Restless ramblings

An incredibly cliche-sounding title, I know. But that is what this post is. Exactly what this post is. I didn't really sleep last night, and I'm not worth anything when I don't sleep. I can't concentrate on anything, I'm antsy and sluggish at the same time, and I usually have a magnificent headache to go along with it. Today has been exactly like that. I didn't go and take class (my daily ballet class), because the headache was all pervading and I knew I wouldn't be able to work well. I'm feeling better now, thanks to lounging, a shower, cocoa, and lots of ibuprofen. I'm also listening to Pandora, and that always makes me happy (I ADORE Pandora. Today I've been alternating between Bing Crosby radio and Classic Christmas).

This month is going to be insanely busy. Company auditions start in January, and I have to get my resume and photos and DVDs of performance work off by the first of the year. I'm still researching companies and putting together the resume, and figuring out which pictures to include. I'm a little freaked about the getting-into-shape bit; I have been sick for the last 6 weeks and I'm going to have to really build my strength back up. I want to scream and throw up and jump up and down whenever I think of auditions.

I'm trying to make most of my Christmas gifts this year, either knitting or crocheting or jewelry or baking. I have a lot to do in only a few short weeks! I might post pictures of some of my projects, but only if I'm sure the recipients won't see them.

It's getting cold, and the flies are coming inside to escape the frost. I do not like it when there are 8 flies flying around my room. I am getting quite good at getting them with a rolled up Pointe magazine (which is an excellent fly-swatter. The Smithsonian is good too, as well as Lands End and LL Bean). I do admit to feeling slight pangs of remorse when they drop, though. I was watching one on the empty pew in front of me yesterday in church. It was rubbing it's front legs together as they all do, when suddenly it turned it's head and rubbed it like a cat does! I have to admit, it was cute. It was. It reminded me of a little old woman with big spectacles wringing her hands together. But when it started to scoot around and buzz again, I couldn't stand it, so I touched the pew with my foot. It felt the tremor and flew off to annoy someone else.

I have lots of other things I'd like to blog about, but they can wait. I'm getting stiff, and my hands are freezing. So tootle pip for now.

The beginning of Advent

I have discovered that I have less time to blog than I thought I would. You see, I didn't factor in the thinking time (I never do). But I am resolved to be better. And to prove it, I'm going to share a poem for each day of advent. My reasons are plenty, but the greatest are these: That I really want to share them, and that in the sharing I might have greater pleasure and better understanding.
I have a beautiful little book that is called "The Cloud of Witness". It was written and assembled by the Hon. Mrs. Edith Gell. My edition is green with gold inlay, and it was published in Great Britain in 1935 (I mentioned that 'specially because I have a passion for old books but I will not go into all that now). The title page is printed in black and red ink. Across from the title is a picture of Jesus with a lantern, and the script around it says "That was the True Light. He that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness.". There is a page for each day 0f the year (following the Christian seasons), and each day you read scripture and poems. So if I can possibly manage it, I will write down here my favorite poem of the day, every day until Christmas. I will post pictures of my book when I can. Today I must start with three poems because I missed yesterday and the day before.

The first week in Advent, God with us.

A Prayer for the Week

Thy Kingdom come, O Lord;
Thy reign, O Christ, begin!

Advent Eve

It may be in the evening,
When the work of the day is done,
And you have time to sit in the twilight,
And watch the sinking sun,
While the long day dies slowly
Over the sea,
And the hour grows quiet and holy
With thoughts of Me;
While you hear the village children
Passing along the street-
Among those thronging footsteps
May come the sound of My feet.
Therefore I tell you, Watch!
By the light of the evening star
When the room is growing dusky,
As the clouds afar,
Let the door be on the latch
In your home,
For it may be through the gloaming
I will come. B. M.

Advent Sunday

Thou art coming, Oh my Saviour!
Thou art coming, Oh my King!
In Thy beauty all resplendent,
In Thy glory all transcendent;
Well may we rejoice and sing!
Coming! in the opening east
Herald brightness slowly swells,
Coming! O my glorious Priest,
Hear we not Thy golden bells? F. R. Havergal

Monday

Faithful soul, prepare thy heart for this Bridegroom, that He may vouchsafe to come unto thee, and to dwell within thee.
Thomas A Kempis




P. S.

"The Cloud of Witness" is not to be confused with "Clouds of Witness", one of the fabulous Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries by Dorthy Sayers . I also recommend it highly.



Peace and love for the coming season!!

