Monday Moanings - October 29, 2018

A few years ago, I was in Tokyo just before Halloween and let me tell you if you love this annual celebration, this city is the place to be. It's a really big deal for the grown-ups. There is no door-to-door trick or treating, just neighbourhood celebrations in the streets and restaurants, featuring costumes and good fun.

Still, there is nothing like a Halloween in Canada! Though parties for the big kids, aka adults, are becoming more popular, Halloween remains, for the most part, a children's festival. Costumes have to be both fashionable and endurable. They have to fit over snowsuits and galoshes. They have to maintain their integrity in some of the wildest winds and torrential rains. Past years have brought rain and wind, cold and snow, and on occasion, even a balmy evening. This year's trick or treating is looking wet but not too cold.

Halloween 1987

In my elementary school days, there were no costume parades or parties yet there was no shortage of Halloween themed activities - from art and music to reading, writing and yes even arithmetic. The whole week was haunted by decorations, songs, stories, and math problems all featuring ghosts, goblins, witches and jack-o-lanterns. It was fun and a great run up for the big night.

My preferred characters for Trick or Treating were pirates, gypsies, and tramps (no thieves - lol), and the outfits were cobbled together from stuff in the house an hour or so before heading out. The one exception was the very special year my parents bought me a pirate costume. Dad made the eye patch. My Mom was not a seamstress, but she did know a thing or two about makeup. There was an awful lot she could do with a burnt cork, baby powder, and red lipstick. She also had that big jar of Pond's cold cream for getting all the stuff off afterward.

Me - Halloween 1960(?)

My mother's specialty at Halloween, at any time actually, was conjured up in the kitchen. She made popcorn balls - rounds of white popcorn held together by molasses syrup boiled to the hard crack stage. With buttered hands, so the hot syrup didn't stick, Mom quickly assembled the hardball sized treats. The hot syrup always burned her hands no matter how fast she worked.

Gone now are such delectables, even the apples and peanuts are absent from the treat bag. We've all had to buy into the commercial brands. There will be zombies and vampires out tomorrow night and probably lots of Princesses of Arendelle, but very few pirates and tramps. And it's been a very long time since I've heard anyone utter my childhood chant, "Shell out! Shell out! The witches are out!" But who can forget "Monster Mash" by Bobby (Boris) Pickett and Crypt-Kickers?!

Halloween 1988

I've got to get out there and buy the treats and a pumpkin or two.


Be safe out there, and have a "Spook-tacular" time.

image credit: Meanwhile in Canada

©2018 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - October 25, 2018

The Time Between...

The gardens have been put to bed, the lawnmower and weed whacker silenced.
The forest floor is a carpet of fallen leaves.

We have paid homage to giant pumpkins and shiny farm tractors at Fall Fairs.

We have celebrated and given thanks for all the blessings of life.

The air outside my house pulses with Autumn's incense as smoke rises from a lazy fire in the woodstove within, murmuring about warmth.

I love this time between - a gracious respite after the September start-ups and October gatherings, after the harvests, bottling, and canning; before the Christmas machine roars to life.

It is a time of tender reflection, a time to look behind me and around me, within me and beyond me, where I've been and where I now am.  It's a bit like a meander through a fine old bookshop...

Barter Books, Alnwick Station, Northumberland

My fingertips brush across the bindings of the stories of my life as I stroll the along the years. A few tales linger on my heart, a few bring a tear, a few tease out a giggle or three, and of course, there are a couple of mysteries to ponder.

All of the stories are important.
Life is good.





©2018 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - October 22, 2018

The Perils of Downsizing

My household and I have reached the age and stage where disposal trumps acquisitions. In short, we need to get rid of stuff. Friday the disposal bug struck with gusto. I cleared out three bankers boxes. The contents of two of them I dispatched to the Salvation Army along with three pairs of gently used shoes and a collection teddy bears. The third box was full of business papers from 1989 through 2001. I fed them to the shredder and they are now ready for recycling. Good job, eh? 

The man even got involved. Out of the attic came the patio furniture. A bistro table for two with chairs, umbrella, and outdoor carpet had been made redundant by the addition of the sunroom which now encloses the deck. Before noon on Saturday, these heavyweights were at the end of the driveway for "Curbside Giveaway." There they sat for all of two hours before being picked up for adoption into a new home. Score! FreeCycling works!

