Monthly Archives: April 2025

Sounds of a Silent Saturday

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Welcome back, my friends. Apologies for skipping out last week… just wasn’t there. It was Easter and I was certainly musing, but I didn’t get a chance to sit down at the computer to write about it. So it’s going to overflow into this week. It’s my blog, I’m allowed. It’s been an eventful week this week too … two words: baby chicks! Therefore, I am a little late in posting. But: it’s my blog, I’m allowed.

Okay. Here we go. I want to invite you in to the middle of the night at my old farmhouse. I have very few neighbours. It’s not the big city. We have one streetlight, so that permeates the absolute darkness of, let’s say, three o’clock in the morning. I’m lying in bed awake, as some women of my age do, listening. The chubby dog takes up half the space I have allocated myself and I pull the remaining covers up over my shoulders. It’s chilly, but that’s okay. The dog snorts. I hear myself and the hubby breathing. My eyes are closed and block out the streetlight. I listen again.

Photo by Kseniya Budko on Pexels.com

During the day, our old farmhouse creeks and we hear the wind outside. Our neighbouring cows are loud most of the time. The occasional car, truck or farm vehicle zoom past our front yard and kick up the dust – the dog barks at the slower traffic. Up until recently, Morris our rooster could be heard. (It’s a myth that roosters only crow in the mornings. That crazy bird yelled all the time at us!) However, I’m sad to report he’s been missing now for a few weeks. I’d like to think he was heroic and was “taken” fighting the whole time to protect his ladies. Even our buddy down the road commented he hadn’t heard him lately and kinda misses him. Enough about that sad event. Moving on.

Back to three o’clock in the morning and the snoring dog. Imagine you hear a gurgling like a giant belch emanating from some underwater jelly-bellied monster. That monster happens to be the sump pump located in the basement, directly underneath our master bedroom. It belches several times throughout the day and night. Earlier in the spring it followed a constant sound of rushing water as the spring melt emptied and got flushed back out by the sump pump. I’ve learned to appreciate the sound of the it, because it means my basement isn’t flooding. Like the sound of generators running constantly during our ice storm a few weeks ago. Thankfully, those have stopped now, and we are back to a general quiet.

Listen again. Hushed breathing. The cat jumps down from something upstairs with a soft thud. My new baby chick birds finally rustle. I listen to hear them as I’ve only had them a few days (yeah!) and I’m still at the new momma “please don’t die” stage. Somebody peeps very softly, and I say a prayer of thanks for signs of life in the middle of the night. They settle back down in their living room home with the soft red light of the heat lamp. Silence again. Gurgle belch. Hushed breathing. The furnace clicks on briefly, with a rush of pilot light flame. Otherwise it is pretty quiet here.

I’m a week behind in this muse, but I’ve been thinking about it since a comment I heard Easter weekend. You’ve heard of “good Friday”. You may have heard of “celebration Sunday” or “Easter Sunday” or even “resurrection day”, but this year, for the first time ever, I heard someone use the term “silent Saturday”. The day between Jesus’ death on “good Friday” and rising again on the third day… the day when all was absolutely silent. Apparently, I am late to the party on this concept, for google has lots to say about silent Saturday. Not so silent on the internet. Well fine. It was a new thought for me. And so, I share it with you!

One imagines Jesus, stone cold in a dark tomb. Obviously, corpses don’t say much. God the father did a lot of “talking” on Friday, but no signs and wonders happen to be recorded on the day in between. Jesus’ followers have probably gathered, but may be hiding out, keeping a low profile. It seems like it really was a “silent Saturday”. And it seems, with some reflection on my part, and the internet sparking my thoughts, a day of quiet reflection should totally be a part of the Easter story! Life is difficult. There will be hard days. Yet, life is also beautiful, and there will be many a day filled with joy and celebration. And we often need a few silent Saturdays, to balance it all out. To question why God seems to have abandoned us. Why He seems like He is not answering our prayers. Then to reflect on His faithfulness, and draw strength for the next step. Like me listening for signs of life at three in the morning, thankful that things are still “okay so far”.

