Happy New Year 2011

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I missed Christmas....and Christmas Eve.... talk about bad timing for being ill ...two days of blinding headache later ... I emerged...all I can say is my other half was brilliant..the kids had a great time (somewhat unconventional but great) I'd wrapped the pressies early rather than last minute (thank you kind fate) and whoopee I don't have a headache anymore.

Anyway most odd, but now we get to make the gingerbread men,Christmas cookies and Chocolate log this week rather than Christmas eve.

Wishing you all a healthy New Year!

Hallelujah Chorus -Quinhagak, Alaska

A fun video for an Alaskan Christmas!

The Olden Christmas

The Olden Christmas

from Marmion by Sir Walter Scott


Heap on more wood! – the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,
We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.
Each age has deem’d the new-born year
The fittest time for festal cheer:
Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane
At Iol more deep the mead did drain;
High on the beach his galleys drew,
And feasted all his pirate crew;
Then in his low and pine-built hall
Where shields and axes deck’d the wall
They gorged upon the half-dress’d steer;
Caroused in seas of sable beer;
While round, in brutal jest, were thrown
The half-gnaw’d rib, and marrow-bone:
Or listen’d all, in grim delight,
While Scalds yell’d out the joys of fight.
Then forth, in frenzy, would they hie,
While wildly loose their red locks fly,
And dancing round the blazing pile,
They make such barbarous mirth the while,
As best might to the mind recall
The boisterous joys of Odin’s hall.

And well our Christian sires of old
Loved when the year its course had roll’d,
And brought blithe Christmas back again,
With all his hospitable train.
Domestic and religious rite
Gave honour to the holy night;
On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;
On Christmas Eve the mass was sung:
That only night in all the year,
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donn’d her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dress’d with holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry-men go,
To gather in the mistletoe.
Then open’d wide the Baron’s hall
To vassal, tenant, serf and all;
Power laid his rod of rule aside
And Ceremony doff’d his pride.
The heir, with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose;
The Lord, underogating, share
The vulgar game of ‘post and pair’.
All hail’d, with uncontroll’d delight,
And general voice, the happy night,
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.

The fire, with well-dried logs supplied,
Went roaring up the chimney wide;
The huge hall-table’s oaken face,
Scrubb’d till it shone, the day to grace,
Bore then upon its massive board
No mark to part the squire and lord.
Then was brought in the lusty brawn,
By old blue-coated serving-man;
Then the grim boar’s head frown’d on high,
Crested with bays and rosemary.
Well can the green-garb’d ranger tell,
How, when, and where, the monster fell;
What dogs before his death to tore,
And all the baiting of the boar.
The wassel round, in good brown bowls,
Garnish’d with ribbons, blithely trowls.
There the huge sirloin reek'd; hard by
Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie;
Nor fail’d old Scotland to produce,
At such high tide, her savoury goose.
Then came the merry makers in,
And carols roar’d with blithesome din;
If unmelodious was the song,
It was a hearty note, and strong.
Who lists may in their mumming see
Traces of ancient mystery;
White shirts supplied the masquerade,
And smutted cheeks the visors made;
But, O! what maskers, richly dight,
Can boast of bosoms half so light!
England was merry England, when
Old Christmas brought his sports again.
‘Twas Christmas broach’d the mightiest ale;
‘Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
The poor man’s heart through half the year.




see here

Keeping Christmas

Keeping Christmas

How will you your Christmas keep?
Feasting, fasting or asleep?
Will you laugh or will you pray,
Or will you forget the day?

Be it kept with joy or pray'r
Keep of either some to spare;
Whatsoever brings the day,
Do not keep but give away.

Eleanor Farjeon

Ooops......

Ok it snowed ...lots of it ....yippee




but it was on top of the ice and after a lovely Thanksgiving meal we drove home from Hillside and the truck wanted to be a Sled so had to be emergency parked in a nice fat snow bank ...exciting..... but fine outcome.

So I set off for a shovel and turned to chat to a nice guy who fetched his shovel and truck to help shovel and tow us out.
But when I turned to greet him I sat down rather suddenly as I found the ice...I could see why the truck wanted to sled.

It was just a simple fall and onto my bottom but my leg decided to end up being sat on and felt just a tad odd...a bit of limping and a safe journey home and that was that.

Except it didn't feel better the next day so this morning I limped off to find out if I'd torn something.... No I hadn't torn a thing ..it was a nice clean break..smack in the middle of the fibula.

So does anyone have any crafting ideas for decorating these ???