I then decided to tackle the hall closet. I knew this was dangerous. I knew the treasures that lay within but buoyed by success, I dared to pull open the bi-fold doors. My pupils dilated, my heart raced, and my fingers twitched at the sight before me - a luminous tower of jigsaw puzzles. London, New York, and Venice, trains, boats, and island houses, antique tools, toys, and more. Oh my! 

My thumb and fingers rubbed together in memory of the soft click as a puzzle piece finds its place in the whole. I warmed to the thought of bringing order and beauty out of a jumble of cardboard. And I sighed in tribute to the triumph of pressing that final piece into place. It is as close to perfection as it gets. 

I turned away from the tower of temptation, trying to force my attention to the other side of the closet, the one stacked with thirty+ year-old children's toys and games. But alas I cast a glance back to my left.  Only for a moment, I swear! Long enough to see a bright orange jack-o-lantern wink at me.

'All Hallow's Eve' levitated into my hands and my feet carried the box and me to the dining room table. 

As I was transported away from the closet,  I swear I heard sighs of relief punctuated by a few cackles of victory coming from behind those mahogany bi-fold doors...

I'll ponder that a bit while I'm sitting at the dining room table this week piecing together jack-o-lanterns, witches, ghosts and ghouls.

©2018 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - October 18, 2018

A magical moment greeted me this morning. It only happens this way once a year and only once a year does it thrill me in this way. And it never stays around for more than a just few hours...

Die erste Schnee...(the first snow)

The first snow makes my heart, mind, body, and soul dance with glee. I have no idea why this is so. No specific childhood memory comes to mind, no incredibly joyous incident and yet this morning, the excitement was almost unbearable. I danced. I sang. I scampered down the stairs to put on my boots and get out there.

My apologies to all those not so enthralled with snow. Rest assured, by mid-February or even sooner in the new year, I'll be less enthused and maybe even at times somewhat grumpy about it all.






But for now, even just for a few hours today, it was a marvelous, magical happening.

©2018 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - October 15, 2018

A slow, dreary start on this Monday in October.

The pitter-patter of rain stirred me from deep slumber this morning. It was joined by the snuffling snores from both the man beside me and the furry beast at the foot of the bed. The gloomy light suggested it was still early, much too early to get up. I turned onto my side, curling up into the warm blankets - ah, bliss... until sleep-blurred eyes cleared enough to register the illuminated digits on the bedside clock. 

Microseconds later my vintage bladder issued both a congratulatory note about sleeping through the night along with an imminent overflow alert. My sluggish body protested every movement but verticality was achieved - okay, so maybe not quite plumb-bob vertical but the maximum allowable on a flood-threatening bladder. Ten determined yet a tad wobbly steps got me to the bathroom. Victory was mine!

Much relieved and now dressed, I left the two sleeping beauties behind and sauntered off to the kitchen. Head and shoulders, knees and toes resisted my progress, but I had coffee on my mind, a good caffeine ladened Americano with a soothing dose of 18% cream. The heady aroma of a fresh-pulled triple espresso awakened my senses. Streaming hot water into the mug, I inhaled even more of caffeine's stimulating incense. Licking my lips in anticipation I poured the luscious cream into the rich black liquid, watching for the swirls of darkness and light.

"No! No! NO!" I screamed as clumps of curdled cream rose to perform a macabre dance. What outrage! What cruelness! What treachery is this?

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down...

...but then again, grey days make colours pop and details come to life!

On the street where I live

Rome 2005 - waiting to get into the Vatican Museum

Reykjavik 2018 - The Sun Voyager & friends

Reykjavik 2018

Lerwick, Scotland 2018

Mousa - Shetlands, Scotland 2018

Yesnaby Cliffs, Scotland 2018

Have a great week folks!



©2018 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - October 11, 2018

The morning dawned heavy with humidity and an unseasonally warm temperature of 22°C (72°F). Ahh, but the wind was up too, the kind of wind that forewarns of a cold front on the doorstep. I watched in quiet reverie as leaves of red and gold danced and swirled their way to the ground. An old children's song came to mind, the one my mother taught me so long ago, the one for which she wrote out the words when my own children came along.

Today once again, I could hear Mom's clear soprano voice serenading me. Once again I glimpsed her twinkling blue eyes, full of delight. And once again sheer joy filled the room.

