My Aunt Ria lives down the road from me. We have lived on this road together for more than ... for a very long time then. She has come to be synonymous with Forsythia and our first sign of spring. I cannot tell you how many times I would visit mom for her birthday on April 4th and find a spray of forsythia branches in the centre of her kitchen table ---
buds bursting forth with a brilliant yellow.
buds bursting forth with a brilliant yellow.
A sunny B Complex capsule in it's most natural form :) This year, I got to be the happy recipient of my aunt's thoughtful drop-in delivery and am showcasing it here in memory of Mom along with her favourite flower - the fragrant freesia in white and lavender. On the 4th, her offspring hope to spend some time reminiscing in her cozy little sitting room. I shall take a yellow sprig along for old times sake!
A barrel chested pair of morning doves have returned to their favourite section of eavestrough right outside the patio doors. I studied them for quite a while today as they set up their nest. I like them well enough - I don't like their incessant 5 am calls - conversely, that just brings the image of a BB gun to mind.
It was fun to see their frequent & fervent peering over the edge and imagine them tut-tutting over the shocking accumulation of snow on the back deck.
Julsie had to content herself with a pile of books while the housecleaning was being done.
Bring on the spring thaw!
I think if you were born in the late 80's, you might have some trouble identifying this next picture. I found them in the long neglected backspace of the bathroom closet.
Strips of flannel for rag rolling and foam curlers.
Yes sir-ree bob. Saturday evenings, all us girls lined up after our bath for a head full of foam rollers. Sometimes we even got to sit a spell under the oversized
helmut'ish'-looking Automatic hair dryer.
helmut'ish'-looking Automatic hair dryer.
I took a bunch from home when I married and subjected my own daughters to the same Saturday evening ritual. I do believe those strands of blonde hair belong to our baby - who just turned 21 yesterday.
My kids can't quite believe ( or is it me?) that the curling iron only became a common household item in my teenage years. And it too, is already nearing extinction.
Apparently our four year old grand-daughter arrived in ringlets at church last week.
To my way of reckoning, there's only ONE way to put ringlets on a little head of hair....
:) some traditions never die.
Commencing May 3, Toronto's newly built Roundhouse Theatre is featuring a live performance of one of the most highly esteemed books ever read to my children as they were growing up. This beautifully illustrated hardcover of The Railway Children by E. Nesbit was the story-hour couch companion for one whole wintry month in 1990 - according to the inscription of the inside cover.
From the dustcover:
Life changes for Roberta, Peter and Phyllis when their father has to go away, and they and their mother move to a little cottage in the country. They become the 'railway children', making friends with Perks the Porter and with the Station Master, and waving each day to the 'Green Dragon' engine as it goes by. Soon every element of the children's lives is involved with the railway, and it is through the railway that their sadness is turned to joy.
One of the most moving of all children's novels, it is also full of fun and excitement.
The characters are vividly portrayed, and the reader shares every detail of their daily life.
I plan to see this play and thereby revisit a wonderful passage of time early in our married life -
one I'd really like to introduce to the next generation.
We'll simply have to take the Go Train!