Category Archives: Seasons

Held In Suspension

March has slipped into April already (how did that happen so quickly?) and spring has well and truly arrived. A few April showers and a lovely weekend gladdens the heart, raising the spirit. It’s been a glorious time for spring bulbs and flowers, the forsythia hedge at its best. I love this hedge at this time of year but during winter it’s bare, boring once leaves have been shed in autumn. At least for the rest of summer it’s a bright green. It’s been a fabulous season too for hyacinths and daffodils and primulas and now the tulips are out along with the sweet-scented wallflowers.

Now all this profusion of colour should be making the Domino household happy but since the new year, we’re living as if in suspended animation, with our breaths held, waiting … waiting. You see, last summer my husband was diagnosed with circulatory problems in his leg and the suggestion made he needed a stent fitted: a simple op under local anaesthetic as a day patient. He had an MRI scan in July, and there the story came to an abrupt halt. We assumed he was on the waiting list and, not being urgent, his time would come around in due course. So we waited… and waited…

Just after Christmas, our GP rang to ask what was happening – Had Dave been for his scan? What was the outcome? – because our GP hadn’t been informed by the hospital. I told him we’d heard nothing, not even if he was on the waiting list. Our GP said he would chase the consultant and find out the situation. More waiting… At the end of February, we were advised the op was scheduled for 17th March. Two days before this, a phone call revealed it had been put back to 28th and he would be under a different consultant surgeon. And so more waiting…

Meanwhile, we tried to carry on as normal, although Dave found it hard, he now has difficulty walking and his job involves a lot of it. On 26th March, a further call advised the op was put back yet again to 4th April. Oh boy! This was not good. Neither of us could focus on anything much. Always waiting for the postman. Hoping the telephone wouldn’t ring with a further delay. Waiting… dreading… waiting…

Last week, we had a long meeting with the surgeon, who explained for the first time what the op entailed, why the delay and why he had taken over Dave’s case. This was a good meeting because up until that point we had no real idea of what was involved: a long 4-hour two-part major surgical procedure under general anaesthetic, far more complicated than just a stent fitted. At least we knew the good outcomes now and what could go wrong. Worrying.

And yes, more waiting… but this time it was good waiting time. It enabled Dave to get a lot of planting done, potatoes, broad beans, onions in along with some summer bulbs. It also meant he could join the family in celebrating my mother’s 91st birthday last Sunday, especially too as my brother was over from Spain as a surprise for her again. It was. And a lovely day had by all, sadly no photos this time.

The 4th is tomorrow. I have to take Dave to hospital at 7 am. He will be in for several days followed by at least 6 weeks at home recuperating. So you can understand why we feel life has been on hold these past few months. At least we’re there now, we hope. Our only fear is that even though  he’s first on the list for the day, should a bigger emergency take precedence, he may be put back yet again.

The waiting’s almost over, but not quite. But then afterwards, at least we will slowly be able to get our lives back to normal, breathe a sigh of relief and enjoy the summer.

 

 

Spring On Its Way

Gosh, doesn’t time fly! I can’t believe January has melted into February already. Talking of melting, so far this winter here in South West England we’ve escaped snow, apart from one day when we awoke to an icing sugar dusting which disappeared by lunchtime. It’s been chilly but not cold, but certainly miserable, damp, wet and grey and occasionally windy.

Which all means in the garden spring is well on its way. The front lawn is exploding with snowdrops and the first of many clumps of crocus in full bud about to open with the next burst of sun. The back garden is still in permanent shade until March but that hasn’t stopped the hellebores, with the first of many flowers already open. (Sighs contentedly. I do so love spring!)

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Meanwhile, back indoors, we have hit this year running. It began with the excellent news my husband, diagnosed with diabetes last summer, has beaten it and is no longer diabetic, although he will now always be at risk. He managed this without drugs because he refused to: a) accept he had the condition (there were no outward symptoms or signs), and physically the last person in the world you’d think suffered with this as he’s slim, doesn’t smoke or drink, is fit and walks for a living at work despite being 69 years old and does gardening for recreation; and b) simply refused to take the medication prescribed.