So, thanks to that friend that happened to mention this phrase to me last week… it ignited a muse that’s spanned a week! Was it news to you? Even if it wasn’t and you knew this lingo way before me, I hope it’s been a good reminder to you, to appreciate a bit of silence. May you take the opportunity to hear the gurgle belch of a good sump pump and appreciate all you have. Be blessed, beloveds.

Exploring the Fascinating World of Palm Trees (Say Palm Fronds!)

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Welcome back to my little corner of the internet. Last Sunday was Palm Sunday (and the Sunday we dedicated our little grand baby to the Lord … but that was just a coincidence … and I just had to mention our little man because that’s what good grandma’s do … but it’s not my main point for this week). Palm Sunday. So called because the patrons of Jerusalem waved the branches of palm leaves during the triumphant entry of Jesus. Anyway, during a recent walk out in our local forest trail the youngest was commenting on Palm branches, Palm Sunday, and the like, and we laughed: “If Jesus had to come to Canada, wonder if we would have pelted Him with pine branches or something” was the comment. And so I muse…

Did you know that you can order exotic palm trees that are cold hardy enough to grow all winter in Canada? I guess they aren’t just for Palm Springs or Jerusalem! There are over 2500 species of Palm … and not all are classified as “trees”. The tallest one is about 200 feet high. But let’s face it, palm trees make you think of sandy beaches, coconut drinks and relaxing vacations. Or the strip at Vegas. Or that fancy place where people buy expensive clothes. Am I right? Maybe Jesus on a donkey is not your first thought when you hear “Palm trees”. Let’s think deeper. Those big fan-like leaves are called fronds. That’s a fun word to say: “Palm fronds”. I used to read a book to the kids about a little girl who made dolls out of palm fronds. It was a hard word to say then. Palm fronds. Go ahead; try and say it 10 times fast.

Anyway, fun fact: Palm fronds were built to withstand huge gusts of winds (think tropical rain storm hurricane) and once they do become separated from the tree, are not easily broken down. According to ABC news, Phoenix alone dumps roughly 34,000 tons of palm fronds from city streets into a landfill, costing over half a million dollars every year. That’s the mass equivalent of throwing out more than 4,500 African elephants. Yet, unlike our Canadian pile of mulchy leaf muck, palm fronds can easily be turned in other organic works of art: baskets, hats and even fencing or roof thatches. Reminds me of another Bible story of the friends who lowered the sick guy down through the roof. Can you imagine Jesus getting rained on by twigs and buggy leaf bits as they tear up the roof that must, at this point, be dried grassy brittle palm fronds. Say it again: palm fronds. Giggle. I hope it gets stuck in your head. Palm fronds. Palm fronds. Pond frogs. Pog Wands. Okay, enough about that.

One of the trees on our property after the ice storm

You’ve got to admit, trees are one of God’s most fascinating creations. Huge trunks, teeny buds. Our recent ice storm made me appreciate both the strength and fragility of trees. Mighty oaks and maples are littered on our streets now, and the huge cracks tell a story. If you look closely, there are almost holes where the branches grew out from the trunk. Even tonight, the hubby and I were surveying the forest on our property. It’s going to be a mess to clean up and process off the lawn. Unbreakable leaves notwithstanding, Canadian trees have many more branches to make a mess with than those tall palm tree trunks that only monkeys and very talented locals can climb. No tire swings, I guess, on Rodeo drive.

And that’s my little bit about the trees. Like Dr. Suess’ Lorax, I speak for the trees today… their uniqueness. Their symbolism. Their might. Their weaknesses. An object so abundant, we take it for granted. We cut them up. Toss them in the fire. Throw them on the ground, and pile up the leaves. Have you ever hugged one? Looked at and felt a tree trunk? Rubbed a soft maple leaf between your fingers? Or cut your fingers open on the sharp edge of those palm fronds they give out on Palm Sunday to the little kids to wave Hosannas with? Yup, God did a good job when He thought up all those green things that are out there in the woods. And in the streets of Jerusalem that day. Symbols that take a very long time to break down. I wonder if the streets left evidences weeks later of cloaks and leaves along the path. And if the locals remembered and pondered the events of that Holy Week. Did you know that “palm frond” in Hebrew is Lulav. Lu – to or unto, Lav, heart. In other words “We give to you our hearts.” 

