Sunday, June 01, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
The little old dog is lying at my feet, sleeping. It is one of the pleasures of his life as he copes with being both deaf and blind.
Old age is upon him, and he moves more slowly than he did even just a few months ago. Still, occasionally he waves his tail like an eager flag as he proceeds Husband and his cart down the road.
It is difficult for him to locate the direction of a voice, calling to him, and he is startled by sharp sounds and things that go snap in the night. I see the bewilderment in his face. and in the hesitation when he turns the wrong way, - away from familiar paths. He is developing independent ways as he copes with this strange new world of shadows and diminished hearing.
We are careful to be patient and loving.
My heart catches when I see him favouring a cool damp spot in the garden to make a comfortable bed, as so many of our dogs have done before him as they looked for comfy places to nap in their old age.
He has been with us for thirteen years, and we were all more lively when he first came to share our lives and met up with Mr. Jake.
Nevertheless, life is still good, - interesting and challenging.... And Husband and Dog and I all treasure our days together, with Cat around to keep us on our toes...
Patience is our watchword ...........
Monday, May 26, 2008
Monday morning, and the Cawston hills are an indistinct blur through the sheets of rain. Welcome rain, - always, in this semi desert valley that requires spring showers to turn the hills a tender green, if only for a few weeks. The air is at once heavy with moisture, and yet fresh and invigorating when Caspar and I go walking this morning. Me with an umbrella, - he, requiring a good toweling when we come in. I feel the plants in the garden sighing gently as they absorb the welcome moisture.
The spiney dragon's tail that stretches eastward from K Mountain stands out against the grey clouds that occupy the valley.
This was to have been 'planting pots' day. Our Sunday drive after church yesterday included a short visit to the greenhouse. Husband was magnanimous in stopping in front of this most dangerous of all establishments where the wallet is concerned. However, I suspect that he felt his presence waiting in the vehicle out in the parking lot would curtail the expenditures.... he doesn't know what a fast shopper I am. Especially when I have been making lists for the last three weeks.
He will retire to the garage to advance his organization of the accumulated tools and treasures, frustrated in his mowing plans but blessed in this opportunity to create order ........ I will find a spot to pot up the plants that I scooped yesterday.
Monday mornings can be invigorating in the most pleasant ways. The stress of the weekend has dissipated and the days stretch out, filled with empty hours, waiting to be filled and fulfilled.
This past weekend saw the culmination of all the piano practicing I felt was necessary to accompany a bell solo at Music under the K. Music under the K is a wonderful annual event which involves school bands from all over the province, visiting musicians, local talent and a great influx of students and music enthusiasts. A festive air in the village, echoing music from a dozen different venues.
Our Handbell presentation took place in the Church, - noted for its acoustics as well as its holy usage. On Sunday we did a repeat performance, taking part in the morning service of Eucharist.
The Prayers of the People ended with the following words, - a portion of a modern hymn written in 1988 by Shirley Erena Murray, with traditional music by C. Hubert Parry (1897).
'Psalms and symphonies exalt you, drum and trumpet, string and reed,
simple melodies acclaim you, tunes that rise from deepest need.
Hymns of longing and belonging, carols from a cheerful throat,
lilt of lullaby and love song catching heaven in a note.
All the voices of the ages in transcendent chorus meet,
worship lifting up the senses, hands that praise, and dancing feet,
over discord and division music speaks your joy and peace,
harmony of earth and heaven, song of God that cannot cease.'
Most appropriate after a few days of living in a valley from where all sorts and kinds of wonderful music soars skyward.
I am off to pot in the rain...
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Trinity Sunday, and in Church this morning the Old Testament Reading was the first chapter of Genesis, - an account of the Six Days of Creation, beautifully read in a way which seduced one's attention and imagination.
At home, over lunch, Husband and I expressed curiosity about the person(s) who wrote the gorgeous lyrical language used in the Bible, (the King Jame's version, that is ) and most especially in the Old Testament.
...and the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.
No matter what your belief how can you not be moved by this wonderful expressive story of creation.
...and God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.
Our discussion sent me searching and I found online Two Stories of Creation by Doug Linder.
The first, told about three thousand years ago around the campfires of Jewish desert dwellers in what is probably present day southern Israel, the story of The Creator, forming man and breathing life into him. It is followed by the tragic tale of Eden. The name of the creator god was "Elohim".
