Tea, Tree & Quills

During my cuppa

2006-01-24T23:24:00.000-08:00

As I sit in the tea tree sipping a lovely steamy mug of jasmine tea, I pen a poem that tells of my heart's new topography:

TODAY AND EVERY DAY

Today and every day.
I will seek out joy,
Share laughter and smiles.
Celebrate the day,
I will savour the moment
As it flerets into history.
Lose myself in a sunbeam
Feel breezes on my face.

I will dance fearlessly
Not caring who might see.
Today and every day.
I will offer kindnesses
Share myself sans expectations
With friends and strangers.
I will thank the Gods
That I am here, alive.

Taste deeply of all feelings
Experieince every sensation equally.
Pain has a place in our lives
As surely as does joy.
Today and every day.
I will celebrate that I love
Without claiming possesion,
And can still trust others.

This be my new reality,
A vist of wonders to discover
Both great and small joys,
Something glorious to be found.
Hope a sweet companion,
And a smile that is always ready.
This is the prayer of my Spirit
Today and every day.

Greetings

2005-12-19T17:25:00.000-08:00

T'is the Season...

2005-12-13T01:12:00.000-08:00

...to run yourself ragged.

I've been going full tilt on my latest project, The Twelve Days of Christmas. I've also managed to set up a full fledge website with all commercial privileges. Lots of work getting it set up again. Those of you wanting a peek : www.aletta.org

Phew, now back to an ordinary day tomorrow. Dismal level of housekeeping around here lately. Kudos on the calendar, Heather. It's a real joy, a warm place to spend some me-time.

having problems getting image up
I've a few more seasonal items to post on my site, last year's little kiddie book and the past five years worth of Christmas cards I'd illustrated. Found it an interesting journey backwards for myself, hope others enjoy it too.

Mindful

2005-12-01T23:10:00.000-08:00

Spirits in the ether
mix, though never have they met,
perhaps never will.

Of importance is the moment,
this moment, and every
contact in either or blood, alters.

Spirits in ether, seeming nothingness
touch, move by, and through,
intentful and thoughtful.

The spirit moves about
on particles created through the energy of one soul,
moved to react by having touched the other.

Demonstrations of affections,
endearment, are every bit as real
as those our primitive senses would witness.

All is not made of flesh,
all does not need flesh,
spirit is eternal, sentient.

Spirit makes us players,
in the eternal theatre of this universe
delicately balanced, the good, the bad.

Nothing we do, or intend,
no thoughts, emotions are
ever inert.

In this universe, each spirit
holds the same power, and responsibility
as the hand of the divine.

Gathering

2005-11-28T21:55:00.000-08:00

A wonder anything can get done! Then again, on days like today when I spend hours trying to get Frankenputer to revive and I can barely sit up straight, this kind of comedy is just what's needed.

Happily I did manage to finish all the crocheting of this afghan I had intended to when the swarming started, and as you can see, Frankenputer lives!

Fun and ...

2005-11-26T10:55:00.000-08:00

Can you read this??

Olny srmat poelpe can.

cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!if you can raed tihs psas it on !!

Twilighting with Camera

2005-11-25T19:27:00.000-08:00

Standing out on the balcony gazing at a distant eagle crossing the sky. I grabbed my camera, but snapping away I did not once capture the eagle. Nothing lost, however, as the ever changing twilighting mesmerised me.

I had a need for a pint of milk, so using that as the excuse and jumping out with camera in hand, I made it my mission to share this wonderful night-sky with you. I can't walk very fast so taking the two blocks to the store recorded the sky over a one half hour period.

This might give you some idea of what a wonderful place Vancouver is geographically. Though winter is expressed many places by heavy snowfall, ours are confined to the ski slopes nearby. We haven't yet had a frosty night.

This very inexpensive camera I bought with my Christmas money several years ago never ceases to delight me with reliable quality, without a doubt it is one of the best purchases I have ever made. I was in such pain and feeling heavily nauseated, then came this sunset and for a time it was all suspended, truly, art therapy with a vengeance. Now I am going to do some serious warming up in my electric blanket with a toastie (grilled cheese). Life is good.

