Lucy Maud Inspired My Letter Writing Life (Part 4)

"... nothing gives me such a sense of life still being worth while as to receive a letter from one of the 'kindred spirits' of the leisurely old days. For a moment or two I find myself back there in the unhurried years and emerge from my brief communion with the past refreshed as if I had drunk a rejuvenating draught from some magic spring."

L.M. MONTGOMERY, Letter to G.B. MacMillan, August 26, 1924

For me, there is nothing like sitting down to write a letter the old-fashioned way—with pen and pretty stationery, envelopes and postage stamps. I admit to a decline in this pursuit over the years. Partly because it's so easy to stay in touch with family and friends via email, text messages, and social media. Sad to say, as a result, my penmanship has taken a gradual decline into chicken scratch hieroglyphics. Probably because now my keyboarding muscles are more dominant than my pen holding muscles. I do practice my handwriting once in while - concentrating on forming the cursive lettering as if I were back in Grade 3 or 4. To keep my hand in, as it were. Not to mention, to make it easier for my friends to read a letter from me without too much squinting and head scratching.  

As a child I watched my mom write letters and mail greeting cards for every occasion to family and friends as the chief way of keeping in touch. I recall when my little Grade 4 friend, Heidi Trussell, moved away with her family, we promised to write each other. I was tickled with the idea of writing to her, like a pen pal. Strangely enough, even though I started my letter, it never got sent off. Perhaps I never learned her new address, so it was a lost dream. I probably wrote, "Dear Heidi, How are you? I am fine. Do you like your new school? I miss you." So original. 

In my youth one of my favourite places to visit, next to the book section of a department store, was the greeting card outlets, like Hallmark. So many choices to feast one's eyes on. Finding the right message to convey what I wanted to say was a delightful but excruciating search sometimes - it had to be just so. And my heart always knew when it was 'perfect' - yes, that's the one. I wanted messages to convey encouragement or inspiration or to make someone laugh, depending on the situation. I never felt confident enough to express my feelings in my own words. I relied on the words of others. Still, it filled a need of staying in touch with people I cared about. And I'd get that thrill of the heart when I'd hear from a friend saying my note was just what she needed at the time. When I went away to college I wrote copious letters home always waiting for return mail. How horrid the semester when there was a nationwide postal strike. And no mail for weeks! I'd still go to the post office sometimes, hoping against hope there'd be a letter miraculously appearing from home, and being devastated when there wasn't anything. I became aware then how much letter writing meant to families in those days. No Internet, no text messaging, no Zoom. Phone calls were far too costly to make regularly. Pen and paper were our lifeline.

As I reflect on how Lucy Maud Montgomery has influenced my life, she certainly inspired my letter writing habits. Delighted was I to find two volumes at the library years ago of her published letters (links below). Such a delight to catch glimpses of her wide range of interests, "from domestic concerns, her cats and gardening, to her professional literary career as best-selling author". I loved her way of describing the world around her, how she set out her thoughts for someone else to read. They were entertaining as well as newsy and informative. From her examples, I imagined how I could become more creative and more interesting in my own letters. I began to step out and use my own words. It took great effort and mulling to express my thoughts in ways that made sense and were as beautifully composed as Lucy Maud's or what I read on those pretty greeting cards. I have always secretly hoped I sent off missives that were newsy, encouraging as well as entertaining, but only recipients of those long ago letters could confirm whether I was successful or not. 😉

As I mentioned, I found two collections with some of Ms. Montgomery's letters, one with her Scottish literary friend, George Boyd MacMillan. And one with Ephraim Weber, who was a young writer living in Alberta, Canada. I enjoyed reading both and still find excerpts from them copied into my old commonplace books.

My Dear Mr. M:

Letters to G.B. MacMillan from L.M. Montgomery

edited by Francis W.P. Bolger and Elizabeth R. Epperly

The Green Gables Letters:

From L.M. Montgomery to Ephraim Weber 1905-1909

edited by Wilfrid Eggleston

In the early days of lockdown and isolation during the Covid-19 pandemic, one of my creative pursuits was to pick up my pen, dust off my dormant love of writing old-fashioned notes, and send them off the snail-mail way. I stocked up on boxes of artsy blank greeting cards (thanks to Amazon's delivery service). Along with my handwritten notes, I'd tuck in small surprises: sachets of tea, quotes, stickers, blank postcards, anything fun that snugged inside a card-size envelope. The real thrill for me was imagining a friend's face when she discovered real mail waiting for her in the mailbox. Hopefully those notes created a bond of heart connection between sender and recipient during that tumultuous time in our history. What was it that John Donne once said: More than kisses, letters mingle souls. For thus, friends absent speak. We needed a little mingling of the souls when, for many of us, our physical bodies could not gather together in the usual way.

Now, with the holidays around the corner, comes the time of year when I still love shopping for and sending out beautiful Christmas cards with handwritten notes tucked inside to family and friends. (With a postal strike in our country as this post goes up, who knows if that will be possible this year - hopefully they'll settle things soon.) 

Next week will be the last in my series about Lucy Maud Montgomery and her influence in my life. Which wraps up my month long celebration of one of my favourite author's 150th anniversary of her birth—November 30, 1874. I hope to see you then. And, if you missed the previous posts, mind the links below.

❦

Wishing you a beautiful weekend,

(it's snowing here 😊)

Brenda

L.M. Montgomery and Our Mutual Love of Beauty (Part 3)

Friday Four, Including L.M. Montgomery's Inspiration to Journal (Part 2)

Friday Five, Including Celebrating L.M. Montgomery's 150th Birthday (Part 1)

Photo credits:

(Top) Image by Pezibear from Pixabay

Book Covers from Amazon

My blogging schedule:

I post on Fridays

L.M. Montgomery and Our Mutual Love of Beauty (Part 3)

"Don't you just love poetry that gives you a 

crinkly feeling up and down your back?" 

