Once a year thrills

What can compare to opening a little box you only see once a year and discovering anew that little forest of tiny Christmas trees you wrapped up early last January? They are the backbone of a tiny snowy village I make with silver tinsel, glittered-up paper houses and fluffy cotton snow. What a rush!!!
To top that feeling, I unearth the awe-inspiring plastic nativity scene unknowingly bought at a July yard sale 5 years ago. It was stuffed at the bottom of a paper sack filled with paper goods I got for a dollar. Unlike any other plastic Nativity scene I've ever seen, it has the vintage glow of ivory and a graceful camel that I kiss on the nose every year when I pull him out.
My favorite Christmas decorations are the old ones, full of memories from Christmases past. A classic example of an inexpensive yet priceless memory maker is a cardboard stable with figures collected over many years by Phil's mother. When their home was sold, I dove for it to take to our home, bringing with it the feeling of peace and joy I had looking at it in their darkened living room, lighted by a little Christmas bulb in the top of the manger. Every figure seems to come from a different set and the lambs (mostly 3 legged) actually seems to know what is happening because I think I see a little smile on their faces.
Years ago I made 2 paper garlands of "nine ladies dancing" and "ten lords a-leaping." When I hang that on our mantle in the living room my blood pressure rises. Honestly, it rivals a mink coat for thrills. When the late afternoon sun hits the merry dancers, and their shadows dance behind them, call 911, or put my head between my knees 'cause it is the stuff faints are made of.

Christmas is a sacred time. It truly holds the reason to rejoice no matter what your circumstances are, the reason to sing "Joy to the World, the Lord has Come" and mean it. I'll close this little blog with a couple of stanzas from a poem by my favorite, Longfellow. He wrote this poem during the Civil war and it was put to music for one of our most stirring Christmas carols. Take note of how timely his words are for us today-- truth is truth no matter when you hear it--ever grateful for that!

...And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep!
The wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Spreading the Thanksgiving spirit

This week I had a couple of little "future moms" to my house to make Thanksgiving aprons and bake their very own Thanksgiving offerings for their families. Let me say that it was wonderful watching them bubble over with excitement with all the stirring, egg cracking, cookie cutting and tasting we did. In spite of the fact that MiMi fell off her chair holding her pan of pumpkin bread batter, and I missed the oven rack and poured one of their pans of cranberry orange bread batter INTO a 375 degree oven, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

We made "worried turkey" thumbprint paintings and designed a tiny apron using rick rack (don't you just LOVE rick rack?) with stamped polka dots and a handprint turkey. They were two very proud and stylish chefs!

Thanksgiving is truly the best day of the year. What other day is created to evoke a grateful heart? It is a time that we need to foster,emphasize and discuss with our children. With Christmas ever lurking to overpower and eliminate Thanksgiving, I believe strongly in intentionally slowing down and savoring every opportunity we have to ponder our blessings and talk about them openly with those God has placed in our lives. Christmas is beautiful, Christmas is a blessed day, but lets unite in the fight to revere Thanksgiving in our hearts and homes and not be overshadowed by the "hurry up and let's get to Christmas" spirit that pervades our culture.

Besides being a symbol of all that is good in our country and in our intentions, what other day lets you eat all you want, actually expects a soul to have a little of each pie and all the dressing and gravy an old Pilgrim like me can hold? -ever grateful for that!

Savor every fleeting moment

" Even if something is left undone, everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn."

"Autumn is the second spring when every leaf is a flower."

"Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfined and spreads a feast over all that live."

"I love the fall. I love it because of the smells and things are dying, things you don't have to take care of anymore, and the grass stops growing."

"The heart of autumn must have broken here, and poured its treasure out upon the leaves."

"A power of china"

In one of Sarah Orne Jewett's novels, Deephaven, two girls discover a dining room cupboard filled with "a power of china." I loved that description. They were referring to the amount of it, but I find china does wield a certain power over me and some other dish divas as well. Come on , admit who you are! In my dining room pie safe and crammed into my pantry, are way too many sets of dishes that refuse to be given away, sold, or even stored out of sight. Is it the memories they evoke? Is it the fear that even though I may not have used some of them in this century, if I got rid of them I would immediately have a desperate need to serve some seldom thought- of dish that only that light blue fluted "thingamajig" would hold? Is it a hording complex? Whatever it is, my children will have to deal with it all after I am gone.