Happy Thanks Giving!!!

Wishing you a Happy Thanks Giving where ever you may be ...




From all of us.

Felting tutorials !!!

Felting

Felting video 1

Felting video 2


Making Felt Balls and Pincushions ...



How to needle felt in 4 minutes - Part 1

Felting lessons

Wet felting eggs

Ice and Rain anyone ?

We went to bed with this weather forecast....



Woke to this....



and this



KTUU REPORTS...



So we stayed home...poor husband had to go to work, A 15 miles drive at 6.30am. He saw lots of accidents including a biffed police cruiser and phoned to say "Stay home" rather emphatically.

So it's crafts and stories for us....We're making felt and then making bread in the warm!

Moose anyone ?

We woke to rain not snow...yuck
But we also woke to Mrs Moose, Baby moose and Mr Moose in the front garden...caution and daylight or lack of limited the photos ..but here is Mr Moose following his lady love down the road.

Playing in the snow

It's the aim of a lot of people here...we have about 3 inches on the ground and are hoping for more.
The skis have been retrieved from the basement and we have all tested them out...kids in the lead..husband in several places at once like a well trained collie and self last ...happily striding (very cautiously)away behind every one else.
I could post a photo of myself but darn it I didn't take one lol
So I'll just have to post a picture of how it used to done .




I strongly suspect she knew what she was doing!

Well now it's fingers crossed for snow and not rain...tonight's forecast/advisory

Andy Warhol

On Sunday we jumped on a bus and visited the Anchorage Museum. An exhibition of Andy Warhol's work has just opened there and although I'm not really a Warhol fan I thought it'd be interesting and an introduction to Modern Art for the girls.

see here for the local papers photos (You are not allowed to take pictures with a flash and my camera hates no flash ...so I my photo aspirations were foiled) and see here for the museums online information.

Actually I surprised myself and learned a little and enjoyed more of his work than I thought I would. It was interesting to see works I'd seen in the news or magazines in front of us. The exhibition also included smaller interesting items ..a Leslie Charteris book cover (One of the Saint series) illustrated by Warhol also a Children's book of games he'd illustrated quite charmingly and some of his cat drawings.

An interesting exhibition that was fun to see.


We had to see the Sydney Laurence pictures in the museum first though, they are permanently exhibited downstairs in spacious rooms and the girls are drawn to them
Click here to see what I mean .

This is one of my favourites...



apparently I'm not alone in thinking this..(photo from Museum website)

Summer is over Snow is here

So I'm sitting listening to the Art of Noise "Daft" and looking at reminders of Summers....

In Woods ...




On the Water...



and with friends...



Brown we think and hopefully in bed for the Winter now!

Victoria Wood

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Sometimes you just need to laugh ....

I was enjoying reading Curious Acorns blog this morning her quotes and photos make a nice start to the week (actually as she is a prompt poster and we are a few hours behind I sometimes get to read them on Sunday night ..lovely either way).
Well what I'm leading round to is ..she opens with a GK Chesterton quote and that made me remember an essay of his that really caught my attention quite a few years ago. I found it in an old fat black Volume of Essays from a second hand book shop ...it really made me think. So I looked it up and found it here
http://chesterton.org/gkc/essayist/chalk.htm
and assuming it's out of copyright have copied it here (if it's not I'll take it down)
It made me look at white in quite a different way ..see what you think

A Piece of Chalk
by G.K. Chesterton

(from an essay in TREMENDOUS TRIFLES. The original essay appeared in the DAILY NEWS, November 4, 1905)

I remember one splendid morning, all blue and silver, in the summer holidays when I reluctantly tore myself away from the task of doing nothing in particular, and put on a hat of some sort and picked up a walking-stick, and put six very bright-coloured chalks in my pocket. I then went into the kitchen (which, along with the rest of the house, belonged to a very square and sensible old woman in a Sussex village), and asked the owner and occupant of the kitchen if she had any brown paper. She had a great deal; in fact, she had too much; and she mistook the purpose and the rationale of the existence of brown paper. She seemed to have an idea that if a person wanted brown paper he must be wanting to tie up parcels; which was the last thing I wanted to do; indeed, it is a thing which I have found to be beyond my mental capacity. Hence she dwelt very much on the varying qualities of toughness and endurance in the material. I explained to her that I only wanted to draw pictures on it, and that I did not want them to endure in the least; and that from my point of view, therefore, it was a question, not of tough consistency, but of responsive surface, a thing comparatively irrelevant in a parcel. When she understood that I wanted to draw she offered to overwhelm me with note-paper.