L.M. MONTGOMERY, Anne of Green Gables 

I cannot say when I first became aware of beauty in the world around me. Perhaps it was when I was a little girl bending down in my grandma's garden to smell her pretty flowers. And being especially taken with the clove-scented blossoms—they might have been carnations or pinks (dianthus). I was in heaven when I sniffed their scent. There was also something unforgettable about those yellow and orange California poppies growing in her lawn, so bold and breezy showing up anywhere they pleased.

 

As a child enthralled with reading, I loved the 1950s beautifully illustrated Egermeier's Bible Story Book with its well-thumbed pages eventually read to shreds. Adoring the lithograph picture of Mary and Joseph with the Babe in swaddling clothes lying in a manger—it created such a safe and cozy feeling for me. I was especially aware of the beauty I saw at Christmastime. How often I felt that crinkly feeling up and down my back when I caught sight of the season's first snowfall, or when I sat quiet as a mouse on the couch breathing in the wonder of the coloured lights on the tree. Or to feel the wonderment at the Christmas cards, hanging from a string above me, some alive with midnight blue skies studded with stars and pinpricks of light streaming through tiny earthen windows. Oh holy night, indeed.

As a girl, I mainly read books for the stories, for the adventures. I wasn't so keen on the descriptions of sunsets or landscapes or pretty vistas. I just wanted to know what happened next without all that 'fluffy' stuff. But I gradually came to appreciate those descriptive, imaginative scenes. Scenes where autumn branches sat in a vase on a table and firelight made shadows dance on a wall. And the heroine would sigh and feel better for this bit of beauty. Those scenes, dripping from the pages, soaked into my own soul and made me feel better.

Then there came the season of life when I read anything I could find of Lucy Maud Montgomery's works. First it was her novels, such as the Anne or Emily stories, and The Blue Castle. I gobbled up her poetry, published letters, and published journals. And, as an aspiring writer, I noted her descriptive narration, vivid imagery, and keen eye for detail as she celebrated the beauty of nature, her garden, and walks in the woods on a late November afternoon. I began to dream about how I could try to write the way she did. Never forgetting that summer evening long ago when I sat on the back step entranced as twilight fell on our neighbourhood after a beautiful day. A notebook in my lap and pen in my hand, my heart yearning to describe the joy I felt that evening, longing to describe its loveliness in the Lucy Maud style. She inspired me to get on with living life as beautifully as possible and then writing about it. I was—and still am—energized to create work that expresses my own wonderment at all that remains lovely in a broken world. It gives me courage to carry on when things feel or look hopeless in whatever situation. And when I get to share it here with you, my heart bursts with a joy that leaves me content... and grateful. For there is great pleasure in sharing what we love and enjoy, what we learn, with others. 

I want to share a passage from Emily of New Moon which became one of my favourites:

"It had always seemed to Emily, ever since she could remember, that she was very, very near to a world of wonderful beauty. Between it and herself hung only a thin curtain; she could never draw the curtain aside—but sometimes, just for a moment, a wind fluttered it and then it was as if she caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond—only a glimpse—and heard a note of unearthly music.  . . .

It never came twice with the same thing. Tonight the dark boughs against that far-off sky had given it. It had come with a high, wild note of wind in the night, with a shadow wave over a ripe field, with a grey bird lighting on her windowsill in a storm, with the singing of "Holy, holy, holy" in church, with a glimpse of the kitchen fire when she had come home on a dark autumn night, with the spirit-like blue of ice palms on a twilit pane, with a felicitous new word when she was writing down a 'description' of something. And always when the flash came to her Emily felt that life was a wonderful, mysterious thing of persistent beauty." L.M. Montgomery, Emily of New Moon, p. 7 - 8

That last line stands out as a marker—it and many others became transformative, defining moments when I came to recognize, and could admit to myself, that beauty remains the most inspirational and mysterious force in the world for me. And it makes me feel nearest to God. I came to see that if I could find the beauty, however tiny, in the midst of any given situation, I could carry on. Ms. Montgomery's writings gave me courage. They gave me hope there was a place inside my own God-given imagination where I could gather the beauty to hold onto in the midst of my own hard or sad times. Perhaps that's why I'm always tickled to see a simple dandelion living large as life in a fractured sidewalk. Surviving in a seemingly impossible place, living somehow as if it was in the best kind of soil, tended as if with the most loving of care. Its lesson is a beauty to behold.

There is so much more I could say, but suffice for the moment. As I close, my wish for you this week... mercies new every morning, grace that's sufficient for whatever you face, joy to strengthen you in the midst, and peace that keeps your heart steady in the storm. Oh, and a generous dollop of good, plain fun to make you laugh out loud.

❦

Heart hugs,

Brenda

Photo credits:

Image by TheOtherKev from Pixabay

My Autumn Schedule:

I post on Fridays

Friday Four, Including L.M. Montgomery's Inspiration to Journal (Part 2)

"Honestly, it is such a challenge to look at

the bigger picture these days, so I cone my focus

down to all the beautiful pauses in my day."

DARREN MARKLAND @drdagly on X

(with grateful permission)

It snowed the other day. As those first flakes fell, I felt the tiniest stirrings of being in the 'Christmas mood'. I know, I know, it's a little early. I even found myself humming notes from an old familiar carol—quietly under my breath so as not to get the resident Grinch grumbling that it's far too early for Christmas music. 