My Mary Hadley pottery--my mother had this farm pattern when I was a child, and I love its color and its simple elegance-not to mention the rush I get from the chicken plates!

My English breakfast set-- the only truly fine china I own, it is to die for (I thought I would be old enough to die before I saved enough money to buy it.)

Phil's mother's "Avon Rose"--I can't use it without picturing it on MiMi's dining room table laden with turkey, dressing, sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce. I also have her set of vintage Santa plates and matching glasses that bring cravings for cold coconut cake and homemade boiled custard!

My mother's German china--lime green and pink cabbage roses trimmed in gold. She, like me, had to save up to buy it and it is precious to me for it brings back memories of her table and the love she put into her simple, delicious food.

My yard sale English china--I bought it in Scotland at a yard sale across from a castle! It belonged to the lady's mother (deceased) and it is beyond beautiful with exotic birds and a pale blue border. She gave me a jar of homemade Ruebarb jam that day--what a day!

My junk store treasure--amazingly beautiful aqua and brown china that I use most often. I found it in New England and paid $25.00 for it, but it makes me feel like a million every time I set the table with it.

My "Audun Ferme"--a lovely black and white china with different pastoral scenes on it. It warms my heart with its simple scenes of the things I love and fantasize about like having chickens, shephards and cows enjoying themselves on my "small holding" in France.

My 2 sets of white Walmart dishes-- really cheap, really great-goes with everything and though a little warped, have stood the test of time and grandchildren.

My "snowman" not china--I don't know what this stuff is made of, but it is made IN china, and I use it all summer long for soup for Phil and I. I don't know why I use it for soup cause when you microwave it the bowl turns into a smoking furnace, while its contents remain cold as ice. It's pretty ugly now. The snow is turning a light brown (ugh) and there are chips here and there but it is (or was) really cute. This one I may ditch. I wouldn't want my daughters-in-law to comment on how odd I was to keep such pitiful looking stuff. As a matter of fact, I don't even like it anymore after I have seen it for what it really is-old, and getting really ugly.

Women and their dishes-like men and their _______, just can't be separated. Perhaps the tie that binds are the special memories--the holidays, the birthday dinners, celebrating good friends and good food, and all the love that is bound up in using things you love for the people you love. That I am ever grateful for.

"Its not what's on the plate that matters, its what's on the chairs."

"Just because you have four chairs, six matching plates, and three cups is not a reason you can't invite twelve to dinner."

Woodpiles and Fireplaces

Ah, woodpiles and fireplaces!!! There lie the two passions that propel me into actually enjoying bad weather. Someone said, "the darker the weather outside, the brighter the fire." I am a certified "pyromaniac" and plan to revel in that mania for as long as I can haul the wood into the house and onto the hearth. There is no such thing as loneliness beside a winter fire. There is never a want of companionship beside it's warmth. Nothing can fill me with an awareness of my blessings or invite contentment like sitting by our blazing hearth. Looking out from my fireside seems to hold at arm's length any nagging discontent that might rob me of recognizing the everyday, ordinary blessings I see from this" best seat in the house."

Fires and their amazing emotional benefits aren't limited to fireplaces inside your home. A little fire in your yard on a cool afternoon does wonders for your soul. Last week I spent several magic afternoons in Clare's New England backyard around a campfire that served as a magnet to neighborhood children (experimenting with a stick and crescent roll dough), and later a lovely little tea party with an elderly widow invited from next door. They were packed with more entertainment, goodwill and happiness than any elegant catered affair. Oh, and who can forget what it does to a hot dog or a marshmallow!

I can't write another word about fires without praising its source- the humble woodpile. The sight of one, lovingly stacked, elevates my blood pressure a bit. When I spot one beside a house,the desire to stare, to covet, to picture its influence over their home makes me a danger to other drivers. Phil didn't realize when we said our vows that I wanted to add to the "better or worse" part a vow to include a promise to keep the woodpile full, no matter the hardship, no matter the expense. Fortunately, he loves fires too and only needs to see my ever increasing depression set in when the woodpile is decreasing to do whatever it takes to replenish the honored commodity. I'm ever grateful for that!

