another wonderful concert

I still have to pinch myself. I can walk across the road, up to the piazza, and into the local church to a concert with world class performers.

Apologies for the quality of the filming, I still have a slight cough so remained at the back of the church in case I needed to exit quickly. I was concentrating on the singer, not the camera, so it became a little lopsided.

The video is three minutes long.


Today I am grateful for talented musicians and gifted singers.

boxing day and traditions

...from giving to receiving.

Traditionally Boxing Day was the day when the lower classes and the poor, and later the workers and servants, came to the wealthy higher classes and their employers to receive their boxes of seasonal goods: benevolence, or rewards for a year's work well done.

When I was a child, without the benefit of Google and Wikipedia, I fondly imagined that Boxing Day was when Christmas excesses and trimmings were packaged up and stored away in the attics I read about in story books. Maybe that is why it is my preference to remove all sign of Christmas decorations as soon as possible after Christmas Day.

Now it seems that Boxing Day is one of the best trading days for store keepers, and the best bargain day for shoppers. Somehow I think that is a less benevolent twist to giving and receiving.

Google tells me that St Stephen's Day and Boxing Day were once intertwined. In fact, I do remember that Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen. So where does the Duke of Bohemia, Wenceslas, fit in? Now his is an interesting tale. Wikipedia again... do read on! Feasts take on yet another meaning! How would you like to be named Strachvas, "a dreadful feast"?

Hoping for a more peaceful story, I googled St Stephen. You guessed it, yet another martyr! This time one stoned to death rather than murdered at a feast.

By now my Boxing Day morning, reflecting on the greed and brutality of man, was becoming rather grim. Best to return to the present, listen to the neighbour's rooster signalling 7am, and take refuge in breakfast, panettone and all - no, I just can't do it. Cereal and fruit it has to be. Panforte from Siena could be my downfall at Christmas, but the huge range of beautifully boxed Panettone, in every combination of fruit, lemon or chocolate imaginable, can continue on its way on the gift merry-go-round. It is too sweet and insubstantial for me.

Today I am grateful for health-giving food.

God or santa?

I follow the "Chris will walk" blog, and the Christmas entry made me laugh and cry. Human generosity can be amazing and very humbling. But, as always, it is the children who come out with something profound.

Was it God or Santa who asked the person to drop in the bags of gifts? How lovely that the child thought to query this. What drives us all, in the Christmas madness? In this instance, I suspect that it was God, or love of people and of God, that inspired the giving. Having just blogged about Santa leaving me gifts it gave me food for thought.

If it is true that Jesus was most likely to have been born some time between March and October, and we are putting all this emphasis on pagan dates, is it any wonder that "Christ" is slipping out of Christmas?

In my life-changing move to the other side of the world I have had to face unexpected issues. I now place much less emphasis on material things. But still I found it hard to let go of some that I had collected over the years. It is my aim to have a simple, comfortable home that I can happily let others use, not wondering if they will break things I treasure. That is so much easier said than done.

I have become quite anti commercialism, especially when I read about the sweat shop type factories that continue long after Dicken's time. Christmas feeds into the commercial drive, or is perhaps the result of it. We own too much "stuff" already, and "stuff management" after Christmas becomes a priority.

I remember many years ago when my children were small a family member said that they did not want Christmas gifts at all, and would not be sending any but were donating to the poor instead. It seemed a little sad at the time, thinking that the family would not be receiving gifts, and would be having such a simple Christmas day. Now, so many years later, I wish that I had taken more from Deborah's lead.

One of the best bumper stickers in New Zealand is the one that reads "Take only photographs, leave only footprints". It refers to the natural forests and beaches, but could be applied more widely.

Today's Peace quote for the day has just come in.

We cannot live only for ourselves.
A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow-men;
along those fibers, as sympathetic threads,
our actions run as causes,
and they come back to us as effects.
—Herman Melville

The bells are ringing as I type, calling people to prayer. Fireworks are whistling, although it is light outdoors. It is time to go out, to enjoy Christmas day.

I hope you have all had a wonderful Christmas, however you choose to celebrate it.

when socks are the perfect gift

8am, 25-12-09

Santa came! I guess from the North Pole, but certainly via Scotland this year. He left me all sorts of things, tiny packets, interesting packets, soft and squishy packets. He brought me SOCKS!