The snow has since melted, and we're back to landscapes in beige and sandy brown. Still, with the nights drawing in, hints of long winter evenings and upcoming holidays take shape. It seems a perfect time for settling in a comfy chair with a little poetry—or a new post from a favourite writer—for company.  

Today's post is a bit of this and that from my week, along with an old post I wrote about L.M. Montgomery and how I became inspired to journal by reading her own published journals. I hope you'll find something worth your visit. Thank you for stopping by.

One. The frost missed these

What a thrill to discover that a few blossoms in the garden had escaped the frost. A tiny reprieve. I brought them in and set them by the kitchen window—my beautiful pause in a busy day.

Two. A gentle read

"Granddad said you only have to look at nature to know that there's a higher power.  . . .  He said every time you look at a sunset and feel an expansion in your chest, that's the Divine in you recognizing the Divine in nature." SANTA MONTEFIORE, Here and Now

This charming novel is set in a small English village. Dennis and Marigold, both in their late 60s, currently have their two adult daughters and Marigold's aged mother living with them. Marigold loves taking care of everyone, but she's getting worried that she's forgetting things, especially when she forgets to take supper out of the freezer yet again or loses track of where her car is parked while out shopping. Having lived in the village for years she should know...and remember...why can't she remember? Is it just age creeping up?

I found this a heart lovely story about a family coming to terms with the possibility that their beloved daughter, wife, mother is experiencing dementia. Even as Marigold learns to live in the present moment when her memories start disappearing, her own family discover things about themselves. She keeps reminding herself, "What's wrong with now?" when she finds herself trying to imagine her life in the future without the memories of who and what she loves. But for today, it's okay. And that's how she tries to live her life as much as she can.

It's perfect timing to read this story. For it begins on a snowy day. Soon you're immersed, not with falling snow, but with finding yourself caring for the people in this tale. It's not a knuckle-gripping tale, so you can relax into your easy chair and let the story unfold gently around you, maybe even as you watch the snow softly falling outside your window.

T

Three. Note to Miss Chicken Little

"We've got to live, no matter how

many skies have fallen."

D.H. LAWRENCE, Lady Chatterley's Lover

Four. Lucy Maud and journaling

"I have just been reading over my first two volumes... The first volume seems—I think—to have been written by a rather shallow girl, whose sole aim was to "have a good time" . . . yet nothing could be falser to the reality.  . . .  Again, the second volume gives the impression of a morbid temperament, generally in the throes of nervousness and gloom. Yet this, too, is false. It arises from the fact that of late years I have made my journal the refuge of my sick spirit . . . Between these times I was quite tolerably happy, hopeful and interested in life.

Well, I begin my third volume. I am going to try to strike a better balance in it—to write out my happiness as well as my pain. And I mean to try, as far as in me lies, to paint my life and deeds—ay, and my thoughts—truthfully, no matter how unflattering such truth may be to me. No life document has any real value otherwise; the worst as well as the best must be written out—  . . . So, for good or evil, I begin this volume. I turn over its blank pages with a shrinking wonder. What will be written in them?"  ~ excerpted from her journal entry dated Friday, Feb. 11, 1910. See The Selected Journal of L.M. Montgomery, Volume II: 1910 - 1921.

I mentioned last week (post here) that this November marks Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery's 150th birthday. And in celebration I'm digging into my own archives to share with you things I've written over the years about her influence on my life.

Here is an excerpt from a post I wrote in July 2019 (it could do with a revamp, but it's where I was at the time as a writer, and I'm trying to get this finished on time). 😉

It's usually a bit of a thrill for me when I finish one journal and begin a crisp new volume. Such a moment happened this past week. The above notebook with the gold lettering and the pretty house and garden painting on its cover marks my 170th journal. 

I started journaling in the early 1980s when I was under the deep sway of influence from my beloved mentor from afar Lucy Maud Montgomery. When I learned that some of her own journals were being made available to the public, I eagerly sought them out. At the time, the library had only Volumes I and II; I had to wait some years for the rest to be published. I loved reading her journals, and soon I began to think, if Lucy Maud had been such a committed journal keeper, then maybe I could be one too. I've been pretty much dedicated to writing my own journals ever since.

My ever increasing collection (which is housed in file boxes in the closet) is a motley collection of sizes, shapes, and designs. Into these notebooks, I poured out all sorts of things on my mind. And, for some reason, the weather seemed necessary to mark my journey in some way—was it winter, summer, rainy, hot, dry, gloomy? Weather, we know, can affect our moods, and I'd decided a long time that I would try as much as possible not to live 'under the weather' but to create my own sunshine in my own way. Over time I'd come to appreciate every season in its every mood, whether clement (pleasantly dry and mild) or inclement (severely harsh weather that is wet and cold).

My journals were, and continue to be a bit of diary - said weather reports included. They are also a bit of venting, although I try not to vent too much in my journals, I don't want a paper copy of, er, my 'insane' moments. Venting is part of being honest with ourselves even if we are insane for the moment.

I do write about what I read in books or hear from people I follow online, noting many a quotation for future reference and inspiration. I also jot out lines from the Bible that offer a life boat of comfort and encouragement in difficult or stressful seasons. Not to mention bits of poetry and quotes that strike my fancy and thrill my soul for their beauty. As well, I note those aha! moments when I see something that has changed how I view myself or the world around me. Writing it out helps me to clarify what I'm thinking about, what I agree or disagree with, and what I really desire underneath all the fluffy superficial surfaces.

Journals, for me, are places where I turn to when I can't say what's in my heart to anyone else. There are some things we all carry that are too deep or personal, too scary, to share. Ofttimes we don't have the language or words to share it, even if we wanted to. So I make stabs at it in my journals. With hopes that those poured out bits of prayers and yearnings make sense to the God who, we are told, cares about the tiniest details of our lives and longs for us to share them with Him.