The second story, more ancient than the first, used a Judean term, "YHWH" (Jehovah) to describe its deity.
Four or five centuries later, in what is most likely present day Iraq, a remarkable Jewish writer (name unknown) began to write a primary history of his people, hoping that it would help the people endure the many trials they were undergoing.
He wove the two texts together, and the story he wrote is a 'compelling' one. He opened his history with a creation story as found in the first book of Genesis, - the reading which I found so moving this morning. This chapter ends with the creation of mankind - the first man, Adam, and the first woman, Eve.
But wait, - this is Eve who was created by the god YHWH from the rib of the first man, Adam.
There is another 'scientific Eve' who has slid into the story, as a result of amazingly advanced research.....
Dr. Lynn Margulis thinks'" humans are, essentially, a colony of closely associated bacteria.'
"When she first proposed her theory in The Origins of Eukaryotic Cells in 1970 the idea was so controversial it could not even be discussed at respectable scientific meetings"
Now, however, it has almost universal acceptance, and in turn the discovery of mitrochondrial bacteria has led to the marvels of a DNA which connects all of humanity from the time when the first male and female bacteria energized within a Eukaryotic Cell to eventually recreate.
Because the Mitrochondrial is passed down the centuries only through the mother some years ago researchers used computers to analyze samples of DNA drawn from 135 diverse women from all over the globe, and discovered that the family trees of these women all led back to Africa. In the process they discovered that genetic differences within Africa are twice as great as the differences between all other populations, suggesting that we are all descended from a small band of humans that left Africa perhaps 80,000 years ago. The root of the mitochondrial trees seems to lie in the northwestern Kalahai Desert in southern Africa, - the true home of Mitrochondrial Eve.
Dr. Margulis's discoveries are truly amazing, and I am still in awe of the advances in science that make this possible when I comment that this is the "discovery" of these marvelous primeval mysteries that seem to point to the beginning of life. They are not the "creation" of the bacteria in question, and we are left to wonder if Dr. Margulis is recording a chance event, or if The Origins of the Eukaryotic Cell is a highly intelligent technical journal of the allegorical Six Day Story of Creation as found in Genesis.
I ponder the connection between all these creation stories, and I wonder if the Eukaryotic theory
will ever inspire the music, the sculpture, the paintings and art that the ancient wildly romantic story of creation has given to civilization.
And I study this 1984 mural created by Ruth Dusckworth, showing God in the middle, and the unformed universe developing into images of the heavens, the waters, the mountains, the living creatures, and finally humankind...........
and I know that although my intellect recognizes and accepts the Margulis theory, my heart clings to the beautiful old stories and their primitive interpretation of mankind's imaginative wonderings and the beginning of the journey towards the discovery of Eukaryotic.
The danger, I feel, lies in the inherent arrogance of man in ignoring the wonders of creation while denying the design and the Designer.
At home, over lunch, Husband and I expressed curiosity about the person(s) who wrote the gorgeous lyrical language used in the Bible, (the King Jame's version, that is ) and most especially in the Old Testament.
...and the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.
No matter what your belief how can you not be moved by this wonderful expressive story of creation....and God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.
Our discussion sent me searching and I found online Two Stories of Creation by Doug Linder.
The first, told about three thousand years ago around the campfires of Jewish desert dwellers in what is probably present day southern Israel, the story of The Creator, forming man and breathing life into him. It is followed by the tragic tale of Eden. The name of the creator god was "Elohim".
The second story, more ancient than the first, used a Judean term, "YHWH" (Jehovah) to describe its deity.
Four or five centuries later, in what is most likely present day Iraq, a remarkable Jewish writer (name unknown) began to write a primary history of his people, hoping that it would help the people endure the many trials they were undergoing.
He wove the two texts together, and the story he wrote is a 'compelling' one. He opened his history with a creation story as found in the first book of Genesis, - the reading which I found so moving this morning. This chapter ends with the creation of mankind - the first man, Adam, and the first woman, Eve.
But wait, - this is Eve who was created by the god YHWH from the rib of the first man, Adam.There is another 'scientific Eve' who has slid into the story, as a result of amazingly advanced research.....
Dr. Lynn Margulis thinks'" humans are, essentially, a colony of closely associated bacteria.'
