Saturday, July 07, 2007

The Phone Rings...

And it is Husband, who is on his way home after picking up the paper.

I am bent over the bathtub, scrubbing out the animal carrier in preparation for Miss Callie's visit to the Vet on Monday.

Interesting cloud formation, - says Husband. Translated that means, it would be nice if you could find the camera, drop what you are doing and not only enjoy, but record.

A request like that seduces me every time. They WERE interesting clouds, like large puffy pillows, stacked together. In another interpretation they could almost be imagined as alien transportation!

But I am sure there is a scientific explanation
, and perhaps I will google it later.

As I finished the picture taking project #3 Son was coming across the meadow with a clutch of sma
ll eggs in one hand, - a most welcome gift - and he had also been admiring the strange white cloud formations against the blue, blue July sky.

A hot one today, but as I put the eggs away, with greedy anticipation, the phone rang again. It was Husband once more, with an invitation to go driving where the breeze was cool.

We trundled down the road to Cawston, and around by Kobou Park, - a destination which alw
ays pleases us for any number of reasons.

At the time of the B.C. Centennial the committee which Husband chaired took upon themselves the task of creating a park by the river. This involved transforming a negle
cted wilderness and a lot of volunteer work. For many years the park was used as a playground for children, a picnic area, and for hundreds of ball games on the two diamonds that were built.

Eventually baseball became somewhat passe (passing through
a phase of unpopularity, I guess). The ball diamonds lay neglected on hot summer evenings, and the nasty Insurance Requirements made use of the park almost impossible.

Until a new gener
ation of young people saw the need for the park. With wonderful cooperation and eager enthusiasm, plus a lot of hard work, they have
created a beautiful new area of memorial trees, green grass, a playing field, and a fine playground with bright new equipment for the litt
le ones.

Many of the original park builders, (many of them Veterans from the newly planted orchards on the benchland) are no longer with us, but so
me of those who are worked hard along with the young people, especially in planting and promoting the memorial trees and the pretty flower bed that bids welcome.

The memorial trees
are for those who have left us, and have been remembered by their families.

One special memorial plaque is in memory of Andrea MacDonald, a young mother who died, and to all mothers whose love sustains their children.

Just a small park in a tiny village, but to Husband and me it means a lot that it has been restored so beautifully by a new generation of young parents and grandparents.

I am off now to deadhead the pot marigolds and the chamomile in the cool of the evening shade.

And I think of my sister, who today is with her family, celebrating her 77th birthday, on the 7th day of the 7th month of the 7th year of the century. Happy Birthday love. Good Fortune!

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