Then there are those multitude of moments and experiences that I don't ever want to forget. The ALIVE moments that make a day perfect in the end, even though it was less so overall. You know those glorious moments, when your heart zings with joy as you stand and watch a rainbow form after a summer shower. As you sit in the garden where the air is sweet with perfume and the birds chatter companionably at the feeders and our neighbourly Orange Kitty wanders in for a friendly visit or a quiet snooze in the garden. Where you are just glad, glad, glad to be alive. I love finding these entries when rereading my old volumes.

On that note, I'm wishing you days that are alive with beauty and grace. And with beautiful pauses that continue to make life worth getting up for.

❦

Heart hugs,

Brenda

Photo credits:

(Top) Image by Albertfotofilms from Pixabay

(Flowers) Image by Brenda Leyland @ It's A Beautiful Life

(Book Cover) Image from Amazon.ca

(Cup in Window) Image by Israelbest from Pixabay

(Journals) Image by Brenda Leyland @ It's A Beautiful Life

Autumn Blogging Schedule:

I post on Fridays

Friday Five, Including Celebrating L.M. Montgomery's 150th Birthday (Part 1)

"It is a serious thing just to be alive on

this fresh morning in the broken world."

MARY OLIVER

 

Here we are... it's November 1st. The time of year for those of us in northerly climes when we start to long for cozy nights at home, snuggling into sweaters and fuzzy socks, wrapping fingers around warm beverages, partaking of hearty stews and thick, nourishing soups. Some of us, maybe many of us, start thinking about the holidays ahead. We begin gathering stacks of books that fit the mood of cooler weather and darkening days. We take time to notice the little things that make our souls flourish in these hopefully quieter, duller days of the year.

As I've gathered bits and pieces that are meaningful for me and stitched them loosely into today's post, you have been on my mind. I hope something here will encourage, stimulate or cause you to pause and take a breath for this season's challenges, whatever they may be.

I wish you days that are alive with beauty and grace. Peace of mind and heart, too.

 

One. Outside my window

It's grey and gloomy. Roof-tops are white with frost this morning. There was fog earlier. It's been a lovely autumn, but the days are definitely getting more 'wintry' in feeling. The garden has that forlorn, worn look. Although I cannot believe that, even with frost at night, the white alyssum annuals are still practically perfect. I assumed they'd succumb along with the marigolds and geraniums, but they are bold and beautiful in their pristine, white clumps. The sunflower that grew this summer—I mentioned it last week—has been stripped of all its black seeds, for the chickadees have taken advantage of the great feast before them, snapping up seeds and flitting off to eat them. I love chickadees. 

Two. Beauty to press on

"If you have been afraid that your love of beautiful flowers and the

flickering flame of the candle is somehow less spiritual than living in

starkness and ugliness, remember that He who created you to be creative

gave you the things with which to make beauty and the sensitivity

to appreciate and respond to His creation."

EDITH SCHAEFFER

Three. Celebrating L.M. Montgomery

This November marks Lucy Maud Montgomery's 150th birthday. After all these decades, I kind of hope she knows that there are still millions of us on this earth who love her writing and cherish the work she did over her lifetime. If you've followed me for anything length of time, you know this beloved Canadian writer of the Anne and Emily books is a clear favourite of mine. Browsing my archives, I realized I've written numerous posts over the years about my relationship with her—I consider her my mentor from afar. And so during November, I'm taking the liberty of republishing some of them to mark my own celebration of L.M. Montgomery. I'll start off with this excerpt I wrote in 2020 as a guest blogger for InScribe.

There are so many things I could share here about what I have learned from L.M. Montgomery. Looking back, she was a shining star—a mentor from afar—for most of my life. She taught me to appreciate the joy and beauty of the world around me, regardless of happy or unhappy circumstances. I shall always remember sitting with pen and paper in hand, trying to capture something of the twilight beauty of a long-ago summer evening. I had hoped to emulate Ms. Montgomery, for by then I was captivated with her ability to bring something of the beautiful to everything she wrote.

We live in an upside-down world where beauty and goodness are often forgotten, hidden behind misery and meanness, tragedy and trauma. Some people say, well that's life, that's the reality. Of course, we know sadness, cruelty, and ugliness are real, but I have so often pondered why these should carry more weight than the reality of love and beauty and kindness. Mr. Carpenter, Emily's schoolteacher in one of the Emily novels, entreated the aspiring authoress not to heed her critics but to press forward and continue to write from that place of beauty she saw in her own mind. He told Emily, "Don't be led away by those howls of realism. Remember—pine woods are just as real as pigsties and a darn sight pleasanter to be in."

The essence of those words became a touchstone for me. No matter what was going on in the world around me, Mr. Carpenter's wise words, through the pen of L.M. Montgomery, fixed my focus on how I wanted to write. You see, they matched those lines I love in Philippians (in the New Testament): whatever is lovely and of good report, think (write) on these things.

And that's been my aim ever since.

For the complete article "In the Shadow of the Bookshelf" published September 12, 2020. 

 

Four. A word to the wise

Take no thought for tomorrow: for tomorrow shall take care of itself.

Each day has enough trouble of its own.

GOSPEL OF MATTHEW

Grace and mercy are freshly minted every morning for us—

let's plan not to waste today's energy on yesterday's regrets or

tomorrow's frets. As they say, sufficient for the day.

Five. A thrill of hope

It’s early evening and you’re deep into the book you’re reading.

You hear a rustling in the kitchen and hope there’s a treat forthcoming…

a mug of hot chocolate, maybe a slice of toast, or something warm from the oven.

You feel the tiny thrill of anticipation.