LOVING AGAIN

2005-11-24T18:45:00.000-08:00

When I came to know
The truth of love
I searched no more
For it was freely given

When at times I was afraid
I held friends tight
Their voices I heard
Their wise counsel
I recalled

To say that one
is born again
I can't believe
I come but once to earth

But finding a soul
So deeply deeply buried
Is this not a joy
That this one life has given me?

And through all those I love
I see more clearly
the stars, the sun, the moon and you
For I am the one who can hold me again
I treasure myself for this life,
of contentment.

Lois (Muse of the Sea) 25/11/05

A SONG

2005-11-24T09:42:00.000-08:00

no reason -- it just 'fell out'

LOVE YOU AGAIN

When I was young, and afraid of death,
And time a bag of golden coins --
I thought to spend some moments with you,
And maybe get some change.

But the coins ran out -- the wind blew in,
And I never got to know thee;
And I'm poorer now from having lost
Treasures you freely gave me.

When I was old, and afraid to live
And time a star out of reach --
I thought to wallow in memories,
And hold you to me again.

But the coins ran out -- the wind blew in,
And I never got to know thee;
And I'm poorer now from having lost
Treasures you freely gave me.

When I was born, given life once more
And know time by faith alone --
I thought of our love most selflessly,
And we came to be as one.

For coins shower in -- the breeze a kiss,
And I will ever know thee --
I am richer now for having found
Treasures life gladly gave me.

Juxtaposed

2005-11-22T00:05:00.000-08:00

This milky haze pulls together the discordant vision of the trees and the transformer towers in such a hauntingly beautiful way.

One can almost forget that the towers are not organic, but one will not forget which is the Creator's work.

Gone Green?

2005-11-19T19:58:00.000-08:00

On my way to vote today I spotted this marvel not a few blocks away. Taking this "going green" thing a spot too far?

Bridget Kavanagh's Guinness Cake and Pudding

2005-11-18T20:42:00.000-08:00

Guinness Christmas Cake and Pudding

Ingredients

2 lbs mixed dried fruit; 2 7 oz bottles Guinness; 12 oz butter; 12 oz brown sugar; 6 large eggs; 2 cups self raising flour; 2 teaspoons each cinnamon, mixed spice; one teaspoon nutmeg; grated rind and zest one lemon and one orange.

Empty the fruit into a large mixing bowl and pour the contents of the Guinness bottles over the fruit. Let it soak overnight in the fridge.

The next day, Warm the butter and sugar until both melt (but do not allow to overheat or you will have toffee!) Beat the six eggs while the sugar and butter mxcture cools. Stir eggs, and butter and sugar into fruit mixture. Sift flour and stir in spices. Stir flour into fruit mixture, add zest and rind of lemon and orange. At this point you can also stir in coins or charms.

Put half of mixture into lined and greased cake tin, and the other half into a boiling cloth or greased pudding bowl. Bake the cake at 180 degrees for 1 1/2-2 hours. It is done when a skewer inserted in the cake comes out clean. Boil the pudding for 1 1/2-2 hours, making sure you replenish the water. Let the cake and pudding mature for at least four weeks before eating.

I'm preparing some cake and pudding to deliver to Tea, Tree and Quills over Christmas, if Luna has no objection. This is one of the Kavanagh family's favourite recipes. I am starting the Christmas celebrations at www.valeofavondale.com and everyone is welcome to visit.

Hats, Bunnies and Obligations

2005-11-17T20:26:00.000-08:00

Happily, I've managed, if nothing else this week, to make a dent in the mountain of things needing to be done. The enormous pile of obligations and tasks have kept growing especially during those days I can do little more than flounder. By flounder, I mean that motionless lying down, immobilised except for the one eye kept on goings on, as best you can with a ragng headache, and no energy whatever. Some of the stress of having to fight for the barest of existence has let up a little lately. I can now afford to eat twice a day at least, and it is making some difference.

On a really good day, I think I might even get better one day. Polly-Anna optimism or knee-deep in denial, can't tell you which. I've learned to make a point of doing some actual living each and every day. It is very important to experience moments of joy, even if otherwise existence is painful or just plain dull. The human spirit craves experience and moments of feeling good about being alive can go a long way to bringing pain levels down and the spirit more willing to work up the desire to fight on and wake up the next day and the next.