"When she first proposed her theory in The Origins of Eukaryotic Cells in 1970 the idea was so controversial it could not even be discussed at respectable scientific meetings"
Now, however, it has almost universal acceptance, and in turn the discovery of mitrochondrial bacteria has led to the marvels of a DNA which connects all of humanity from the time when the first male and female bacteria energized within a Eukaryotic Cell to eventually recreate.
Because the Mitrochondrial is passed down the centuries only through the mother some years ago researchers used computers to analyze samples of DNA drawn from 135 diverse women from all over the globe, and discovered that the family trees of these women all led back to Africa. In the process they discovered that genetic differences within Africa are twice as great as the differences between all other populations, suggesting that we are all descended from a small band of humans that left Africa perhaps 80,000 years ago. The root of the mitochondrial trees seems to lie in the northwestern Kalahai Desert in southern Africa, - the true home of Mitrochondrial Eve.
Dr. Margulis's discoveries are truly amazing, and I am still in awe of the advances in science that make this possible when I comment that this is the "discovery" of these marvelous primeval mysteries that seem to point to the beginning of life. They are not the "creation" of the bacteria in question, and we are left to wonder if Dr. Margulis is recording a chance event, or if The Origins of the Eukaryotic Cell is a highly intelligent technical journal of the allegorical Six Day Story of Creation as found in Genesis.
I ponder the connection between all these creation stories, and I wonder if the Eukaryotic theory
will ever inspire the music, the sculpture, the paintings and art that the ancient wildly romantic story of creation has given to civilization.
And I study this 1984 mural created by Ruth Dusckworth, showing God in the middle, and the unformed universe developing into images of the heavens, the waters, the mountains, the living creatures, and finally humankind...........
and I know that although my intellect recognizes and accepts the Margulis theory, my heart clings to the beautiful old stories and their primitive interpretation of mankind's imaginative wonderings and the beginning of the journey towards the discovery of Eukaryotic.
The danger, I feel, lies in the inherent arrogance of man in ignoring the wonders of creation while denying the design and the Designer.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Waiting in the wings for the curtain to rise...
Our first real summer Day and the garden is holding its breath
It's all rouged and powdered, the last Pierrette twirled, the Beauty Spots in place.
From the Stars to the Extras, all is in great anticipation, - preparing to burst forth on stage for
The May Extravaganza
A little rain, a warm sun, and the magic begins all over again.
Our first real summer Day and the garden is holding its breath
It's all rouged and powdered, the last Pierrette twirled, the Beauty Spots in place.
From the Stars to the Extras, all is in great anticipation, - preparing to burst forth on stage for
The May Extravaganza
A little rain, a warm sun, and the magic begins all over again.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure,
a messenger of peace and love, a resting place for
innocence on earth,
a link between angels and men. ~ Martin Fraquhar Tupper
This sweet May-morning, And the children are culling
On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm:—
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! Wordsworth Ode to Immortality
And welcome that darling little Blossom Time Babe
with dearest love to Jess and Derek
with dearest love to Jess and Derek
sweet innocence, trailing clouds of glory....
Thursday, May 08, 2008
A Visit to the Nursery
The plant nursery, that is.
A project fraught with a number of emotions. Delight, anticipation, wild abandon, - which leads in its turn to a little guilt, and then a little resentment. The guilt and resentments are personally inflicted and involve in some strange way the physical inability to recreate the old Lost Garden at this stage in our lives.
However, equilibrium is recovered, and resentment banished, and one gets lost in the joys of the search. Did Anna plant the white nicotiania this year, - the kind that is so fragrant on mid summer evenings and attracts the large hummingbird moths. Or will I have to search for seed and quickly get it in the ground. What about Cleome? Sometimes I find it, - sometimes I don't.
In deference to a lack of space and a dirth of extra energy I do not plan to frequent the little shrub department.....well, - maybe a Bridal Wreath as the Spirea I started off with turned out to be two of the tiny variety, when I envision extravagant masses of white froth.
And if I could find a Korean Viburnum I would not be able to turn away from it's delectable fragrance....
There is also a little stealth involved in this expedition. A lady at the Bargain Centre yesterday told me of a woman who, when she found an article of clothing she couldn't do without, would buy two in different colours. One she brought home and showed her husband, - the other she slipped surreptitiously into her closet, hoping it would be lost to the husbandly view of what hangs in ladies' closets. Is there some way I could apply this subterfuge in my dealings at the plant nursery?
