~~~~~ The Journey of the Magi by James Tissot 1894 ~~~~
There has been only one Christmas - the rest are anniversaries. ~W.J. Cameron
May Peace be your gift at Christmas and your blessing all year through! ~Author Unknown
Peace to all who read this and thank you for continuing with me throughout this somewhat chaotic year.
The patient is taking it easy, needing occasional reminders to not take the stairs two at a time and only having to be dragged from the workshop once ;◦) Although this has not been our first experience of cardiac crisis (in 1994 M had an Angioplasty), we certainly hope and pray it will be the last. To this end, we have wound down the work a bit and adjusted diet and exercise once again and I was shocked to see how far away from the old guidelines we had strayed.
Living out here we should have slowed down a lot, but like workaholics everywhere, we dived right in concentrating on opening the shop, setting up the carpentry workshop, trying to manage Internet sales, all spare time spent finding interesting stock. Since last Friday when time stood still, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about quality of life; old wisdoms that previous generations lived by; the worsening economy, the lack of time, the erasure of basic survival skills (like being able to cook wholesome food) and above all, the lack of joy in our daily lives. Some of the new links lead to web pages written by women who have found a quieter, more considered way of life and found great satisfaction along with it. And I suppose this means that I’m still on a journey, albeit a detour on the way as the destination shifts and changes. A destination glimpsed now and again…the oasis through the sandstorm…
Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops... at all.
~Emily Dickinson
The pain is getting worse, he can’t talk, just concentrating on every bend of this road we now know so well, thirty minutes might as well be three hundred minutes, who knew the road was so long, but we make it. At the surgery, oxygen mask on, drugs are given, needles put in, and ECG read, the ambulance comes, more drugs and finally the pain is down enough to move him – the paramedics strap him in, I climb in beside him and we’re off on the long, winding, single track road to the nearest town to what our paramedics call a cottage hospital. When did this road get so long, so bumpy? The paramedic is great, making sure M’s stable and quietly (calmly) chatting to us both about everyday things all the while keeping an eagle eye on the machines monitoring blood pressure and heart rate, but the oxygen and the drugs are doing the work and the pain is manageable now. Into Emergency at the hospital but they won’t keep him; another ambulance is summoned and we’re off to the ferry across the Clyde to the big hospital. Four hours after the first phone call, my precious husband is finally admitted to the intensive cardiac care unit…
Hours later I’m in a taxi racing to catch the last ferry back. M is in a small ward with professionals at beck and call, resting and mercifully stable. Three hours later, (12.35am) when I finally get home and call the ward, he’s sleeping…
Lives are changed; turned around, lost in a heartbeat…I’m so grateful mine remains much the same. Oh, there will be changes to be sure…but nothing we can’t handle because we’ll be changing together…
So much to be grateful for...
Summer 2008…in this northern hemisphere, a season of contrasts, brilliant sunshine, sparkling water, people everywhere. Days so busy we work ‘til we’re dropping – bake, clean, serve, smile – rinse, repeat. Amazing how this tiny patch of Scotland attracts visitors from all over, American, Canadian, Dutch, French, German, South African…and of course the Scots themselves, all out and about, sharing in this special summer magic. Never too hot in the glorious sun, a breeze off the sparkling water and so they come in cars and boats, on motorcycles and bicycles, on foot, mostly on holiday, mostly happy!
But these sunny days are special, above all rare, leaving us greedy for more; for every day of sunshine, a little rain must fall and fall it does. Precipitation here is a creative concept – how many ways does water have to fall? Come to the Highlands to find out. There are the heavy, straight-down downpours of a summer storm, the gossamer drizzle of low-lying clouds, the gentle, steady rain that settles in for days and many combinations in between. The quieter pace of wet weather has a profound impact on the amount of traffic we see in our little shop where six friendly folk can have cappuccinos in cosy comfort but seven is a crowd.
~ The first day open ... third of March and all snowed up ~
~~Major cleanup work done -just painting & decorating to go.~~
~~~~~~~~~~ Almost there - Still too empty! ~~~~~~~~~~
For the friends and family who justifiably think we’ve dropped out completely and for those of you who may still wander by, I’m going to chronicle the process with some pictures ‘cause you know they’re worth a thousand words.
~~~~~~~~~~~ Starting to look like something? ~~~~~~~~~~
They met at a wedding, both had sisters who were bridesmaids, and they had travelled from the small farming communities of Paarl and Willowmore to be there. The place: A society wedding in the diamond boomtown of Kimberly, Cape Province in the Union of South Africa. The time: sometime in those halcyon days between the end of Second Boer War and the outbreak of World War I.
Willowmore and Paarl were at opposite ends of the Cape Province and had it not been for the wedding, these young people may never have met. Her father was a wine farmer in Paarl and his family had a department store in Willowmore and the two towns were several hundred miles apart. That early meeting blossomed into love and they became engaged, not realising that events taking place in far-off Europe would soon force them apart.
The outbreak of WWI in Europe meant young men all over the British Empire were enlisting; he joined the RAF (Royal Air Force) in England and served as a fighter pilot until the end of the war. Years later when the war ended and he returned to South Africa, she was waiting for him and they were married.
Winter arrived on the weekend after all the mildly cold and somewhat gentle seasonal weather that we have been having; for a Scottish winter it has been positively bland! The ominous warnings began on the thirtieth, my birthday, when neighbours dropping in asked if we were ready for the weekend and hadn’t we heard there was SNOW on the way. Having not heard anything and thinking that perhaps this was a bit of over-enthusiasm for some real winter weather, we didn’t pay too much attention. The first warning that perhaps we should have listened a bit better, was the sound of heavy winds growling 'round the house Thursday night!
Friday I tried to get a quick post written in between other work as I waited for the telephone engineer, the tree felling guy, the landlord and M to sort out our broken telephone/Internet connection. Well, we all know where I got with that! I'm still trying to catch up with my list of "To do's" and here it is Tuesday already and this is my first post for February…pictures of snow. It didn’t stick around for long; rain later in the day ensured that the hills were back to normal by nightfall.
Two, possibly three, broken ribs and some impressive bruising later, we are counting ourselves fortunate that it wasn’t worse. M had an array of tools in the pockets of his jacket that could have caused some nasty wounds…that screwdriver alone, for one!