Sadly lacking in my wardrobe were dark, coloured, socks to match my winter woollies. Santa must have peeked. Somehow the bright socks with frogs and bees and happy faces on them, perfect for the New Zealand junior classroom, and the white sports socks, aren't quite appropriate here - but they just wont wear out!

I guess you could almost say I have a thing about socks. I have socks from Trinity College, Dublin. Socks from Loch Ness with the monster on them. Socks from Verona with Romeo and Juliet on them... and now I have REAL socks too!

While the rest of the family surf, barbequeue and play on beaches, my toes will be well looked after in every colour, matching the jerseys, scarves, hat and gloves that mark Christmas in Europe.

We didn't get a white Christmas, but Santa's email said that she has plenty snow where she is, at -10 degrees!

So now, Christmas morning, I shall listen to gentle pan pipes playing Christmas music and look at a beautiful book of photographs assembled and made with love... and decide which socks are the best colour for today!

Today I am grateful for love and family.

call me a slow learner but

...I simply can't get used to Christmas Eve being the main part of Christmas. I still think of Christmas Day as being the day of celebration.

The lights in the village and town are very simple and beautiful this year, rows of blue stars across the road up in the historic part, and gold stars down in the newer part.

Some of the daily thoughts for world peace that come into my email inbox have been quite thought provoking lately. Often they mention love, and Napolean even mentioned the hard stuff.

Love is the answer, and you know that for sure. —John Lennon

The more I study the world, the more I am convinced of
the inability of brute force to create anything durable. —Napoleon Bonaparte

But this one, on the surface not so serious but which I think is quite profound, I really enjoyed!

Intellectuals try not to drown, while the whole purpose of love is drowning. —Rumi

Wouldn't it be great if we could all just let go of our insecurities, trust everyone we meet, and experience life fully?

Today I am grateful for sunshine.

olive oil and coffee

This morning we bagged the olives. (Note to self: attempting to lug 230kgs of olives up the stairs in ten sacks was stupid, stupid, stupid!) I didn't expect to be going too, and was ready to paint. The harvester, who shares my crop with me, looked shocked. Of course I was coming too. Quick change from painting trou and into some slightly more presentable shoes. As we waited outside for the truck to collect the olives the neighbours gathered. How many olives? Advice for this, advice for that. Sitting in the bus shelter surrounded by well-wishers my excitement of last year and processing my first real crop returned. By the time I got to the press I was as keen as anyone to see the official weight, to taste the oil. Despite the problems of getting the harvest done, I remembered why I love living here.

Ok, so I lasted only one week back here without taking a coffee - here one "takes" rather than "drinks" a coffee. I was offered one at the olive pressers and it seemed churlish to decline. And now the oil is home... yeehaa!!!! 41 litres of oil shared between me and the picker-pruner. This year it is sweet and smooth, the olives being more mature and the press being a modern one.
The olive press, 2009: Last year I really enjoyed the thick peppery oil (picked early and pressed the old-fashioned way).

Olive pressing, 2008:

Back at work the new system I have devised for the curved lines is working quite well. It wasn't so cold today, rain and no breeze off the snow. Now we are having storm warnings, so it is likely that my internet will disappear again. Don't worry, we'll still be here, Zacchi in front of the heater and Pickle licking up any drop of oil I might spill when putting a few litres into bottles.

Today I am grateful for secure scaffolding.

another two

One for an aussie child with kiwi links and a great-aunt who loves genealogy, and another for a kiwi who lives on a farm. I made a few alterations/improvements to "Ryan" and put a hat on the upright snake after this photograph, but forgot to photograph it again. Drat.

The second one, for Jacob, was framed with raised beading (painted white by the framer) next to the picture and a blue mat. It looked great. The colours are brighter than they appear here. It is my choice to leave the selecting of frames to the framers. They are the experts, and up-to-date with the trends. Sometimes I reserve the right to choose the mat.

I am looking forward to my two next works, although they will be in oil, not my beloved watercolour. But work is work, and to be passionate about it is a bonus!

:-)