December 007 -- Silent Night

December. What does one write about this last and, in a way, greatest of months?

This is the chapel in Frankenmuth, Michigan, dedicated to the hymn, "Silent Night". It is an exact replica of the chapel in which the hymn was first sung, that Christmas Eve so long ago.

Silent night. I've been thinking a lot about silence, lately. It seems that a number of things I've picked up to read, and a number of sermons and meditations recently have been about silence, and the lack of it in the modern world.

Everywhere we go, there is the blare of television, stereos, cell phones and loud conversations of private nature in public places. Especially in December. Already several weeks have been spent hearing the constant pitch of advertisements practically shoving us into buying, buying, buying. This will be the perfect Christmas, we are told, if only we buy the right necklace or Ipod or cellphone or SUV. The more money spent, the more perfect the Christmas, or so the story goes. And the chaos in our ears and mind and soul goes on. Christmas carols and movies, some sacred, some stupid, even some profane, assault our eyes and ears constantly. And it goes on and on, building to a fever pitch that culminates on December 25th. Then what? The very next day the trees are thrown out on the street, the decorations are turned off or taken down, and there is nary a Christmas carol to be heard anywhere.

This is not the true Christian (Catholic) tradition, although you have to look to find the real Advent being kept. The last few weeks of Advent are meant to be a time of silence, of waiting, perhaps even of fasting and extra prayer, all preparing for the true feast which begins tonight. A time of silence...

Each Advent I do my best to follow the true meaning of the season. Yes, we decorate about halfway through December, and I certainly enjoy my Christmas movies (classics all) and CD's. I enjoy seeing the lights go up on houses around the neighborhood, although I've noticed that this year there are a lot less. But I do not enjoy the constant bombardment of material promises for a wonderful season, as though that were all there were to life. I lost my sense of Christmas as a time for material gain a long time ago. Instead each December I have sought the spiritual, and each year I have not been disappointed.

Silent night. Our pastor tells us that Christmas and Christ must be found in the silence, that only in silence can we hear His voice, only in silence can we find our true selves, strength, wisdom, and the center of ourselves. Silence has always been important to me. In my evening walks with Buddy, in hiking by myself at the Canyon, in finding places in nature to be silent and meditate, I find my strength, my center, my peace.

Silent night. May the world one day find silence, and wisdom, and peace; the ever-renewing gifts of the Christ Child. Then all will be calm, all will be bright. Sleep tonight, world, in heavenly peace.

November 007

(Ooops. Almost missed it.)

This November is going out wet and windy. Even Buddy, who wants to go for a walk even if it is pouring, couldn't wait to get home from our daily mile last night.

What is November?

It is picking up candy wrappers for the first week of the month from all the Halloween candy.

It is going to the grocery at 9:00 pm to miss the crowds shopping for the Thanksgiving meal.

It is wearing hand knit socks in the evening because at least then it's getting cool enough.

It is watching the line of autumn colored trees work its' way down the mountains until the valley trees start changing color as well.

It is watching the dog's fur fluff out in the rain and humidity.

It is winterizing the cooler and getting the furnace ready to go on.

It is Nana's birthday again.

It is bare trees against a cloudy gray rainy sky.

It is ripping my hair out again in the annual frenzy of "Why did I wait so long again to start Christmas shopping/knitting?'"

October 007

October has to be my favorite month of the year. While I love color in all it's many expressions throughout the year, the yellows, oranges, reds and greens of October truly can make my heart stand still.

Heaven, to me, is colored in autumn.

For quite a while, when I was quilting, I was collecting all the autumn and leaf print fabrics I could find, as well as any patterns with leaves or fall themes. Someday I will get back to quilting, and I will stitch the leafy autumn quilts and pillows I still dream of.

September 007

September has always brought with it a sense of harvest, of gathering in. It is the beginning of fall, which is my favorite season. I didn't take the name Pumpkinknitter for this blog for any other reason. Although I love my home in Arizona, this is the time of year when I start to become homesick for autumn in Michigan and any other place where the leaves change color and the air becomes crisp and cold. But even here in the high desert I can set an autumn table for a family Sunday dinner later this evening.

It's time to bring in all the peppers off the two no-longer-little pepper plants. What shall I make with these beauties? Chillis rellenos comes to mind, a casserole with peppers, eggs, milk and cheese, served with red enchilada sauce.

The end of summer and September has always been county and state fair time. The Arizona State Fair is always in October; our county fair in September. This is the first year in a while that I have sat out the fairs; there just isn't the time this year with every thing else on my plate to participate.


Many years ago, competition among the Detroit ladies for ribbons in the home arts was overwhelming. I can remember as a child being fascinated and impressed by the amount of work done by the ladies entering the Michigan State Fair. There were dozens and dozens of entries in those days, and the work was superb. There was a time when the home arts seemed to fall into disfavor. I've watched the number of entries dwindle at the county fair over the last few years, especially among the junior entries. It's a shame, really. But there is hope that someday the home arts will regain their proper place in the world. Certainly knitters are doing their best!

At any rate, my fascination as a child with what I saw at the Fair certainly played it's part in spurring me on to improve my home arts skills. I wanted to be one of the ladies whose needlework and bread and cookies consistently won the top prizes. So I kept trying, and kept entering. I won my first ribbons at age seventeen in the junior divisions; I won my first adult blue ribbons a few years later. Nowadays I enter, not only knitting and needlework, but baking and food preserving, herbs and pears, vegetables and flowers. My ribbon collection is now over a hundred ribbons, most of them for some form of needlework.

