A Few of My Favorite Things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

Somehow it's easy to think these phrases trite. The Sound of Music is a darling movie, and Julie Andrews seems like Mary Poppins in real life. (I think Christopher Plummer said working with her was like getting hit over the head with a valentine.) But I think it behooves us to think twice about the story, and the times, and the reality. And remember just how many reasons those children, some on the cusp of maturity, some still small, had to need their spirits lifted. War, and loss, and change, and grief. Sometimes it comes across as fear of thunder or the dark, but we all know how those are often lumped together with loneliness and uncertainty; with a longing to be loved, and to belong.

Brown paper packages tied up with string

It may be a musical, and a little heavy on the singing-through-meadows. But the principal is the same as I speak of so often here. Whatever you choose to call it: working on your "pile of good things", counting your blessings, a thousand gifts, a few of your favorite things, or these I have loved. 

Silver white winters that melt into springs

We close our eyes and remember beauty, and what we hold dear, and the things unseen.

Wild geese that fly with a moon on their wings

There may be a lot of ugliness to be seen these days. Even when I look inside. But I will declare, when I don't feel it: glory is coming, hope is real, God is good, and He will never leave me alone. 

And Maple trees are magic

White roses with eucalyptus is breathtaking 

Baths are soothing

Soup is cozy

And I will share with you some Favorite Things that I've been collecting. Even some that I'm not in the right mood for at the moment, but have given me great joy in recent past. I hope you find things to add to your collection.

 - Madam Will You Talk?

This is a delightful read, would be a splendid audiobook, and BBC even did a radio dramatization of it, (but I don't think that's still available). Mary Stewart is in class by herself in terms of setting, subtle mystery and intrigue, and tasteful romance. She would be classed as mid-century middle-brow, I believe, but gets full marks from me on quality, writing, and atmosphere. You'll see many of her books in my reading piles, both new and as yearly rereads.

 - Vintage Lofi

I'll bet you didn't even know that was a thing, but it is my new favorite subgenre. Classic, vintage, jazzy tunes, as Lofi remixes. Can you get a genre more me? I think not. I commend it to the house.

 - My Birthday Party

The 26th birthday party I threw for myself was crazy memorable and all kinds of fun. And it was captured brilliantly by my brother Will. Check out his youtube too, it's very cool.

 - An Oldie but Goodie

For just a little faith in humanity, something good in this technological age, a bit of a throwback, and some laughter thrown in... Carpool Karaoke with Paul McCartney is just what the doctor ordered.

 - Rivendell

Some ambience to soothe the soul. "Whether you liked food or sleep or story-telling or singing (or reading), or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Merely to be there was a cure for weariness. ... Evil things did not come into the secret valley of Rivendell."

See you again soon. Let me know what's bringing you joy this week. Get some more people in your canoe when the going gets heavy, that's what I'm doing.

Something to hold onto

This week I have greatly needed the reminder of these I have loved, the need to bolster myself with beauty. My walk at dusk this evening was just such. Although the air was close and mostly warm, it had remained cloudy and misty all day. Not enough so you couldn't see the city skyline, just enough to turn everything grey. And I must admit, I loved it. I hope there are many more such murky and hopeful days. I don't know if it's the essence of Jane Eyre, but I always find it stimulating to the mind and fortitude, this greyness. Autumn seems always to be about to astonish me with beauty. 

There are, of course, carpets of crimson maple leaves, and trees burnt golden brown. Avenues of red and gold, and sumac turned scarlet. But what caught my attention so poignantly to make me decide on the walk, was simply a long line of geese crossing a plain grey sky. It was as if I could see the whole world made right again, in that bit of artistry. And again, down by the river, there was just as much magic in the fog horns and train blasts and the industrial buildings smoking into the mist, as in the changing colors climbing up the river valley opposite. 

I would perhaps have enjoyed a skirt on such a day as this. One wanted to wrap a cloak tighter round, and let your hair be blown by the wind. I did in fact turn on Liz on top of the World. Something about this stage of Autumn that is causing me to appreciate Jane Austen again. I always respect her, but I am not always in the mood for her. And yet, there are times, when only her witty, intelligent, and thoughtful heroines will do.

Best of all, as I neared the end of the bridge, and crossed the damp pavement to ascend on the other side, a soft misting rain began. And when I looked up, the street-lamps were aglow, round and welcoming, lending untold atmosphere. Below, the river wound sullen and dangerous. But I was above, and the air and color and movement around me, lifted my spirits in just the way I sorely needed.

This is a hard year, and it comes in waves. There is a great deal of sorrow, and weight. There is much to unravel, to pray over, to figure out, and to let go of. Enough uncertainty to tear away at us, daily. And yet I feel, if I could regularly encounter the serenity and solace I found in the beauty of my walk today, everything would indeed be alright. And I would be content.

And so I will remember 

to take walks at sunset

to sip coffee while watching the sun rise

 to not always let sleep be a chore. so that I might revel in the stars and crickets. in quiet contemplation

 fresh clean sheets

new leaves on my ivy plant

thunderstorms and wet-pavement mornings

double chocolate cupcakes

toast and tomato juice

exemplary picture books

vanilla dancing in French Toast milk

wine night with Amy

Georgette Heyer

babies asleep on your chest 

Sam Gamgee

"I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.”