Thursday, or Thereabouts - October 20, 2016

Happy and Home Free!

We slipped under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge at just past 5:30am Tuesday morning.

Bowed to the grand Lady of Liberty just before 6am - She is such a fine and wonderful sight!

And then on past the lights of lower Manhattan to dock at Pier 88.

Some eight hours later we greeted yet another fine and wonderful sight - Toronto - undiminished in my heart by clouds and mist.

We enjoyed our time away (more about that another time, when the laundry has been dispatched and 5600 photos uploaded), but it is always good to see the lights of home, to come back to familiar places, faces and routines. No haute cuisine for supper tonight, but the comfort of a home-cooked meal has its own rich flavour.

While we were away, Autumn breezed in, her resplendent beauty filling the countryside with vibrant colour. Best of all she seems to have waited for our return before dropping all her fine artwork to the ground.

Even in today's rain, her palette along the street where I live, is on full display.

And around the house, there are still begonia blooms. Nothing prize-winning here, but worthy of special mention because it is October 20, not August 20.

These gourds though do proclaim October fullness.

As do the sumac leaves.

It's time for gathering in all the joys and blessings of life here and now: family, friends and a good homeland.

Deo gratias!

©2016 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - November 5, 2015

The In-Between Time

The gardens have been put to bed, the lawnmower and weed whacker silenced, the deck furniture tucked away.

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

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

A deep, thick carpet of brown and yellow has been laid down on the forest paths.

The air outside my house pulses with Autumn's incense as smoke rises from a crackling cauldron of fallen leaves. And our woodstove has hosted the first fire of the heating season.

I love this In-Between time - that gracious respite after the September start ups and October gatherings, and before the Christmas machine roars to life. It is a time of tender reflection, a time to look behind me and around me, both where I've been and where I now am.

It's a bit like a meander through a fine old book shop...

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 there are a couple of life's myths ripe for debunking.

All the stories are important.
Life is beautiful.

©2015 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - September 24, 2015

Autumn Overture - Hitting all the High Notes

This is my favourite season - a symphony, a classic tone poem of colour and form, tempo and texture, light and shadow; always changing, always moving toward its inevitable conclusion. The opening movement of this annual performance has been full of promise of the presto of colour now only just hinted at.

The high notes of bright sunshine and warm days have been modulated by cool nights, with not single ice crystal yet etched in the time signature. The frost will surely come but for now only early morning mist blurs the fledgling grace notes of colour before lifting to reveal ever-brightening yellows and reds.

And it's just way to lovely for me to sit inside writing. The opening to this season of gratitude will not remain so gloriously melodic, and I don't want to miss a single note.
See you out there!

©2015 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - September 17, 2015

She stoops to ...
                             Conkers!  

I love finding horse chestnuts in the Fall.  It’s a real thrill to pry open the thick spiny green shell -- a bit like opening a gift wrapped present. There is such an anticipation of delight.  My recent finds are no exception.  The outer shell gives way to reveal a gorgeous nugget of deep red brown roundness with a creamy top.  It reminds me of a perfect espresso with a crema top.  The delicate swirls of pattern invite my thumb to trace the contours over smooth shiny curves.   Fifty-five years melt away...

I look up from my English notebook to make sure nobody is watching me.  The teacher is writing in her daybook, and the other kids all have heads down, pencils scratching out a story.  My story isn’t going very well.  It’s stupid.  I can never come up with anything good.  But recess is just minutes away, so I reach into my desk, past the packet of Dad’s oatmeal cookies to find the tangle of shoelaces. I tease through the tangle to grasp the two round chestnuts, ready for action.

Just yesterday I found these under the big tree in the neighbour’s yard.  I raced home and headed right downstairs to my Dad’s workbench to get the hammer and a big nail.  It was a little tricky -- the chestnuts were a bit slippery and didn’t want to stay still on the floor -- but I got a good hole through two of them.  A third one split.  Oh well, good thing I picked up three!

Then I had to go find shoelaces. The big thick ones are the best, like the ones I found in my sister’s skates. Perfect! I put a good knot in the end of the laces and strung a chestnut on each one.  Two beauties ready for action.

Ring!  The recess bell made me jump, but in no time I was in line and ready to head out the door. Danny, the boy with the ‘five year bully’ (meaning he had beaten five others with this conker) had a bunch of boys already gathered around him, ready to try their luck.  I joined the group.  They tease me as usual, being the only girl and all, but I don’t like skipping or hopscotch.  I like conkers!