I then tried to explain the rather delicate logical shade, that I not only liked brown paper, but liked the quality of brownness in paper, just as I like the quality of brownness in October woods, or in beer. Brown paper represents the primal twilight of the first toil of creation, and with a bright-coloured chalk or two you can pick out points of fire in it, sparks of gold, and blood-red, and sea-green, like the first fierce stars that sprang out of divine darkness. All this I said (in an off-hand way) to the old woman; and I put the brown paper in my pocket along with the chalks, and possibly other things. I suppose every one must have reflected how primeval and how poetical are the things that one carries in one's pocket; the pocket-knife, for instance, the type of all human tools, the infant of the sword. Once I planned to write a book of poems entirely about things in my pockets. But I found it would be too long; and the age of the great epics is past.

With my stick and my knife, my chalks and my brown paper, I went out on to the great downs. . .

I crossed one swell of living turf after another, looking for a place to sit down and draw. Do not, for heaven's sake, imagine I was going to sketch from Nature. I was going to draw devils and seraphim, and blind old gods that men worshipped before the dawn of right, and saints in robes of angry crimson, and seas of strange green, and all the sacred or monstrous symbols that look so well in bright colours on brown paper. They are much better worth drawing than Nature; also they are much easier to draw. When a cow came slouching by in the field next to me, a mere artist might have drawn it; but I always get wrong in the hind legs of quadrupeds. So I drew the soul of a cow; which I saw there plainly walking before me in the sunlight; and the soul was all purple and silver, and had seven horns and the mystery that belongs to all beasts. But though I could not with a crayon get the best out of the landscape, it does not follow that the landscape was not getting the best out of me. And this, I think, is the mistake that people make about the old poets who lived before Wordsworth, and were supposed not to care very much about Nature because they did not describe it much.

They preferred writing about great men to writing about great hills; but they sat on the great hills to write it. The gave out much less about Nature, but they drank in, perhaps, much more. They painted the white robes of their holy virgins with the blinding snow, at which they had stared all day. . . The greenness of a thousand green leaves clustered into the live green figure of Robin Hood. The blueness of a score of forgotten skies became the blue robes of the Virgin. The inspiration went in like sunbeams and came out like Apollo.

But as I sat scrawling these silly figures on the brown paper, it began to dawn on me, to my great disgust, that I had left one chalk, and that a most exquisite and essential chalk, behind. I searched all my pockets, but I could not find any white chalk. Now, those who are acquainted with all the philosophy (nay, religion) which is typified in the art of drawing on brown paper, know that white is positive and essential. I cannot avoid remarking here upon a moral significance. One of the wise and awful truths which this brown-paper art reveals, is this, that white is a colour. It is not a mere absence of colour; it is a shining and affirmative thing, as fierce as red, as definite as black. When, so to speak, your pencil grows red-hot, it draws roses; when it grows white-hot, it draws stars. And one of the two or three defiant verities of the best religious morality, of real Christianity, for example, is exactly this same thing; the chief assertion of religious morality is that white is a colour. Virtue is not the absence of vices or the avoidance of moral dangers; virtue is a vivid and separate thing, like pain or a particular smell. Mercy does not mean not being cruel, or sparing people revenge or punishment; it means a plain and positive thing like the sun, which one has either seen or not seen.

Chastity does not mean abstention from sexual wrong; it means something flaming, like Joan of Arc. In a word, God paints in many colours; but he never paints so gorgeously, I had almost said so gaudily, as when He paints in white. In a sense our age has realised this fact, and expressed it in our sullen costume. For if it were really true that white was a blank and colourless thing, negative and non-committal, then white would be used instead of black and grey for the funereal dress of this pessimistic period. Which is not the case.

Meanwhile I could not find my chalk.

I sat on the hill in a sort of despair. There was no town near at which it was even remotely probable there would be such a thing as an artist's colourman. And yet, without any white, my absurd little pictures would be as pointless as the world would be if there were no good people in it. I stared stupidly round, racking my brain for expedients. Then I suddenly stood up and roared with laughter, again and again, so that the cows stared at me and called a committee. Imagine a man in the Sahara regretting that he had no sand for his hour-glass. Imagine a gentleman in mid-ocean wishing that he had brought some salt water with him for his chemical experiments. I was sitting on an immense warehouse of white chalk. The landscape was made entirely of white chalk. White chalk was piled more miles until it met the sky. I stooped and broke a piece of the rock I sat on: it did not mark so well as the shop chalks do, but it gave the effect. And I stood there in a trance of pleasure, realising that this Southern England is not only a grand peninsula, and a tradition and a civilisation; it is something even more admirable. It is a piece of chalk.


