Me and Miss Marple

 I've just ILLed Agatha Christie's The Mirror Crack'd because I began reading a terrific post and saved it for a later time because I wanted to read the book before reading the blog post. 

I was very struck right at the beginning because Miss Marple has been stopped in her tracks because of the ramifications of older age. I checked the publication date, and it is 1962 when Agatha was 72, three years younger than me. She was likely beginning to feel some of those things that seem to happen around 70. 

Miss Marple has been warned off gardening by her doctor who comes by three times a week (think of that!), so she sits and looks out the window. She is resentful of the person she has hired to do the work, because he doesn't do that work. He is busy with his own garden. 

And then she ponders:

One had to face the fact: St. Mary Mead was not the place it had been. You could blame the war (both the wars) or the younger generation, or women going out to work, or the atom bomb, or just the Government - but what one really meant was the simple fact that one was growing old. Miss Marple, who was a very sensible old lady, knew that quite well. It was just that, in a queer way, she felt it more in St. Mary Mead, because it had been her home for so long.

She goes on to note the changes that have come, and the one in particular - a "glittering new supermarket - anathema to the elderly ladies of St. Mary Mead".

"Packets of things one's never even heard of," exclaimed Miss Hartnell. "All those great packets of breakfast cereal instead of cooking a child a proper breakfast of bacon and eggs. And you're expected to take a basket yourself and go round looking for things - it takes a quarter of an hour sometimes to find what one wants - and usually made up in inconvenient sizes, too much or too little. And then a long queue waiting to pay as you go out. Most tiring."

I have always rather prided myself on being "modern" and accepting the world as it is, not the way it was in the "old days". But as I read the above in The Mirror Crack'd, I found it a bit too close for comfort. I have found myself bemoaning a bit about some trends that upset me. I, being a health food hippie from way back, am dismayed by how much candy and junk food children eat now. I have to keep such thoughts inside instead of passing them along to anyone because times do change, and of course, may well change back, but this is the new generation, not mine. The mothers and fathers do a lot of things way better than I did. Kids are busier than mine were. There are more activities available. It all feels too much to me, but I am also not in my thirties or forties. Seventy-five is much slower and quieter than my younger self. And I shall strive to be that "sensible old lady" like Jane Marple.

Changing yet again!

 A few years ago, I posted about washing dishes by hand. You may read it here. It was really fine, and even better, it was fun for quite a long time. 

Then, in the past few months, I kind of found myself not baking as much, and even making less complicated suppers so there wouldn't be so many dishes to wash. I also got weary of almost always having dishes on the counters; either waiting to be washed or sitting on towels, drying. I made a couple noises about wanting a dishwasher but then decided that it was fine hand washing. Was there a tipping point? Yes. The dishes weren't as clean as I liked them, even though I spent a long time washing them. I also got annoyed at having to soak everything for ages so it wouldn't be so difficult to wash them.

We got one at Lowe's, and it was delivered by two moving men - one of whom carried it in on his shoulder!

I am very, very happy with it. One of my gripes when I used one before was that it ran for so long. I now just use the one hour setting, and it works every single time. Sometimes it is very full, and others not so much, but I don't feel badly because it is just an hour. I'm delighted! I'm already doing what I wrote above that I had cut down on - baking and more complicated suppers. 

Past times

 

I have lately been watching a program which is on Britbox - Bergerac. I'm sure all my English friends will know the series. The other evening as Jim pulled up to the gas pumps to have his car filled with gasoline, I got to thinking about what I enjoy about the older shows.

No CCTV

No cell phones

Airplanes with outdoor steps on and off the plane

And the thing I probably miss the most - gas stations that pumped your gas.

I will easily admit that I have never filled up my own car. I hate the smell. I didn't want any residue on my hands. I hate the crowds, with cars always lined up behind you. I wonder is it just my age or do older people pump their own gas?