❦

And now I wish you glimpses

of heaven in unexpected places,

Brenda

Photo credits:

(Top) Image by digitalmeta555 from Pixabay

(Leaves) Image by _Alicja from Pixabay

(Candles) Image by Ukanga from Pixabay

(L.M. Montgomery) Unknown

(Succulent) Image by dendoktoor from Pixabay

(coffee) Image from Pixabay 

Autumn Blogging Schedule:

I post on Fridays

Observing Trifles... or the Spectacle of the Ordinary

"To find new things,

take the path you took yesterday."

JOHN BURROUGHS

Following on the heels of last week's post about little thrills, I happened upon a book during my recent visit to the library that has taken me further into this theme. Titled On Looking by Alexandra Horowitz (2013),

". . . she shows us how to see the spectacle of the ordinary—to practice, as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle put it, “the observation of trifles.” Structured around a series of eleven walks the author takes, mostly in her Manhattan neighborhood, On Looking features experts on a diverse range of subjects, including an urban sociologist, the well-known artist Maira Kalman, a geologist, a physician, and a sound designer. Horowitz also walks with a child and a dog to see the world as they perceive it. . . . Page by page, Horowitz shows how much more there is to see—if only we would really look." excerpt from Amazon description

I was delighted by the chapter in which Alexandra shares about going for walks with her toddler son. She soon comes to see that her idea of going for a walk is far different than his idea. She slows down, begins to listen and pay attention to the world as he was showing how he perceived it. Having learned about the letter "O", what it looked like and how it sounded, her young son soon began discovering "O's" everywhere - in the sky, on the trees, in the litter along the sidewalk, in words on advertising boards. From there he grew beguiled by all the triangle shapes hidden in plain view. It was a time of wondrous discoveries for one little boy and his momma. 

Then there is the chapter where Alexandra walks with illustrator-artist Maira Kalman (I wrote about her book Women Holding Things in a post HERE). If you know anything of Maira's work, you won't be surprised by what Alexandra learns from her friend's observations and interactions with the world as they walk.

I'm only part way through the book so there's lots more to discover. If you want to ramp up your observation skills while out walking in your neighbourhood or wilderness area, I think you'd be inspired by Alexandra's book.

On that note, I turn away from my computer screen to my study window to discover the sun is shining against cloudless blue skies. Only a breeze flutters leaves still clinging to the trees. And the chickadees are busy at the large sunflower head that grew voluntarily in our garden this past summer. They are methodical about stripping the seeds from the head, going around the edges seed by seed towards the centre. Mmm... next spring we might have to sow more sunflower seeds on purpose. There's a real thrill to watching our little feathered friends.

Taking inspiration from Alexandra's example, I'm off for a walk around my block. I wish I had a little toddler to take with me, but I'll try to be observant as I go with Me, Myself, and I. Please take care, beautiful friends, we'll see you next week.

❦

Wishing you glimpses of heaven in unexpected places,

Brenda

Photo credits:

Image by Brenda Leyland @ It's A Beautiful Life

Autumn Blogging Schedule:

I post on Fridays

Dappled Things... and Other Little Thrills

"Glory be to God for dappled things –

For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough..."

GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS

This week, I've been thinking about those little things that give me a thrill deep on the inside. Now there are those folks who thrive on intense experiences to add thrills to their lives. I am not one of them. I don't crave activities with risks to get my adrenalin rushing. You won't find me hurtling off cliffs, sky diving, winter swimming in the ocean, or white water rafting, although I admire people who do it. I am more of a seeker of gentler thrills. Although these are often experienced in those softer, simpler moments of life, it still surprises me how often I feel that sudden thrill of pleasure or excitement. It's just there, one never has to work it up—the heart truly knows when it is startled with delight.

I still feel the thrill of coming to my desk in my office-study-library. I worked for years in an office setting, and I remember, even on the bad days, arriving in the morning, I'd get that tiny thrill the moment I caught sight of my desk in my small office. I loved to sit there. I felt at home in that space - it was my place, the place where I set out my work, my pens, turned on my typewriter, later my computer. I used to sit by a window that overlooked a brick wall, but now I happily sit at my desk at home by the window overlooking our back garden. I look out on the sky and watch clouds skimming by or birds fluttering in. I like seeing my Susan Branch 'Blue Bird' mugs lined up on the windowsill holding my pens and pencils and letter openers and scissors. And my books on my shelves within easy reach. This is my space, and this spot at my desk is my 'home' within my home.

I love the thrill of catching sunlight dappling through the canopy of leaves on these autumn days. And I still catch my breath when the light glints off the diamonds in my engagement ring, causing colours to flare and sparkle. Maybe it reminds me of the stars I once had in my eyes, and even after all these years that we're together, him and I, between us there's still a sparkle and a twinkle.

Other moments, in no particular order, that continue to thrill and delight me:

- when the wind catches crisp leaves and skitters them down the street, tossing them into piles

 

- the scent of coffee brewing in the morning air 

- tiny sandwiches piled on a plate

- the colour combination of cobalt blue and white

- opening a new box of crayons

- the music of Mozart

- dessert after dinner (especially since desserts are rarer these days)

- putting on a spritz of fragrance before stepping out

- hearing spoons clink against cups as they land in a saucer

- concentrating on a single task and completing it - what a thrill of satisfaction

- remembering being ten years old careening down a hill on the toboggan on a frosty winter afternoon

- catching sight of the full moon before it sets in the western sky

- twinkle lights laced on the trellis outside or strewn across a bookshelf inside

- the long shadows this time of year

- slipping out of the brisk wind into a warm-from-the-sun vehicle

- when the opera singer reaches for, and successfully lands, those high notes in her aria

