambles and undergrowth that choked the tree, and now it's showing signs of life. It will be interesting to see if any apples grow from these blooms. 

These days roll on one by one. They feel odd in many ways, yet the garden grows as it always does, birds come to the feeder, and fawn lilies shine in the green woods. These things ground me. "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven" said wise King Solomon. These days have their rhythm. The strangeness will end. 

Five on Friday (or Saturday)

My goodness, have we had rain! The weather people have aptly called it an "atmospheric river." There have been occasional breaks in the river of rain during which I put on my boots and take a walk. 

This morning, Saturday, the wind blew the clouds away and the bluest of skies is brightening the day and my own heart. Along one of my walking routes, a naturalized lawn is filled with pale crocuses. Snowdrops bloom in clumps in many gardens. Spikes of daffodils, bluebells, tulips, and hyacinths jut upwards through the soggy ground: hopes of beauty to come. 

Last night I finished reading Isabel Tree's book "Wilding - the return of nature to a British farm." It left me with much to think about. What stands out to me is the amazing resiliency of nature and how quickly the agricultural landscape was converted. 

Ferns and moss are some of my favourite plants. I love the curl of ferns and the softness of moss when I brush it with my hand. In my garden a fern has begun, unbidden and most welcome. I've tried to move it to another site, without success. So I'll leave it where it wants to grow and plan my plantings around it. 

On the porch a pot of primroses cheer me up when I come and go. I finished writing report cards this week, and began a new semester. It's a wee bit lighter than last, and I'm off earlier each day. 

Rock flowers grow in the front garden. We saw them at a friend's house and Tim made each of our children and ourselves a set for Christmas. They add a bit of whimsy to the garden. 

Inside the house we've done some moving of furniture and rearranging. I love the more open dining room, and it will make it easier when we extend the table to its full length, which we do more often these days. It's so lovely when so many people I love are seated there. My mom made me the table runner for Christmas. It perfectly matches the blue vase, and the upholstery on the chairs, not visible here. Plants inside the house make me happy, although I'm not the best at caring for them. This fern has lasted quite awhile and it seems happy in its new location. I see that my Christmas cactus has quite a few buds on it, so perhaps it will bloom for Valentine's Day. 

I have a number of sewing projects on the go, and planned to finish at least one per month this year. Alas, it's the first of February and I missed January's goal. However, that's what I'm going to do next - finish a skirt that has been languishing for several months. I think I'll count it as a January project and work on another for February. 

The sun is slanting so gloriously through the living room window. This long post must end and I must move on. Best of the weekend to you, whether it's sunny or snowy or rainy. 

Sunny Sunday, for a Change!

The weather report on the television shows wave after wave of rain moving in from the Pacific. It's daunting, and when we do have a break, everyone heads outside. On Sunday, Tim and I went for lunch at the Sea Glass restaurant in Sidney. It's a pretty place, decorated in clear greens and blues that evoke the sea, with stained and coloured glass throughout. 

We went with a gift card in our pockets, a gift from our son and daughter-in-law for Christmas. Our meal was lovely - a Tomato Sausage Soup, and a Mediterranean Chicken Sandwich with roasted vegetables. As we were leaving, Tim realized that he had paid with the credit card and totally forgot about the gift card. I suppose we'll have to go back now. (Not a hardship at all.) 

On our way home we stopped at Island View Beach for a walk. There was a little breeze and it was chilly walking against it, but how blue the water was, and how pretty the waves splashing up onto the shore. 

In the distance is a small piece of land known as D'Arcy Island. It holds a sad and shameful story. In the 1890s, in Victoria's Chinatown, officials discovered 7 people with leprosy. Racism and fear prompted the building of a leper colony on D'Arcy Island where these people lived out their lives. Supplies arrived every three months, but there was no actual medical care until 1906. Such a sad story. 

Now the island is a marine park, accessible by private boats and kayaks. We've not visited yet, but I would like to, one day.

Brown dry plants rustle in the breeze and look a bit forlorn these days, having been battered by the winter storms. However, if you look closely at the branches of the trees, swelling buds are visible, hopeful signs of spring. 

Up curl the waves onto the rocks. 

As we made our way home mid-afternoon, the mist began to rise in the fields beyond the beach. Light slanted low against the piles of driftwood, reminding us that although winter is easing, it is not yet finished. 

Home again to a fire, to creamy butternut squash soup, rye bread, cheese, and salad. A perfectly lovely ending to a perfectly lovely day.