So, how has he achieved this? Purely by diet. He’s a sweet tooth, likes chocolate, especially chocolate cookies, ice-cream, and my baking and dessert efforts thus all were banned from the house. He stopped putting sugar in his coffee, no puds or ice-cream have touched his lips, and I’ve only baked three cakes in nine months, two of which were made using the sugar substitute Xylitol. Thank you so much, Tricia, for putting me on to this sweetener. In fact, the two cakes I made with this were the best and definitely to be made again, according to Dave. One was our Christmas cake, the only “goodie” he ate over the Christmas season, the other being orange cake, the recipe for which Jane told us about here in December. So thank you too, Jane, it was simply delicious, moist, and by switching the sugar to Xylitol, can claim it’s sugar free, fat free, and great for me ­– flour free.

An aside to all this is, because of the change in our eating habits and because I had to help Dave as much as I could, I have managed to lose a little weight. As Dave is determined not to go back to his old ways the diet changes remain in place, hopefully more of my extra poundage should continue to shrink. A new me for 2017, starting with a change of hairstyle. For many years I’ve kept my hair short but never liked it, so I’ve been growing out the layers. At the moment it’s untidy and the style wanted not there yet but, like spring,  it’s well on its way.

2017-02-01-11-51-43I’ve also taken a big plunge and booked a table at a local arts & craft fair in June, to show and (hopefully) sell some of my paintings (and a few copies of my book, with luck!). This will be a difficult day for me as I’m shy and nervous among strangers when “on display”.  Plus, I’ve entered a few competitions, with the hope of winning a painting holiday abroad (something I would love to do), and I’ve entered one of my works into a national painting competition. My fingers  are crossed, but not too much else I shan’t be able to hold my paintbrush for the next one.

On top of all this, I’ve been busy editing a novel for a client and am busy proofing my own next bestseller (she says, laughing) whilst knuckling down to working on the other books waiting in the wings. So all in all, this gal’s been on a roll and doesn’t intend stopping. Not yet anyway.

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Making 2017 Count

Once again, the giant blue orb has slipped into another year and 2017 is with us. Winter has come too, with a heavy frost. The garden pond is frozen, the grass crunching underfoot as I ventured out to replenish the bird feeder. At least today the sky is blue, the air clean and the sun out.

The festivities are over, decorations put away, cupboards looking decidedly bare of food and Mum sitting snug in my sister’s car being safely transported home as I write this. With Dave back at work today, the house is quiet and calm. A little too quiet after a frenetic fortnight but it grants me the opportunity to reflect for a moment on 2016.

It wasn’t a good year for many people including most of my family and friends. Dave and I certainly had our share of misfortunes and serious health issues, and whilst it would be easy to list all the problems we’ve endured and come through, there were several highlights too; nothing major, perhaps small, almost insignificant, for many people, but they meant a great deal to me.

The first was being able to celebrate with the family my mother’s 90th birthday back in March which, in turn, brought my brother over from Spain to spend a few days with us even if he couldn’t bring the sunshine with him. There was a short trip to the English Lake District, somewhere I’d always wanted to visit. It was here I saw our native red squirrels at close hand and had the opportunity to hold and stroke a barn owl ­­– one of my favourite birds. Three items on my most want to do list ticked off in one fell swoop.

Kingfisher © Dreamstime Stock Photos

© Dreamstime Stock Photos

Then came the visit to the garden of  our native kingfisher – my favourite bird of all. They aren’t rare but I had never seen one in the flesh despite my being a keen birdwatcher. They are birds of woodland streams and rivers, so to find one perched on my bird feeder in the middle of a vast housing estate one morning was an absolute joy and a dream come true. It was the last place I expected to see one. By the time I had scrabbled to get my camera ready, the beautiful bird had flown.

So to 2017. I’m not one for making resolutions – like most people’s good intentions they seldom last more than a few weeks. Instead, I make a list of things to achieve. I might never achieve them all, if any, but it gives me focus and a starting point, pointing a way forward. First on my list is to have a proper sunshine holiday. You know me: hate winter, love summer. But at least the days are getting longer now, bit by bit. This morning I spied the first snowdrop in bud on the lawn and the more I looked, the more new shoots I saw, of crocus and daffodils and of hellebores in bud, their colours shining out already. Anyone walking by would have wondered why I wore such a broad smile.

I have several novels written which I am determined this year will see at least one of them published, if not all, along with a self-help book I’m writing.  I intend to give my art a big push too; enter painting competitions, join an art class, lead an art class? And I simply must make the effort to exhibit some of my work. Some how. Some where. Make the effort. Push myself.