Even in my children's childhoods, we went to the gas (also known here as service) station. They put gas in the tank, cleaned the windshield [they even kept bottles of washer fluid on the shelves with customers' names on them], added washer fluid when needed, checked the tire pressure and all the while chatting with John at the town gas station named for his father and another fellow who had it before him. 

John and I were light years apart politically but it didn't matter a bit. He was kind to my kids, he was a booster for all the sports teams in town, we loved the Red Sox, and I liked hearing him talk about his favorite band Credence Clearwater Revival. He was full of local stories he knew from living in this little town his whole life. 

We have lost something special in pumping our own gas, We've lost connection and personal service, and even friendship. It makes me ache with longing for such a simple thing that we all took for granted.

Independence Day plus one

 

Here I am at my local Co-op today without a mask! This is the first time in 15 months! I was so much more relaxed today. It was an amazing feeling to just "be" again without impedimenta. The new "rule" is that if you are vaccinated, you don't have to wear a mask. I saw many people still wearing them, but it was Senior Day (which happens once a month when those over 65 get 10% off) and perhaps older people may have medical conditions or live with someone who does and they do not want to take a chance. Some of the store people wore them and others didn't. 75% of the employees have been vaccinated so maybe those were the ones who haven't had the shot yet.  Anyhow, it was just the best feeling! 

Trouble with blog header photo

 If you are reading this, you will see that my blog header picture is all messed up. I can't say I wasn't warned because Kay at the Musings blog posted about her problem a couple days ago. 

So many of my fellow bloggers have complained about the changes blogger made months ago. I have had no trouble at all, except that I could no longer post a home video. 

We got a new computer last month, our first one in ten years, and now I can post a home video. Hooray. But there have been so many changes that Tom has spent days on the phone with tech people. 

I am wondering if it is the new technology that has caused me to have this problem with my blog header. Or is it blogger? Anyhow, it sure doesn't look pretty. The header picture was peonies but they have gone by and the hollyhocks are stars in the garden now so I thought they would make a good header photo. I knew I was taking a chance, but I thought because I hadn't had the troubles others had that I'd be okay. Nope.

As I told Kay in a comment, there are days I want to give it all up. No more computers or cell phones. Sometimes I want to live a life that is free of screens and connections. I am driven wild with this whole cloud thing. We didn't have any cloud with the old computer, but now the Apple hard drives are small and there isn't room for thousands of photos. I feel like we are all forced to join the crowd. This is all so different from the whole ethos of the hippie life, which was to do things for yourself, and live a private life if you wanted to. Now I feel like there is no freedom like that. No privacy. No quiet.

We are wooed by convenience and ease. The words from Pink Floyd come into my head, "comfortably numb". 

March 2020

I had to look it up, but our presidential primary was on Tuesday, February 11, 2020. I remember being bowled over when I saw a few people at the voting place with gloves on. I don't think there were masks then. I couldn't believe people were so concerned about a "flu". I didn't think much about it again until March 12. We had been told that an old friend of ours was in hospice. We hadn't seen her for years. We drove over to the place, and were met at the door by someone saying we could not come in. She told us "our president" gave a speech last night that said nursing homes shouldn't let anyone in. Having not heard the speech, we were surprised. She said she would let us know when we could visit our friend, but that call never came. She died on the 29th. 

The next day, Friday the 13th, I had a haircut appointment. The woman and I talked about how exciting it was that the local high school boys were in the state playoff that night. By late afternoon it was announced that the game was cancelled. That's when I knew something much more serious was going on. All the schools closed. 

And thus began the year like no other.

Lukas Nelson - Focus On The Music (Quarantunes Evening Session)

 

Gotta focus on the music
Focus on the heart of things
Focus on the peace that music brings

Musicians have been very creative in getting their music out there. This "quarantune" was an early example. You can see it is as homemade as it gets.The singer, the guitar, the recording device.

There were three evenings in the past few months when music did "carry me merrily and gently down the stream".