In that spirit, other than getting caught up on some basic housekeeping and reading correspondence, I've managed to spend some time with my sister and with her little 3 year old daughter played with hats in a local boutique while my sister was trying on some clothes. I forgot what fun that can be, just the dressing up and playing it out depending on the hat you are wearing. I even laughed out loud with her. One hat she could not bear to part with and she was given that hat from the both of us. I should have brought a camera, darn. My sister bought me a rather extravagant pin for my bunny coat.

What is a bunny coat, well, political correctness aside for the moment, it is a coat made of the hides of wee bunnies. I bet they were tasty too. No, I'm not even a little vegan, though I was raised as one when I was a child. Broke nearly every bone in my body by age 16, started eating meat, not in great amounts but here and there, and haven't broken a bone since. I don't think that says anything about either life style but it does say a little something about fanaticism.

I came by the bunny coat via my daughter who presented me with it a couple of winters ago. she knows how miserably cold I get, and there is nothing warmer in the entire world than and animal pelt. Sorry folks but synthetics don't cut it even a little. Maybe that's why so many older women cling to their minks not wanting to give them up. Purely from a touchy feely perspective there are some animals I think are wrong to wear. The more sentient the animal the less I want to wear them, that incudes wolves, foxes and certainly cats and endangered species. Mind you mink is nothing more than a weasel (I can just hear ferret owners seething). Pet chinchillas are adorable but if I'm going to freeze to death or wear their pelts guess what, touchy feely don't keep you warm. I've had several pet bunnies and I was incredibly fond of all of them, and I loved each and every chicken my grandmother had running round in her back yard when I was little. It took a little getting used to you favourite hen becoming soup for the weekend.

The coat had previously been owned by another lady and was inherited by my daughter, I honour both her memory and that of the little bunnies whose pelts keep me so warm. I don't see a need in owning a second fur coat of any kind, it really is just terribly nice to be so warm for a change. I can't think it would honour the furry animals to be unappreciated. We do no favours to animal kind and the ecosystem by manufacturing synthetics either, never mind they are never going to be as warm and light. Manufacturing uses vile sludges of chemistry with effluent that is disposed of in some cases fairly indiscriminately here, but most especially in the third world where ethics and well-intended "rules" simply do not apply. So I'm fine and happy with the bunny coat.

Feeling better but not motivated to paint or be terribly creative I've spent more time crocheting hats than sketching, painting of sculpting. Rapid robot movement keeps my hands warm and does not require much thought, the brain needs some rest. This afternoon I was playing with two of my recently crocheted hats (both done in the last 48 hours) and my camera and put together the animated picture below. The backgrounds are from other photos taken other days, and I did not leave my chair to take any of them. Just a little fun with hats, and you can se the bunny coat and if you look the green coloured extravagant pin.

The pile of things undone is getting smaller day by day, as long as this level of functioning holds I just might be able to see over the top of it soon. I can make more hats, paint some, sculpt some and write a few stories..

For Aletta's dad

2005-11-16T04:57:00.000-08:00

SEED: "Life is too short for instant coffee"

Last time I saw Gramps,
shrunken some in a nursing home --
he offered me a cup of coffee.
"Sure," I said, instantly taken back
to a farm house kitchen --
scents and sounds of Grandma
always cooking something,
and coffee we couldn't have,
being kids and all.

"I'm not allowed a cooking ring,"
he mumbled while moving to the TV.
From its innards he removed a pot,
slightly warm from chaffing dialogue
on soap operas never really watched --
some noise for company, you understand.

This pot nestled quickly into a close remembered spot
atop a lamp he had rigged, just because he could;
and received an eye-measured dollop
of instant coffee crystals,
with no apologies,
but a sigh scarce held back.

"It'll take a while to perk," he said,
carefully cleaning up such evidence
that might catch a "keeper's" eye;
so we chatted a bit of useless things,
and then of childhood adventures,
and observations on life
without judgment or regret.

It took about an hour -- maybe more
for the coffee to prepare just right --
strained though a sieve like there were grounds
for such concerns and patient care --
into fragile china cups
that had been Her favorites.

"Adele used to always have a fresh cup ready
about this time every afternoon," he mused;
and I stayed until he dozed off
in a spot of afternoon sun --
just because I could.

Not New

2005-11-15T04:38:00.000-08:00

Probably seen by you'all before ...

faucon
..............................................

