Beautiful Handiwork

to shape and mold, 

to stroke a sick child’s brow, 

to dig deep into the earth, 

to stitch and sew

 ~ all our hands do each day. 

hard working hands roughened with little scars from cuts, burns and scrapes show a life lived in circumstance softened with lotions and age while they continue 

their work with life as it is.

“The future was, very literally, in their own hands.”

~ Arthur Charles Clarke,  2001 Space Odyssey

On an Afternoon Walk ~ Flying High

Far and away from my hands 

but caught in my sight

~ a jet etched plumes 

in the blue

“The higher we soar, the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly.”

~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Hockey News: 

Team Canada Women claimed the Rivalry Series this afternoon, scoring 6-1 against Team U.S.A.Women in Saint Paul, Minnesota

Hand and Heart

one mother births us ~

offered the opportunity 

to care, nurture and protect; 

life’s twists and turns 

gifts each of us with 

with mothers all around

for the heavy days when 

each mother needs mothering

the circle of kindness and care

passes hand to hand, heart to heart.

“Our world needs our mothers.”

~ Liya Kebede

Circling Blossoms

Stepping into circles 

where there are no corners 

it’s easy to be brave 

when around the circle 

smiles of welcome blossom,

and hands reach out to help

Stepping into circles 

where there are no corners 

it’s easy to belong.

“There are patterns which emerge in one’s life, 

circling and returning anew, 

an endless variation of a theme.”

~ Jacqueline Carey, Kushiel’s Chosen

Bag and Baggage

My Younger self stood still

watching family life revolve and grow

curious about my place within ~

hesitant and shy

years passed within the orbit of sun and moon ~ my Older self still Stands,

curious about my place within ~

hesitant and shy

bag and baggage within my heart, 

I watch family life revolve and grow.

“By slow, thoughtful watching, you can gain much, 

as against working up a wild, panicky condition.”

~ Ernest Vincent Wright, Gadsby

There are Times

Times my hands show me how old I really am - thick ropy veins, skin thin and wrinkled

Old scars from a nick here or there 

from rose bushes or blackberry vines, 

cuts from the paring knife when preparing meals, 

one white patch from a cooking burn

lumpy and bumpy fingernails 

that snap off too easily, 

(I could blame that on the pandemic 

with no access for a mani/pedi, 

but no, they are as old as the rest of me, 

and have been through as many battles)

when I think of these so called battles ~

they are not wars fought, but life lived. 

kneading, stretching or punching the life into bread, 

rolling balls of cookie dough between my palms, 

squishing ground meat into meat balls, 

wrapping both hands around a fresh warm cup of coffee 

when the day has grown cold; 

penning these words and thousands more 

crocheting afghans that would not win any prizes 

at the fair but kept me focused on the next stitch ~ 

gifts for the babies of many family and friends

pruning bushes and trees ~ feeling the strength of my grip 

all the way to my shoulders. 

fingers digging in spring soil feeling the richness of dirt. 

picking peas in the garden and eating as many as possible. 

tenderly holding a warm peach picked from a summer tree 

holding it to my lips, feeling the juice sticky and sweet 

on my hands, dripping all the way to my elbows. 

I am grateful for my hands and 

when I think of all these things, 

my hands are no longer old and wrinkled

but silent diaries of my life, 

sculpted while I live with them 

gifts that caress me when I lotion my skin, 

hide my eyes when I cry and 

make silly faces to make babies and children laugh. 

And best of all, 

my hands have held my babies - 

my sons, my grandson and my great-granddaughter. 

“He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist.”

~ Francis of Assisi

Out of Order

Out of Order

“Gallantly offering his hand, Lord Guillam assisted Lady Veronica from her velvet lined carriage….....

Out of order! This should have been from the blog post written on March 8! Instead, I quite blithely went to a movie, wrote and posted for my blog a movie review of the period piece Emma. I completely forgot the ‘G’ from CHALLENGES leaving, quite insensitively, poor Lord Guillam and Lady Veronica in the limbo of 'The Cloud'. Oh well, they’ll just have to wait for some other time. There are more important things to write about today than Lords and Ladies. 

An interesting interaction I had today. I was unable and unwilling to shake hands with a new acquaintance. How rude is that!? However, with COVID19 invading not only the world but our personal spaces, habits of a life time developed over generations have been sorely challenged. Leaning my head on my hand when reading, holding my two fingers over my mouth when listening intently, wiping my eyes....the list goes on. So I set about developing a list for hand shake alternatives (research over the internet and maybe a bit of my own imagination

1. Fist bumps ~ they’ve been around a long time. But what if the bumper or the bumper hasn’t washed their hands front and back!
2. Elbow taps ~ that kind of looks like some kind of a square dance move? 
3. Toe or foot touches ~ puts me in other a vulnerable position. My balance isn’t all that great anyway, so if the other party’s balance is off - or they’re just feeling mischievous - I could be headed for the pavement, sidewalk, tile………whatever is underfoot.
4. Hand to the heart ~ looks a bit patriotic to me. The message may be lost
5. A single wave of the hand ~ now that could make one look quite regal. I’ve been trying to perfect that royal wave for years.