- discovering a line in a book or poem that deliciously—and perfectly—says what I was searching to say

- cresting a huge hill and feeling gob-smacked at the sight of the horizon in the far, far distance with all that landscape 'plotted and pieced' in between... as far as the eye can see

- the northern lights dancing on an October night

- that moment when the plane lifts off the ground and heads into the sky

- a lamp in the window as evening falls

- an old, old hymn George Beverly Shea used to sing when I was a girl, All That Thrills My Soul is Jesus

- watching the summer landscape turn into an autumn kaleidoscope of colour

- hearing the geese overhead as they practice their vee formations for their long trek south

- recognizing the handwriting of a friend on an envelope in the mailbox

- watching for that certain smile on a loved one's face and seeing their face light up

- getting a compliment from someone totally out of the blue

- an answered prayer / a fulfilled secret desire 

I'll think of dozens more as soon as I sign off. But you caught a glimpse of what thrills my soul. I would love to know what thrills and delights your soul - will you share?

❦

Wishing you a beautiful weekend,

Brenda

Photo credits:

Image by iira116 from Pixabay

Autumn Blogging Schedule:

I post on Fridays

Note: Lately, for reasons I know not, Blogger sometimes doesn't update the feed list when I publish a new blog post. I post on Fridays, so even if you don't see a new post listed on the feed, it's probably here waiting for you when you next visit. 😉

Autumn Chat

"There is always, always something

to be thankful for."

UNKNOWN

For all you pumpkin spice lovers, have you been indulging in your favourite pumpkin beverages and foods? So far this season, I've had two Pumpkin Spice Lattes - both were deee-licious. And I've got pumpkin puree ready to turn into pumpkin muffins one of these days. 

It's been a splendid autumn so far. A mix of bright sunny days and cloudy, cool ones. We've had no frost yet, but a few trees and plants are beginning to have that bedraggled end-of-season look. Others, like the Rudbeckia and Joy Pye Weed perennials continue to bloom, as do the annual alyssums, marigolds,  and petunias The geraniums look as if they are enjoying a second spring - as bright and bold as ever. 

The other day we went for a drive in the countryside. It's a feast out there for the senses. Though many trees are bare, there are still great groves of brilliant russets and butternut squash yellows to satisfy any colour-longing eyes. Casting a glance to the horizon, one sees fields upon fields of harvested land in muted hues of brown sugar and sandy beige. It has a slightly shorn, forlorn look - where you maybe want to pull your sweater closer. Flocks of geese rest in fields, undoubtedly enjoying the remains from combined crops, readying themselves for the next leg of the journey. 

Our drive took us to a nearby city known for its downtown streets of old-fashioned store-front windows and sidewalks lined with shops and cafes. I meandered down one strewn with crackly leaves with leaves here and there dropping from overhanging branches. Sometimes atop my head. It felt like I was on a fairy tale trail. We lunched with dear friends at a bistro where the food was heavenly. And we wandered through an art gallery/art supplies shop that was chockful of wonderful things to look at and enjoy. Everything from walls of original art to art cards signed by local artists to Tibetan singing bowls to paintbrushes, watercolour paper, and palettes of paint.

   

"It is not joy that makes us grateful;

it is gratitude that makes us joyful."

DAVID STEINDL-RAST

One thing for which I am extremely grateful today is the ability to read, and the ability to read any time, any place, any book. Books are such a staple in my life - I know it's that way for many of us. And I look forward to the quietness of the approaching darker colder season where I can wrap myself in a cozy blanket, set down a cup of something hot, and reach for my ever evolving pile of books to delve into this autumn season. I have no photo to show, but here are a few books on my current pile and a couple soon-to-be-released titles: 

- The Penderwicks on Gardam Street by Jeanne Birdsall. A children's tale about a widower, four young daughters and the many adventures they get up to in their motherless state. I love this family - I've met them in earlier volumes - they are a delight to visit in this autumn set story.

- The Secret Lives of Booksellers and Librarians by James Patterson and Matt Eversmann. Vignettes written by a couple dozen or so librarians and booksellers tell their own stories about why they love books and how they got in the business of books. Most chapters are by American writers, but I was happily surprised to find a goodly number of Canadian librarians and booksellers sharing their stories, too. The book's entertaining and thoughtful.

- Miss Buncle's Book by D.E. Stevenson. In chapter five, we find out that this story takes place in foggy October - which makes it a lovely book to cozy up in right now. It's a re-read for me. Miss Buncle needs some hard cash; her dividends are drying up in the hard times, and she doesn't want to raise hens or take in paying guests, and because she needs to keep up appearances, she can't go out to work. So she writes a book, all based on the keen observations of her neighbours in the English village where she lives. Happily for her, a publisher likes and publishes it. Things heat up when villagers start reading this new book by 'John Smith' to find their quirky selves leaping from the pages for all the world to see, and recognize. It creates quite the stir-up around town. 

- A Murder is Announced by Agatha Christie. Also set in autumn. There is nothing more to say about this familiar, well loved classic by our best beloved Miss Christie, except do read it if you haven't. That is, if you like mysteries.

- A new children's book The Verts by Ann Patchett. Saw a clip on YouTube where Ann was chatting about it. Beautifully illustrated by Robin Preiss Glasser, it's an "empathetic story about introverts and extroverts, and two siblings who learn to be themselves." I reserved it at the library, but I have a feeling I'll need my own copy - maybe for Christmas (wink).

- Louise Penny's latest Inspector Gamache novel Grey Wolf comes out at the end of October. It's been a long time coming. Three Pines, here we come, we can't wait.