The first one was early on, in March. Chris Smither was on what is called a Parlor Room Home Session. He is a longtime time favorite of Tom and I, and it was a delight to see him in his own home. He told stories and sang his wonderful songs. I was transfixed. The music was just what I needed when everything had changed so much in such a short time. You may watch it here. Just to let you know, it takes a few minutes before he appears.

The second one was Keith Urban, live streaming on Amazon Music. An hour in which I thought of nothing. I just basked in the music. There are several videos on YouTube from the show. Here is one where Keith sings with Pink.

The third was a live stream of Farm Aid. You may find most (all?) of the performances here. I hope that address works, but if not, just go to YouTube and type in Farm Aid 2020. This is where I first heard Lukas Nelson, and I've since bought an album, and follow him on Instagram where he often posts videos. Lately he's been doing something called Soundcheck Songs where his band Promise of the Real explores "songs and artists, some well-known, some more obscure, that have influenced us as a band in one way or another." These are also on YouTube on his page. Farm Aid introduced me to other artists I'd not heard before like Black Pumas, whose album I've also bought. You may see a Tiny Desk Concert of them here. 

And speaking of Tiny Desk Concerts, they are a wonderful music source to visit, if you haven't already. The main page is here. 

Music gives solace to my soul and is as necessary as air, never more than in this strange and sad year.

Today's song, and serious talk - Joe South - Walk A Mile In My Shoes (1970)

I happened to hear this song today on a show I've mentioned before The Mop Tops and the King. It was done by Elvis, but I found the original sung by Joe South.

FIFTY years ago, and I swear it feels like we still need to etch things into our brains. I know that I don't write about controversial things here, but today I must. During the time of the virus and the Black Lives Matter movement, Michael has been the victim of racism. As you know we adopted both our kids from South Korea. 

Because the virus was said to come from China, Asians were targeted. Michael has been accused of bringing the virus, and told to go back to where he came from. A friend of his, who is part Chinese was in the store and someone took some soap out of her cart, saying you don't deserve this. Margaret hasn't had any encounters, but early on she was afraid to go into Walmart, fearing the same kind of negative response. 

Throughout the years, there have been episodes in both their lives, far more for Michael than Margaret. Always from men. You will know that this just kills me. 

Yesterday, a few people from his town's Democratic party were standing by the side of the road just holding signs for the various candidates running in this election. A man yelled from across the road - first saying that the Presidential candidate was a word that I will not put in my precious blog. You must have heard it. Apparently there is a group that is putting this forward. And then he targeted Michael and told him to go back to where he came from. My son didn't go across the street and confront him, thank God, but he talked back to the guy. I think the guy finally just walked off. 

This is what people of color face all the time. We white people can choose how we present ourselves to the world. We can color our hair pink, or wear makeup or none. We can have tattoos or piercings, or not. We can shave our heads or wear our hair long. But the thing is - it is our choice. A black or brown person is judged the minute they step out the door. And some of those outside places are scary and dangerous. 

This is an awful time we are going through and it just makes me cry. All this and a virus, too. How much can we take? 

I thought of disabling comments just for this post, but wasn't sure if that would take away all the comments since 2006 so thought I wouldn't touch it. 

Blogging and me

The unexamined life is not worth living - Socrates

I have said that Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility - William Wordsworth, preface to Lyrical Ballads

I am definitely not these fellows, but I do understand each of them with relation to blogging and me. I need to write down things that are swirling around in my head. Writing is very different from talking. Talking involves other people's thoughts and opinions, and mine can be lost or changed in conversation. This introvert needs the quiet of writing to sort out exactly what I think or feel about something. Even if I write only a few lines, or quote someone, or share a poem, it does me good. 

I haven't written nearly as much in later years. Well, duh! Three grandchildren came along in quick succession. And my emotions have been coming fast and furious without much time to "recollect" them in any sort of peaceful moments. But now the children are older, and though we still see Hazel many days, we don't see the boys as often because of distance, the busyness of the family, the virus. 