The fount of all knowledge, Google, led me to discover the original poem written by George Cooper (1840-1927), and later published in a primary school reader - McGuffey's Second Eclectic Reader - intended for grades 4 to 6. Wikipedia, (not always the fount of all truth), says that when it comes to sales, these Readers rank with the Bible and Webster's Dictionary with more than 120 million copies and growing. Apparently, McGuffey's books are still used in some private schools and homeschooling. Lesson 43, "The Wind and the Leaves" shows Cooper's poem in full:

THE WIND AND THE LEAVES. 

"Come, little leaves," said the wind one day.
"Come o'er the meadows with me, and play;
Put on your dress of red and gold
Summer is gone, and the days grow cold." 

Soon as the leaves heard the wind's loud call,
Down they came fluttering, one and all;
Over the brown fields they danced and flew,
Singing the soft little songs they knew. 

"Cricket, good-by, we've been friends so long;
Little brook, sing us your farewell song,--
Say you are sorry to see us go;
Ah! you will miss us, right well we know. 

"Dear little lambs, in your fleecy fold,
Mother will keep you from harm and cold;
Fondly we've watched you in vale and glade;
Say, will you dream of our loving shade?" 

Dancing and whirling, the little leaves went;
Winter had called them, and they were content.
Soon fast asleep in their earthy beds,
The snow laid a coverlet over their heads.

I like to imagine Mom bursting through the door of 39 Garden Street in Thompsonville, Connecticut, screen door banging shut behind the little girl. I can hear the thump of her shoes on the wooden porch, before she bounds down the steps then off down the sidewalk, scuffing through the leaves and singing...

     Come little leaves, said the wind one day...

©2018 April Hoeller

Thanksgiving Day - October 8, 2018

Today is
"...a day of General Thanksgiving to Almighty God for the bountiful harvest with which Canada has been blessed."
So reads the decree enacted by Parliament in 1879. Though the date has moved around a little - at first it was November 6, then it was the 3rd Monday in October - on January 31, 1957, the government proclaimed that National Thanksgiving be celebrated on the 2nd Monday of October.

Back when I was growing up, there was never any thought of celebrating on any other day than the officially decreed Monday. It mattered not a whit that folks had to be rough and ready for work the next morning, or that kids had to be up and out to school. Thanksgiving back then was a single day, a great day of family and food complete with all the good china and silverware, and of course, we ate in the dining room.

Saturday was spent grocery shopping and silver polishing, If we did a really good job on the silver for Thanksgiving, only a few touch-ups would be needed for the Christmas feast! Sunday was for church, and maybe even a trip to the Royal Ontario Museum afterward. In the afternoon, Mom made the pies.

On Thanksgiving Monday, "the bird" - always at least a 22 pounder! - had to be stuffed and in the oven by 9am. My mother was in the kitchen shortly after 7 in the morning and didn't leave it until supper was served at 6 and then she was back in there cleaning up until late. Honestly I don't know how she did it all. No microwave ovens, no automatic dishwasher, no convection oven, and one small fridge, with a 1 cubic foot freezer section. Yet it was always a feast of plenty including leftovers for turkey sandwiches, turkey stew, or pot pie during the week. And she loved every minute of it, but perhaps not so much the clearing up, for which my Dad was conspicuous by his absence...
"Lovely meal Irene, now I'm going to bed."
Yeah, that was Dad, but to be honest I'm not sure how welcome he was in Mom's kitchen.

For both the indigenous tribes and the early newcomers to this land, this time of year was one of both deepest gratitude and fervent hope. Come wind, come weather the land had yielded her best and barns were more or less full. But would the bounty be enough to sustain life through a winter of unknowns?

I have not known such a tenuous life, none of my family have. Sure, we've had our struggles, our lean times, but we've always been able to gather together at Thanksgiving amid an embarrassment of riches. I am as humbled as I am grateful for this bounty. I've companioned others whose lives been flipped upside down by a sudden reversal of fortune and I'm now of a great enough age to be keenly aware that good living does not grant any immunity from calamity down the road. A winter of unknowns may give warning but never asks permission to visit, let alone stay a while.

In my heart and home, today is a day to kick back, relax, enjoy and reflect. Our family celebration was on Saturday. It was a feast of plenty, a cornucopia overflowing with good conversation, great laughs, and the best company.

I am so very thankful on this day for my family, my friends, our health and prosperity. I am truly grateful "for the bountiful harvest with which Canada has been blessed."

Happy Thanksgiving, eh!