Angels in St. Mary's Church, North Somercotes

Aren't these wonderful? They were made entirely from paper by Martyn Pidgen in 2009 for The Christmas Tree Festival at St. Mary's church, North Somercotes.

This I would keep

Another Grace Noll Cowell poem I like;

This would I keep forever in my heart
Among the things the ruthless years may leave:
The glad excitement, wonder, and delight
Of Christmas Eve;
This would I hold untarnished through the years,
Although the roads I take may lead me far:
The radiant molten glory of the light
From one white star.
And oh, to keep the breathlessness, the thrill,
The heart's swift running out to meet surprise,
Never to lose entirely the light
Of childhood from my eyes;
Never to lose the Christmas morning joy,
And never the quick bright eagerness to give -
God, someway let my spirit keep the shine
Of Christmas while I live.

I Have Found Such Joy

I have found such joy in simple things;
A plain, clean room, a nut-brown loaf of bread,
A cup of milk, a kettle as it sings,
The shelter of a roof above my head,
And in a leaf-laced square along the floor,
Where yellow sunlight glimmers through the door.
I have found such joy in things that fill
My quiet days: a curtain's blowing grace,
A potted plant upon my window sill,
A rose, fresh-cut and placed within a vase;
A table cleared, a lamp beside a chair,
And books I long have loved beside me there.
Oh, I have found such joys I wish I might
Tell every woman who goes seeking far
For some elusive, feverish delight,
That very close to home the great joys are:
The elemental things- old as the race,
Yet never, through the ages, commonplace.
~ Grace Noll Crowell

The Ideal Kitchen

Browsing through an old magazine the other day I saw an article entitled 'Your Ideal Kitchen', it certainly would not be my ideal kitchen.

All stainless steel and glass, half a lemon on a chopping board and three tall vases of grass lined up on the window ledge, it looked more like an operating theatre than a kitchen.

Although delighted with my new kitchen I can't help but recall childhood baking days in Nanna Boyne’s kitchen where knees were kissed, bandages and lemonade dispensed. Warm and inviting, a painted dresser stood just inside the door from the hall. The best china kept safe behind it's glazed doors though mum says the cats used to have their kittens in the lower cupboard!

There was a big black solid fuel range in the fireplace, which, although no longer used for cooking, was fed all day to keep the kitchen warm and the water hot.

Nan was a dab hand at cakes and pies. There would always be a fruit cake in the tin and apple pies would appear as if by magic. She never measured anything except by eye and it seemed an iresistable aroma always filled the house and drifted invitingly down the garden.

I spent many childhood hours at her kitchen table shelling peas or, hands washed, her oversized apron tied around me, I would cheerfully cut stars and animals from scraps of pastry and bake for poor Daddy.