Thanksgiving preparations

Happy Thanksgiving! I'm in the midst of baking pies and potatoes, and mom has set out the cornucopia o'er flowing with fruits and vegetables and nuts. Something I didn't know about the cornucopia, or horn of plenty: it is a symbol of food and abundance dating back to the 5th century BC! It came from Greek mythology. I looked it up because I knew it has become a symbol of our ancestor's thanksgiving for God's blessings, but I didn't know if that was the origin of it or not. Now I do! Very interesting. I love Thanksgiving. I'm rather glad that it hasn't really become a huge commercial holiday, even though it deserves to be one. I hate that it is sometimes called "Turkey day", but what can you do. Everything has to be PC nowadays. It's a shame, but at least we have the choice not to fall into the same rut. A friend said "Have a happy turkey day" to me, and I corrected them. What makes me laugh is that last week there where 5 houses with Christmas lights up on my street. The week before Thanksgiving! Talk about premature. I have been starting to look into Christmas carols, myself. But I have an excuse: I'm practicing for a friends and family performance. I've been singing Thanksgiving hymns too, though. We have two we always sing, and they are dear to me.

Come, ye thankful people, come

Come, ye thankful people, come, raise the song of harvest home;
All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin.
God our Maker doth provide for our wants to be supplied;
Come to God’s own temple, come, raise the song of harvest home.

All the world is God’s own field, fruit unto His praise to yield;
Wheat and tares together sown unto joy or sorrow grown.
First the blade and then the ear, then the full corn shall appear;
Lord of harvest, grant that we wholesome grain and pure may be.

For the Lord our God shall come, and shall take His harvest home;
From His field shall in that day all offenses purge away,
Giving angels charge at last in the fire the tares to cast;
But the fruitful ears to store in His garner evermore.

Even so, Lord, quickly come, bring Thy final harvest home;
Gather Thou Thy people in, free from sorrow, free from sin,
There, forever purified, in Thy garner to abide;
Come, with all Thine angels come, raise the glorious harvest home.


We gather together

We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;
He chastens and hastens His will to make known.
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing.
Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.

Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,
Ordaining, maintaining His kingdom divine;
So from the beginning the fight we were winning;
Thou, Lord, were at our side, all glory be Thine!

We all do extol Thee, Thou Leader triumphant,
And pray that Thou still our Defender will be.
Let Thy congregation escape tribulation;
Thy Name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!

Dusk in the dell

Last night my mother asked me if I wanted to go out painting with her, as it would be good for me to get some fresh air. I expressed an inclination to do so, so she packed her paints and I my trusty book. We set off, stopping by the store for ammunition (cashews for her, pistachios for me, dark chocolate kisses for both of us), and drove 10 minutes to our destination: a magnificent cow pasture. There are rolling hills with blankets of trees and soft grasses draped over them, and a small river roiling its way over rocks and waterfalls and around little islands with hardy little sycamores wetting their feet in the foam. I was intending to stay in the car and read, but when I saw the beauty of the descending dusk, nothing could have made me stay in the car.

I grabbed a big coat and my mother's camera and fortified my pockets with chocolate for warmth. I ran down the hill into the meadow, disregarding both the cow pies and my aching lungs. I looked around rapturously at the landscape, and I greedily breathed the spicy cold air colored with a hint of frost. I wandered around taking pictures till darkness came, happily ignoring my freezing face and hands. The woods were dark except for the pale shining limbs of the sycamores and the glowing red of the last-turning oaks. Everything was tinged a slight reddish gold; the sun had just set. I couldn't portray that on film, and it took me about 10 takes to get a decent picture of anything on account of the fading light.

It was actually a lot lighter out than this picture portrays, but you know how fussy cameras are. The cows were grazing quietly on the hillside, slowly wending their way back home for the night.

A beautiful little trail... you can't see the depth and faery-like quality of it here.

Branch lace in the sky.

The trees were reaching their arms towards the last glimmers of sunlight.


A little old man-tree caught my hair in his gnarled fingers, and when I turned around in fright, he smiled benignly at me as if to say, "I mean you no harm, my dear!".
The leaves curled themselves up to protect themselves from the cold wind.

I wish you could see the warmth of the colors, but I just couldn't capture it.


The last nightshade berries glowed in the dull grass, and reminded me of the time I used to pick them and pretend they were little tomatoes (though I never ate them of course; they are quite poisonous).
I simply could not get the water into focus. I took about 30 pictures of the stream, but this is the clearest of the lot.



I'm including this for fun. The cows who live on these acres do not know how lucky they are to have such a wonderful place to roam.


My mother painting. She wears an old blue coverall for warmth; I can't remember her ever painting in the winter without it. At her feet is our beloved watch dog (I should say one of our beloved dogs, for we have two). She has a good intimidating bark, but nothing in the world will make her bite someone. She has never growled in her life.


Don't you wish you had gone with me?

They seek him here, they seek him there...

I must confess that I have had a bit of a Scarlet Pimpernel obsession lately. I reread it, and so reminded myself how much I love it. My Mother went to the library and checked out the 1982 tv version of the tale with Anthony Andrews, Jane Seymour, and Ian Mckellen as Sir Percy Blakeney, Lady Marguerite Blakeney, and Chauvelin, respectively.

