February 19, 2010
Post Hotel & Spa
Post Hotel & Spa
Nestled in a beautiful valley in Banff national park, the Post Hotel offers a stunning panorama of the Canadian Rockies
This is a mountain lodge at its finest where the comfy and romantic interiors make way for spacious suites in pale wood, always stocked with a good supply of logs to warm up your evenings.
Just a few kilometres from famous Lake Louise with its magnificent palette of emerald greens, the hotel’s little log cabins with their red roofs overlook the Pipestone River.
If your muscles are complaining after a few long ski runs ice skating on the lake or snowshoeing to spot the nearby elk- deer or moose- a visit to the Hotels Temple Mountain Spa will surely soothe.
For the more adventurous- helicopter skiing is not far away. Enjoy the award-winning menu based on fresh produce and local game.
A Mrs. Figgins Favorite!
- Simply Wonderful!
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Advice, Favorite Finds, Love, More Finds, Relationships, Travel Finds
February 17, 2010
Wedgewood Hotel & Spa
Wedgewood Hotel & Spa
A luxurious gem sits in the heart of Vancouver’s thriving cosmopolitan core, amidst the gardens and waterfalls of the fashionable Robson Square.
Still privately owned and operated, abundant flowers, original works of art, and fine antique pieces grace this elegant boutique hotel throughout.
Guest rooms overlook the city, the mountains, and in the best case Hornby Street and the Robson Square Gardens, all from private balconies.
The Wedgewood Hotel & Spa, an intimate oasis in the heart of Vancouver is all European-style pomp and old world elegance.
A Mrs. Figgins Favorite!
- Simply Wonderful!
Advice, Love, More Finds, Travel Finds
February 16, 2010
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Chateau Lake Louise
Chateau Lake Louise
The journey to this treasured Chateau is a scenic drive featuring unparalleled vistas of soaring mountains, roaring rivers and abundant wildlife; just two hours from Calgary via the Trans Canada highway.
Mrs. Figgins favorite Fairmont Gold Floor offers personalized service and unique attention to detail of a boutique hotel offering among finest guest rooms and suites in the Rocky Mountains.
From casual walks around the lake, to hiking and mountaineering the tallest peaks and the deepest canyons you can enjoy n exhilarating excursions – or simply choose to explore in Mother Nature’s playground on your own
Summertime activities enjoyed in the wilderness of the National Park offers hiking, canoeing, horseback riding, fishing, mountain biking and rafting.
Wintertime presents a dramatic wonderland of unique recreation including world-class skiing heli-skiing, snowshoeing, dog sledding, cross country skiing, ice skating and horse drawn sleigh rides.
And after an invigorating day in the captivating wilderness, pamper yourself at the spa.
From family getaways to romantic escapes, the Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise is the ideal destination.
A Mrs. Figgins Favorite!
Advice, Favorite Finds, Love, Relationships, Travel Finds
December 25, 2009
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GOD’S blessings to you and yours.
Mrs. Figgins
Relationship advice: www.askdrromance.com
Advice, Children Issues, Faith, Favorite Finds, Love, One Village, Topics
December 24, 2009
- Not a creature was stirring – not even a mouse!
Throughout this week Mrs. Figgins will share a few of the most loved poems and stories of the Christmas season.
Next installment shown below.
From our family to yours,
Merry Christmas and Wishes for a Blessed New Year!
Mrs. Figgins & Family
Clement Clarke Moore (1779 – 1863) wrote the poem “Twas the night before Christmas” (also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas” in 1822.
Mr. Moore came from a prominent family and his father Benjamin Moore was the Bishop of New York who was famous for officiating at the inauguration of George Washington.
It has long become the tradition in many American families to read the poem every Christmas Eve – and has redefined the image of Christmas and even Santa Claus.
Before the creation of the story of “Twas the night before Christmas”, St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children, had never been associated with a sleigh or reindeers!
The author of the poem “Twas the night before Christmas” was a reticent man and it is believed that a family friend, Miss H. Butler, sent a copy of the poem to the New York Sentinel who published the poem.
The condition of publication was that the author of “Twas the night before Christmas” was to remain anonymous.
The first publication date was 23rd December 1823 and it was an immediate success.
It was not until 1844 that Clement Clarke Moore claimed ownership when the work was included in a book of his poetry.
‘Twas the night before Christmas
by Clement Clarke Moore
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
Advice, Children Issues, Favorite Finds, Love, More Finds, One Village
We're all the same no matter what...
Some Children See Him
By Alfred Burt
Some children see Him lily white
the infant Jesus born this night
Some children see Him lily white
with tresses soft and fair
Some children see Him bronzed and brown
the Lord of heav’n to earth come down
Some children see Him bronzed and brown
with dark and heavy hair (with dark and heavy hair!)
Some children see Him almond-eyed
This Saviour whom we kneel beside
Some children see Him almond-eyed
With skin of yellow hue!
Some children see Him dark as they
Sweet Mary’s Son to whom we pray
Some children see Him dark as they
And, ah! they love Him so!
The children in each different place
Will see the Baby Jesus’ face
Like theirs but bright with heav’nly grace
And filled with holy light!
O lay aside each earthly thing
and with thy heart as offering
Come worship now the infant King
’tis love that’s born tonight!
’tis love that’s born tonight!
Advice, Children Issues, Faith, Favorite Finds, Love, One Village, Opinion & Politics, Topics
December 23, 2009
- They came to worship Him.
Throughout this week Mrs. Figgins will be sharing a few of the most loved poems and stories of the Christmas season.
The next installment shown below.
From our family to yours,
Merry Christmas and Wishes for a Blessed New Year!
Mrs. Figgins & Family
The Three Kings
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Three Kings came riding from far away,
Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;
Three Wise Men out of the East were they,
And they travelled by night and they slept by day,
For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star.
