Looky, Looky

I came home from work and spotted this splash of colour out the corner of my eye. ......My very own croceye!!! I almost stepped on the golden ones right by the front step. Mother Nature is back Woo Hoo

I look like a calico cat....

Tonight is another trip to the hair dresser. Sigh. My own colour is growing in nicely, Then there are the blond bits, the blond bits with the brown "low lights" and the temples which are completely white. Yikes. I will get more cut off tonight. It feels a little bushel brains at the moment. I came across a picture of my own hair colour that was ummmmm 4 years ago..gulp.. It looks nice, at least I think so. I just got tired of the same old me and wanted a change now I am tired of the vicious circle and anyway it is just too damn expensive!!

The platinum bits are very "sparkly" so this might be a good idea.. Time will tell.

Some of My Favourite Things

Pearls and Pale Roses.......

White Merlot, Pink tulips and Royal Gala Apples........

A steaming cup of Tea and a good book !

Quiet moments !

Medieval tapestries: I loved the book "the Lady and the Unicorn" it is a fictional story around the making of the "Cluny Tapestries"

I highly recommend this Book!

Welsh folk tales:
The Mabinogi - Blodeuwedd's (pronounced in english "blow-dye-withs")Story
The oldest surviving manuscript of the Mabinogi dates from 1380, but the tales were told and re-told for centuries before then. The action is set in a mythical landscape that roughly corresponds to today’s north- and south-west Wales {that's us!!}.
The Goddess Arianrhod (ar-ee-an-rod) decreed that her son, Llew Llaw Gyffes, would never marry a mortal woman. Llew’s uncles, Math and Gwydion, took a dim view of this, and from the flowers of oak, broom and meadowsweet they created Blodeuwedd to be Llew’s bride.
Not long after their marriage, Llew left his wife in their castle, and travelled to visit his uncles.
A few days later, a hunting party was spotted near the castle, and Blodeuwedd sent a messenger to find out the name of their leader. It turned out to be Gronw Pebyr, the lord of Penllŷn.
Once Gronw and Blodeuwedd met, they fell deeply in love. By the time Gronw had to leave, things had gone so far that he and Blodeuwedd began plotting her husband’s death. It wasn’t going to be easy – after all, Llew was the son of a goddess.
When Llew returned, Blodeuwedd began telling him how worried she was that he’d meet an untimely end one day. Llew tried to reassure her by telling her that he couldn’t be easily slain. In fact, he could only be killed in very specific (and complicated) circumstances…
You'll need:
1. One spear that has been worked on for a whole year (on Sundays only)2. One cauldron filled with bathwater3. One thatched roof4. One fishing net5. One male deer
Method:
Place the Cauldron on a riverbank at twilight.
Cover with the thatched roof.
Convince Llew Llaw Gyffes to wrap himself in the fishing net, and then to place one foot on the cauldron’s rim, and one on the goat’s back.
Stab Llew with the spear you prepared earlier.
Such ridiculous circumstances could only come about through magical means. And this is where Blodeuwedd’s powers become apparent.
Having sent a message to Gronw Pebyr telling him to start work on the spear, she waited patiently at Llew’s side for twelve long months.
When the year’s wait was over, Blodeuwedd went to her husband and asked him again about the only way in which he could be killed. Pretending concern for his welfare and his future, Blodeuwedd engineered a demonstration of the scenario Llew had described to her.
And as he stood, poised on the goat and the cauldron, Gronw emerged from the shadows and struck him with the spear. Llew turned into an eagle and flew away, muttering “How on earth did I fall for that one?” under his breath.
Llew’s family eventually tracked down the eagle and turned him back into a man. But he was pretty sickly, and took over a year to heal and become whole again. During this time, Blodeuwedd and Gronw lived together in the castle.
Llew was determined to get his possessions back, and he organized an attack on the castle. Blodeuwedd fled into the forest and was cornered by Gwydion. Remember him? One of her creators.
In revenge for the shame heaped upon his nephew, Gwydion elected to turn Blodeuwedd into an owl, decreeing that she should never show her face again in the light of day.

one Crocus..more than one..croceye..??