Anthony Andrews was good, but a little over the top as Sir Percy. But he was funny, and did well with the material he was given. Jane Seymour was pretty, but too made up and the wigs were dreadful (it was the 80s after all). She couldn't act either. Ian Mckellen was good and creepy. So overall it was a nice movie, but it definitely wasn't the Scarlet Pimpernel. Definitely not.
So then Father insists that we watch the 1934 version with Leslie Howard and Merle Oberon. Five minutes into it I am in love.
Leslie Howard is THE Scarlet Pimpernel. He is Sir Percy Blakeney. The movie overall is wonderful, and while it doesn't follow the book completely (though it does a good bit), it gets the spirit and soul of it, which is most important. Film adaptations, in my mind, rarely do this. Though I do wish they had put a little bit more danger into the movie, because the end of the book is so exciting. Merle Oberon as Lady Blakeney was good, but didn't quite capture the role. I don't think she displayed enough emotion and love at the end, and she didn't seem nearly tortured enough when Chauvelin made her choose between her brother and the Scarlet Pimpernel. Chauvelin, played by Raymond Massey, was excellent. Quite creepy. The whole movie was superb, and there wasn't that element of ridiculousness and the playtime feel in it, as in the other version. Movies aren't good in that way anymore. And there aren't actors like that anymore. There just simply aren't. Unless they are older, and from a different generation.

Since I was so enamored of Leslie Howard, I went and watched Pygmalion (1938). Ah the acting. So very, very good. He is delightful as Henry Higgins. I am now officially in love with him. It's too bad he's dead. If he wasn't I'd marry him. I would marry Sir Laurence Olivier too if he were alive. I've been in love with him for simply years.

Both of them were amazing actors, incredibly handsome men, and, dare I say it? Absolutely adorable.

And I do love it when Sir Percy says, "odds fish" or "sink me".



For fellow fans: www.blakeneymanor.com/

A beautiful day continued

I am sure that someone lives in this wonderful stump... I wish I was small enough to live there too!
Both the poison ivy (above) and the English ivy (below) looked quite pretty in their fall colors.

Little Brother was thoroughly enjoying the day!


We stopped to take a look at what I thought was just an abandoned and dewy spiderweb. I didn't find out until I had actually seen the picture that it was, in fact, still occupied!

A beautiful day

It was such a beautiful day today! The sky was blue, the air was crisp, and the colors were dazzling, though unfortunately the ground was damp owing to all the rain we've had. I haven't really been outside since I've been sick; I feel better, though I still have a magnificent bass cough, and get tired and out of breath after physical exertion (like fetching the mail). But I ventured out, accompanied by mom's camera and Little Brother, to breathe the fresh air and to try and capture on film some of the beauty I had seen while looking out the windows.

There were still some leftover berries on the crab apple tree; I tried to capture how pretty they looked against the sky. I didn't really, but you can sort of see it.

Halloween

Halloween was last Saturday, and since I am long past the age of trick-or-treating, I sewed the costumes for Little Brother, and got to watch him enjoy the heck out of the holiday (as I used to). He wanted to be a bat. I've never seen a bat that's black, but using his black shirt and pants and my beanie was sure easier than having to go buy brown ones. Mom and I made the wings out of wire coat hangers and the lining of an old coat. There were going to be ears, but I ran out of time.


This year was a bit different, since usually I and some of my dearest friends celebrate All Hallows Eve with a medieval or renaissance feast. Because I was sick we had to postpone it, but hopefully we will be able to do it soon.

Autumn

It is Autumn now, and I go into raptures every day as I see all the brilliant gold and red leaves on all the trees, and the mists on the fields in the mornings. Fall is my favorite season (besides Spring), and in honor of it I am going to share some of my favorite fall pictures. I have to get a new camera; my old one died, and I need one since I love taking pictures of all I see. But I'll have to be content with other people's pictures until I can post my own (they are much better than mine anyhow).




This last picture could have been taken in the woods here where I live. It looks very like where my mother paints a good deal: a place called Henderson Swamp.

Mice

We always seem to have mice problems in the fall. We have an old house, so it is expected, I guess. Last night they were playing hide and squeak in my wall. They were scurrying here, and scurrying there, and I'm sure they were having an absolutely wonderful time. One gave me rather a start a few weeks ago. It was still dark when I got up to go to work, and as soon as I turned on the light the little brown creature ran across my foot (don't they always seem to do that in the stories?). I shrieked, the mouse shrieked, I jumped up onto my bed, and the mouse ran under my couch. I told my parents that I did not scream for fright of the mouse, but for the fright of seeing the mouse. And I'm sure it explained the same thing to its.

My first post

Greetings, friends!

Two months ago I decided to start this blog. About 300 potential blog-names later, I settled on "Dancing down the Withywindle" (I was reading Tolkien poems for inspiration). At some point I'll have to share some of the other name ideas just for fun.

I am a ballet dancer transitioning from student to professional. I probably won't post much about all that, but just in case I do, that is my current status. I created this blog so that I could have a place to share my thoughts, inspirations, ideas, and whatever comes into my head. My interests are very varied and my thoughts rambly. I can't really tell what this blog is going to be about, because I don't know myself! But the model for it is Lothlorien, which in my imagination is a place where one can go for peace, to remember times past, and to preserve the present. So that is what I'm going for here.