Friday, August 24, 2007

Sitting on the back steps having coffee with Husband this morning, and the sky is bright blue and cloudless.

A slight breeze stirs the leaves on The Man's sunflowers and scarlet runners, lining the roadside fence. The neighbour's windmill can be seen above the tree tops, spinning lazily. A cool, quiet morning.

Husband goes about his business, and I deke into the kitchen to make applesauce muffins.

By mid-afternoon a change of scene. At tea time I venture forth to test the waters, - and find a garden luxuriating in the heat of the day. The hot sun elicits a most delicious fragrance from the roses and alyssum. It wafts around as you brush past on the shaded garden path, but out on the sunlit patio tea in the breakfast room seems like a good idea.

Caspar wanders off into the meadow and is burying his nose in the cool, freshly watered grass. He turns over and rolls in it with intense pleasure, smiling all the while.

Callie, the cat, is investigating what grows in the barnflower jungle, but comes at Husband's call.

I linger to take a few pictures, - pick some ripe sweetpea pods, then gather up the animals and we go in to have tea where it is cool.

After tea we go for a drive, and the Wild Clematis almost envelops us as we drive along the back roads. What a year it has been for this lovely wild vine that brings to mind the Sweet Autumn Clematis that grew in the Lost Garden.

It covers the fences, creeps out on to the roads and provides a gorgeous foil for the yellows of the Goldenrod that promises autumn is just behind the highest hill.

After supper I trudge out the back and take a picture of our own little bower of Wild Clematis.

The evening progresses, - the clouds in the sky thin to long white sheets. The windmill still turns desultorily, behind the trees, and the sky is illuminated by the setting sun. The valley is bathed in a rosy light as the moon rises, silver against the pink background.

Eventually dusk deepens the colours of the sky, and we all go indoors, - me, and the jungle cat, and the sweet old dog.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Sitting on the sidewalk,

Eating my Cherries,

Floating my Balloons,

And just watching the

Parade pass by.....

The action is all with the young crowd these days, - new babies - new venues - new adventures - new directions - shedding old habits, taking up new ones and just generally Living the Parade of Life.

Husband and I watch, as sadness and disappointment are followed by happiness and joy.

We note the grasshoppers and the ants, the paraders who are about to step into a manhole and the ones who soar above the Parade, in search of a goal.

I may sit on the sidewalk, rejoicing in those who are skipping through the roses, and sighing for those who have strayed into the weeds, catching my breath at those who court disaster and smiling with happiness for those who embrace joy and contentment.

But beyond a VERY occasional, small, quiet whisper, "Watch Out" my role in life is to gather together the memories and stories of my own Parade, holding them close to keep me warm as I sit and watch the ones I love finding their way.

And just being a warm receptacle of love, cheering them on as they pass by....

I want to tell you though, - it's bloody frustrating.....

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Yesterday we went to a party!

Not our usual Funeral Reception type of Party.

This was an honest to goodness happy day party, - although it shared the nostalgia of the usual funeral reception.

It was a 65th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY PARTY - and I put that in bold capital letters because it is such a rare and lovely event.

Firstly because two people who have made a commitment to love and honour have done just that, - not for a year, or ten years, but through sixty five years. And Love has been the vehicle that carried them through the joyous times and the times of tribulation. And Honour is what is due to them now..

And secondly, because they have had the good fortune to survive the years, and are both physically present to celebrate this wonderful achievement.

While the familiar tunes of the 40's swept around the celebration one of the great granddaughters danced with her Daddy, perched on Daddy's shoes, and I smiled to see them, and to think about that great tune sung by sweet, old Leon Redbone, Dancing on Daddy's Shoes.

No. 3 Son introduced me to Leon Redbone not too many months ago, and when I play his music I am right over the moon.....

I read a little blurb while looking for this picture, and it says so beautifully what I feel about his voice.

"It is hard not to smile when listening to a Leon Redbone record. Redbone is graced with a voice as deep as the Pacific and as smooth as butter. He continues a real love affair with tunes from the turn-of-the-century, flapper-era radio ditties, Depression-spawned ragtime and folk-jazz. Yet there is something oddly modern about this musician. His lyrical satire and cynicism tend to wear well with any generation. Leon Redbone’s live shows are just pure entertainment. His front porch manner, impeccable musicianship and relaxed stage aura create a family-like gathering around the fireplace, with the audience right there next to his armchair. "

And how about his rendition of the Walking Stick....

Excuse me while I go and search him out of the Media Library and put in my ear phones - bliss, - pure bliss.

I have my happy face on.......