More on the man here
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G._K._Chesterton

Cheryl's Challenge

Entirely for fun Cheryl set an entirely optional Challenge here
and it looked fun so here goes (Oh and you'll now find out that I cheat at challenges..sorry about that :0) )

1. If you could spend time with a historical figure, who would it be?
ermm... Charles Darwin..or..Churchill or Captain Cook... or Freya Stark or Agatha Christie... (bad sign when you start out on the very first question cheating... I think I'm either indecisive or Greedy...take you're pick..lol)

2. What kitchen appliance could you not do without?
No Freezer would be really tricky...the microwave gets a fair bit of use too

3. Is your heart in the town or the country?
Country

4. Your three favourite books?
Only three...help that is so tricky, so I'm going to cheat ...I once cycled in Europe and ended up reading and rereading three books that I enjoyed ..though I must admit they were chosen by chance and as opportunity allowed rather than careful planning...they were

John MacNab by John Buchan
Three respectable Gentlemen bored with their lives decided to set out to Poach from three estates in Scotland. They write a letter to each Landowner setting out their intentions as challenges 'John Macnab' will poach a salmon or a stag from their land and return it to them undetected" It's a fun read published in 1925 and very much of that time.

Two Imposters and Tinker by Dorotha Conyers
Another book from the 20's this time set in Ireland
"CONYERS, Dorothea. Born 1871. Daughter of Colonel J. Blood Smjrth,
Fedamore, Co. Limerick. Has published, besides the works here
mentioned. Recollections of Sport in Ireland. Resides near Limerick.
It may be said of her books in general that they are humorous, lively
stories of Irish sport, full of incident, with quick perception of the sur-
faces and broad outlines of character. Her dramatis personiB are hunting
people, garrison officers, horse dealers, and the peasantry seen more or
less from their point of view. " quote from
IRELAND IN FICTION- A GUIDE TO IRISH NOVELS, TALES, ROMANCES,
AND FOLK-LORE by STEPHEN J. BROWN, S.J.

and Last but Not least ...
An Anthology of Prose and poetry published during the second World war and created I think as a book that could be carried by troops in their kit ..it's small perhaps 2x3 has no dust cover but a Lion in Uniform is impressed on the blue board covers and its a mine of extracts from literature and diaries and poems.. A lovely book (I'd even tell you the title if it wasn't hiding..)


5. Favourite childhood place?
I have memories of pleasant places but this first strong memory of being in a place that for the first time I could imagine as home (that wasn't..if that makes Sense) was on holiday in an old stone farmhouse in the lake district..I remember sitting on a wide windowsill half way up the stairs gazing up the Mountainside and thinking I could live here.

6. Are you superstitious?
No (touch wood)

7. Tea or coffee?
Both..in quantity Just ordinary Breakfast tea and instant coffee

8. What is your favourite pudding?
Steamed jam sponge pudding with thin custard if it's cold out
Or a plate full of home made cream filled Meringues if it's any other temperature...lol


Thanks Cheryl That was fun ..if anyone wants to join in feel free...if you'd rather just read while drinking the tea or coffee ..that's fine too
Now I'm off to search for a small blue book and then on to the washing up..it's all excitement here.

Oh and if anyone wants to play (avoid doing boring necessary tasks) here's my 8 questions...

You are snowed up in a cabin....

1. If you could magically invite six famous people/historical figures to a dinner who would they be?

2. What menu would you devise for them to eat ?

3. If you could take one craft with you ...it would be?

4. Favourite card or board game?

5. Radio or TV?

6. Tea or coffee or something else?

7. Favourite Cake (for teatime by the fire)?

8.Favourite Pet to keep you company ?

Answer any/all/none ....lol
and now I better stop before Blogger has thirty thousand fits at my insistence in spelling favourite with a u

Grewingk Glacier and Lake

Just a small glimpse ....there is a float plane (tiny dot on right) that was struggling to take off from the Lake...it may look small but it's noisy I'm afraid.



Face of Glacier starts to come into view at around 21 secs and then you can see the face.
It's riddled with crevices. A sightseeing plane that was forced to land on the Glacier a few weeks after this was taken did well to remain unscathed (Well the plane flipped but everyone was rescued without serious injuries)see here

Assorted photos of Tutka...