My goals for the future? To keep entering competitions, and to continue to raise the level of my skills higher and higher.

August 007

August is a month of much importance.




The roses bloom again. This year, with all the rain we have had in the last several weeks, is heavily abundant. Usually the second bloom roses dry up on the stem without even opening. Not this year.

The garden is heavily abundant as well. And not just with weeds, which are also going wild from all the rain. The Greek Oregano is taking over the flower bed.

And the pears are just about ready for harvesting.

The storm clouds still gather on a regular basis.

And the thirty-second time around honeymooners are still going wild as well.

(Alright, this picture was taken last year. But it was ditto for this year.)

July 007

July is the time for the monsoon rains. From being a "dry" heat -- as in extremely low humidity -- we suddenly find ourselves dealing with overwhelming humidity. The cooler no longer works and swamp-like atmospheres prevail. I still hang out sheets and laundry to dry, but now they take several hours to dry instead of minutes.



Invariably the storm clouds begin to form, usually by late afternoon but sometimes as early as midmorning. I can see the storms in the distance. They usually begin over the mountains and then spread to the valleys. Lines of thunderstorms, often severe, form up and march across the high desert. Blue skies are now not necessarily the norm; massive cloud formations and grey skies take their place.

The rain comes, swift and torretial. The yard out back sometimes turns into a large pond; the street in front into a racing river. Flooding occurs at street corners, and otherwise dry streambeds become dangerously flooded. Despite warnings not to cross them, some fools always do and there are several deaths each summer from those who try to cross flooded roads. Sometimes after the violent storm cell passes, we are treated to an hour or so of gentle, soaking rain. This is the best part. The air becomes so clear, cool, and fresh!

Along with the rains come the grasshoppers. This young lad sat still long enough for me to take his picture. This has been a very bad year for grasshoppers, so far. When Buddy and I walk around the block, we see a couple hundred at least. The numbers are terrible; there are grasshoppers everywhere. As you walk, they jump up in alarm but never look where they are jumping. They jump on Buddy; they jump onto my shirt. The birds are having a field day. Feasting wherever you look! And don't leave any windows open. Last week while driving I went to grab the turn signal and grabbed a grasshopper instead!

June 007

June, for so many, is the month for graduations. The area we live in, however, with very few exceptions holds graduation in May. Perhaps because it's getting just too hot in June. Early morning and late evening are the only times around here to walk the dog or work in the garden; the rest of the day one hunkers down in whatever cool, shady, or air-conditioned area one can find.



Not so in Cambridge. Graduation is held in June, on the lawn with thousands in attendance, and the reading of the names of the graduates takes a full two hours or more. Family members bring newspapers and books; at least one knitter was in attendance. I confess that we brought a sackful of snacks and a cooler with ice and water. Not to mention the knitting bag. We were fortunate to be able to sit underneath a very shady tree, and a good breeze off the Charles river also helped. It's a marvelous thing to finally see a child (now very much an adult) finally make it all the way through school and get the long-sought-after doctoral degree (and a really impressive medieval gown, to boot). Plus it's the rare occasion that sees all five brothers and sisters together.




I'm taking a "creative day" today. No serious pursuits, just whatever I feel drawn to do. Michael has moved back home for the next six weeks as he does a local summer internship. Still no job interview scheduled; part of the reason for a creative day in order to keep my mind on other things than interviews.

Happy Father's Day to all dads and granddads in your life!

May 007

It's o'dark early in the morning and I can't sleep. The grandbabies are coming today. (I haven't mentioned that lately, have I?) So, for lack of sleep, I bring you the May 007 post. Because otherwise, you probably aren't going to get one. At least, not while it's still May.

May has always meant the end of the school year and the beginning of vacations. For a long time now we have scheduled our summer vacation to begin the very minute that school lets out for the year. Since our part of Arizona is always out of school before the Memorial Day weekend, we have missed a lot of the crowds that show up at summer vacation sites in the latter parts of June and July. We also usually have better weather, since the real summer heat hasn't started yet and the rainy weather usually holds off until July. Not that we haven't had our share of snow, rain, and 100 degree days!

So it's time to hook up the trailer on the back of the minivan and head out once again. The National Parks of the west beckon. Several years ago we spent time at Yosemite, Grand Tetons, Yellowstone, Sequoia, and Rocky Mountain NP (Estes, CO); unfortunately this was before the time of having a digital camera. In case you hadn't noticed, I love to photograph the canyons of Arizona and Utah. I guess it's easy to do, when you really love your subject.

Bryce Canyon, from two years ago.

Zion, from three years ago.

And my home away from home, where I intend to be a week from today, celebrating my birthday and photographing away. The Grand.

April 007

April brings the roses in the first and best bloom of the year. Later blooms, once the summer heat settles in, frequently will dry out while still in the bud. The cooler weather of spring brings out the best blooms. This year seems to be especially favorable for the roses; everyone is remarking on the explosion of roses this year.

The first bobbin of Romance is spun; hopefully I will find some time this week to work on the second. Spinning is so meditative!