Purple Finches at the Feeder

Their muted rose and tan match the colours of sedums and hydrangeas in the garden, and the weigela leaves turning toward autumn.  I'm stuck inside nursing a head cold, but still thrilled to be able to sit and watch the colours changing through watery eyes, between sneezes ... a Monet-like blur.

What the Well Dressed Woman Wears to Surgery

What Does the Well Dressed Woman Wear to Surgery?

The instructions from the hospital are vague.  “Wear something loose and comfortable.”  Does this mean my pyjamas?  I wish it did. 

“Wear a bra without under-wires, one tight enough to provide support and to reduce post-surgical bruising and swelling; yet one which is loose and comfortable.”  Pardon?  Aren’t those instructions mutually exclusive? 

“Wear no nail polish, no deodorant, and no make-up.”  No problem.  This will make getting ready and travelling to the hospital by 7:30 am, really easy. 

Because I have to sit around in a “hospital gown” for 2 hours between the first part of my surgery and the second stage, shouldn’t they also tell me to wear warm socks and to bring a sweater?  The hospital staff rushes around working; therefore they stay warm.  But I’m not warm; sitting on a hospital gurney, waiting and waiting isn’t cosy.  It is chilly.  It is very chilly. 

And how is a “hospital gown” in any way a gown?  They’re made from thin fabric, in a housecoat style.  They tie in the front or the back, or they snap open at the shoulders providing inadequate coverage at best.  This gown leaves arms, chest and legs hanging out in the cool air.  Shouldn’t the term “gown” be used for real gowns; fancy gowns worn by stars at award shows? But then, those gowns on award shows leave lots of flesh hanging out too.  So maybe using that definition, it truly is a gown, this hospital gown.  Hmm?  I wonder.  Maybe, except it is missing the fancy part.

Despite the lack of guidance about what the well dressed woman wears to surgery, I have come up with a plan.   To travel to the hospital, I will shower, be make-up-less and polish-less, yet I will be well dressed. 

I have chosen a comfy plaid flannel shirt in a blue that matches my eyes.  Plaid flannel shirts are in back in style.   Amazing!  Who knew?  When I grew up, these were Albert County chic, but that was decades ago.   What goes around comes around…and around.   

I am wearing black pants, of cotton and some unknown stretchy fabric, with an elastic waist.  They are mystery pants.  They could be leggings or yoga pants, or exercise pants or pyjama pants. Yes, they are similar to pyjama pants.  This is great.  And the bra, well it reminds me of the unattractive, thick cotton undershirts I wore as child.  Serviceable, yet ugly.  Enough said?  I am taking a sweater and warm socks for comfort.  To complete the look, I’ll wear my Birkenstocks.   A fetching ensemble; yes, I think so.

I won’t receive rave reviews on any fashion runway, but I will be comfortable.  And when facing surgery, comfort is what it’s all about. 

Now, what was it the hospital said in their vague instructions?

Oh yes, “loose and comfortable.”

I believe I’ve done it…loose and comfortable, and well dressed, too.

Words and photo are © copyright Carol Steel.

This House of Ours

This Home of Ours

Today is an anniversary.  We’ve lived in our house for six years.

This is a good place to be, cozy and comfortable, a wee house with a generous, treed yard.

When we bought it six years ago, the house hadn’t been updated nor looked after for a long time.  No yard care, no tree trimming, no painting, no cleaning, no maintenance outside or in.  Quite a challenging mess!

We’ve made progress.  Cleaning and repair are simple, mostly hard work.  The “must-do-it-list” still dominates the “want-to-do-it-list”.  Slowly we create changes, improving the appearance and feel of the house — our continuous project.

Each time we re-enter, we are content to be home again.  This house is a humble, relaxed place, a fireside retreat with comfy familiar furniture and cozy welcoming colours.  It is full with music, sunlight, sumptuous baking smells and three playful cats.   It is home, our home, a home we’ve made together with time and love.

My mother has a cross-stitch hanging, handmade by my grandmother, framed in her bedroom.  It says:

Having someplace to go is home.

Having someone to love is family.

Having both is a blessing.

Six years of blessing in this house, this home.

Beside the Fire

Winter is the time for comfort,

for good food and warmth,

for the touch of a friendly hand

and for a talk beside the fire:

it is the time for home.

~ Edith Sitwell

Photo is mine.

Of Food and Comfort

Winter.  Frosty air.  Profuse snowfall.  No end in sight. February means “full on” winter in New Brunswick!  This cold, this ice and snow encourage me to hibernate.  My favourite place to “hole up” is my kitchen, a galley style room that opens into a bright dining area, reclaimed from a former sun porch with seven huge windows.  My kitchen is full of light and, in winter, bursting with cooking aromas – earthy soups, savoury stews, spicy tajines, rustic breads, scented biscuits, crispy cookies and wholesome granola, healthy plain foods that fill the tummy, thaw the heart and offer succulent satisfaction.  Despite being prone to hermit-like behaviour, I love to invite folks for meals, and embrace those who brave the cold to be fed in my snug kitchen, to share fragrant warmth and laughing company and hearty nourishment.  I delight in this homey combination of shelter, contentment and welcome.  Comfort!  They open my door retreating from the thin brittle air and are enveloped by the plump tantalizing heat and aromatics of home cooking; I offer pleasure!   Ah, winter!  Mmmm, home!