One by one chestnuts smash against each other and one by one the boys ahead of me leave behind their broken bits.  Now it’s my turn to get demolished – well that’s what the boys say!  I crouch down on my knees and take out the really big conker and lay it in the pit.  I close my eyes and Danny takes his best shot with his now eight year bully.  SMACK!  “It’s your turn now.” somebody says.

“What?” I stammer, “My conker is still in one piece?”  I dry my hands on my pants, then grab the end of the shoelace and hold it tightly with my right hand.  I wrap my left thumb and forefinger around my conker and draw the shoelace up tight.  SNAP!  I see bits of chestnut flying in the air.  But they’re not mine.  WOW!   I just smashed an eight year bully to smithereens!  “I did it!  I did it!”

Ring!  Recess is over.  I quickly stuff my best ever conker into my pocket and skip back into school. Now I have something good to write about and a one year bully in my pocket.   Cool!

©2015 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - October 9, 2014

An Embarrassment of Riches...

Thanksgiving Weekend stands on the doorstep bidding me come, enjoy, celebrate, and give thanks for the harvest.

   






For both the early pioneers and the indigenous tribes, this time of year in North America was one both deepest gratitude and fervent hope. Come wind, come weather the land had yielded her best and barns were 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 abundance of food, laughter and love - 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 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.

Yet today the sun is shining, the world just outside my door is decked out in Autumn splendour, and the cup of my life is overflowing with good things. So I accept the invitation to enjoy, celebrate and give thanks for the harvest. 

My heart is full of "Thanks Giving."

©2014 April Hoeller

A Prayer of Gratitude

"We are grateful for eyes that see and ponder, for taste buds that know the sensuous pleasures of eating and drinking, for hands that hold and touch and feel, for ears that can delight in music and the voice of a friend, for a nose that can smell the aroma of newly mown grass or delicious food, and can also breathe the air that gives us life. 

We are grateful for the treasure of loved ones whose hearts of openness and acceptance have encouraged us to be who we are. We are  grateful for their faithfulness, for standing by us when our weaknesses stood out glaringly, for being there when we were most in need and for delighting with us in our good days and our joyful seasons.  

We are grateful for the eyes of faith, for believing in the presence of God, giving us hope in our darkest days, encouraging us to listen to our spirit’s hunger, and reminding us to trust in the blessings of God’s presence in our most empty days. 

We are grateful for the ongoing process of becoming who we are, for the seasons within, for the great adventure of life that challenges and comforts us at one and the same time. 

We are grateful for the messengers of God - people, events, written or spoke words - that came to us at just the right time and helped us to grow.  

We are grateful for God calling us to work with our gifts, grateful that we can be of service and use our talents in a responsible and just way. 

We are grateful that we have the basic necessities of life, that we have the means and the ability to hear the cries of the poor and to respond with our abundance."

©1992 Joyce Rupp: May I have this Dance?  p. 151

Monday Moanings - October 6, 2014

My Monday is jam packed with things to do and places to be, so I'll leave you this day with an old chestnut from Autumn 2011.

Conkers!

I love finding horse chestnuts in the Fall.  It’s a real thrill to pry open the thick spiny green shell -- a bit like opening a gift wrapped present. There is such an anticipation of delight.  My recent finds are no exception.  The outer shell gives way to reveal a gorgeous nugget of deep red brown roundness with a creamy top.  It reminds me of a perfect espresso with a crema top.  The delicate swirls of pattern invite my thumb to trace the contours over smooth shiny curves.   Fifty years melt away...

©Matka Wariatka - Fotolia.com

I look up from my English notebook to make sure nobody is watching me.  The teacher is writing in her daybook, and the other kids all have heads down, pencils scratching out a story.  My story isn’t going very well.  It’s stupid.  I can never come up with anything good.  But recess is just minutes away, so I reach into my desk, past the packet of Dad’s oatmeal cookies to find the tangle of shoelaces.  I tease through the tangle to grasp the two round chestnuts, ready for action.  Just yesterday I found these under the big tree in the neighbour’s yard.  I raced home and headed right downstairs to my Dad’s workbench to get the hammer and a big nail.  It was a little tricky -- the chestnuts were a bit slippery and didn’t want to stay still on the floor -- but I got a good hole through two of them.  A third one split.  Oh well, good thing I picked up three!  Then I had to go find shoelaces.  The big thick ones are the best, like the ones I found in my sister’s skates.  Perfect!  I put a good knot in the end of the laces and strung a chestnut on each one.  Two beauties ready for action.