Ah, I fear not, - togetherness is too much with us in these advanced years and there is no opportunity to slip the odd plant or two into the garden without its arrival being heralded by stern looks and the odd finger wagging and shakes of the head. Sigh.....
The plant nursery, that is.
A project fraught with a number of emotions. Delight, anticipation, wild abandon, - which leads in its turn to a little guilt, and then a little resentment. The guilt and resentments are personally inflicted and involve in some strange way the physical inability to recreate the old Lost Garden at this stage in our lives.
However, equilibrium is recovered, and resentment banished, and one gets lost in the joys of the search. Did Anna plant the white nicotiania this year, - the kind that is so fragrant on mid summer evenings and attracts the large hummingbird moths. Or will I have to search for seed and quickly get it in the ground. What about Cleome? Sometimes I find it, - sometimes I don't.
In deference to a lack of space and a dirth of extra energy I do not plan to frequent the little shrub department.....well, - maybe a Bridal Wreath as the Spirea I started off with turned out to be two of the tiny variety, when I envision extravagant masses of white froth.
And if I could find a Korean Viburnum I would not be able to turn away from it's delectable fragrance....
There is also a little stealth involved in this expedition. A lady at the Bargain Centre yesterday told me of a woman who, when she found an article of clothing she couldn't do without, would buy two in different colours. One she brought home and showed her husband, - the other she slipped surreptitiously into her closet, hoping it would be lost to the husbandly view of what hangs in ladies' closets. Is there some way I could apply this subterfuge in my dealings at the plant nursery?
Ah, I fear not, - togetherness is too much with us in these advanced years and there is no opportunity to slip the odd plant or two into the garden without its arrival being heralded by stern looks and the odd finger wagging and shakes of the head. Sigh.....
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Potpourri
Early this spring Husband pruned the curly willows, and in the process we snipped a number of pruned branches into small lengths, put them in a pot of water for a while, until they began to shoot, and then into a little nursery row where they developed nice, strong roots.
In an endearing act of faith Husband once again started planting trees. A row of wee curly willows to stretch out down the fence that lines the road to home. Each planted with the expectation that we will be here to watch them grow and mature.....
We are getting the occasional day when the air is warm and pleasant, and the chilly winds don't blow. On those days we come in weary and tired at lunchtime, but full of satisfaction with what has been accomplished.
We have new neighbours across the fence.... Baby, with the white socks and shattered star is not yet a week old. His lovely long legs carry him on little bursts of joyous sprints around the pasture. Mother and Uncle Ducky watch over him carefully and all of them are growing sleek and shiny on the lush green pasture.
Yesterday the day was stormy, and we were ready for a break. We took the day off to do errands and shopping in the "City". Everything went so well, and we got finished so quickly Husband suggested that we might go looking for the often contemplated van to replace the sporty red Grand AM that we have, alas, outgrown. Not enough spring left in the knees to enter and leave jauntily, - just getting out of the car casts a pall of old age.
Here is what we found, and we are thrilled and excited as we step in and slide out of this equally sporty vehicle that accommodates our old bones so nicely.
The countryside is awash in blossoms and burgeoning greenery - tender leaves, filmy catkins, the apples are in the pink and the Ramona tulips open each morning to the sun.
A tender memorial.
Husband is setting out the cards - time for Caspar and I to make the evening trek.
Early this spring Husband pruned the curly willows, and in the process we snipped a number of pruned branches into small lengths, put them in a pot of water for a while, until they began to shoot, and then into a little nursery row where they developed nice, strong roots.
In an endearing act of faith Husband once again started planting trees. A row of wee curly willows to stretch out down the fence that lines the road to home. Each planted with the expectation that we will be here to watch them grow and mature.....
We are getting the occasional day when the air is warm and pleasant, and the chilly winds don't blow. On those days we come in weary and tired at lunchtime, but full of satisfaction with what has been accomplished.
We have new neighbours across the fence.... Baby, with the white socks and shattered star is not yet a week old. His lovely long legs carry him on little bursts of joyous sprints around the pasture. Mother and Uncle Ducky watch over him carefully and all of them are growing sleek and shiny on the lush green pasture.