Trees wrapped in moss




Fungus on a tree trunk







Another view of the falls at the head of the bay, they are 300 feet high and very pretty..

Tutka ..More pictures

Summer trip Tutka Bay

We had such a great time on our first sea Kayak trip to Kachemak Bay State Park that we had to try and fit in a second visit. Nate suggested we might enjoy Tutka Bay and he was right!

Tutka bay view towards the entrance...♥



We drove down from Anchorage to Homer spit (A 221 mile drive)and took a water taxi again we went with Homer Ocean Charters..they have a great landing craft that makes it easy to load Kayaks even if the water is a bit frisky,. We were dropped off at the mouth of the bay at the aptly named Kayak beach..there we set up our tent and had a rest (I think it was the getting up at 3am to drive down that ensured Sunday was a low activity day!) A day for enjoying sitting on the beach and drinking a lot of tea whilst the girls explored the tide pools.

Next day we set off and Kayaked down the bay to Grace Ridge trail head where we set up camp. The tide and the wind were not with us so it was a bit of effort to Kayak the 6 1/2 to 7 miles...about half way down the bay. My Kayak kept on trying to take me to closer beaches but we made it.

It was a rainy week so rather than camp and move we stayed put at that camp site ..which was pretty darn special and made forays by Kayak to explore the bay .

At the head of the bay is a beautiful 300 foot waterfall..well worth the paddle (again against the tide and wind so a bit of work but it was all made up for on the return to the campsite ..the tide and wind were with us so we broke our speed records that time)

Across from our campsite was a lagoon..a belted Kingfisher was fishing in the channel when we paddled across, we chose a morning when the sea was a limpid reflecting pool...beautiful. The children call this magic mountain water as everything reflects magically in it.
The Salmon were returning to the lagoon so it was home to a growing fleet of fishing boats or boats containing men fishing with rod and line (to be more accurate)
A young Bald eagle swooped down and caught a fish and managed to eat some before an older Eagle flew in and mugged him.

We saw an Otter or otters everyday this trip. Many Eagles and many diving birds.
There were Jelly fish drifting in the sea and Star fish and sunflower star fish on the rocks. Tiny fish, Hermit crabs, shellfish and anemones inhabited the rock pools and the barnacles covered rocks and logs alike. Salmon jumped on their way back to the lagoon/their river and Sea gulls supervised.






Map of Kayak beach



Setting off from Kayak Beach (A short water taxi ride from Homer spit)






Otter at Lunch...



Who can resist an Arch to Kayak through?

Rhubarb Muffins

I was experimenting and it worked..(this is not always the case...lol)

Rhubarb Muffins



Makes 12

dry
~~~~
1 and 1/2 cups of all purpose flour (I use a small teacup)
1 and 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 a cup of sugar

wet
~~~~
1 egg
1/2 cup of vegetable oil
some milk (probably about 1/2 a teacupful...enough to make a stiffish not sloppy batter )

I slim stick of rhubarb chopped into thin slices (mine ended up like cm cubes)


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mix the wet with the dry
Stir in the rhubarb
spoon into paper cases

top each with a teaspoon of soft brown sugar (how much you put is according to taste)

Bake in a 400 degrees f oven for 20 mins (or until cooked)

Super yummy

Tutorial Thanks

This house has been invaded by the feverish cold /flu'y cold bug...yuk
It's the season...back to school

So Many Many thanks to all the kind folks that write such lovely lovely tutorials that save our sanity!

this week each snuffly girls chose a tutorial and was off...

Oldest d (9) found Heidi Bears how to begin crochet tutorial all by herself and was off...

Many Thanks Heidi she is so proud of herself and is confident enough to work totally by herself (which is just as well as I can't crochet .....yet :0) )

First result was scarf for her doll Katie




Second a hat for her homemade doll Kirstin



Not forgetting Thanks to Cheryl here for the inspiration for Kirstin
(We managed to get the doll making book by interlibrary loan it travelled from the East coast to stay with us for a week and it was well worth it :0)Thanks!)

Younger d (7) prefers sewing and this Seahorse tutorial was right up her street ...We found this Tutorial here at Mothering with Rhythm & Rhyme
(and until I was composing this blog entry I hadn't realised that younger d has named her Seahorse after the Shannon who designed the original! (hope this is OK !!!)
Shannon the Seahorse was started and completed in a day off when the bug had reached the cough/snuffle stage. This project worked a treat. Again lovely clear instructions and a great end result....



So Many Many thanks for all the time and effort that goes into these tutorials and posts ..this household really appreciates them!!!