The Mayonnaise Jar and Two Cups of Coffee

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the two cups of coffee.A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous "yes."

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things---God, your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions---and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.""The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.""The sand is everything else---the small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.

The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.""Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grand-parents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first---the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad! you asked.""It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend."

November Afternoon

2005-11-15T02:36:00.000-08:00

The city is looking much colder, stern and unforgiving. gone the careful more cheering days of summer. I can scarcely wait for spring. Please no-one tell me about the number of shopping days until Christmas. I'd sooner keep track of the number of days until spring.

gift of the sea

2005-11-13T10:57:00.000-08:00

Candlelight Fairies

2005-11-11T19:12:00.000-08:00

On the bus on the way to my doctors I found myself sketching out these two fairies one floating on a lily pad with a small lantern on her hand. Decided to have a bit of fun and animate in the colour. I think I'm happy with it, certainly I passed the time well on the bus.

Among Anemones

2005-11-10T03:24:00.000-08:00

Sometime magic just happens, in a garden or in a box of pencils.

The desert revisited

2005-11-04T13:00:00.000-08:00

Stripping away

Takes time.

Searching.

Thirsting.

Cactus survives

Minimally.

Pouring rain.

Flash floods.

Tempered by

The sun.

Beloved desert.

Illuminate my spirit.

Munchkin Halloween

2005-10-28T09:22:00.000-07:00

The journey to my heart

2005-10-24T23:45:00.000-07:00

My journey began long before I knew I was looking for something. One night I received an email asking me if I was ready to embark on a journey. I had no idea where it would go. It started with a list. Tired of carrying the weight of my life, I packed lightly with only what would fit in my little backpack. At daybreak, I met many travelers who were ready for such a journey as this.

I found a hidden door in a tree and was whisked away by a night ride in moonlight. Mysterious gypsies drew me with a silent call in the night. Some kind of enchantment made my dreams deep and meaningful. Before long, I woke each day excited to know what would happen next. The journey to an island brought memories I didn’t know I possessed. Ancient knowledge was revealed to me. How can my life ever be the same now?

I learned to proclaim who I am. I am no longer the invisible child! See me! Hear me! Understand my words! Slowly I have come to realize my own truth. That truth is to be free. Unburdened by my own past and my parents past. Just let it go and find what’s around that next corner.

I have met celestial beings. I have met wee fairies. I have met warriors of great strength and feminine mystic. I have met talking donkeys and talking dolls. I have met known hell raisers. I have been reintroduced to friends of old who knew me long ago.

And now I have learned to be open in a completely new way. My heart feels lighter than I ever remember it being. I have let go of old cryptic ideas. I have found a new road. The Silk Road. It winds through space and time; thoughts and dreams; mystery and magic.

Somewhere along the way I met myself. The child, the girl, and the woman I want to be. I was stunned to discover that I needed to make some changes. To hold my own hand and say, “Yes! We can do this.” Brick by brick I had to tear down my own walls and find an inner world rich with ideas waiting to be discovered.

At last, I am in an distant land with no water and no road. I have finally come to the last door. The one that was hidden away for safekeeping, so no one would find that brilliant light. The key is the secret that I hid in my own heart. It was a prisoner there that I bound tight. And through my journey the ties loosened. And fell away, until I could feel an ache of joy and freedom coming close. The key that spilled from my lips opened the door and released my spirit. Away I flew with magic wings. I saw a wild fire burning. The fire of my anger, my regret, my invisibility burning, burning, gone!

Gnomes and Goosebumps

2005-10-24T20:25:00.000-07:00

There was a good lot of squabbling out on my balcony last night. Yet, every time I was out there trying to find the source of disgruntlement I could find no one. I slept fitfully, my subconscious still trying to work out who might be jabbering out there and why.

Finally at about seven I could take no more. This time they were caught. Three unclothed gnomes with goose-bumps complaining about the night and "when are we getting those clothes we were promised anyway?" I was ten past tired and not willing to get into it right then right there. I would do something about it.

After grabbing another couple of hours of "lie down" and rest up, i grabbed the three naked gnomes and the one suited up and planted them inside where it was quite warm. Before I could paint them the goose-bumps would have to disappear.

