After The Long Hiatus, Unplanned, A Recap.

First things first, dear readers, a Happy New Year to you one and all. I do hope the holiday brought good cheer and festive shenanigans, with lots of jovial folk around you!

Ours was lovely, with lots of walks and baking and visiting and do-nothing days. We've sadly had no snow so far this year, although last years white Christmas was a spectacular anomaly, and we do hope we get some yet.

And so, a quick recap of the season's festivities in the Milkmoon household:

Walking the Solstice Spiral in school.

Christmas Eve in our kitchen.

St. Stephen's Day walk.

Out Walking.

My MIL's Christmas tree.

Visiting Family, Friends, Neighbours.

Every good wish to you all, dear friends, for bountiful blessings,

both big and small, for the coming year.

May you be surrounded by lots and lots of love and happiness.

A Wander Off The Beaten Track.

Oh hello!

Did I fall asleep? Did I fall into some other place where the sun shines?

I may have, I am not sure.

It was, I think, a place where we spend our days a~wandering in the forest, kicking up leaves, traipsing through mud, the heady scent of loamy soil, of humus and decay filling the air around us,

seeping into our bones like some restorative tonic.

I must have closed my eyes for a moment. 

Sunlight glows behind my eyelids, a dappled green light, a quietening blush.

And there in the stillness, there, do you hear? 

The quivering trees, stirring the air as they nod and murmur,

whispering in your ear.

The muffled footfalls of small people running through the woods, voices calling to one another.

The rush of water over stone.

Which one is life's most satisfying sound?

Yes, I did, I crept away from it all, I stopped in the woods awhile and found this place that is quiet and still and does not require me to do anything, or be anything other than quiet and still. Time away from blogging and writing and being right out there in the online world. And I admit I am reluctant to leave this place, to return to all that I have created for myself in the world that exists through this magic looking glass that is my computer.

 I find I want to read books again, to walk in the woods and swim in the sea, to meet with friends and chat and ask them how they are. To watch a film and actually sit on a couch for a change! Oh! To sit by the fire and sew again, to read and hang out. Does anyone else feel like this?

It's time to pause, no, to stop.

I am not going away, not yet, no.
But there is a lot I need to think about and plan and do.

Other things.

It won't be long.

I'm just going to close my eyes for a minute, the sun is lovely......

Where Ghosts Wander In The Trees.

For days now the rain clung to the mountains, a distant threat, a pale swathe that seemed to embrace them, draw them away from us. And each day we watched, waiting, but still they held.

And so we took ourselves off, running out into the afternoon sun, the day as muggy as high summer. We took ourselves up a winding, tree-lined road to a familiar place where ghosts sigh and murmur amidst the beech trees, and a happiness seems to linger.

There amongst the green the children ran and ran and ran, excitedly calling to one another, small hands busy finding treasure in the humus and leaves, their voices echoing off the trees, bouncing through the leaves.

And there in the virescent light a stillness found us, as though we sank into a verdurous pool of that magic that is leaf-sunlight, our thoughts straying to those lingering ghosts that dwell among these trees, and a silence fell over us for the briefest of times.

In the end the rain found it's way down the mountains, and today we awoke to a slow smothering of moisture that soaked and sank in to the earth, our clothes, our skin, filling the air with moisture, like a silvery haze. All day.
Finally.

Wordless Wednesday: Brothers.

Something In The Air.

Although the cold has not given up the ghost, creeping as it does around the edges of our recent days, still we are warmed by the defiant sun that holds on to more and more minutes of each passing day like a champion.

We are back to school now and enjoying the brighter mornings, the lingering evenings. Grabbing time outdoors whenever we can. Taking deep lungfulls of Spring, offering our skin to the warming air in tiny increments, willing the sun to find us.
And find us it does, most days.

There is an air of busyness about town, found in the flurries and flocks of birds that climb the sky above our heads, wheeling in joyful dedication, thrilled even more than we are to see the returning light.

And we cannot help ourselves: in our hearts we are soaring with them!

This morning, a crowd of curlews chased one another above the marsh, calling and keening, their wings pale against the dark of the evergreen trees beyond, catching the sunlight and holding on to it for us.

We are climbing up out of the winter circle, out of the slumbering earth.

Breaking forth.

~*~

Today I am grateful to have both Jay and my parents home safely at last.

Gratitude: The Quality Of Being Thank-Full.

What is it that happens to us when Spring arrives? What is it? Does our heart stretch out it's tender wings, flutter them tentatively in the warming air, do we pause and take a breath? Do we raise our heads in wonder, suddenly aware that Winter's teeth no longer snap at our heels?

We have had a busy, muddy week of no Jay, no school and lots of friends. Wonderful, thoughtful friends, who took us up mountains and on adventures, took us into their homes and fed us, (even though it sometimes feels to me that we arrive like an small invading country!), aware of our lack of Jay again and eager to be of help, dear ones that they are.

