Open Windows

“Just living is not enough,” said the butterfly, “one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.”

Hans Christian Anderson

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Hello Friend,

Come in, come in! It’s hard to believe the summer holidays are over, isn’t it? What a busy summer it’s been, and what a long time since our last visit.

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The tea is ready and, for a change, we’re having sourdough bread with freshly made raspberry jam. Our raspberries were late this year, and not as many as I would have expected, but enough for one batch of jam. I amazed myself with how good it turned out, teehee. I used my great aunt’s very simple recipe, and that’s the one I’ll be using from now on.

Aunt Nita's Raspberry Jam

4 Cups raspberries
2 Cups sugar
1 Tablespoon lemon juice

Bring to a boil. Boil 15 minutes.
Blend for a couple minutes.
Transfer to hot sterilized jars, cover with sterilized lids.  

For me, I think the trick was that I used a high-end blender on highest setting, and let it blend until I was sure all of the seeds were pulverized. It’s the seeds that hold the pectin, I’m told. And voila! Best jam ever.

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We’ve had some glorious sunrises these last few days – brilliant pinks and peaches, the sun a dazzling orb of orange as it crests the horizon. I wonder if I’ve appreciated them more after the record breaking rain we’ve experienced this summer. By record breaking I mean, for example, that for the month of June we broke a rainfall record that was one hundred and twelve years old.

The rain affected the growing things here at The Cleft in different ways. Struggling little trees we’d planted six years ago suddenly bushed out in all their glory. The hollyhocks flourished, some reaching a height of ten feet! In the vegetable garden, almost all of my cucumber plants didn’t make it, but the two that did are amazing. Potatoes are fine. Carrots and tomatoes are late.

As for the flowers, remember the perennial seeds I brought home with me from the Butchart Gardens? At the moment, there are two short rows of plants that are three inches high. Very sad for me, and I wonder if they’ll actually come back next year since there are no seeds to drop from mature plants. Not knowing this just shows how little I know about flower gardening! I’ll have to do some research.

However, the annual seeds I brought home in a packet entitled Jennie Butchart’s Annual Garden came up splendidly! They were the last seeds I planted in the spring, and since they came all mixed together and I didn’t know which was which, I just planted them randomly in a little plot all together. The result makes me smile every time I see the it from my kitchen window over the sink. Unfortunately, I don’t have a proper photo. As for my tried and true flowers, some struggled and some thrived. It was just that kind of year.

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I suppose all of this highlights the truth that one can have too much of a good thing. Rain is a good and necessary element for all living things, and yet too much of it can be devastating, as we’re well aware.

“Too much of a good thing” is a phrase in Shakespeare’s play, As You Like It, written in 1600. However, the earliest known writing of it was in a poem by John Lydgate in 1430: “For whoso hath too much of any good, Of that same good he shall be soon bereft.” It was written during a time of great social and political upheaval. The Hundred Years’ War was still raging (can you imagine?), and the Black Death had recently devastated Europe. Hmmm, sound familiar? (See here for more if you’re interested)

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Life is fragile, and we need to be noticers of it as it goes by; to acknowledge and cherish the little moments that make living bearable and even lovely. Because yes, life can be so very lovely, can’t it?

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Close your eyes and turn your face into the wind. Feel it sweep along your skin in an invisible ocean of exultation. Suddenly, you know you are alive.

Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

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I like to keep my windows open, even on rainy days. Just to watch the lace curtains billowing in the breeze and to hear favourite sounds from outside–birdsong and the wind in the trees–calms me. Recently, Sweetie shared a piece of music with me that I’ve been playing on repeat. It features the call of the loon which, alone, can be a haunting and lonely sound. But this composer has combined it with other birdsong and put it all together in a beautiful composition that I find so soothing.

As you listen, I hope you’re able to take a deep, soul-cleansing breath, and recognize the wondrous, beautiful, astonishing things that make life so very lovely.

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Thank you so much for stopping in. This visit has been the highlight of my day, and I hope we can do it again soon. Stay safe out there and see you next time.

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Feature Image by Jud from Pixabay

© Joy Bailey, September 2026