"Happiness grows at our own firesides, and it is not to be picked in stranger's gardens."

"The family fireside is the best of schools."

"You are a king, by your own fireside, as much as any monarch on his throne."

Fall turns me into a "sap"

OK, here it is, not the hint of it, not the anticipation of it, but IT! This season truly turns me into a sentimental sap, letting down my guard over my emotions. Fall always tenderizes my heart after summer's heat has somehow hardened it, like it does to the late summer earth. Poignant memories and bittersweet endings swirl around me in the cool air like leaves making their way to the ground. I am an autumn nut case. This season means so many things to me. I fell in love with Phil in the fall, gave my heart and life to Jesus in the fall, have my birthday in the fall, write poetry in the fall, cry at the drop of a hat in the fall, and spend time lying on the ground and staring into space a lot remembering and dreaming.

Listen to some great things other fall nuts have written:

October gave a party, the leaves by the hundreds came-
the chestnuts, oaks and maples-their costumes all aflame.
Miss Weather led the dancing, Professor wind the band.
The guests were all aflutter and danced off hand in hand." -Cooper

"Delicious Autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. George Eliot

"If a man watches more than 3 football games in a row he should be declared legally dead." Erma Bombeck

My secret weapon

I got two new aprons for my birthday, both beauties! Before I begin this little tribute to one of life's secret weapons, let me make it clear that aprons and the wearing of them, have the power to transform me, much like Superwoman's lasso. I realize there are tons of women who do not like aprons-or maybe don't like what they think they stand for. I certainly don't pass judgment on this, each woman must march to her own drumbeat. However, I wouldn't live without them due to their incredible usefulness, and what they represent to me.

When I paint, I wear my apron (the one that has hints of dozens of paintings all over it.) When I cook I wear the one with stains from past pot roasts, cherry pies, or maybe that is marinara sauce, anyway it covers my clothes, serves as a cup towel for spills and a kleenex for fogged up glasses when I open the oven door. Whenever I get serious about shining things up around here, I wear my apron, not because I get that dirty, but because it changes my attitude toward housework, and any other task I tackle here on the home front. I have a garden apron, stained with dirt and pockets big enough for seed packets, garden string and various other necessities. My apron is my uniform of choice. When I tie it around me I feel more ready, more equipped, more willing. Much like a fireman facing a fire without his suit, I feel a bit unequal to the task without my apron.

I read a marvelous article about aprons by Nancy Campbell. She talked about her grandmother and her apron. It carried fresh laundry from the line, wiped children's tears, dusted furniture, carried vegetables from the garden, and countless other important tasks. I cried when I realized how far we have come from what embracing our role at home meant then and what it means now. Of course, appliances have made our work at home much easier, I'm all over that. What makes me sad is what has happened to our hearts over the past 30 years. It seems many dread, or resent what has made homemaking an art for centuries. It is the resentment that tells the tale and stops the blessing of this art from being handed down mother to daughter.

Homemaking is not easy, but thankfully, it is not about a perfect home, rather having a heart that is grateful for the opportunity to create something powerful. Nancy Campbell beautifully said that we should put on our "attitude apron" as well. I believe that serving our families in love, no matter what the world tries to preach, is the most noble, most valuable arena we will ever be in. Little girls may grow up to be doctors, scientists, writers, astronauts or pilots, but if they choose to also be wives and mothers, I hope their hearts are as committed to creating a home as a career.

I gave our only grandaughter an apron for Christmas last year. She was only three but who knows, maybe seeing her grandmother wear one each time she comes over will plant some kind of little seed that will grow into more than a memory, maybe an example. Maybe one day she will roll up her sleeves, tie on her apron and feel equipped to tackle some heroic stuff in her home. After all, wives and mothers are the stuff heroes are made of. One of the biggest impacts you can have on people, in or out of the home, is consistently taking on the task at hand, however small, with love. I'm ever grateful for that.