And although the first few days of the midterm break were soggy downpour sorts of days, all we really noticed were the carpet of purple crocuses in a corner of the garden, the sudden green tips on the rosebushes outside the open window that seemed to nod in a giddy, skittish way at us, and most of all the air and the light! Oh most wondrous light!

We spent our days traipsing and tramping, splashing through mud and puddles, or gathered around tables and sharing food together. We laughed and talked and deepened our bonds. And I watched, my heart swelling with quiet joy, as our dearlings, both big and small, forged their own, without knowing and without pretense. Their openhearted offerings of friendship to one another a reassuring inspiration.

Lately I find myself thinking about gratitude, thinking about the act of thankfulness and how it is manifested each day in our lives, or not. Of how we need to remind ourselves to be grateful, to be Full of Thanks, and that really, to live a life that embodies this would be a life truly worth living. It is an attainment I hope for and aim for, and need daily reminders for.
I no longer sit and meditate. I haven't for years. The daily rush of family life took over and it slipped quietly away. But in recent years I found a new way, a way that fit into the little slivers of time I found. Living each day with a knowledge that I would be writing about it here, on Milkmoon, has created a little sitting buddha in my head, a mindfully aware little buddha who gently prods me, reminds me to pause and take note. To be thankful. Even when, like any practice, it is a struggle, as it has been of late.

But then you, dear readers, in your own way, you are reminding me too. We are all prompting and prodding one another each day when we blog, sharing our individual moments of gratitude, putting it out there. And just today I read dear Rima's latest post which is on this very subject, which left me wondering just what this blogging we are all doing is creating for the future? An exciting and blog-affirming thought!

And so, this sunny morning I sit at my table with a pot of coffee, the window open, the quiet house just beginning to stir, and I think back through my week and how this little family's thread danced and crisscrossed and wove with so many others, and how the threads here in the Forest of Blog also weave together into another, different layer in my life, and how both will continue to do so, on and on and on, into who knows where.
And I am filled with gratitude, and a renewed sense of purpose.

Thank You.

Blackberry Crimes and Dandelion Songs.

I thought I would share something a little bit different with you here this evening.
I used to have another blog that I shared with a friend, a blog that fell by the wayside quite some time ago, but one that had some lovely things on it. So I have decided over the next few months to share some seasonal posts from it with you here. I hope you like them.

But first, a little about the blog:
"We are two mothers who want our children to know what childhood was like. Before Nintendos, before computers. Before fear of freedom. What it was like for us, and for our mothers, and their mothers. We want them to know adventure, to know play, to know the world. And not the controlled, organised world that modern mothers seem to think they are tied to, but the real, natural world that is here on our doorstep. Come and join us on an adventure in childhood."

This first post is one that I expect will resonate with some of you. And I would dearly love to hear similar tales of what sort of games you played as a child!

~*~

Autumn has come around again, and it's time for 'Conkers'! This is a game that has been around for generations and is very simple and satisfying to play. 

First of all, unless you are lucky enough to have a horse-chestnut tree in your garden, a walk in the woodlands is essential. So on a crisp morning off we go hunting in the woods.

You'll often find the biggest and best chestnuts are the ones still in the shells.

If you do find one, standing on it is usually enough to open it and you can peel it back to uncover the shiny treasure inside.

We usually fill a bag or basket as there are lots of other things you can do with them, as we will show you later.

When you get home, the first thing to do is to bore a hole through the fresh chestnut or conker. Please make sure an adult does this bit! It needs to be a fresh one as a seasoned one would be very difficult.

Then if you have an old shoe-lace, or if not, a piece of string, about half a metre long, on a darning needle, you can thread it through. Again, best if an adult does this bit.

Tie a knot at one end and wrap about half of the string around your hand, with the conker hanging at the end.

The idea of the game is to smash as many conkers as possible. Your opponent holds out his piece of string on which he has his conker. To get a good hard hit, hold the string in your strong hand and pull it out tight, holding the conker between two fingers. Take aim, then take a shot at hitting it off your opponents conker.

You can take turns, or allow three tries each before swapping over, playing until one of them is smashed or disintegrates. If you manage to smash his with your own then your chestnut is called a conker (conqueror). Although over the years, all chestnuts have become known as conkers!

Traditionally, there were little rhymes you would say, for example, if you want to get the first hit when you see your friend with his conker you would say,

"Hick, hack,first crack!"

or

"Obbly, obbly, onker, my first conker!"

You would also give your winning conker a name which depended on how many other conkers it had destroyed. For example a 'Twoer', or a 'Fiver' adding them up as you beat each one. And a real winner would often be held over until the following year, when it was well seasoned and would beat all, hands down!

But best of all, conkers make the most lovely of Autumn wreaths!