The star was so beautiful, large and clear,
That all the other stars of the sky
Became a white mist in the atmosphere,
And by this they knew that the coming was near
Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy.
Three caskets they bore on their saddle-bows,
Three caskets of gold with golden keys;
Their robes were of crimson silk with rows
Of bells and pomegranates and furbelows,
Their turbans like blossoming almond-trees.
And so the Three Kings rode into the West,
Through the dusk of the night, over hill and dell,
And sometimes they nodded with beard on breast,
And sometimes talked, as they paused to rest,
With the people they met at some wayside well.
“Of the child that is born,” said Baltasar,
“Good people, I pray you, tell us the news;
For we in the East have seen his star,
And have ridden fast, and have ridden far,
To find and worship the King of the Jews.”
And the people answered, “You ask in vain;
We know of no King but Herod the Great!”
They thought the Wise Men were men insane,
As they spurred their horses across the plain,
Like riders in haste, who cannot wait.
And when they came to Jerusalem,
Herod the Great, who had heard this thing,
Sent for the Wise Men and questioned them;
And said, “Go down unto Bethlehem,
And bring me tidings of this new king.”
So they rode away; and the star stood still,
The only one in the grey of morn;
Yes, it stopped –it stood still of its own free will,
Right over Bethlehem on the hill,
The city of David, where Christ was born.
And the Three Kings rode through the gate and the guard,
Through the silent street, till their horses turned
And neighed as they entered the great inn-yard;
But the windows were closed, and the doors were barred,
And only a light in the stable burned.
And cradled there in the scented hay,
In the air made sweet by the breath of kine,
The little child in the manger lay,
The child, that would be king one day
Of a kingdom not human, but divine.
His mother Mary of Nazareth
Sat watching beside his place of rest,
Watching the even flow of his breath,
For the joy of life and the terror of death
Were mingled together in her breast.
They laid their offerings at his feet:
The gold was their tribute to a King,
The frankincense, with its odor sweet,
Was for the Priest, the Paraclete,
The myrrh for the body’s burying.
And the mother wondered and bowed her head,
And sat as still as a statue of stone,
Her heart was troubled yet comforted,
Remembering what the Angel had said
Of an endless reign and of David’s throne.
Then the Kings rode out of the city gate,
With a clatter of hoofs in proud array;
But they went not back to Herod the Great,
For they knew his malice and feared his hate,
And returned to their homes by another way.
Advice, Children Issues, Faith, Favorite Finds, Topics
December 22, 2009
- The Little Match-Seller
Throughout this week Mrs. Figgins will be sharing a few of the most loved poems and stories of the Christmas season.
Next installment shown below.
From our family to yours,
Merry Christmas and Wishes for a Blessed New Year!
Mrs. Figgins & Family
The Little Match-Seller
by
Hans Christian Andersen
It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year, and the snow was falling fast.
In the cold and the darkness, a poor little girl, with bare head and naked feet, roamed through the streets. It is true she had on a pair of slippers when she left home, but they were not of much use.
They were very large, so large, indeed, that they had belonged to her mother, and the poor little creature had lost them in running across the street to avoid two carriages that were rolling along at a terrible rate.
One of the slippers she could not find, and a boy seized upon the other and ran away with it, saying that he could use it as a cradle, when he had children of his own.
So the little girl went on with her little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold.
In an old apron she carried a number of matches, and had a bundle of them in her hands. No one had bought anything of her the whole day, nor had anyone given her even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery.
The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.
Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell of roast goose, for it was New-year’s eve—yes, she remembered that. In a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and huddled herself together.
She had drawn her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold; and she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not take home even a penny of money.
Her father would certainly beat her; besides, it was almost as cold at home as here, for they had only the roof to cover them, through which the wind howled, although the largest holes had been stopped up with straw and rags.
Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match might be some good, if she could draw it from the bundle and strike it against the wall, just to warm her fingers. She drew one out—“scratch!” how it sputtered as it burnt! It gave a warm, bright light, like a little candle, as she held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light. It seemed to the little girl that she was sitting by a large iron stove, with polished brass feet and a brass ornament.
How the fire burned! and seemed so beautifully warm that the child stretched out her feet as if to warm them, when, lo! the flame of the match went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the half-burnt match in her hand.
She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame, and where its light fell upon the wall it became as transparent as a veil, and she could see into the room.
The table was covered with a snowy white table-cloth, on which stood a splendid dinner service, and a steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was still more wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled across the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast, to the little girl.
Then the match went out, and there remained nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before her.
She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmas-tree. It was larger and more beautifully decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchant’s. Thousands of tapers were burning upon the green branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the show-windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her hand towards them, and the match went out.
The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to her like the stars in the sky. Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. “Someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul was going up to God.
She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the light shone round her; in the brightness stood her old grandmother, clear and shining, yet mild and loving in her appearance. “Grandmother,” cried the little one, “O take me with you; I know you will go away when the match burns out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the large, glorious Christmas-tree.” And she made haste to light the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother there. And the matches glowed with a light that was brighter than the noon-day, and her grandmother had never appeared so large or so beautiful.
She took the little girl in her arms, and they both flew upwards in brightness and joy far above the earth, where there was neither cold nor hunger nor pain, for they were with God.
In the dawn of morning there lay the poor little one, with pale cheeks and smiling mouth, leaning against the wall; she had been frozen to death on the last evening of the year; and the New-year’s sun rose and shone upon a little corpse!
The child still sat, in the stiffness of death, holding the matches in her hand, one bundle of which was burnt. “She tried to warm herself,” said some.
No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, nor into what glory she had entered with her grandmother, on New-year’s day
Advice, Children Issues, Faith, Favorite Finds, Love, One Village