So I would like my compensation for their getting older and starting school to be  writing my "letters from a hill farm". A part of this is also spending more of my time at your blogs. I have visited as often as I could but not nearly as often as I wanted to. Reading another person's words and taking the time to respond is another kind of recollecting. I can take my time thinking over what they have said and then write back if I feel I have anything to contribute.

I am quite happy about my resolve to do this. I have really missed the connections, and have missed taking the time to write about even the small things. It is good for me. It clears my head and helps me to notice things I might not have in the bustle of the day. 

Some things really do stay the same

No matter if there is snow or cold or heat in the spring, here at Windy Poplars Farm the lilacs are always in bloom on the real Memorial Day, May 30. For my whole life this is when the lilacs have been out in this area. These pictures are a bit blurry because the wind is pretty constant today. After days of temps in the high 80s, last night we got 3/10 inches of rain, and it is much cooler, in the 60s. We could have a frost tonight and tomorrow, but that's okay for us. We don't have anything planted that we have to worry about. I learned a hard lesson a few years ago, and wrote about it here.

The bee is just bedded down, taking in the nectar.

My mother's lilacs that we brought here in 1981 from my childhood home.

The two bushes (trees?) - my mother's on the left - that border the old stone sidewalk up to the terrace and porch

This one is a touch faded from the heat. I think of it as the little lilac that could. We cut it down a couple times, but it always came back. It wanted to live in that flower garden so there it will stay!

And here are the rest of the lilacs in the yard. I can see them all from the patio. We planted them over the years. The only one that was here when we bought the farm was cut down because it was in the pasture and we couldn't stop the animals - read, goats - from eating them.

The ones on the left we brought down from up the hill where there used to be a farm, which was turned into one of the early ski lodges in the area.

Tom's mother gave us the white lilac years ago. It is the tallest in the yard.

And back to the lilac from which came the first picture

One of the most special times of the year for us in this area. Everywhere you look there are lilacs, which is why it is our state flower.

Essential items!

So very many wonderful and delightful things during this time, and here is one!

Olive Veronesi SOURCE: Coors Light/Twitter

There's a whole lot of discourse going on right now around the subject of what does and doesn't constitute an "essential" item during life in quarantine.

For Olive Veronesi, a 93-year-old resident of Seminole, Pennsylvania, there is one thing that makes lockdown a whole lot easier: beer.

Veronesi has been doing the responsible thing during the COVID-19 pandemic, by self-isolating in her home and not going outside unless it's absolutely necessary. This led to her running dangerously low on Coors Light, her brand of choice, so she fashioned a sign last week informing her neighbors of the dire situation:

"I was on my last 12 cans," Veronesi told local news station KDKA-TV. "I have a beer every night... You know what, beer has vitamins in it, it's good for you, as long as you don't overdo it."

While Veronesi is correct that beer does contain vitamin B, alcohol destroys the vitamin B complex, so the vitamin benefit is largely only found in unfiltered beers.

Her public plea for more beer soon went viral, and led to a surprise delivery on Monday; 150 cans of Coors Light, along with some Coors Light merchandise, which she proudly modeled. Delighted by the gift, Veronesi quickly made a new sign updating the world: "Got more beer!"

Food for the Soul and Body

I'm stretching Weekend Cooking as far as it will go!

For many years I have been doing a yoga exercise on youtube with a fellow called Bhaskar Goswami. Recently, he began a series especially for this time. Every day is different, and ends with a very special story and /or meditation. I could do all of them except the couple days it was floor work. He is a wonderful teacher. I'll tell you how to find him in a minute, but I want to tell you a story he told one day. I put it up on Instagram, as well.

Jack Cornfield speaks of a time when he was studying in a monastery for many, many years under a great master. One day the master was going for a walk in the forest with his students following. And the master suddenly stopped and pointed at a boulder, a massive rock, and he asked the question, "Is that boulder heavy?" The students very sincerely nodded, saying, "Yes, master, the boulder is very heavy." And the master responded, "Not if you don't lift it." 