Now, How about that for a cool thing to say? Lulav. Palm frond. It really is fun to say, isn’t it? You’re welcome.

Gratitude After the Ice Storm ( and Appreciating a Hot Bath!)

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Well, well, well… we are back! And what an adventure it has been while we were gone. And by gone, I mean off grid, reduced to our roots, knocked out and defeated. There was no mittonmusings blog post last week, not because we were not musing… but because we were offline and incommunicado! Country living notwithstanding, we, along with several of our neighbours and community at large, got our power knocked out in a giant ice storm last week. The ice, combined with high winds made our little forest sound and look like a war zone. I was out tending to the chickens, and all you could hear was cracking and the crash of giant tree limbs ripping from their trunks and smashing to the ground. The cedar hedge surrounding our property had tree tops bending so far down, they were blocking our sidewalks. Power lines were knocked out and we were, once again, in the dark.

Our forest was hit hard!

Now, the dark doesn’t bother me so much. I’m happy to hunker down by the wood stove and throw an extra blanket on. Water, however, is another story. When the well pump goes out and we don’t have water, let alone hot water, I get a bit more grumpy. And the spring thaw adds to the mess and the sump pump works overtime and can’t keep up with the seepage and your basement is wet. Water, but in all the wrong places. By day three, we went in to visit the grand baby and have showers. Buckets of pond water flushed our toilets. How a simple thing like clean drinking water makes all things beautiful. Remember that when the third world countries cry for help at Christmas!

The cedar hedges were touching the walkway!

In fact, the hubby and I had been chatting about a generator since last year… after the power went out this time, the hubby headed out after church and bit the bullet. Extension cords snaked through the living room. The heater unplugged and coffee plugged in. (Both required too much juice). Who’s phone charger was this? Oh, I wish I had water instead of brushing my teeth in a cup filled with spring water from the community center’s filled bucket! By day three or four (they all started blending together…) we caved in even more and hooked up a switch in the basement… the well pump was back up and running! I had the best bath I have ever had! Steaming from head to toe!

Can I tell you again how good this hot bath was?!

By day five and a half, we were back online and thankful. The hubby got to learn a lot about electricity and generators. We bonded with our neighbours and ate way too many carbs. We had something good to chat about for the next week. Yet, more than anything, we were grateful. Grateful for Hydro One workers, grateful for each other, grateful that no one was hurt, etc. etc. etc. As with many storms in the past, we see community come together in a crisis and human nature begins to blend into a single living unit, taking care of one another and assisting as best we can. I’m still seeing posts about neighbours helping neighbours clearing debris and assisting in the “catch up and clean up”.

Realistically, our short period of “inconvenience” really was a first world problem. No internet? Not a crisis. We could access fresh water. We were not starving. We weren’t smelling great, but we went to work, we drove our cars, we ate. I mused: “God’s just up there reminding us He is still in control… thinking you’ve got it all together? Here, let’s throw in a little ice and wind… or a tornado, or tsunami… A small mudslide just to remind you Who’s the Great I Am? Yup, that would still be ME!” says God. And so, I remain grateful, and humbled, and adequately reminded -again- that He’s still in control.

Isaiah 45 reminds us that we should be humbled when situations like this arrive. Who should question God and His actions? He flung the stars into space… and will down a thousand trees if He wants to. The storm on the sea, reacts in check to His words. How much more should we mere humans react to – dare I say – political slandering or big talk from pious leaders? We learned in our small group last week that words are powerful. They are for sure! We can build up one another or tear one another down simply by speaking. Like a layer of ice on the mighty oaks in our forest, heaps of discouraging words can weaken and break us. Finally, when a little more wind comes along to shove us over the threshold, we finally snap.

There’s so much to unpack after such a country catastrophe. The musings keep coming and I’m not sure this post actually settled on one theme. Still, my beloved readers have grown accustom to my ramblings, haven’t you? Let’s just settle on retelling the latest adventure out here and the consequences… or maybe the pleasures that have returned… like hot steamy baths. And we’ll just go from there, okay? Come back for more in the coming weeks when the hubby gets to try out his new chain saw. I’m sure I will have choice words to say about that!