Posts Tagged ‘Scotland’
Sunrise Over the Rooftops – Happy Thanksgiving from HappyLittleSigh
Posted in Beautiful Places, Holiday Cheer, Misty British Isles, Scotland, tagged Britain, Photography, Scotland, Thanksgiving on November 27, 2014| Leave a Comment »
A Song of Scotland ~ the first
Posted in Beautiful Places, Inspirations, Misty British Isles, Scotland, tagged Avonlea Q Krueger, Britain, british, Celtic Music, Happy Little Sigh, happylittlesigh, Music, Scotland, Scottish Adventure, Scottish Music, The Silencers, Wild Mountain Thyme, Will You Go Lassie Go on November 5, 2014| 2 Comments »
There’s music in the air here.
You didn’t think it was all imagination,
fiction,
fantasy,
did you now?
It’s in the wind as it batters rugged coastlines,
whispers over green pastures,
whistles through winding streets.
It’s in the waves as they crash against the rocky shore,
against the ancient harbors of this land of fisher folk.
It’s in the breath of livestock as they plod their verdant pastures.
It’s in the seagulls’ cries.
And somehow through the ages this land,
as every land,
created its own music.
A wealth of hymns, folk, Celtic, pop and bag pipe songs that get your feet tapping
and also give your heart
a delicious little ache.
I’ll share one with you now.
From a collection of Scottish tunes given to me by John in the months leading up to our marriage.
He knew the power of music in winning a girl’s heart.
When You’re NOT Having Tea with the Queen
Posted in Beautiful Places, Inspirations, Misty British Isles, Scotland, tagged Christian Mothers, Christian Mums, Christian Parenting, Jim Elliot, Parenthood, Parenting, Scotland, Tea, Tea Party, Wherever you are be all there on October 23, 2014| 2 Comments »
Pictures paint a thousand words.
They can also tell a thousand lies.
A thousand lies of just the sort
you’d like people to believe.
People on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter,
all those people you want to impress.
It’s easy when there’s a filter
for what people see of your life.
And while I’m so glad to be back here in Scotland,
it’s not all tea parties,
trips to castles,
European shops.
Life is life,
with all the dull, the ordinary, the hard to swallow times
mixed in with all the good.
I was reminded this morning–
that moment I started up the stairs for The Professor’s school books,
but then realized Mr. Waddlesworth had a dirty nappy,
and John asked me to get the General’s shoes on just at that moment so they could get to the swimming pool on time.
And all I really wanted was to eat my cereal, which sat there on the table growing soggy, the milk now warm.
A moment of chaos and I wanted to scream.
Yes, even in Scotland there are nappies to change, toilets to clean.
And worse than that, we find that even in the most Paradise-like of places,
we cannot escape ourselves.
And wouldn’t I like to, sometimes?
Hit reset, start again, with a brand new me.
It’s easy to blame others for my impatience, irritation, foul mood,
but when I’m honest I realize that I need to hit the reset button on my own attitude.
Shake it off, let it go,
and embrace joy, grace, and usefulness,
in spite of all the expectations and hopes that didn’t come when and as I’d hoped.
The days have been quiet so far, quieter than I’d hoped,
without any visits to the friends or beloved places I’m so longing to see.
Quiet days, save the usual busyness of home life with the boys.
And even in such a place as this,
greyness can fall,
wrap around you like a fog.
We went for a walk, Mr. Waddlesworth and I, this morning,
to shake the shadows,
start again.
And as I went along the narrow streets,
between the rows of ancient stone,
thinking,
and drinking in
the cries of the seagulls as they soar,
the balmy breeze,
the North Sea’s roar,
I thought of these words . . .
And though I’m trying, still,
to feel them,
live them,
make them real,
I know,
that whether we’re cleaning toilets,
or laughing over a latte with our dearest friends
in our most favorite place,
our moments matter.
And words, our expressions,
they matter, too.
In fact, in the grey times,
when the light is dimmest,
is when our words, expressions, and actions,
mean the very most.
The Beginning of a Journey – SCOTLAND
Posted in Beautiful Places, Inspirations, Making Memories, Misty British Isles, Scotland, Uncategorized, tagged Avonlea Q Krueger, British Isles, Christian Parenting, Great Britain, Happy Little Sigh, happylittlesigh, Journeys, New Baby, Scotland, Tea, Travel on October 16, 2014| 2 Comments »
We’ve arrived.
Took months to get us here, it seems.
Passport renewals and plane tickets.
Hunting out the next size up of clothes for the boys (all three of them, and this new little one who will arrive while we are here).
Cleaning the house in the way that only a nesting mother-to-be can do.
Packing and nesting and saying “See you next spring,” to our friends.
And up until the last two weeks, immersing myself for an hour each day back in 1941.
And it was tiring.
I was tired.
Tired like an addict of some sleep-inducing drug.