Bhaskar went on to connect this to what we are all living through as a way to say not to worry about every horror that we read about, but to take what we need from the news reports and not let the rest give us too much anxiety.

I subscribe to "daana" on youtube which is where you will find him. And here is the first "Home Health Practice during Coronavirus". He is going to continue with a "musing" one day a week, and a practice another day. 

Local restaurants

All the restaurants and bars in the state have been ordered to close. So the local eateries are offering take-out only. There are all kinds of options. You can go in and pick it up, or they will leave the food outside for you to pick up, or they will bring it out to your car, and at least one has a delivery service and more are considering it.

My plan is to get take-out a few times a week to support our local restaurants. Yesterday we got delicious homemade Irish soda bread from our town restaurant run by a mother and daughter of Irish heritage. If we ate meat, we could have gotten corned beef and cabbage along with it.

Tonight we got pizza, and Tom got beer from the local brewery, which will also deliver if you want. Each place was very grateful.

Tom's

Mine - Lucy is all for supporting local restaurants!

Going back to older days

I am feeling a wee bit brilliant today. Here is how it all began. I buy Kleenex from Amazon. They come in packages of four, and cost no more than at my local Walmart. But buying them online saves me driving a dozen miles, parking, making my way through the store.

When I looked today, they were not available. So I put on my thinking cap and remembered that when I was a girl, my father always had a handkerchief. I tried to find a photo of him with it in his breast pocket, but I guess he must have kept it in his side pocket.

So I visited Amazon, and found several offerings of cotton handkerchiefs. I read some reviews, made my choice, and ordered. I am just so tickled!

As I was writing this, I checked back to be sure that I had been right about the package of four (I was), and, lo and behold they are available again so I bought eight boxes. I figured they will suffice for the nationwide lack of toilet paper, even on Amazon where I usually buy it.

"Ramble on"

I'm writing this post because of a comment Sam made after the "Susan's summer" entry here. If you haven't seen his comment, and then Cath's, you may find them there. 

I'll just put up the you tube of Led Zeppelin singing Ramble On right off the bat so you can have it in your heads as you read along.



I'm not a huge fan (I was more of a Jeff Beck girl), but this is a great song, and even though loud and rocky it is in the English folk tradition with its words. I had to look up a couple that I didn't know because I haven't read Tolkien.

Mordor

Mordor

Mordor
J. R. R. Tolkien's legendarium location
Flag displaying the Red Eye of Sauron, Lord of Mordor (based on a design by Tolkien)
First appearance	The Lord of the Rings
Information
Type	Realm and base of operations of Sauron.
Ruler	Sauron (later ruled by his freed slaves)
Notable locations	Barad-dûr (the Dark Tower), Mount Doom, the Ash Mountains, the Mountains of Shadow (Ephel Dúath), the Black Gate, Cirith Ungol, Gorgoroth, the Sea of Nurnen, Udûn
Other name(s)	the Land of Shadow, the Black Land, the Nameless Land
Location	East of Gondor
Lifespan	Second Age – Fourth Age
Founder	Sauron
Capital	Barad-dûr

In J. R. R. Tolkien's fictional world of Middle-earth, Mordor (pronounced [ˈmɔrdɔr]; from Sindarin Black Land and Quenya Land of Shadow) is the realm and base of the arch-villain Sauron. It was located in the southeast of northwestern Middle-earth, east of the great river Anduin. Mount Doom, a volcano in Mordor, was the goal of the Fellowship of the Ring(and later Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee) in the quest to destroy the One Ring.

Mordor had three enormous mountain ranges surrounding it, from the north, from the west and from the south. The mountains both protected the land from an unexpected invasion by any of the people living in those directions and kept those living in Mordor from escaping. Tolkien was reported to have identified Mordor with the volcano of Stromboli off Sicily, in terms of geographic equivalency with the real world.

