LOVE AND PEACE

I know I have sung the praises of winter on this blog before.  Quite honestly, it is my very favorite season, despite the bitter cold and sometimes lack of snow.  I do know, that if we consistently did not have snow, then winter would cease to be my most loved season.

We took a ride the other day, brilliant sunlit, snow covered day.  It was stunning, the hills, the great expanses of snow covered fields, the tree limbs covered with a thin line of soft flakes...everything in stark outline.

For years now, the great expanse of snow covered fields have called to me, called to my artistic side.  They have always resembled a canvas waiting, just waiting and waiting.  I have always longed to 'sketch' that canvas, and so yesterday when I thought to go skiing, the hillsides seemed to beckon me

...and so I donned my heaviest boots and trudged up the hillside, and although it isn't visible, began by 'walking' huge flowers in the snow.  I was then moved to add hearts, and words....

...peace and love....

Once out there one loses a sense of proportion and although I thought I was walking huge hearts using up the hillside, I found when I was done, that I surely had not...

There is much hillside still calling me....waiting for my imprint.

One this, the first day of 2013, I do wish LOVE and PEACE to all.  I know it will not happen around the world, it never has, but I hope it anyway.  All of our good thoughts, and personal contributions to love and peace will surely make a difference.

 

BUSHWHACKING

We are so grateful for the snow!!  We are also supremely grateful that our land is located adjacent to 8500 acres of Reserve land.  This makes access so convenient for hiking, biking and skiing!  We love to cross country ski, and for me anyway, it is absolutely my favorite out door activity.  

Both Freddie and I prefer bushwhacking to trail skiing.  For several years we broke a trail down a ravine, across a large frozen backwater and then for a few miles along the Kickapoo River.  This is simply a stunning venture.  This has always been the preferred ski 'trail' for us.  Unfortunately last year and the year before, winter snow never really came to our area.  (Global warming is my guess.)  We had not broken this trail for three years.

With much excitement we went out last Sunday to break this trial, and then have it available for real skiing for the rest of the winter.  Well it wasn't much of a surprise to see that the entire way to the frozen backwater had so overgrown, at places it was nearly impossible to traverse, but we did not expect the tangle that we found.  It had not only overgrown, mostly with honeysuckle but also briers, but the small waterway that snaked through this valley had crisscrossed every which way and back again, that we were unable to ski along either side for very long. 

We did much weaving between trees, up slight and not so slight hills, crossing this small stream countless times,

infrequently moving along as though we were really skiing.  (The snow was perfect for skiing.)

And on one or two occasions

succumbing to gravity..

and trying to regain not only our dignity, but our position as well.

Despite this, at least I quite honestly found this a great adventure!!  Towards the end,we found ourselves skiing along a trail provided by the Reserve, but I must say this was not my cup of tea.  For me cross country skiing is bushwhacking, forging trails where others have not gone, breaking pristine ground, and viewing these hills, trees and the river as at no other time of year. 

A CHRISTMAS TREAT

Many years ago, while living in South Dakota, I began making and giving this Swedish Tea Ring to friends  for Christmas.  Decorated as such, it looks to me much like a Christmas Wreath.

Our family tradition is to have this sweet treat on Christmas morning along with fruit and yogurt.  

Among the old cookbooks that I collect is one called The United States Regional COOKBOOK edited by Ruth Berolzheimer, first published in 1939.  It is from this cookbook the recipe for Swedish Tea rings comes.  (I have modified it some, as we no longer really need to scald milk, etc.)

Swedish Tea Ring (Saffebrod)

1 c. milk                    1/4 c. butter                 1/2 c. sugar           1 tsp. salt         2 tsp. instant yeast

2 eggs                       4 1/2 c. sifted flour        melted butter         brown sugar     cinnamon      chopped nuts

Heat milk until warm and pour over butter, sugar and salt.  Sprinkle yeast into liquid when cool.  Add well beaten eggs, mixing well.  Beat in flour to make a soft dough, with a wooden spoon.  Turn out onto a floured board and knead until smooth.  Put into a bowl, cover and let rise until doubled in bulk.

When light, shape into two rectangular sheets about 1/4" (or so) thick. 

Brush with milted butter, sprinkle with brown sugar and cinnamon (to taste).  Add chopped nuts (walnuts or pecans.)  .

Roll in a jelly roll fashion and shape into rings.  Place on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper, and with scissors cut at one inch intervals, almost but not quite through the ring.  Turn the slices slightly.

Cover with a damp cloth and let rise until double in bulk.

Bake in a moderately hot oven (375 degrees) for 25-30 minutes.  Watch carefully, as they could brown fast.  Should this happen cover loosely with tin foil.

Frost with a confectioners frosting, and decorate with Christmas colored sprinkles.

I am hoping that all of you who read this post have a blessed and happy Christmas.  May peace come with the new year to all.

THE DARK TIME

My whole life I have been an advocate against child abuse.  I have shouted, written, marched, posted, cried and worked with both children and adults.  Several years ago I felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of children I would about read in the papers who had died at the 'hand' of abuse.  I recall feeling compelled to keep a small notebook of their names, ages, and their hometowns.  I would open this notebook and read their names each night before I went to bed.  I wanted so desperately to keep them alive, to keep them in my heart, to give them love.  

