The Country Mice

The Princess and my father have a long-standing long-distance agreement. When apart and separated by three provinces, they talk about dancing: Where they’ll dance, when they’ll dance and how they’ll dance the next time they visit.

The Princess has piles of boundless energy and the light gamine swish of an elfin breeze. My father is a prince. He holds her in his arms, she pirouettes, he majestically sweeps her around the room — or in this case the driveway — and as she jetés I can only imagine the heavenly scenes to which she is transported.

And then they take their leave of the dance floor.

The sentimental strings of my heart are tugged. I would love to be part of the conversation.

Never forget me, because if I thought you would, I’d never leave. — A.A. Milne

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We departed our cosy snow-dusted island Sunday afternoon for a few hours of steaming hot apple cider, comfortably idle conversation with old friends and cheery neighbourhood carolling in a dressed-for-the season North Vancouver neighbourhood.

Oh here we come a-wassailing

Among the leaves so green…

Surprised neighbours were touched to see the young ones so eagerly taking the Silent out of the Night.

And why not? Every home which opened its doors also opened its Christmas pantry. Ferrero Rocher, gingerbread boys, chocolate caramels, shortbread, fruitcake — kind of a wintry Hallowe’en, what with walking from house to house with bulging cheeks stuffed full with goodies, as Homeboy noted.

Alas, no wassail for the chilly parental units who were thus simply forced to sample the seasonal baking. All that singing used up beaucoup d’energie!

Love and joy come to you

And to you your wassail too

Nothing warmer than a couple of good baritones to heat up the tones of a choir-in-training.

And finally back to the warmth of the indoors and to the cocoa, apple cider and all things tasty and Christmas!

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Allysha Hurd Pottery

A couple of weekends ago we packed up our hands-on, home-made wares and meandered across the water to my friend Sherryl’s house. Sherryl and I go back a couple of decades to our newspaper days. I admired her greatly because in times of confrontation she displayed the backbone of my dreams.

Robyn Worcester

In the hours she’s not skiing, cycling, cooking, gardening or thinking hard on behalf of The People, Sherryl nurtures her creativity as a potter. Pottery is the perfect outlet for her strong arms and stalwart spirit because she can wallop the raw clay into meek submission and ultimately create an object that is both sturdy and fragile, revealing the earthy beauty within.

Sherryl Yeager Pottery

Annually Sherryl hosts her Muddy Pause pottery sale — the ‘pause’ denotes the gesture of goodwill in the 10 per cent of all sales that is donated to the Vancouver Food Bank.

Sherryl Yeager Pottery

By inviting a small selection of local artisans Sherryl varies up the offerings to the dozens of people who visit the sale.

Dairn Kwok Pottery

Homeboy, the Princess and I were invited to take a table at the Muddy Pause 5 this year, thus the hauling of boxes into the big city.

Country Mice Studios

H-boy and P were advised that of what they created and sold, 10 per cent went to the food bank, 45 per cent went to She Who Buys The Supplies, and 45 per cent went into their own kitty. Thus their contributions of soap, bath salts, lip balm and beeswax candles — all natural, all handmade!

Country Mice Studios

Combined with the generous tips they received for serenading with Christmas carols on violin and cello, they each pocketed $63. A happy take!

Country Mice Studios

I laid out an assortment of felted scarves — different styles, all hand-dyed, lots of silk and beautiful soft fleece — and was enormously gratified by the people who felt them, purchased them and then wore them out the door!

Country Mice Studio

Thanks to the great generosity of supporters of the local arts community, Muddy Pause 5 was able to make a sizeable donation to the Vancouver Food Bank.

And on a personal note, thank you to Sherryl for inviting me and my mice. A great lesson in entrepreneurship and social responsibility.

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In Japanese it’s called ume-kai — sea of clouds. Usually happens when one is up high, preferably near the ocean, even more preferably in tropical climes. Not mandatory, but I wouldn’t mind a little tropical clime myself these days.

The last couple of weeks, with the winter weather surrounding, the daily panorama has proved fit for a meteorological Guggenheim.

I’ll try to post a few of these changing scenes over the next couple of days. I’ve been mostly too agog to think about taking some pics — Oh! My! Agog! — but it’s kind of magical and ’tis the season for that kind of thinking…

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The Princess is at home today with the vapours.

Mostly asleep for the morning, but noting with feverish clarity that her body temp alternates between shivering chills and sweaty hot flushes. And so she dresses in accordance with the most up-to-the-minute temperature evaluation.

A requisite trip to the Post Office rouses her from bed and she defaults to her usual sartorial splendour, despite her body’s urges to get horizontal.

But she smiles. She cries because her head hurts, her throat hurts, her body hurts. And then she smiles.

Celestial. That’s what she is.

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By Liliana.

Your comments will be appreciated!

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The Princess came home with two worksheets related to Canada’s new Governor-General, David Johnston.

Worksheets with obscure questions that were extremely vague about what a correct answer would be.

And if you can read this sentence, you’ve encountered one of those worksheets.

Poor kid.

If ever there were a day I considered the merits of homeschooling, this was it.

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Homeboy pranced through the entranceway earlier sporting the latest in non-traditional headgear and re-purposed grocery bags.

Seems his art program is preparing for a fashion show later this year, and a little glue-gun magic permitted le petit Dior to express his, ah, creativity.

And he’s not the first to sport footwear inspired head toppers.

Yup. The kanmuri tops the heads of Shinto priests.

And they turned out all right.

And have I mentioned that each morning the entire school gathers for “Morning Stretch”? To practise a little yoga?

I will encourage my child’s self expression. I will encourage my child’s self-expression.

I will also elbow my way up to the front row to procure a seat at the coming fashion show.

Welcome to my island, mon.

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Remember our friend Flash? Owner, proprietor, homeland security expert?

Flash dropped in for a visit earlier. A bucket of peanuts, visible through the window and attainable through an only slightly ajar door, proved too tempting and Flash found himself confused and trapped behind a wall of transparent glass.

Pardon me?

Flash here, speaking for the defence. Regarding the openness of doors, there is no such thing as ‘slightly.’ It’s either open or it’s closed.

Period.

Full stop.

Can you be ‘slightly’ alive? ‘Slightly’ on time?

‘Slightly’ pregnant?

Come on, lady. Just let me loose, already.

Sorry. What was that?

Hard to say if this visit marked Flash’s first or fifth foray indoors in the last couple of days. We’ve been enjoying cool and pine-scented breezes wafting through the house and have subsequently rescued a few blue-bodied birds from the windowsills. Out of earshot, I’ll have to confess these birds all kind of look alike.

And lest you feel sorry for Flash, he was right back window tap-tapping for peanuts later in the afternoon.

None the worse for wear.

He’ll be back.

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