“The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.”

My walk to work....

In the dark post Christmas days when Spring seems to not even be a whisper on Mother Nature's breath, occasionally a gift is sent to lighten the mood, add joy to the day and a rosy glow to the cheeks.  The promise was made, but it had been made before only for disappointment to be the order of the day. But last week the promise was fulfilled, the morning started with the tell tale glow from behind the curtains, a certain silence. A glimpse outside and there it was, the magic of snow, covering my garden, the roads and hills afar. I felt smug as for once, wisely,  I had stocked the kitchen with provisions enough to last for several days, so there would be no need to venture from the village for some time...


School opened for those who wished to come, and what a day was had, full of of snowball fights, and snowmen built, icy hands and wet toes. A day to be stashed away in young hearts to be   recounted many years hence.



Even better Saturday brought with it icy temperatures but a
bright and sparkling day, lunch in an old English pub, one with a real fire at it's heart and a welcome for all. Then off to  Badbury Rings for a walk and views across the county....



Families having fun, despite the National Trust warning against it, snow knee deep in places and still untrodden, the glorious white spreading as far as the eye could see, a glow across the horizon, childrens' laughter glittering all around. Home to a fire and mulled wine, time to defrost and think back on a day of wonder. A memory collected.......
 

“There is nothing in the world more beautiful than the forest clothed to its very hollows in snow. It is the still ecstasy of nature, wherein every spray, every blade of grass, every spire of reed, every intricacy of twig, is clad with radiance.”

William Sharp quotes ((pseud. Fiona MacLeod) Scottish Poet, 1855-1905





“There is nothing in the world more beautiful than the forest clothed to its very hollows in snow. It is the still ecstasy of nature, wherein every spray, every blade of grass, every spire of reed, every intricacy of twig, is clad with radiance.”

William Sharp quotes ((pseud. Fiona MacLeod) Scottish Poet, 1855-1905

Collect moments, not things.....

 

When my children were small we danced a lot, under sevens don't have inhibitions. Sometimes in the kitchen or we would push back the dining room table, crank up The Mavericks' Dance the Night Away and off we'd go. But that was over a decade ago these days, very rarely my, now big, daughters will indulge me but my son stands rod straight and just asks "what are you doing?"  Christmas wasn't great in this house because of, well many reasons,  but New Year was wonderful.  All my children home, my brother and family here and with him came my youngest niece,  under seven still and ripe for dancing!  So there we were on New Years Eve, me making margaritas with little one chatting away,  Pencil Full of Lead on the iPod, our feet started tapping and off we went...."again, again" she cried, so repeat, then next Spit at Stars and again until we collapsed,  laughing and exhausted, little one saying she needed to touch her toes because she had a stitch, my kitchen a dance floor once more.

My new year's resolution is to,collect moments, and there were many, many moments over the last few days to start my collection well. Moments to be recalled when the decorations have been packed away and visitors have left and we are in the dark days of February, I shall, with a smile, recall charades, chairs squeezed around the table, pots of tea, conversations, meals prepared and eaten together,laughter and love, oh and Spitting at Stars, a last dance maybe, but most certainly a moment collected.

Everyone is struggling and the news some days makes us want to weep but the things that matter, that give joy, and will be recalled time and again for many years to come are moments of fun, of laughter, and shared experiences. So why not join me in 2013 and you too do some collecting of moments, not things....

ps A thank you to Anne Thornton and her New Years Eve post for inspiration for my resolution.

Heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds."

 

When my eldest daughter was 5, I took her off to school as usual,  by lunchtime the news was full of the massacre at a school in Dunblane, Scotland. When I collected my daughter that afternoon, as she ran out across the playground, I gathered her in my arms and hugged her very tightly, thanking God that she was there for the hugging.  As we walked home the usual chatter from the day ensued but I, like every mother in the land, tucked my children in a little more tightly that night, kissed them more lovingly and lingered a little longer to watch them in their sleep. For a good while I made sure there were no cross words in the mornings and gave big hugs goodbye, but soon real life continued, normality of cross words and morning niggles.

It will be an extremely long time before any parent of a child from Sandy Hook School will have a day that is anything close to normal. It is out of the natural order of life for a child to die before the parent and is, most certainly, the hardest pain to bear. I watched President Obama's address yesterday, I saw his tears and felt the pain in his heart. He must have slept fitfully last night for he is a good man, caring and thoughtful and must, in some way, have felt a sense of responsibility at his and  Congress' failure to address the gun culture in the US. After the Dunblane massacre  the Snowdrop petition was started some 700,000 people signed it, all wanting the law changed so the ownership of handguns would be banned, the law was changed. It would be an extremely onerous task to outlaw handguns but the fact that per head of population the death rate, due to shooting,  is 50 times lower in the UK than the US must indicate that we did the only sane thing. The American's site the right of a free citizen to own a gun, is it not also the right for a child to be safe in their classroom? Wake up America, is now not the time to follow our lead?

“The true test of the American ideal is whether we’re able to recognise our failings and then rise together to meet the challenges of our time. Whether we allow ourselves to be shaped by events and history, or whether we act to shape them.” Barack Obama Feb 5th 2008

Let yours be the generation that said enough and now we must change, as President Obama said yesterday 'now is the time to heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds', help the healing by making their deaths be the catalyst for that change.

Be still....