And Gollum

Gollum
Middle-earth character
Information
Aliases	Sméagol, Trahald ("true" Westron name)
Race	Hobbit (Stoor branch)
Book(s)	The Hobbit The Fellowship of the Ring The Two Towers The Return of the King Unfinished Tales

Gollum is a fictional character from J. R. R. Tolkien's legendarium. He was introduced in the 1937 fantasy novel The Hobbit, and became an important character in its sequel, The Lord of the Rings. Gollum was a Stoor Hobbit^[1] of the River-folk, who lived near the Gladden Fields.^[2] Originally known as Sméagol, he was corrupted by the One Ring and later named Gollum after his habit of making "a horrible swallowing noise in his throat".^[3]

In Appendix F of The Lord of the Rings, the name Sméagol is said to be a "translation" of the actual Middle-earth name Trahald (having to do with the idea of "burrowing", and rendered with a name based on Old English smygel of similar meaning).^[4] Several critics speculate that Beowulf's Grendel could have been an inspiration for Gollum due to the many parallels between them – such as their affinity for water, their isolation from society, and their bestial description.^[5] Although Tolkien never explicitly stated this, he accredited Beowulfas one of his "most valued sources" when writing The Hobbit.^[6]

The Ring, which Gollum referred to as "my precious" or "precious", extended his life far beyond natural limits. Centuries of the Ring's influence twisted Gollum's body and mind, and, by the time of the novels, he "loved and hated [the Ring], just as he loved and hated himself." Throughout the story, Gollum was torn between his lust for the Ring and his desire to be free of it. Bilbo Baggins found the Ring and took it for his own, and Gollum afterwards pursued it for the rest of his life. Gollum finally seized the Ring from Frodo Baggins at the Cracks of Doom in Orodruin in Mordor, but he fell into the fires of the volcano, where both he and the Ring were destroyed.

Most probably this song is where I first heard the word, "ramble". When we in the US use it, we usually mean someone is going on and on telling a story. 

But I have rambled in England. When we two young kids went over in 1971, we were enchanted by footpaths with stiles and gates. We were amazed that we could walk (ramble) right into someone's pasture. When we went with our children in 1992, we actually had to run away from a bull! 

The whole idea of land is different in the two countries. We have private land and public land, and rarely do they meet. The only time I think anyone is allowed on private land is during hunting season, IF the land isn't posted with no hunting/no trespassing signs. Land is pretty sacred. The image you must have seen of a guy with a gun keeping people off his land is not made up. 

I've read in books, and seen on television shows over the years about people parking their "caravans" on someone's land. In Pie in the Sky, a group of people move onto a vegetable farmer's land and the owner can't really stop them. The police aren't going to bother moving them off. So maybe public and private are a bit wound together there? That would never happen in the US. The police would be there in a shot moving them along. 

It's possible that other places in the country might be different. I really don't know. I have a friend in Vermont and she could only put up signs that said to stay outside a certain distance from the house and yard during hunting season. I would be a wreck having animals and kids in that situation. We might have an occasional straggler way up on the land, but over all these years people would come and ask if they might hunt here, and were kindly and polite when we said no. 

I know my cousin on a ranch in Texas would never have anyone come onto her land and make camp. It just isn't done, and isn't even thought of. 

I look forward to my English readers' comments about this situation. I've wondered about it for years, and now may find out the answer.

I also want to take this chance to say how very thankful I am for you who read, and for you who comment. In the world of social media where a quick sentence or a "like" button will do as a reply, I am grateful for the thoughtful responses I get to my posts, and the wonderfully long and meaningful posts I read on other blogs. The blogging world is alive and well, which makes me very happy.

A 23-year-old's impressions of Notre Dame in 1971

I kept all the letters and postcards I wrote to my mother when Tom and I traveled in 1971. Today I looked through them to see if I might have said anything about visiting Notre Dame, and I found a postcard!