- Reclaiming Quiet, Cultivating a Life of Holy Attention by Sarah Clarkson. The book is being released on November 5, 2024. It's all about cultivating quiet in a noisy world where we are distracted by so much. I always enjoy Sarah's writings and musings and look forward to her latest work.

Alright, on that note, I'll stop here. We're traveling to my nephew's wedding this weekend so there's no time to lollygag. I leave you with two quotes I found online that I thought create a soft spot on which to rest my own thoughts. They both remind me of how much I have to be grateful for on this Canadian Thanksgiving weekend.

❦

"Reflect upon your present blessings,

of which every man has plenty;

not on your past misfortunes,

of which all men have some."

CHARLES DICKENS

"Be thankful for what you have. Your life, no matter

how bad you think it is, is someone else’s fairy tale."

WALE AYENI

❦

To my Canadian friends, Happy Thanksgiving.

To all the dear people dealing with those horrid hurricanes,

heart hugs and great grace. 

I wish you all a safe and beautiful weekend,

Brenda

Autumn blog schedule:

I post on Fridays

Photo credits:

Image by kaheig from Pixabay

Our Giveaway Winners Are . . .

* * * Our Winners * * *

SUSAN HYDE

DEANNA RABE

Happy Friday and congratulations to Susan and Deanna! I'm so happy to send you each an autographed paper copy of the anthology Creativity & Chaos, Artistic Endeavours for Trying Times. I'll be in touch with you to get your mailing information.

Thank you so much to everyone who joined in the fun, both here and on my Facebook. I appreciate each of you. 

If you didn't win but are interested in the book, both the Kindle and paper versions are now available for purchase on Amazon.ca.

Although it's overcast and blustery here today, the canary gold leaves still holding fast create a blaze of colour against the metal grey skies. What a feast for the eyes. I'll be back next week with an autumnal post. In the meantime, here's wishing you glimpses of heaven in unexpected places. 

❦

Contest is now closed.

Please take care . . . hope you have a pleasant weekend,

Brenda

Autumn blog schedule:

I post on Fridays

Book Giveaway: Creativity & Chaos Anthology

We're Having A Giveaway!

It's been a while since I hosted a giveaway on the blog. Today I'm delighted to give away not one but two print hold-in-your-hand copies of the new anthology by InScribe Press, Creativity & Chaos, Artistic Endeavours for Trying Times.

In this anthology, 38 writers—including myself—have shared in essays, short stories, reflections, poetry, and more about how creative pursuits helped them cope in trying and chaotic times. I believe readers will find their spirits lifted, encouraged and, yes, amazed with a sense of wonder, not just at the creativity of people but the resiliency of the human spirit in difficult times.

Here I am on pg 103!
 

The eBook version (Kindle) continues to be available HERE for $0.99 CDN on Amazon. Print copies also will soon be available to order.

In the meantime, enter the giveaway for your chance to win one of two paper print copies I'm giving away. Fingers crossed, and all the best!

GIVEAWAY GUIDELINES

1. Leave a comment. Maybe something creative

you do that helps you get through tough times.

2. Be sure your name is included in the comment if

you don't have a blog link

(it's hard to send something to "Anonymous"). 

3. Feel free to share the giveaway on your social media.

4. The Draw will be next Friday, October 4th, at 9:00 am MDT.

5. The winners will be announced on the blog on Friday morning. If you

have an online presence, I will reach out to you. Otherwise, you

will have to touch base with me here to exchange info offline.

International addressees are welcome to join in.

❦

Wishing you a beautiful autumn,

Brenda

Autumn Blog Schedule:

I post on Fridays

Calling Forth Life's Riches

"If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself,

tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches;

for to the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place."

RAINER MARIA RILKE, Letters to a Young Poet

This quote has been part of my life for decades, having pondered it off and on for years now. They were words that leapt off the page the first time I read them, the gentle chiding a spur to my heart when my daily life felt poor, colourless, and 'same old, same old'. I'd reread the words to remind myself to quit feeling sorry for myself. To be poet enough and to use that spark of imagination within to call forth life's riches in my own, very ordinary life. I learned to pay attention. I learned to recognize and be in awe when something lovely startled my senses. I knew I wanted more of these rich moments to colour my life with beauty. 

How often I'd remind myself, too, of the ancient text I once memorized, "This is the day the Lord hath made, I will rejoice and be glad in it." Especially on those mornings when I wanted to roll over and pull the covers back over me. Instead, I'd pull myself out of bed with the thought, today I will wake up with vitality and good humour. I especially needed the reminder about getting on with good humour, me not being a morning person at the time. I also remembered those lovely lines I learned from the New Testament, "...whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is lovely and of good report, if there is anything worthy of praise, think on these things".

They became the benchmark of how I wanted to live and work and love—and eventually write. The joy always came, and still comes when I remember to look around....

     - To search for something, however tiny, on which my eyes can delight. So often it's right there in front of me, outside my window or front step, I don't even have to fly to Paris to catch the joy. Sometimes it's a gorgeous line in a book I'm reading that stands out. Sometimes the sighting of a single yellow leaf from a still green tree drifting to the ground can do it. So can catching the sound of children laughing and screaming in the nearby park as the sun starts to set. Or marveling at the lemon-hued marigolds still so bright in the flower beds and cawing flocks of crows settling and resettling in woodsy copses nearby at dusk.

     - To listen to music, music that is as familiar and sweet as the voice of a dear loved one—it can be a beloved old hymn that floats up with its comforting words, or a little Mozart whose music always makes me feel happy. The strains of theme music from a favourite old movie like the 1995 film Sense and Sensibility which makes me feel at peace, as comforting and comfortable as a favourite pair of old slippers. 