 

It is that time of year, rush, rush, hustle and bustle. Feelings of panic...every day I am asked 'are you ready yet?'. I will not be rushed, I will not be forced into purchases that are pointless, a gift is a precious thing and should be bought with thought not just stuffed into a bag because no better alternative can be found. Don't be rushed I implore you. This festive season take time to 'be still'. Only stillness will allow you time for breath, to take stock and really see what is all around you. Go to a Carol Service and be still, watch The Snowman and be still, read a Christmas story to a child and be still. Take  time to meet with a friend and share a hot chocolate...really listen to what they have to say, be still....Walk on a frosty night, hopefully holding the hand of someone you  love,  look at the Christmas lights, or the stars, don't speak just be still. Sit by the fire with a book on your knee, watch the flames and be still. This modern life gives us little time for quiet and reflection. Turn off your phone, light a candle, embrace silence, be still, not for long, but for a while.....and hopefully the true spirit of Christmas will stealthily slide in beside you, a gift to yourself, that costs nothing and is worth more than I can say....so this weekend, do as I ask  and take time to just.... allow your soul to be still......

Oh Christmas Tree......

Over the past few years a new tradition has begun in our village church, the annual Christmas Tree Festival. I have no recall of such events as a child, and on searching they do indeed seem to be a modern phenomena started in America. Most often held in churches, each tree is decorated by an individual, family or organisation and dedicated to their charity of choice. Visitors are asked to vote for their favourite and to make a donation. Cakes are baked and the urn moved into the bell tower, festive music is played on a loop and the church buzzes with life for a couple of days. There were around twenty trees with various themes, some delightfully adorned with homemade decorations, the local school's tree had a contribution from each child. The winner was gloriously called 'Toilet Twinning' The tree sat resplendently in a beautiful old commode and was decorated with mini loos made by the local Cub pack, the charity supports the supply of toilet facilities to villages in the Third World. The weekend ended with story telling and music for children in the church gently lit by the festival of trees. If our churches wish to remain part of the community they must be inventive and engage with their neighbours, children should feel welcomed and have a memory of a warm place with an always open door. Our village church is trying hard, with weekday Messy Play sessions for toddlers. The local school walks down on the last day of term to listen to the Christmas story and sing the carols learnt over the previous weeks,and it holds an outrageously raucous Christingle service on Christmas Eve that sees the building bursting at the seams with noise and excitement.Much needed new traditions and new life into an ancient building at the heart of this little Dorset village....

Apple Butter

Normally at this time of year you can walk through any rural area and see boxes of apples at the ends of drives, on walls, balanced in old prams, mostly for the taking, an abundance shared, sometimes, if they are particularly marvellous, a sum of money is asked for. Sadly this year after a summer of weather never of which has been know for many decades, there are no such boxes. So when a friend was glad to share the harvest of his apple tree I happily accepted. Many years ago when living in Canada for a short time I came across apple butter. It is one of the many ways to preserve a harvest, mostly found in North America and Eastern Europe. It's silky flavoursome richness can be eaten on toast, swirled through a cake mixture or pancakes. If minimum sugar is added it can be eaten with pork, or on cereal, a particular favourite for me on proper wet muesli.  I had  made it once before but found the long slow simmering problematic but in my research came across a recipe that used a slow cooker...the recipe didn't disappoint.....

Apple Butter

5.5 llbs of apples peeled, cored and finely chopped
4 cups of white sugar
2 teaspoons of ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon salt

1. In a large bowl mix cinnamon, cloves, salt and sugar. Add apples and mix well.
2. Place apple mixture in the pot of a slow cooker, cover and cook on high for 1 hour.
3. Reduce to low and cook for 9-11 hours (overnight). Stirring occasionally until mixture is thickened and dark brown.
4. Blend with a hand blender until smooth.

5. Pot in sterile jars, seal. Keep cool and refrigerate once opened.



So thank you to the giver of apples..... a pot of Apple Butter is on its way x

Made in Britain...

Just over six weeks ago we  waited with anticipation and now it has  finished, but what a time was had by all! I visited London twice over the Olympic period and it was a London I did not recognise, not my London, the London I lived in and commuted to where no one looked you in the eye, where each person had a bubble around them that could not be penetrated. No, this new London had people talking on the tube, ice lollies handed out at main line stations, people with foam hands saying 'welcome' 'have a wonderful day' there were others telling you where to go, trains to be got on without tickets being checked and locals setting up tables with cups of water  for the passing crowds. Oh London I have never seen you so joyous or quite so full of life. 

The Olympics were amazing but the Paralympics well they were society changing. I was lucky enough to take my youngest daughter to Greenwich on the first day of eventing, what a humbling experience that was. As each competitor came out the commentator gave a brief description of their disability, their life and circumstances. As the morning progressed, despite the torrential rain, I felt myself changing, my problems seemed insignificant compared to a surgeon who, due to illness, was  paralysed and whose fingers were too numb to hold a scalpel. Or another young woman who, was once a stunt rider, after a hay bale falling on her back was now a paraplegic....I could go on...but you get the picture. Metaphorically they all just got up and got on with it...and on it went....and I ended up realising, I really just need to shut up, because I can get up and run and walk and not have to rely on anyone else. But over the next fortnight came the society changing bit, we have all realised  watching paraolympians they are amazing, and daring and just damn good sportsmen who we can watch and enjoy as much as any other sport. It has shown us that not to be an inclusive society it unacceptable. Everybody is different and everybody is the same and acceptance of this is the legacy of this summer of Olympics then as Seb Coe said we can all be proud to look on the bottom and read 'Made in Great Britain'