I am in some part to blame for having ignored the balcony pretty much since the weather got colder. The continued blooming of the flowers, however kept me from thinking about impending winter. It really is quite amazing how much is still in full bloom and it is almost November.

After taking the dog for a walk I took out my paints. Gwendolyn had been the most vocal about being cold, something to the effect of "I'm freezing my tits off". In keeping with her temperament I dressed her in red. She practically jumped up and down with excitement when I held the mirror up so she could see. "Can I have red flowers in my hair? Pretty please." Well, how could I refuse, and off course shoes to match were next. Red was absolutely right for her. A white furry colour would keep her "tits" from freezing off.

Missy wanted a blue dress and purple fur trim. I was about to paint a matching set of blue shoes when she screamed at me "Stop, Aletta, mine should be red shoes too, I've always wanted red shoes." I could understand that, I've never met a girl or woman who did not want one pair of sparkling red shoes "just because". We rarely get them as little girls because red does not match enough of our daily wardrobes, it is frivolous and parents favour the sensible brown, navy or even white shoe. So Missy had her red shoes even though she hasn't any red clothes on. Her bright green hat is now trimmed in lilac fur to match the dress coat.

Paully had waited patiently for the girls to be dressed. He and Petey were enjoying the view of the two ladies dressing up. The girls seemed to appreciate the attention and it certainly wasn't rude so I kept myself to task and did not bring it up. "I like the white, could I keep the white hat?" I did my best to please and gave him what might best be described as a blend of reverse Santa and classic "commedia del arte" clowns. Looking bright eyed and warm he asked, "White shoes please." "No problem Paully."

"Ready to go back outside now?" All four replied in chorus "yes, please." Gnomes are very polite. I carried the four outside and sprayed them with a warm coat of glossy finish. "now you are rainproof as well." The little sparrows who live on my balcony chirped their admiration for the new duds. Not wanting to leave them behind in my attentions I remarked that their winter feathers were looking beautiful and extra fluffy this year.

I took another look a little while ago, their little shiny faces looked very happy and not one of them had goose bumps any more. "You won't be making noisy conversation tonight will you?" There was giggling and a resounding "No marm." So now I can contently put up my feet and know that I have not neglected those who depend on me.

Toadstools and Birches, oh my...

2005-10-24T01:33:00.000-07:00

In all I see around me I sense another world full of delight and games I simply am too much of a grownup to see. I shall have to keep at it until I can see it too.

The tall birch stands in my sister's front yard and the toadstools in her shade, the shade of the tree, of course, and not my sister.

I am certain there are pixies giggling and making faces at me, because they can easily get away with it. Just wait, one day I shall catch them at it!

Frozen Dreams

2005-10-23T04:40:00.000-07:00

"to sleep, perchance to dream …"
muses the bard of yesterday,
a foreshadowing then --
but a memory now more real than tomorrow.

My aching joints and gristled brow
may dream of days of prancing youth,
and idle hours by a stream,
and entrancing verities.

But why ???
at a nonce I can conjure up then
more suredly than when,
and freeze it in form
and emotion --
relived and cherished,
for contemplation.

'tis said, "If I knew then what I know now,"
as a whimsical diversion,
when you can be then,
again and again,
for that is where wisdom comes.

A plate of zinnias

2005-10-22T23:18:00.000-07:00

INFUSION

2005-10-22T04:10:00.000-07:00

INFUSION

I will make some tea today,
and snuggle beneath a shedding tree,
and write a bit of pictures seen
in the scattered colors of Autumn.

There is a stretch of open space --
a place called 'Hollow' at Sakin'el,
easily scanned from the porch
where hanging chimes blend easy
with the splashing songs
of flume, ponds and ripple-fall.

I never rake this field, you see;
but let the wind play a bit each day
with new additions to the pallet
and sculpting texture of branches down
and forgotten croquet ball.

Like the herb tea steeping slow,
life here is an infusion of gifts and dreams …
and I hear m'lady Em begin to play her harp,
and the breeze sighs gentle
on my soul.

Tea with the ducks and fairies

2005-10-20T20:53:00.000-07:00

I've had a lovely afternoon at the tea room. I brought my darling grand daughter Shannon with me, and she was enchanted with everything. She ordered Persephone's cakes and Baba's tea, while I had the delicious Butternut squash soup and Kwan Yin tea. We both had scones and blackberry jam - the scones were so light I thought they were flying away, then Shannon pointed out it was just some naughty fairies.