Starting now. Things can only get better.

So, yes, 2017 WILL BE MY YEAR!

And wishing you all have a fabulous year too.

Gallery

Winter Solstice

This gallery contains 2 photos.

Today, Winter solstice, is one of my favorite days of the year. From this day until June the days will start being longer. I took the picture here yesterday around 5:00. It’s dark out there, really dark. I’m not a … Continue reading

It’s That Time of Year Again

So, here we are again at that time of year when everyone seems to go crazy, often completely overboard just because it’s Christmas. A special time of year, yes, but Christmas is only 1 day. One day, not 3 months, which is how it now seems to be. It was back in August when I first spied Christmas cards and mince pies for sale in the supermarket; mince pies with a use-by date of 31 Oct 2016! And as we hit December running, I can’t find my usual things in the supermarket, because shelves have been reorganized for Christmas stock – row upon row of chocolates and sweets and all the good things to eat. Horrendous queues at checkouts; one would think we’re going to be snowed in for 6 months with the amount people buy “just in case unexpected visitors arrive!” The stress and worry, never mind cost, usually on credit cards that take over a year to pay off, of buying gifts for everyone including neighbours, the cat, and anyone else who happens to pass or ring the doorbell. Houses in our town decorated since October with icicle lights blinking from the guttering, and Christmas trees on sale in November, which will have shed all their needles by 25 December.mr-mrs-snowman

I may sound a bit of a grouch, a kill-joy, Scrooge, a person who hates Christmas, but I am not. Quite the contrary. I think it is a magical, wonderful time of the year. I just wish it didn’t start so early, that the commercialism wasn’t so intense because nowadays, that sparkle, that anticipation has been killed. It just isn’t the same any more.

In my childhood home, the Christmas tree didn’t go up until Christmas Eve, long after we kids were in bed so that in the morning, there it was in all its glittering glory with our presents – mostly handmade by my parents: clothes and toys, just a few each, stacked underneath. As children in the 1950s and early 1960s we were extra lucky, although we didn’t realise it at the time.

Every year my German grandmother would send over a large parcel to us in England. It would be packed with all the lovely, delicious treats of Christmas that were then unobtainable here: glittering Advent calendars, iced gingerbread hearts and Lebkucken, and Pfeffemusse, marzipan filled Stollen, and so much more. I think it was smell of that parcel I remember most, that wonderful spicy cinnamon and ginger smells that said “Christmas is coming.”

tree Christmas in the Domino house is a very quiet affair now. We do have a tree, an artificial black one with gold baubles and one two other little sentimental decorations. We stopped doing presents years ago, except for the littlest children, and how much simpler and more enjoyable it has become. We’d rather folk spent their money on themselves, not on us. We don’t have turkey to eat, we don’t like it. We might indulge in a Christmas pud and a few mince pies, but no crackers to pull on the table. No fuss, no hassle, simply a large enjoyable meal in good company in an atmosphere of calm serenity to relax in.

Don’t get me wrong. I love large family gatherings. The noise, the laughter, the company, and I do so wish I could have all of my family at mine one year, but we are many and scattered far afield. Thank goodness for the telephone and internet so we can at least speak to each other even if we can’t share a hug and a kiss. The thoughts are with family. With friends. With those we have lost and those who are new to the fold. With memories. To me, this is what Christmas is all about: Family. Not the gifts, not the food, not the decorations, as much as I love seeing them. It’s also about magic. Father Christmas and sleigh bells, and the Christmas movies to make you laugh and perhaps shed a tear.

I’ll leave you with what is one of my favourite Christmas carols. Apologies if you’ve heard it before but I’m sure many haven’t. Whatever Christmas means to you and whatever you do this Christmas, do have a good one. A safe one. A warm one, from the heart.

Silly me: I meant to include the English lyrics. These are the closest and best I’ve come across for translation.

The Bells Never Sound Sweeter

The bells never sound sweeter
Than at Christmas-time.
It’s as if angels would sing
again of peace and joy,
How they sang at blessed night!
How they sang at blessed night!
Little bells with their holy ringing,
The earth chimes along!