I searched to see if the three windows were saved in the fire, and they were! You may read more here.

Photos of Notre Dame

There are some excellent photographs of Notre Dame at The Guardian. And here I am in 1971.

Washing dishes redux

In June 2016, I wrote a blog post about washing dishes. I was full of enthusiasm about not using the dishwasher anymore. Of course, I never wrote about starting to use the dishwasher again, and why. And now, I don't remember why. Maybe because it was there. Probably because I was still quite busy with little ones then. Hazel was only 3 1/2, Campbell was just 3, and Indy was about to turn 1.

Well, now 2 1/2 years later, the dishwasher broke down again. I told Tom to give me a week before getting it fixed to see if I might enjoy going back to doing the dishes by hand. At the end of the week, I said I wanted to try another week. And so it has gone on with nary a negative from me. In fact, I kept saying what a relief it was to just wash up the dishes as they were dirty instead of loading and loading the dishwasher and then waiting hours for it to be done. Or waiting an hour for a "quick" load that I can do by hand in 5 minutes! It is a satisfying feeling to do the dishes and have them done rather than "do" them in the dishwasher and wait. And there was a sweet side benefit that I never thought of. I texted my sister-in-law that day and said "can't do this with a dishwasher, can you!!"

It has now been almost three weeks, and all the big dishes have been washed like the crock pot, bread bowl, 9x13 pan. I'm still smiling, and I'm dreaming about just what might go into that space after Tom removes it.

In Anne Tyler's If Morning Ever Comes, a grandmother says that "the only thinking time she has is when she's doing the dishes." Sometimes I listen to music, or a good radio program, and sometimes I just sit and ponder while looking out the window.

Christmas thoughts

We had all planned to get together at Windy Poplars Farm for Christmas - Michael, Estée, Campbell, Indy, Margaret, Matthew, Hazel, Tom, and I. The "kids" wanted our gathering to be here. It was supposed to be on Sunday, the 23rd, but Margaret's whole family had a days-long flu. We tried to find another time, but with work, and other winter sicknesses it doesn't look like it will happen while the tree is still up. Perhaps there will be a January day when we all can be here, but once the New Year gets going, life gets busy.

Addendum: I realized as I wrote a comment back to a reader that I should have said that I'm not upset or sad about this. I'm a very go with the flow kind of person when it comes to activities. And I see them all a lot! In fact, I texted everyone and said this:

I don't feel sad because I am a luckylucky mother that my kids and their families live so close. I am ever thankful. It is Christmas every day that I see you.

So, I came up with a brilliant (?!) idea for 2019! The plan is to have our family celebration on the Solstice. I looked it up, and it is December 21 next year. This gives everyone a year's time to tell any workplaces that they want that day off! And hopefully, no one will be sick. This leaves Christmas Eve clear for an annual party Estée's family has, and leaves clear Christmas Day to be with their own families. I'm thinking if we can make this a date on the calendar then it can become a permanent day of celebrating Christmas together! We'll see. We all know what John Lennon did or didn't say about making plans, and what Robbie Burns said in his sad poem to the mouse. But for now, it seems optimistic to me and I'm already looking forward to it.

And now, it is time for me to walk around taking down the month-long decorations of Christmas. It has been lovely, but now it is time for that clean slate that January brings.

Aprons

I saw this on Facebook, and I just knew some of my readers would so love it.

The History of 'APRONS'

I don't think our kids know what an apron is. The principle use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath because she only had a few. It was also because it was easier to wash aprons than dresses and aprons used less material. But along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.

It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.

From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.

When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids.

And when the weather was cold, Grandma wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove.

Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.

From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.

In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.

When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men folk knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.

It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that 'old-time apron' that served so many purposes.

Grandma used to set her hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool. Her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw.

They would go crazy now trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron.

I don't think I ever caught anything from an apron - but love
---Hawk Seeker of Truth---