Yesterday the day was stormy, and we were ready for a break. We took the day off to do errands and shopping in the "City". Everything went so well, and we got finished so quickly Husband suggested that we might go looking for the often contemplated van to replace the sporty red Grand AM that we have, alas, outgrown. Not enough spring left in the knees to enter and leave jauntily, - just getting out of the car casts a pall of old age.Here is what we found, and we are thrilled and excited as we step in and slide out of this equally sporty vehicle that accommodates our old bones so nicely.
The countryside is awash in blossoms and burgeoning greenery - tender leaves, filmy catkins, the apples are in the pink and the Ramona tulips open each morning to the sun.
A tender memorial.Husband is setting out the cards - time for Caspar and I to make the evening trek.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Gardening in the Slow Lane....
Or else they simply go to seed........
One thing Husband and I are finding is that it's easy to be mindful of what you are doing, because everything gets accomplished so slowly that you can just put your whole heart and soul into it, and time stretches on and on until it's lunch time, and you think "What a pleasant morning".
Be that as it may we have been messing about in the garden most of the week, and this is what we have accomplished.....
Monday we did some outdoor painting , Two bistro chairs, half a wicker high backed seat, a table and the nice structure husband put together to accommodate the climbing roses and whatever annual vines we plant to hurry along the visioned picture. At 84 one does not plant exclusively for far into the future - immediate gratification is more realistic.
Tuesday we picked rock and loaded up an old freezer and a variety of metal cast-offs to make room for backyard garden plans. Late in the morning I went to pick up a piece of rhubarb root so kindly offered by a friend. While there I admired her friendly accommodations for the neighbourhood birds, and vowed to come home and create a lovely little spot in the garden incorporating her design for bird bath, feeding stations and a couple of green lounging spots in nearby trees.
Here are the three hens and the 'rooster that has come into his own' that share the overflow around the feeding station early in the morning, scratching now in the green orchard grass.
Wednesday Husband went singing and I went out for Lunch with the Ladies.
Today we planted the rhubarb, put the water on the garden and cleared a little strip along the bank by the trailer cum loom room to make a spot for a length of embedded flower seeds in an eight foot length of bio degradable tape. (Which I bought at the Bargain Centre for 50 cents and which I can see being a bright light in the back garden achieved at practically no labour cost. Important aspect of any slow lane gardening venture.)
Nice rhubarb, - looks quite healthy and virile.
What will we do tomorrow?
Oh, we have a long list. and we can choose at our leisure. Whatever we do spring will surely keep up with us. Here are some of the exciting things that are happening in the garden.....
The perennial alyssum that found its way from the garden to the side of the house is now in bloom.
A bevy of spring bulbs - the rich blue of the grape hyacinth making a beautiful foil for the narcissus, the half opened tulip and the red maple buds.
In just a few days it will be apple blossom time, and their sweet fragrance will join the cherries and the peach blossoms in celebrating the season.
Life is good, and satisfying, and there are a myriad of wonderful and mysterious things to see if you amble along in the Slow Lane.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Weather ReportI rise early and grope my way into the bathroom with its frosted windows through which you can't see a blessed thing , and so it is only when I come back into the bedroom that I am surprised and somewhat appalled to see a thin layer of snow on the ground and the valley bathed in misty clouds.
Caspar greets me in the hallway, legs crossed, and so we hurry along for our morning walk, and these are some of the scenes that met our eyes. Well, Caspar doesn't see too well, but he does dearly love great gulps of that fresh snow.....
The daffodils huddled together in wet misery, their sweet little heads bowed down with frosty snow....
but the few brave tulips that have had enough courage to face this cold and windy weather were showing their bright colours.
Over yonder, across the valley, the top of K Mountain was lost in clouds.
#1 son reported that the temperature in Fort McMurray was -18C, and the Guru Grandson was off to move snow from parking lots as per contract. The Apricots in full bloom shivered in the chilling breeze.By late afternoon the snow had disappeared into the green grass, - only the tops of the Cawston hills were still frosty.
But tonight the full moon is brilliant and cold, and there is no cloud protection. Ah April, - you truly are the cruelest month.....
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Today, in The Review, there is a sweet picture of a dozen or so little girls. Some are dressed in striped shirts with a bright kerchief. Sparks perhaps, or Brownies. Some may even be Girl Guides out of uniform.
They are selling Girl Guide cookies, - the kind that has to be hidden from Husband if I am generous and buy a number of packages.