But planes and newborn babies, they don’t tend to wait.
And so I pressed through, and I made it, and we’re here.
We’ere here!
Scotland.
Scotland, which was home for eight years, and now hasn’t been for three.
Scotland, where everything is dear and familiar, strange and new.
Even after all that time, the hills never disappoint me.
Never seem less beautiful than ever they were.
And I can never help but think that all of this–all of this crossing of oceans–must mean something. Must DO something, deep inside of me.
Because it always has.
But when you’re away, out of your routine, it’s easy to forget the working, the striving, and try to get by just sailing for a while. And sometimes you still learn this way. Sometimes the haphazard can still help you grow. But I don’t want to leave it to chance.
I’ve got people. Dear ones. They need me at my best.
And though in the rush of the sea I hear the whisper of my Maker calling, it can be hard to hear His voice amongst so many other things that charm. Here in this place that always stirred my heart.
But hearts, as you know, are not always true. They can lead us on a merry dance.
And so while I want to savour each misty hill, each cup of tea, each warm embrace of a dear friend, I want to end this journey with a clearer eye, a clearer vision, and a closer walk with my Saviour than when I began.
Join me?
Walk with me?
Let’s see where this road goes . . .
Our view from the house
Summer in Scotland (and here, too)
Posted in Beautiful Places, Misty British Isles, Scotland, tagged Avonlea Q Krueger, British Summertime, Happy Little Sigh, happylittlesigh, Poetry, Scotland, Scottish Poetry, Summer in Scotland on July 16, 2014| Leave a Comment »
The weather kept me guessing yesterday.
Couldn’t make up its mind between radiant blue and stormy grey.
Kept me running in and out to fetch the washing off the line–
rescue those white sheets billowing in the wind.
Reminded me of a Scottish summer’s day.
And so I dug out an old poem I wrote whilst we were still living there.
I’ve been told it needs tweaking, but I’ll share it anyway.
Summer
Another dreich* Scottish day—
The air, it runs with silver grey,
With droplets on the window panes,
And from the sun, the mist reclaims
The gently sloping highland hills,
All purple-clad and heather-filled.
Down in the glens, and ‘long the shore,
The wind, it howls, the rain, it pours.
The burns* are filled, the roads a-flood,
And many-a-field’s a sea of mud.
The mums, they all bemoan the rain,
For now their washing’s wet again.
And the children long to get outside,
For games to play and bikes to ride.
The farmers say their barley’s soaked,
And though it’s June, the chimneys smoke.
But in castles great, and wee bothies*,
The folks enjoy a spot of tea,
Or don their trendy Wellingtons*
(What good are these, when there is sun?).
The strawberries are somehow picked,
And beaches walked, and ice-creams licked.
There is no lack of summer fun
Even without the shining sun.
And if the sun stayed for too long,
They’d all complain, and wish it gone.
© Avonlea Q. Krueger
*dreich – wet and dreary , burn – stream, bothie – small cottage, Wellington boots – rain boots
Did You Miss Me? Where I’m Going, Where I’ve Been
Posted in Books!, Inspirations, Misty British Isles, Scotland, tagged Avonlea Q Krueger, Bringing Up Boys, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Fiction Writing, Happy Little Sigh, happylittlesigh, Moray Firth, Raising Sons, Scotland, WWII on June 26, 2014| 2 Comments »
The posts haven’t come as regularly recently. Did you notice? But they aren’t done and the inspiration hasn’t stopped.
The whirlwind of life has kept going, providing me with more life-lessons than I’d sanely choose, if given the chance. And after the long bitter winter, I find myself still in awe of the heavy fullness of the trees and the strange new sensation of heat.
And so yes, still the words come to me, click together like magnets in my head, demand to be spoken, printed, heard.
But in spite of all I long to share, I’ve been otherwise engaged, and I’ve found there simply isn’t enough time in the day (not until I get a housekeeper like the Brown family in Paddingtion Bear, as the Professor suggested I do).
Otherwise engaged? Yes.
Lying on the sofa, mostly. Enduring the drug-like fatigue and debilitating nausea of the first few months of pregnancy. Baby #4 is due to arrive in December, and before you even think it, no, we don’t know the gender but are counting on the baby being another wee boy.
And when I was well enough to be up and caring for my family, holding up the walls and trying to keep the layers of crusted on food from becoming too thick, I’ve been writing.
Writing?
Yes! Fiction, this time. Fiction that I deeply hope I will get the chance to share with all of you.
And what is it about?
It’s set during WWII . . . and the present day.
A wee blurb for the back of the book might go something like this:
Two women. Two generations. Separated by an ocean. Brought together by a house.
So, yes, I’ve been writing fiction, trying to churn out a few pages a day.