Gotta love the crocus, they don't let a late spring stop them from blooming in the snow.
It is a semi dull today. It is quiet so I decided to take an early lunch. I know it is windy out side I see the wires swinging on the telephone poles. This is an older part of the city, no buried wires here. A delivery chap was just banging on a door across the way. I can tell by the way he is hunching his shoulders it must be cold out there. The fabric of his pants whips back and forth in the wind and the sand sweeps up in clouds and swirls around him. Shudder, I just turned my little electric blower back on. The weather man has taken his life into his hands by declaring we are going to get another storm. Wash his mouth out with soap. Who else gets paid to aggrivate us? Oh yes, ..lawyers, but that is another story.
I am still torturing myself at "Curves" my waist is still thick but I will end up with muscles in my arms and legs like a wrestler on steroids. I some how think I have been had...again. ALL THOSE "HAPPY " WOMEN IN THE COMMERCIALS ARE LYING. I don't see one of them breaking a sweat. Speaking of commercials and speaking of "Happy" here is my pet peave, and I direct this to the millions of us women. What is it with "Have a happy period." The only time I can think of a happy period is if you didn't want to be pregnant. It seems to me that I had about 530 of them and I don't remember them as happy! More like "oh damn here again" and "thank god it's done." Let's hear it for menopause Woo Hoo. Now that is happy!

First Day of Spring.. HA!

Look out the window! That is snow my friends. Mother Nature did it to us again. This wonderful illustration is by Wendy Rasmussen and is featured in the book "How Mother Nature Got Her Job" by Suzanne Weyn. I have been trying to find a copy for my Grand daughters. It doesn't seem to be available in Canada.

I need a vacation.....but where to go????

Maybe to Ireland. The village of Adare is lovely....after all Monday is St. Patrick's Day Or the beach at Sosua in the DR where we were supposed to go this winter....????

or A spring walk around Conwy Castle in Wales.......????

or a glass of Limoncello on a palazza overlooking the Bay of Naples, on the isle of Capri ?????
or a cruise through the Greek Isles??..... or a stroll along the Great Wall of China??......

or a camel ride around the pyramids at Giza??....

or shopping in a bazzar in Instanbul??...

or a spiritual retreat atop a mountain??.....

How about all of the above!!!

I got my ticket I can be packed in 5!!!

Musings......tulips and the life of a dog.

I just hate posting without a picture. This one is so pretty and I have to remind myself that they will be in bloom IF the friggin' snow would ever stop falling
Sheesh.. We are supposed to be getting another whack of it tonight and tomorrow. Enough already!

I promised Granny Ann I would take her to Ottawa for a couple of days in May for the Tulip Festival.

Eldest child has hurt herself at work. Cracked ribs hurt..ouch..Hmm wonder if it will impede her knitting? Naw, she is still breathing!