     - To sit at my desk and dream up something nice I can do for someone. I feel the thrill deep inside when I plan something spontaneous, immediate; something not too complicated, like a pretty card with a note sent in the mail, to surprise and lift someone's day.

     - To meet neighbours out for a walk and stand on the driveway having a wee chat in the warm sunshine as the crisp air fans our faces. Chattering, laughing, teasing—it makes me think that I'm living inside one of those delightful scenes from a Rosamunde Pilcher novel set in the English countryside.

How often the beauty is right here in front of us. I didn't really know back then until I read Rilke's quotation that I had within me the creative ability to call forth the richness in my own daily life. It makes me so grateful for those words all those years ago. They helped shape my life. I certainly hope one day I'll be able to tell Mr. Rilke how much his writings meant to me. How they helped a young woman learn to rise above the circumstances and begin to call forth her beautiful life.

"Most people do not know at all how beautiful

the world is, and how much magnificence is revealed in

the tiniest things, in some flower, in a stone,

in tree bark, or in a birch leaf."

RAINER MARIA RILKE, from Letters on Life

* * *

Before I close, I want to tell you that next Friday I'll be having a BOOK GIVEAWAY for two copies of the new anthology published by InScribe Press: Creativity & Chaos: Artistic Endeavours for Trying Times. Through inspiring stories, poems, essays, even crafts, the contributing authors share how they found creative ways to cope during their own trying times. Being on the editorial team, I had the opportunity to read the pieces before publication, and I can tell you, this book is one you'll want to read. You'll find comfort, encouragement, and hope on its pages. I'm so honoured and delighted to have a piece I wrote included—it's a personal essay entitled "A Kaleidoscope of Creativity (during a global pandemic)". In a recent interview, I shared what inspired me to write the piece and a little of my writing journey generally; if you haven't seen it, you can find the video HERE.

At the time of this writing, Amazon is offering the Kindle version for $0.99 CDN. After September 28th, paperback copies also will be available to order. So, next Friday, do come back and ENTER YOUR NAME IN THE DRAW for a chance to win one of two copies, autographed by Yours Truly. 

❦

Wishing you a beautiful weekend and Happy Autumn,

Brenda

Top Photo:

Image by susannp4 from Pixabay

Autumn blog schedule:

I post on Fridays

A Piece of Hope

Life is not a bed of roses;

neither is it full of thorns.

UNKNOWN

I don't suppose it's a surprise to anyone living on this planet. It doesn't take long for a person, even a child, to discover that life is not a bed of roses. Thankfully, neither is it completely full of thorns, even in the most horrid of situations. Or so I am told, as I personally haven't lived in some of the worst situations out there. But there are dear people who have lived through some and have survived some, who bear witness that, yes, there is still goodness, there is still beauty, there is still kindness in the midst of those wretched circumstances. And that brings hopefulness for any gloom-ridden day.

If you've followed this blog for any length, you know it's dedicated to the theme of living a beautiful life—focusing on what is beautiful and what gives hope in the world around us. None of us live in paradisal circumstances, at least not all the time. Sometimes life is pretty good, but when the ugly stuff gets too much in our faces, it's harder to hold onto what still adds grace to our lives. One thing I have learned over my longish life is to pray for grace... and to watch for the tiniest gifts that show up often in the smallest places. Sometimes they feel so inconsequential it's easy to overlook, but I began to practice watching for them, and I was surprised at how much beauty was out there, hiding in full view. 

When it comes to a garden..... it's not all a bed of roses either. Maybe that's why most of my floral photos are close ups, with only a few rarer panoramic views. First, I like the 'larger than life' style made famous by artist Georgia O'Keeffe who often painted her floral works in grand scale. She said if she painted a flower in a huge scale, people couldn't ignore its beauty. When it's in your face like that, it is hard to ignore, true. Second, perhaps more importantly for me, I like taking close ups because quite often the parts of the scene are nicer than the whole of it. Edmonton author/photographer Shawna Lemay once observed that close ups block out the vistas that are not lovely to look at. 

So, I focus on what's lovely and zone out what's unsightly. It's not pretending it's not there; it's just focusing on the better thing available in the moment. My sister told me about seeing a fellow online who kept bringing to the viewer's attention all the things in his yard that weren't to his personal liking, complaining about all that was wrong in it. She wondered why he focused so much on the unsightly areas when she could see so much that was pleasing.

If I were to pan the camera over my garden, you would see the same thing here, even in the height of summer when things are at their best. Some corners are quite Edenic in sensual loveliness, but alongside there are vistas in such contrast from our hoped-for dreams of a whole garden attuned in symmetry, colour, and design. As it turns out, it's just how life is sometimes. Imperfect. We don't mean to leave a reader with the idea that all is perfect in our world where we live; we're just happily focusing on what is lovely and zoning out what isn't.

In thornier times when my soul falters and frets—when my body is unwell, when my mind grows anxious for various reasons—I try to create a space that offers restfulness with something lovely to light my eyes upon. It helps me to get on with things if I can carry something beautiful in my heart. Which often means that I do close-ups in my mind, and here on my blog, of what is still lovely in some way. I tend not to offer the wide angle lens panorama, but search for what adds colour, interest, and gracefulness in the more intimate setting. And to give you, when you visit, a little respite in an upside down world. Kind of like in the mindset of the unknown author in this little verse:

I will always search for the ray of sunshine,

the lone wildflower,

the singing birds,

the brightest star,

and every other little piece of hope.

UNKNOWN

❦

Wishing you a weekend that's lovely—with as few

thorns as possible and with little pieces of hope to keep you going,

Brenda

Photo credits:

Brenda Leyland @ It's A Beautiful Life

"My Mom's Peace Rose"

Autumn blogging schedule:

I post on Fridays