Then there’s been the preparation for our Scotland trip. Oops, I didn’t mention. Yes, a trip to Scotland. A long one. We’re hoping to have the baby there. And I wouldn’t dream of going without you. So stay along for the journey!
Stay and see the view of the Moray Firth from John’s parents’ house.
Stay and find out if #4 is indeed a boy.
Stay and maybe even find out more about my book.
For today, I leave you with a quote–a thought to keep you soaring–aptly taken from the words of a German Christian who was martyred by the Nazis for standing up for all that’s right.
Time Capsule
Posted in Inspirations, Misty British Isles, Uncategorized, tagged Adventure, Anne of Green Gables, Basements, Daughter, Faith, Great Britain, Hope, International Move, Letting Go, Moving On, Regrets, Scotland, Son, The Cross, The Future and The Past, Time Capsule, Trust in God on November 22, 2013| Leave a Comment »
Sometimes it helps, remembering where you’ve been.
Other times it’s enough to leave you in a fit of tears.
Make you crawl into bed, yank up the covers
to hide your face,
blot your tears.
It can be regret
for what you did
or didn’t do
that leaves you feeling this way.
Regret for what you did
or what was done to you.
Other times it’s the life you had
but don’t have any more.
And it’s a combination, I suppose, of all those things, that can get me, really get me, make me want to head for bed, cocoon myself in the covers, throw a temper tantrum of the grown-up type.
A photo can remind me. Bring to mind all that once was.
A photo, or basement, maybe. A basement full of boxes that represent my life.
Boxes. Time capsules.
And that’s just what I created, though I didn’t know it those many years ago, when I wrapped my treasured possessions in old t-shirts and lace, arranged them carefully in empty banana boxes until someday when I was older, when I’d want them again, when I’d have a daughter . . .
And I didn’t know, when with slim, tanned hands, I slid the lids off the dozens of silver boxes we received for our wedding, that I wouldn’t hear the rustle of that tissue paper or see the gleaming stainless steel and sparkling crystal again for another ten years . . .
Now, with a house of my own back on this side of the Atlantic, they have been delivered to me—water stained banana boxes and silver gift boxes alike, and a thousand memories come back, along with a thousand questions, as I unpack it all and set on the floor around me.
It brings a smile, leaves an ache, when I remember. When I remember that we only meant to stay in Scotland for a year, though it turned out to be eight. When I recall how desperately I’ve always wanted a daughter, though God knew I needed sons.
And I’d like to claim it doesn’t matter. That I’m above all that.
All that wishing for weekend trips to London.
London, when it was just a few hours’ drive away.
England, with all the birthplaces and resting places of those literary geniuses I so adore.
Scotland. Our home.
Our stone house in the village, with our view of the valley, and the short walk to a friend’s front door.
And the rain—how I learned to love the rain!—and the sound of the kettle when we made our tea.
And the mist, and how it never did stop putting wonder in my heart.
And I’d like to claim I haven’t cried for a little girl I could gift with my tea set, my Anne of Green Gables doll.
Yeah, I could pretend. I could pretend that it’s fine.
It’s just fine with me.
And I don’t have to wrestle. Not one little bit.
But I know, and you know, that would all be one fat lie.
And there’s such a thing, I’ve learned, as pain that’s clean.
Clean pain, like from a surgeon’s knife.
Clean pain, when you learn to see
He knows a better way.
And though I’ve always known it, in theory, that His ways are best, that He’d take you round the world and back again to bring you closer to Him, I didn’t really know it till I’d gone.
Round the world. And back.
And I have to still my heart a little, to realize He’d do all that
just for me.
And so when I doubt, when life seems about as predictable as a Kansas plain, when I’m pretending to let go, but my thumb and finger are pinching, holding tight to something I think I need to make me happy, that I can’t live without, that’s when I’ve got, just got, to remember what He’s done.
On the cross.
In my life.
The adventure! I’d never dared to dream.
My sin! Yet He has drawn me back.
My former life can seem quite rosy, in the scrapbook of my mind.
It’s easy to forget the shadows when we think of the past.
But when Love is waiting to catch you
it’s best to let go.
Let go and rest.
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You might also be inspired by “Sinking in Deep” https://happylittlesigh.com/2013/11/02/sinking-in-deep/
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Happy Little Sigh in now on Facebook and Twitter. Join me there?
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(a little too much) Adventure
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged A.A. Milne, Adventure, America, Autumn, Burglary, Fall, Glamis Castle, Rain Boots, Scotland, Wellies, Wellington Boots, Winnie-the-Pooh on October 18, 2012| 2 Comments »
“When you see someone putting on his Big Boots, you can be pretty sure that an Adventure is going to happen.”
~ A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
Wellies by our backdoor in Scotland.
Two of the pairs are mine – John does not wear pink!
Findlay having a wee adventure at Glamis, our local castle and favourite place for a family day out when we lived in Scotland.