Chloe has developed an annoying habit of waking up at 2 or 3 in the morning and wants to go out! Now, this is not received kindly by yours truely!
Her coat had gotten very long and her feet where well padded so she wasn't feeling the cold. So I thought," OK I'll fix you!"
Of to the doggy salon and I got her buzzed. When I get home from work she is out for about 5 minutes then she is hopping from foot to foot in the cold and anxious to get in.
What is it about the middle of the night? She sits in the snow, freezing her tush, looking for all the world like coyote bait. Gazing around and meditating while I am falling asleep on my feet.
I open the sliding door a crack, "Chloe, I whisper, hurry up." She sends me long gazes over her shoulder and then looks back to watch the frost forming on the tree trunk. I open the door again. There is a thread of anguish in my voice as I say, "Chloe! move it." Still nothing. I open the door wider. "Chloe! I plead, come on get in here." Nothing. Nada. Ziltch. I shut the door and contemplate going back to bed and leaving her there to freeze in the snow. The fat cat lays at my feet and meows. I agree with her that the dog is a jerk!
I am sitting on the dining room chair by the sliding door my head slowly bobbing when suddenly I see her on the other side of the glass. "Yeah, I cry," and slide open the door. She sits there. She has walked around the gas BBQ and now can't reach the doorstep. I look down at my bare feet and pink toe nails and sigh, "CRAP." The wind finds it's way up my housecoat. I shudder. It has to be minus 10 out there. I stomp off to find my running shoes and Chloe begins to bark. Oh right, now MR-Anal-Retentive-Neighbour will have something else to bitch about! I stick my feet into the runners and step out onto the side patio. Jesus, Mary and Joseph it's colder than death out here. I pull on the cord and Chloe promptly runs around the BBQ in the WRONG direction. I'd weep but the tears would freeze on my face. I unclip the damn dog and she hops into the house and waddles off to bed while I stomp around in the snow untangling the lead. Dropping the leash over the door handle I step back inside the house. Large clumps of snow have followed me into the dining room, sneaking a ride in the tread of my Nikes. I haphazardly mop up the snow chunks and toss the whole mess into the kitchen sink. Even the cat has gone back to curl up in her favourite chair as I wander through the dark house heading for my bed. Climbing back into the warm nest I sigh with contentment............................................................................................and then lay there with my eyes wide open!
I am now fully awake!
It is 3:30 am.
Slowly I reach over the side of the bed and grasping a ball of Patons Canadiana Yarn I pitch it at the dog. She didn't even move. I can hear her snore. She's a bitch right enough.

This Knitter's Dream Retreat

Knitting has become the new "Zen" according to an article I read lately. Duh. Every knitter knows the meditative benefits of knitting. It appeals to every sense. True knitter's are yarn snufflers too. Mmm the aroma of new wool. Yummy.
Then there is the touch, the sight and the sound of the needles brushing past each other..Sigh
The only thing missing is the location.
For years my son has expressed a desire to build an eco freindly home. I hope one day he can.....cause I found a Granny flat just for me. Check out this "Low Impact Woodland Home"in the Welsh countryside.

I love it! Furry feet are not a requirement. This is Hobbit heaven. I could be happy curled up on a sofa knitting with my grand children. Look at the loft to the right.

I could do some fantastic interior design with this pallete. So in the mean time I guess I will just have to mentally retreat here when I want to "zone out."

Happy Birthday Corinne.....

Corinne Christening Day

Susan in her smocked dress...... Corinne in an exact copy......

Happy Saint David's Day

St David Patron Saint of The Welsh

He is Degui or Dewi in Welsh. Bishop and Confessor, patron of Wales. He is usually represented standing on a little hill, with a dove on his shoulder. From time immemorial the Welsh have worn a leek on St. David's day, in memory of a battle against the Saxons, at which it is said they wore leeks in their hats, by St. David's advice, to distinguish them from their enemies. He is commemorated on 1 March. The earliest mention of St. David is found in a tenth-century manuscript Of the "Annales Cambriae", which assigns his death to A.D. 601. Many other writers, from Geoffrey of Monmouth down to Father Richard Stanton, hold that he died about 544, but their opinion is based solely on data given in various late "lives" of St. David, and there seems no good reason for setting aside the definite statement of the "Annales Cambriae", which is now generally accepted. Little else that can claim to be historical is known about St. David. The tradition that he was born at Henvynyw (Vetus-Menevia) in Cardiganshire is not improbable. He was prominent at the Synod of Brevi (Llandewi Brefi in Cardiganshire), which has been identified with the important Roman military station, Loventium. Shortly afterwards, in 569, he presided over another synod held at a place called Lucus Victoriae. He was Bishop (probably not Archbishop) of Menevia, the Roman port Menapia in Pembrokeshire, later known as St. David's, then the chief point of departure for Ireland. St. David was canonized by Pope Callistus II in the year 1120

It is told that he was short of stature (Welsh men seem to be either a scant 5' or over 6')and the people could not hear him preach so the ground rose up beneath his feet so he would be above the crowd. Lovely story.

Now this would make my Grand mother turn over in her grave. The Purple Moose Brewery in the UK brings out a special beer for St David's Day! Nice Graphics!