After lunch, I sketched Shannon feeding the ducks as she sat under the willow tree. Shannon is mad about ducks and we saved some scones to share with them.

Mmmmm - maybe we'll have just one more serving of scones before we head home.

Autumn colour

2005-10-20T20:20:00.000-07:00

At Hastings and Kamloops this amazing collection of autumn finery.

Found a Tree, Now To Read...

2005-10-20T01:23:00.000-07:00

The Rose continued

2005-10-18T19:15:00.000-07:00

I am back again this morning to have another cuppa and write once more. Imogen, I loved those scrumptious scones and blackberry jam.

I have a desire to pass onto my little grandchildren something of my loves, the garden and my artistic interests. I am a little reticient in finding the space for promoting and speaking of these things, however, one cannot underestimate what happens in the ordinary day to day activities.

A few months ago, I was out walking with my 4 year old grand daughter, Shani. She is an outdoors girl and loves rocks, trees and sticks. As we walked along the footpath, she was touching all the plants as we passed by. I had to show her which were the roses, so she wouldn't prick herself on the thorns. Apparently, she learnt her lesson well. Later on her Mother asked me if I had shown Shani which plants were roses, as she was pointing them out to her.

Yesterday was a gorgeous warm spring day, so Shani and I were out the front enjoying the sunshine. Imagine my delight when she squatted down in front of my Mme Meilland rose bush and said, "I really like your beautiful roses, Nanna". What an experience to treasure! My heart was almost bursting.

The Rose

2005-10-16T23:16:00.000-07:00

Mme Meilland

I was so enchanted by the new growth on my roses this morning that I promised myself that I would take a little time write.
I have popped into Tea, Tree and Quills for a quiet reflect and for the space to do a little writing.
I would like the Morrocan Mint Tea and the Scones with Blackberry Jam. My mouth is watering as I wait.

Ah, the Rose!

I liken the rose to our journeys through life.

The absolute beauty of the bloom

From the very formal

To the loose petals of the old style roses

There are those that have a rich full perfume

Others despite their beauty have none

Many have very sharp thorns

A prick can be painful

As there is poison in the thorn

Some are almost thorn free

Roses give forth blooms

for almost 6 months of the year

They love to be fed and nourished

And can survive without much water

They respond well to vigorous pruning

During the stagnant stage of their cycle

I have been in love with roses for many a year. I remember the first time I discovered the rose garden in the Sydney Botanical gardens. I also recollect wandering around acres of rose gardens at the country Victorian town of Redcliffs. I have gratitude for the rose who has shown me so much.

First Love

Little gypsy

2005-10-13T17:59:00.000-07:00

I have a fantasy
To be a child who
Lives in a Gypsy caravan.
My backyard is the world.
My sleeping place is a little caravan
Filled with soft down covers for warmth.
The laughing creek is my water source
The crackling fire is my heat source.
The stars are my ceiling and
The road is the story that
Weaves a new adventure
Around every corner.

Lil Witches

2005-10-11T16:08:00.000-07:00

Some of the visiting witches are nice, some are cranky. Beware this little upstart, she's looking for trouble. We just call her Little Miss Witch.

October Menu

2005-10-11T11:31:00.000-07:00

Medusa’s Butternut Squash Spice Soup

Fresh Cucumber, Orange & Wild Mnemosyne Mint Sandwiches

Scones with Wild Blackberry Jam and Devonshire’s Faeries Cream

Persephone’s cakes and Pomegranate Pastries

Crab Apple Faerie Spiced Cider

Choice of tea:

Russian Gypsy Caravan
A smoky and exotic black tea like the Gypsy King himself

Enchantress Grey
Earl Grey tea infused with orange and spices from
The Isle of Ancestors

Black Wings of a Raven
Black currant tea with soothing properties and a
dreamy effect

Ti Kwan Yin
A delightful and refreshing Oolong tea made with
healing waters from the Fountain of Forgiveness

Moroccan Mint
A perfectly refreshing, aromatic blend of Mnemosyne mint
and green Gunpowder tea; known as “pearl” tea in China

Tranquility
A naturally decaffeinated relaxing drink, made with Baba
Yaga’s chamomile flowers, mint and rosehips

*All ingredients taken kindly with permission.