Lost to our human connections are beautiful hugs and welcoming handshakes. Yes, we do need to be very cautious in this really scary time, but don’t let the scare create a further loss of human connection in this chaotic, crazy old world.

Included is a photo I’ve taken of the memo at the Walk-in Clinic I go to here in Victoria, British Columbia.

Keep well everyone!

“Chaos is merely order waiting to be deciphered.”
~ José Saramago, The Double

Homemade

From the annual Gingerbread Showcase 2019 themed
'Building a Diverse Community'
presented by Habitat for Humanity

Arts and crafts abound at Christmas time. Although they seem hidden throughout the year, they spill out from homes in droves in summer and fall at Farmer’s Markets and festivals. But at Christmas time they really strut their stuff. Churches, community groups and schools. Anywhere that requires not only an injection of funds, but a celebration of Christmas past and present on display. All for admiring and of course for sale. I’ve not attended one this year, but will be looking for homemade soaps and hand made wooden toys. What else? Paintings ~ acrylic, watercolour or oil. Crocheted or knitted sweaters. Pottery and wall hangings that hold plants or are just beautiful. From macrame to quilting. From soaps to candles to vinegars and oh my……the baking! Delicious homemade breads and pies, muffins and candies. Sadly, I’ve missed most of the fairs here in Victoria, but there are one or two left. If I’m quick I may be able to get to one. If I was to go farther outside of Victoria or up island, there are more. 

Arts and crafts are much more than hobbies to fill time and draw dollars away from bank accounts. They involve loving works of creativity and dedication from many hands, hearts and minds filled with creative spirit. Crafting is not to be taken lightly, even though it is fun. It requires patience and precision. Arts are the way our souls sing ~ expressions of what only the mind of the artist can see. Arts and crafts, with even the smallest connection to home and amid the soft chatter of a market, are blessings we all can enjoy. Arts and crafts bring home and community together.

“Handmade and heartfelt; Harriet wanted everything she did to be like this.”

~ Helen Oyeyemi, Gingerbread

Smudges

Smudges

The old printer chugged along. One piece of paper after another. Clear black ink showed the words Mary Ann had just written on her not quite so old laptop. Her office was a disorganized helter skelter of stacks of papers, manuals and books, more papers, new and used pens and boxes of pencils. Mary Ann missed her grandmother's old print shop with the smell of ink, the little print dies for making up the town newspaper and smudges on her fingers. She had always wanted smudges on her fingers like her grandmother. Sometimes, she would just pick up the print dies to get ‘grandma hands’. Grandma had to wear a big in-smudged white apron to keep from getting her lovely house dresses in a mess. She would always take off her apron when she heard the tinkling of the bell over the old wooden door. The customer usually wanted a handbill printed up or a letter mailed. Her grandma’s print shop was also the post office for the small mountain town.

“Grandma, why don’t you buy a new printer! That one is so old. It’s got to be at least ten years old and it only prints. You could have a new one that faxes and scans and prints.” 

Joey, Mary Ann’s 13 year old grandson had come bounding through her front door and raced into her ‘office’. He was such a good boy and would have loved the old print shop. He loved new technology, but was also fascinated with anything old. 

"Well, Joey, I suppose I could get a new printer so it could do all of those things. It just might make a difference in this funny little room I call my office. It could send out mail almost the same as my grandma did when I was just a bit younger that you. I don’t know how to do all the faxing or scanning, but I can bet you’ll show me. We could go to a store on Saturday and get one so you could help me hook it up. What do you think?”

“And can we go for pizza, too?”

“Of course. Just ask your mom. Tell her we need a day out on the town so you can help me decide what to buy.”

“Grandma, just remember that when you change the ink, even on a new printer, you have got to be careful not to get the ink all over you. Look at your hands!”

Mary Ann smiled, hugged her wonderful grandson Joey and hoped that he hadn’t seen the little tear in her eye. She did have 'grandma hands' after all.

“Before printing was discovered, a century was equal to a thousand years.”

~ Henry David Thoreau

Cracks in the Sidewalk

Cracks in the sidewalk threaten 

to suck people into an abyss

to be

buried beneath concrete bureaucracy

unless

by chance

the will to survive

the hands up from the abyss

meet in one place

atop the cracks in the sidewalk.

“Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much.”

~ Helen Keller

An Evening Snack

I can’t show you a picture of what just vanished in front of me………
But I can tell you - 
Soft, buttery scrambled eggs
Spicy sweet chile sauce and red pepper flakes
Slightly salty with the bite of black pepper
Goat feta cheese melted and blended within
Nestled on and wrapped loosely in a crisped and warm tortilla
No fork
  No knife
Just a blue napkin and bare hands
A burst of spontaneity 
From sofa to kitchen 
With absolutely no recipe.

“Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep at night.”

~ William Blake