© Lensman300 - Fotolia.com

Ring!  The recess bell made me jump, but in no time I was in line and ready to head out the door.  Danny, the boy with the ‘five year bully’ (meaning he had beaten five others with this conker) had a bunch of boys already gathered around him, ready to try their luck.  I join the group.  They tease me as usual, being the only girl and all, but I don’t like skipping or hopscotch.  I like conkers!  One by one chestnuts smash against each other and one by one the boys ahead of me leave behind their broken bits.  Now it’s my turn to get demolished – well that’s what the boys say!  I crouch down on my knees and take out the really big conker and lay it in the pit.  I close my eyes and Danny takes his best shot with his now eight year bully.  SMACK!  “It’s your turn now.” somebody says.

“What?” I stammer, “My conker is still in one piece?”  I dry my hands on my pants, then grab the end of the shoelace and hold it tightly with my right hand.  I wrap my left thumb and forefinger around my conker and draw the shoelace up tight.  SNAP!  I see bits of chestnut flying in the air.  But they’re not mine.  WOW!   I just smashed an eight year bully to smithereens!  “I did it!  I did it!”

Ring!  Recess is over.  I quickly stuff my best ever conker into my pocket and skip back into school. Now I have something good to write about and a one year bully in my pocket.   Cool!

© macroart - Fotolia.com

©2014 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - October 2, 2014

The Yellow Line Rant

I am so ticked off! And every time I look out the front windows the flames roar back to life, ramping up the annoyance level each time. I have lived on this street for 36 years. It is a lovely country road just in off the highway, and most delightful when all dressed up in Autumn splendour.

Thanksgiving 2013

Yesterday morning I awoke at the usual 7:30 and sauntered to the bathroom. A glance out the window there, revealed a misty cool Autumn day, one which despite the low light, was dripping with colour. I grabbed my camera from the desk and clicked off these images:

Dressed and ready for the day, I headed off to the kitchen curious as to what the world outside my front door might look like in the muted light. I opened the blinds, camera at the ready and gasped. Indeed there was colour - a fresh bright yellow - a big fat yellow line down the centre of the street.

I went to bed in a house on a country road. I woke up in one on a city street. The Secret Squirrel Line Painters had struck! (if you watch the BBC program, MI -5, you'll appreciate that last comment)

Okay, okay its only a bit of paint I know, but what were they thinking? It was that question that I put to our town councillor in an email. I was pleasantly surprised by his quick response, though not so much with the content of that response.

Apparently there have been complaints about excessive speed and the lack of clear lane separation on Cherry Street. What a centre line has to do with speed reduction I'll never know, but I have to agree with one thing he said about improved visibility during dark, wet and snowy conditions. In fact day or night now in any weather, one can't miss seeing that centre line.

I also agree that appropriate safety measures trump aesthetics.

Still, I can't help thinking that some country charm been lost and with that perhaps also some safety for bicyclists and pedestrians. It seemed to me today as I watched the cars go by, that now that drivers have a centre line to go by, they can speed right along confident of the lane separation, yet this road is hardly wide enough for two lanes and there are no shoulders. It may be safer for drivers now, but on fine weekends any time of year this is a street full of pedestrians - parents with children, dogs and strollers, seniors taking the air, neighbours out for a ramble, and bicyclists of all skill levels. Will a big fat yellow line keep us safe too?

Time will tell...


©2014 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - September 29, 2014

Moaning Moratorium

It seems just plain wrong to moan about anything on this, another glorious Autumn day in southern Ontario. The sun is shining; the sky is brilliant blue; it's a warm 24°C. And the leaves are exploding with colour. They are also falling. I couldn't help but notice a constant dripping sound, something like the sound small raindrops make when they meet a solid surface. A reminder that these amazing days of Indian Summer will not, cannot, last. So it's best to make the most of gems like this.

But the umbrella is up on the deck,
          and a chair invites me to come,
                     sit a spell.

I dare not refuse such hospitality.

Happy Monday!

©2014 April Hoeller