Friday, April 30, 2021

 April 29th, 2021

Our eldest daughter's seventy-second birthday, and wow, does that ever make me feel old!!!!

She is probably not feeling terribly young, either, but life goes on, day by day, and somehow one does not notice how quickly the years pass by.  How one no longer skips down the stairs, bends easily or, even when that is accomplished, straightens up - even more difficult is rising from a crouch.  Oh well, who crouches these days.  My dearest left behind him a thing-a-ma-jig that picks things up off the floor and has banished forever the long reaches and the dangerous knee bends......

Spring is settling in, - a rather overcast day, but warm and pleasant, and Bruce and I spent a little time in the back garden, searching for unfolding leaves and bursting buds.  The peonies show lovely signs of a May time selection on the stage, and along with the iris that are beginning to sending sweet swards skywards it should make for a pleasing show.

In the meantime the Alium are about to burst into a lovely purple globe, and there are a few tentative buds on the scarlet Poppies.

Youngest son arrived for evening visit - a hiatus.   - I will be back

.Later - there is a decision to be made.  Shall I continue writing or shall I answer the call of the bed, which is terribly beguiling, even though I sleep alone!

Sorry, - bed wins.  Watch for me in the morning......


Sunday, April 25, 2021

 April 25th, 2021

Seventy-eight years ago today that I met my darling husband!

Easter Sunday, and down by the riverside, where Norma and I had packed a frying pan, some potatoes to fry and a pork chop or two!

In my mind's eye I see my lovely airman, his jacket thrown across his shoulder, gazing down the river......

"Slow down" I say to my friend, - "he may catch up!"

And he did, -

We fed him fried spuds and pork chops and I spent the rest of his life as the one whose hand he held when we came to the end of the pathway along the North Saskachewan, and whose hand I held at the end of his life.

A day of memories, - lovely ones, sad ones,  grateful ones, happy ones - I am full to overflowing!!

About to graduate from the Initial Training School in Edmonton as a Pilot in training he went on to Calgary that wonderful summer of 1943, and spent his "48s" in Edmonton.  On leave, I accompanied him home to Penticton, where we became engaged and I wore his ring with prayers that he would survive with his crew the OPS that were ahead of him.

He did, - we were married, had a family of six,  -sixty seven years of marriage and so very many memories!!!

I came across this poem of Mary Oliver's that somehow seemed appropriate.....

"Sixty-seven years, oh Lord, to look at the clouds, the trees in deep, moist summer.

daisies and morning glories opening every morning

their small, ecstatic faces...or maybe I should just say

how I wish I had a voice like the meadowlark's

sweet, clear and reliably slurring all day long

from the fencepost, or the long grass where it lives

in a tiny but adequate grass hut beside the mullein and the everlasting

the faint pink roses that have never been improved,  but come to bud, 

then open like little soft sighs under the meadowlark's whistle, its breath-praise,

its thrill-song, its anthem, its thanks, its Alleluia, oh Lord."

Life is good.....pork chops and fried potatoes were always a favourite!