After a few years, this notebook became too full, my heart too heavy, and I could not open it anymore. Today, a list of the names of the children killed in Newtown, Connecticut rests here by my side.  I read their names, I tuck them into my heart. The thought passed through my mind to enter their names here, but I won't.  In some ways I feel how unfortunate that the media, I think without true intention, seems to be exploiting this incident.  I fear it will become a political issue and our politicians will use it to be heard, to seem better, to stand out.  I fear that the kind of media attention this is receiving, (milking blood from this tragedy to have 'air time') will surely push someone over the edge to 'top' this count, this event.

I feel small and powerless.  I feel not unlike this dark, dreary day.  The Winter Solstice is upon us, the darkest night of the year.  It is a dark time, a very dark time.  Yet it is a time that the coming light can open us up to our better selves.  We are in a time of great need, both here and abroad.  We are in a time that needs us more than ever before...and we must stand and be counted.  

We must not only lament, and pray, and talk in serious, grave tones with one another.  We must change.

FORLORNE 'SOLDIERS' NO MORE

Up until just two days ago, I feared that the following poem I wrote last January would be true of this year as well.

 

Absorbed

The ground is bare

and brown.

Dried and broken,

nearly beyond recognition,

leaves scatter themselves

in the breeze,

and as I walk back to my cabin,

my feet cannot avoid the plethora

of pinecones

littered in my path.

I do not mind,

rather enjoy 

the music of the

crunch, crunch, crunch.

Still, I ache for snow

on this January day,

when at 44 degrees

it seems more like spring.

My skis,

forlorn upright soldiers

lean against the too

warm bricks

of the basement wall

dejectedly,

longing as I do

for the shush, shush, shush

of winters past...

longing for the woods,

for the densely white silence

that opens up

and takes us deeply in

until we disperse

our cellular structure

and are no more.

January 2012

Now it might happen that this is the only snowfall we will get, or one of only a few, however

as I am just back from my first ski of the season...

still feeling the thrill of the magic and beauty that surrounded me

I am nothing but grateful...

grateful for the silence, the solitude, the majesty of winter.  And however foolish it might sound, I do think of my skis propped against the basement bricks....waiting...waiting...waiting...and I think now that they are grateful, too.

'TIS THE SEASON OF GIVING

The season of creating, the season of giving.

I attended a Holiday Fair last weekend.  The plethora of colors, textures, smells, and gaily dressed shoppers was heady.  I love attending such events, mostly to see and touch the creativity of others.  I must say there were many booths that boasted the same kind of item, especially bags.  There were bags of every shape, color, size and function.

I was drawn to some tiny bags time and again.  I kept fingering them, and trying to decide how many to purchase.  The last time I approached this booth, with the intention to buy something, the light lit inside...."I can make these!"  And of course it was precisely the kind of thing I could make.

I call these Bead Bags

and I will fill them with various sizes, shapes and colors of beads, along with leather thongs, and silken ribbons.  They shall become Christmas gifts.  

Somehow it is the making and the giving that is the most joyful part of this holiday season for me.  There is something in the giving that far exceeds the getting, filling me with tingling anticipation and excitement.

May everyone have a season of giving.

MEDITATIONS

Once the season changes and the darkness sets in around 5:00 I notice that my inner feelings turn to warmer, quieter things.  It seems like one wants to hole up a bit now, cozy in the warmth of the house, dinner far earlier than in the days of long light, and then curl up in the corner of the sofa with my knitting.

I only knit in the late fall and winter, despite loving to knit.  It was with great eagerness I took out the needles and the yarn, and decided to knit some fingerless gloves, or as I prefer to call them hand-warmers.  I knit myself two pair last year, and wore them only occasionally.  For some reason this year, I took them out, and they became a real boon to me and my hands.  I have had Raynard's Disease since I was in my 20's, and for those of you who might not know what that is, it is a circulation problem in the fingers and toes, brought on by a (at least for me) change of temperature.  Honestly, sometimes my hands are dead white, just like those of a corpse.  (It also happens in the summer if I abruptly go into an air conditioned building.)  I have learned to live with this, and learned to compensate with lots of tricks, and winter still remains my favorite season of the year.  However, I took the wool hand warmers out and began wearing them around the house and find that they certainly help keep my Raynard's at bay.  I also started wearing them to Zumba and most everyone who saw them not only loved them, but wanted a pair....and so my compulsive knitting of woolen hand warmers began...

 ...pale green and gray hand warmers...

...the turquoise, my favorite color...

...for my friend Lori...

...still to be given...

...clockwise from 1:00...Carolyn's, Karen's, Lori's, Heather's, Janet's, mine, and Joan's...

...these include a pair for my daughter and my friends Laurel and Geri...

This pattern is quite simple, worked primarily in rows of three, yet despite that, and quietly chanting to myself, one, one, one, two, two, two..etc., I am often at a lose as to which row I am really on and have to do some counting of rows. 

 Knitting is truly a meditative activity, and not long after the first few rhythmic stitches, a kind of deep quiet descends over me, and I wander into the solitude.  It really is quite Zen-like and is in part the reason that I made pair after pair of these hand warmers. 

Still, I find that I often create in multiples.  While working on one, somewhere in my mind another one, with different colors, and a different arrangement is being born, and I am eager to bring that one forth as well.  The well of 'creation' seems rich and deep and it not only brings things forth, but it fills me up as well.