*It’s been a rather long time since you’ve heard from me, I know. It’s just that life has been a bit of an adventure recently, and not in the inspiring, tramping across fields in wellies sort of way. Adventures usually includes a few surprises, it’ s true, but this move to America has included just a few too many surprises to make it a nice, comfortable sort of adventure. A few weeks ago our house was burglarized and almost everything of value taken. This included our laptops, of course, which housed my many notes and photos. The whole experience has been a bit traumatic, I must admit, and the loss of our files was devastating. But . . . I have found myself being forced to look at my life a little differently since it happened, which I pray will turn out to be a good thing. I’ll have more to say on the subject, I’m sure, but until then, I give you this small offering–a little quote and some photos in honor of this colourful, wet, puddle-filled season we call autumn . . . or, on this side of the world, fall.
A Few Magic Weeks
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged April, Britain, England, May, New England, Oxford University, Scotland, Spring on April 6, 2012| 1 Comment »
“If God had devised a solar system that lighted parts of the globe only at the seasons that showed His best handiwork, the rest of the world would be dark in October while New England enjoyed its hour, just as England would light up for the few magic weeks in late March and early April for its incomparable spring.”
~ Alistair Cooke
The American Home Front 1941-1942
I must hasten to add that ALL of Great Britain enjoys a glorious spring, perhaps most especially Scotland 😉 Nonetheless, enjoy these snaps I took in Oxford last spring
Hospitali-tea
Posted in Hospitality, Making Memories, The Royals, Uncategorized, tagged Entertaining, Great Britain, Guests, Hospitality, Scotland, Tea, UK on February 7, 2012| 7 Comments »
Americans, I’ve observed, are good entertainers. And by this I’m not implying that we’re all qualified to play the leading role in Swan Lake, or that we can belt out the Hallelujah Chorus with perfect pitch. What I’m saying is that Americans, on the whole, know how to throw a good soiree, shindig, bash, or whatever you’d like to call it.
Growing up, I was taught the importance of presentation. If food looked beautiful and appetizing, then it would taste even better. Whatever the occasion, whether a tea party, child’s birthday party, or summer cookout, my mother would put care into choosing just the right invitations, menu, decorations, plates, and music to make sure the gathering was something special. This was her way of saying that both the guests and the person she was throwing the party for, were special and worthy of a true celebration.
I missed many American holidays when I lived in Scotland. For not only do Americans love to celebrate, we seem to find more reasons to do so than many other countries. On top of our extra holidays like Thanksgiving and Independence Day, we also have baby showers, wedding showers, and graduation open houses, none of which were the norm in the UK. But one thing I did take with me from my time in Scotland was an appreciation for simple, spontaneous entertaining, which is perhaps even more useful in building friendships and encouraging others than the carefully planned dinner party type of entertaining. True hospitality is not always convenient, polished, nor planned. It is, however, warm, welcoming, and real.
Most hospitality in Scotland, whether planned or not, involves the drinking of tea. As all devoted tea drinkers know, there is something soothing, healing, and inspiring in a good cup of tea. It is not only reserved for tea parties, nor just an after-dinner treat. It is offered to the workman who has come to fix the boiler. To the neighbor who stops by to return a dish. To the friend who has come round so your children can play together.
Most of the time a wee something to eat is offered along with the hot cuppa. Some hostesses disappear into the kitchen for a few minutes and return bearing a tray laden with mini sandwiches, crackers and cheese, or tray bakes. Other times, especially in the case of busy mums, the hostess raids the children’s biscuit tin, with its mismatched and broken contents. Or, loveliest of all, you might stop by someone’s home and discover they were baking that very morning, and can offer you a warm fairy cake or scone.
The most common tea in the UK is black tea, but green tea, herbal tea, and other varieties such as Earl Grey and Darjeeling are also popular. Whatever the offering, a cup of tea is not only a gift of nourishment, of calm, and of warmth (especially welcome on those blustery Scottish winter days). A cup of tea also says, “Stop for a minute and rest. Let’s chat about the weather, or, if we are true friends, about life.” With a warm cup between your hands and a friend’s face across the table or sofa, problems can be solved, joys and sorrows shared, and spirits uplifted.
In most Scottish households, the kettle is boiled for tea many times a day. It’s a drink for life’s many ordinary moments. But I’ve appreciated the times when a friend has done something to make our gathering a bit special, such as using teacups and saucers instead of mugs, lighting a candle and placing it on the table, setting out decorative napkins, or even trying a different tea such as Lady Grey. These simple touches go a step further in making moments special, and letting your guest know how much you treasure time spent with them.
So next time someone stops by unexpectedly, instead of telling yourself they’re an interruption to your day, offer them a cup of tea, dig out the treat you’ve been waiting for an excuse to open, and sit back and let the laughter (or the tears) flow.
Raspberry Fairy Cakes and Tea
happy little sigh 