Just a few years ago they would arrive on my doorstep, being very entrepreneurial and driven on their rounds by a parent. And it was a joy to have a little conversation as we carried out our trade. For them a few dollars support, and for Husband and me the chance to enjoy the traditional cookies. Separate the layers - eat the one with icing first......
Longer ago than that Daughter #2 canvassed the neighbourhood with cookies, probably accompanied by another small Brownie, and it was a lark and an adventure.
On Saturday the Keremeos Girl Guides will be selling their Girl Guide cookies at Bob and Ev's Custom Framing on 7th Avenue, across from The Review. Will it be fun for them? Oh, probably, - everything is fun for giggly girls. Will it be an adventure, - will it be a contact with the community, - will they be welcomed into a home that is not often visited by young people - well, sadly not. A bitter commentary on the fear that permeates today's society. And unfortunately with good reason.....
When daughter #2 was first a Brownie she was too young to go to camp unaccompanied, and so I went with her, - helped with the cooking and the crafts and enjoyed myself immensely.
When I was first a Brownie I was too young to be an "Official Brownie" and so I spent the time while everyone else was To Whit to Whooing sitting under the Toadstool in the centre of the circle.
Eventually the months passed and Brown Owl accepted me into the Pack as a Sprite - I still have the badge. Did we wear sporty striped shirts with bright kerchiefs? Alas, - no. Did we learn how to tie knots, and cook at campfires, earn badges and become good citizens, - oh yes...
This picture is ca 1931 - probably taken on the day of my induction. Look at that shiny new brown uniform, - those seductive stockings, held up with garters and always a little baggy at the knees. No slacks for these Brownies..... The HAT - and the scarf, tied just so.
Different times, - simpler times. But we played Run Sheep Run and Kick the Can outdoors in the evenings, unencumbered by fear. We were not exposed to the violence of television, - we read books that stirred the imagination and created pictures in our minds and dreams in our hearts.
I guess on Saturday I will go to Ev's and buy enough Girl Guide Cookies so that I will have some to stash in the freezer. These Older Men who are so attractive to us Older Ladies do not have the temerity of children who will raid the freezer and eat the cookies frozen.....I don't think?
They are selling Girl Guide cookies, - the kind that has to be hidden from Husband if I am generous and buy a number of packages.
Just a few years ago they would arrive on my doorstep, being very entrepreneurial and driven on their rounds by a parent. And it was a joy to have a little conversation as we carried out our trade. For them a few dollars support, and for Husband and me the chance to enjoy the traditional cookies. Separate the layers - eat the one with icing first......
Longer ago than that Daughter #2 canvassed the neighbourhood with cookies, probably accompanied by another small Brownie, and it was a lark and an adventure.
On Saturday the Keremeos Girl Guides will be selling their Girl Guide cookies at Bob and Ev's Custom Framing on 7th Avenue, across from The Review. Will it be fun for them? Oh, probably, - everything is fun for giggly girls. Will it be an adventure, - will it be a contact with the community, - will they be welcomed into a home that is not often visited by young people - well, sadly not. A bitter commentary on the fear that permeates today's society. And unfortunately with good reason.....
When daughter #2 was first a Brownie she was too young to go to camp unaccompanied, and so I went with her, - helped with the cooking and the crafts and enjoyed myself immensely.
When I was first a Brownie I was too young to be an "Official Brownie" and so I spent the time while everyone else was To Whit to Whooing sitting under the Toadstool in the centre of the circle.
Eventually the months passed and Brown Owl accepted me into the Pack as a Sprite - I still have the badge. Did we wear sporty striped shirts with bright kerchiefs? Alas, - no. Did we learn how to tie knots, and cook at campfires, earn badges and become good citizens, - oh yes...
This picture is ca 1931 - probably taken on the day of my induction. Look at that shiny new brown uniform, - those seductive stockings, held up with garters and always a little baggy at the knees. No slacks for these Brownies..... The HAT - and the scarf, tied just so. Different times, - simpler times. But we played Run Sheep Run and Kick the Can outdoors in the evenings, unencumbered by fear. We were not exposed to the violence of television, - we read books that stirred the imagination and created pictures in our minds and dreams in our hearts.
I guess on Saturday I will go to Ev's and buy enough Girl Guide Cookies so that I will have some to stash in the freezer. These Older Men who are so attractive to us Older Ladies do not have the temerity of children who will raid the freezer and eat the cookies frozen.....I don't think?
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