Guess it fits

2005-10-06T17:22:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I unpacked an old tea pot that had belonged to Em's mother. The newspaper wrapping is dated 1971, when Em was 17 years old. Inside was a scrap of paper, obviously saved my 'mom', and written by my wife to be.

All Things As Miracles

All my life I have tried to think of all things as being miracles. Every breath I draw; every whisper of the wind; every gentle stroke that a snowflake makes on my cheek. There is the feeling of blades of grass cushioning bare souls. And the serenity of a quiet spring amidst the woodland.

I love all miracles dearly but one wins my deepest affection above all else; concerning the senses. This is the ability of hearing; listening to and observing things that many do not hearken. And it was the gentle woodlands that taught me how to use my ears. Have you ever heard ants as they scurry through sand? Or fish breathing? Or clouds moving? Or the music of the Spheres? Or the fact that each specific sound has a multitude of layers reverberating in the vibration?

Once, the greatest ambition in my life was to hear a flower growing.

What a miracle that would be!

Yet another way to experience the magic of growth.

Feeding the ducks...

2005-10-06T02:02:00.000-07:00

There's nothing nicer that sitting out on the deck with a cup of peppermint tea, some cucumber sandwiches and feeding the ducks on the teahouse lake.

One more

2005-10-06T00:47:00.000-07:00

Burgundy cup and saucer

2005-10-06T00:40:00.000-07:00

Abstract teacup

2005-10-06T00:38:00.000-07:00

Cuppa tea

2005-10-06T00:12:00.000-07:00

The Beauty of Tea

2005-10-03T04:58:00.000-07:00

I was very interested to learn that tea comes

from the camellia family. The leaves of

the camellia sinensis are dried and withered

to make the tea. The real one has single petalled

white flowers with typical camellia leaves,

and a beautiful gold centre. Took this lovely

photo of a cousin of the tea camellia

from the treetops here in this peaceful

teahouse and thought I'd post the view

I'd seen here. Needless to say my cup of tea was

delicious and the conversation was just right.

Tea Muse

2005-10-02T15:27:00.000-07:00

I been sittin' in the corner for a spell,
just sippin' ice tea made in the sunnin' jar.
Its nice to see people wander in --
never in a hurry like in them coffee places;
knowing that tea takes time to brew.

Infusion is the rightful name, you understand --
any temperature water 'ceptin' boiling,
less you destroy the magic blending
of birthing water and nature's leaf or herb.
It takes a bit of time and caring to do it right.

Nope -- most people only have time for a
wham-bam sweezed crazy expresso --
than a dash back to work so they can afford
to buy the stuff -- and get all frenzied up
and need another cup of coffee all too soon.

Now tea folk have a better way of mixing pleasures --
take time to relax and meet friends old and new,
and infuse a bit of spirit and soul into conversation;
or just watchin' and thinkin' and plannin',
so that the days work will get done on time for sure.

faucon

Blackberry Memories

2005-10-02T03:48:00.000-07:00

I bought a punnet of blackberries for $3 – there was barely a couple of handfuls, but at the prices growers have been charging recently, they were a bargain.

In terms of memories, they were priceless.

One look at the shining fruit, like clusters of tiny black pearls, and I was back in the old country, a child again, setting out with my parents on a blackberrying expedition. I wore long socks and a long sleeved cardigan to protect my legs and arms from the thorns. I carried a plastic bucket for the blackberries, but I never wore gloves. My small hands were too clumsy in gloves, and I didn’t like to squash the fruit.

We never had to walk far to find wild blackberries. We couldn’t go on private property, of course, but the blackberry bushes grew wild in hedgerows, woods and on common land. The real art was to find a patch that no one else had spotted, where the fruit grew thick and lush.

Blackberries could be tricky. The best clumps were always nearer the centre of the bush, so I’d have to clear a path by moving the outer branches out of my way.

This resulted in a good many scratches, no matter how thick my wooly cardigan.

Then, just as I was separating the large, sun warmed globules from their stems and watching in delight as my bucket filled up, the branch I had hooked out of the way would spring free again, whacking me on the back or behind the knees and trapping me until I could move it back again.
I was convinced that blackberry bushes were an intelligent life form. They moved of their own accord, and caught you just when you thought you had them under control.