Oh, when the bells ring out,
As soon as the Christ child hears them,
He swings from the sky
Hastily down to earth.
He blesses the father, the mother, the child
He blesses the father, the mother, the child.
Little bells with their holy ringing,
The earth chimes along!

It chimes with a sweet sound
Far across the seas,
So that all will take delight in
The blessed Christmas-time.
All rejoice with beautiful song,
All rejoice with beautiful song,
Little bells with their holy ringing,
The earth chimes along!

 

 

The Garden in November

Slowly, imperceptibly, Earth has tilted towards winter again, and as the clocks are forced backwards an hour, daylight increasingly less and less, my garden is still proving to be a delight. The start of this month in the UK has been dismal and grey, turning my mood to grey too and wishing I could withdraw under the duvet until spring. It’s only because we’re having such a colourful autumn that I haven’t quite sunk into S.A.D mode completely. However, this morning the sun is out and before my backyard is plunged into shadow for the remainder of the day and until next March, I ventured outside with the camera to capture the garden’s last flush before tonight’s frost plunges it into hibernation.

2016-10-21-12-05-48The cosmos is still in flower, the pinks and whites a dazzling splash. They were worth every penny. I usually grow this plant from seed but this year, because I wanted the space to move plants from the long border for the planned revamp, I didn’t sow any. These I bought as small plants which have done me proud.

The cosmos is interspersed with dark brown flowers from my chocolate cosmos, my favourite. It not only looks pretty but smells of chocolate. Wonderful! Now this has been a success. I’ve tried for many years to keep this plant over winter but every year, good old Choccy always dies on me. But not this one. It survived, now in its second year and I am hoping it thrives again next year.

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We haven’t been able to carry out the planned revamp this summer, so that has been put back until next year, and thus the long border has been left to do its own thing this summer, and gaps filled in with pots of plants rather than planted.

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Faithfuls have been the fuchsia, grown from a cutting from a cutting taken years ago from my childhood home back in London. We don’t know the variety, but always refer it as the Hounslow fushia. The nigella has been flowering non stop since early spring. It pops up everywhere, in various shades of blue, pink and white, and self-seeds readily. Another plant I can always rely on is the everlasting wallflower (Erysimus), whose long stems of mauve flowers keep coming and coming. It flowers for most of the year so, even in winter there is always this gorgeous splash of colour. I’m on the lookout for the orange variety, but having difficulty locating one.

2016-10-21-12-09-01One plant family I’ve only recently come to like is Heuchera. Its many different varieties have the most varied leaf colours I know, from lime green, through to almost black. The flowers are nothing special, usually white or pink spikes but the beauty of this plant is that it grows in almost any position and doesn’t die back in winter. I must get some more next year. I have the perfect bed for it near the patio doors.

So whilst the rest of the garden succumbs to the autumn chill, I can at least for the time being enjoy the splashes of life thriving in my little plot.

I just wish someone would tell my rhododendron it’s not supposed to flower until next May!

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It’s That Time Again! By Valerie J. Patterson

It happens every year.  There’s simply no escaping it.  You can’t run from it, hide from it, or even overlook it.  Every September–like clockwork–it happens.

What is it?  That time of year when summer ends and fall begins.

Don’t get me wrong.  I enjoy all of the seasons.  Each one brings about a creative resurgence that I absolutely love!  Winter, with its stark beauty, beckons me outdoors and into the crisp evening air to wonder at all the exquisiteness of a fresh falling snow.  Spring, with its rebirth of everything green and colorful, pulls me into the lushness of showers that result in bursts of vibrant flowers and carpets of green.  Summer, with its endless azure skies, romances me with ocean sprays and huge golden moons lighting up paths in the sand.  Autumn, with its brilliant grandeur, lures me into carefree times of yesterday when I played in the leaves, enjoyed hayrides, and carved pumpkins.

But there is something else that fall does–it comes with shorter days and less rays from the sun.  This is without a doubt the one thing about fall I dislike.  It’s dark when I rise and the darkness comes calling just a short time after I leave the office.  Sigh.  I love the cooler temperatures, but bemoan the fact there is less daylight to enjoy them.

There’s nothing I can do about it.  It happens every single year.  And I so very much look forward to those days when the daylight creeps into longer hours.  Ah yes, that too happens every single year!

Until next time, may a lilting fall breeze lift your hair, caress your face, and gently blow through your mind to inspire you.