After half an hour of blackberrying I was a mass of scratches, and sticky with blackberryjuice. But it was worth it. There would always be one really beautiful big blackberry in the clump, or so I always believed. This would be My Blackberry, my reward for the pain of gathering the fruit, so sweet and lush that it burst like liquid bubbles in my mouth and filled itwith flavor.

When the buckets were all full, we would head home, tired and scratched but looking forward to blackberry jam, blackberry pie and best of all, just plain blackberries with fresh clotted cream on scones.

Nature isn’t allowed to be generous and give anything away for free any more. But I’ll pay my $3 just for the memories.

Who takes tea?

2005-09-29T17:58:00.000-07:00

Tea is taken by
ladies in enormous hats
who cut the crusts from sandwiches
and speak of civic renovation.

Tea is taken by
little girls with lacy socks
around small tables
pouring cups of air.

Tea is taken by
lonely writers
dreaming of Heathcliff
sitting before a
blank screen.

Tea is taken by
lovelorn souls
holding the kettle
as tears fall into the cup.

Tea is taken by
lovers young and old
lying in bed
reading the paper.

Tea is taken by
those who grasp
the alchemy
of leaves and water,
the resurrection of power
long gone dry.

Tea Sacrifice

2005-09-25T15:21:00.000-07:00

The joining for tea, or even water
can be a meaningful experience.

Here are the 'Rules of Sacrifice' for Sakin'el,
which may be of use here.

faucon
......................................................

Sacrifice is an essential component of the Sakin’el experience.

S – Share food and drink with a stranger

A - Acknowledge simple kindness

C - Cultivate joy and harmony

R - Remember Namaste’

I - Intermingle

F - Follow your heart

I - Invoke inner peace

C - Create friendships

E - Enjoy each journey

Pegasus and Raven Visit Tea Rooms

2005-09-24T15:11:00.000-07:00

Rose hips A widdershins moment

2005-09-24T04:13:00.000-07:00

At the Tea Room they serve rose petal tea
and I recall how we children nibbled in coldest winter days
the soft skin of the rose hips left on the bush above the snow

In spring it was the peppermint taste
of violet stems and the delight of the first wild strawberry
from a sunny spot

Hazelnuts in fall, we could hardly wait
until the outer shell was dry and prickly
and the ripened nut inside, as big as the tip of a child's finger

Rose petal taste is delicate
pretty as the flower
but the leaves of the cottonwood are sticky

Stems of the dandelion
bitter and sharp but not so dry
on the mouth as a ripe chokecherry

Wild raspberries tiny and likely
to be occupied, watch carefully
and look before tasting

Saskatoons leave fingers purple
but so delicious that we could hardly
reach home with our pails full

Ah, childhood, country of memories, and dreams

Menu of the Week

2005-09-23T09:48:00.000-07:00

Fresh Cucumber, Orange & Wild Mnemosyne Mint Sandwiches

Scones with English Preserves and Devonshire’s Faeries Cream

Hestia’s Lemon cakes and Raspberry Pastries

Choice of tea:

Lavender Earl Grey
Earl Grey tea flavored with Baba Yaga’s
lavender petals

China Rose Petal
A soothing tea, layered with rose petals from
The Gorgon’s garden

Chamomile Flowers Tisane
A relaxing drink, made from chamomile flowers
from Egypt and Spain from a gracious gift of a Griffin.

Jasmine Blossom Green Tea
Green tea combined with jasmine flowers for a delicate
flavor; best taken plain at dusk in the company of faeries.

*All ingredients taken kindly with permission.

Welcome Travelers

2005-09-19T12:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Travelers,

I would like to welcome you to a new shop Tea, Tree & Quills. It is a gentle place where you may choose from a menu of wonderful items to refresh the spirit. We have a unique shop located in the trees in a quaint little treehouse overlooking the Creek.

From this vantage point I hope while reading tea leaves or just having a rest that some perceptive will inspire you to write. Please post letters or poems as you like.

Currently I am working on hosting a Witches Tea for the month of October. I hope you will join in. And perhaps even dress up for the occasion.

Blessings,
Luna