Her Royal Five-ness

Five candles: One hiding behind the star!

Dressed up in a pink tulle gown, a tiara sparkled on her blond hair (with a pink extension). She led me to where all the gifts were awaiting her attention. It wasn’t long before gown and tiara were traded for a pretty and much cooler summer dress! She transformed into a charming, tanned five year old in bare feet, opening her many gifts with exclamations of OMG, or setting some aside for trying on later. Five years have passed so quickly. It has been a joy to watch her grow, blossom and to have 'Her Royal Five-ness’ in my life.

“It is time to let children be children again”

~ L.R. Knost

One Summer Afternoon

A pleasant line up in t-shirts and shorts at the Ice Cream window for swirled mango or strawberry ice cream cones; chocolate/orange

swirls, frosty milkshakes, or my sundae of vanilla ice cream with thick gooey salted caramel sauce. One at a time we took our frozen sweet relief to the little courtyard where elm trees, tall and gnarled, shaded us all in the thick humid air; tables of singles reading books, young couples unaware of the heat, children wanting more; the breeze off somewhere else, maybe down a back alley or cooling itself at the lake; melting ice cream confections ~ a sweet taste of cold.

“Cause a little bit of summer is what the whole year is about.”

~ John Mayer, Wildfire

Recycled

“What is that brown thing on the fence, Myrtle? Can’t hardly make it out. These old eyes are just not what they used to be.” Charlie shook his head, took his glasses off and polished them again. “Useless old things. When is the eye appointment with that new fellow we’re seeing?”

“Charlie, ask me one question at a time. That ‘brown thing’ is an old bird house. Now what bird would even want that old thing. I suppose somebody just didn’t want to throw it away. There’s enough trash as it is. I suppose it’s not hurting anyone hanging there. Just doesn’t make sense. And the eye appointment isn’t til next month. You’ll probably have to get new glasses and you’ll have to get rid of the old ones.”

“I’ll take ‘em down to the senior’s centre. You told me they recycle them - give ‘em to others that need glasses and can’t afford them. Too bad that old bird house can’t be recycled the same way.” Arm in arm, the elderly couple continued their evening walk. Myrtle stopped suddenly and pulled on her husband’s arm. “Why can’t it? Little Robbie has a school project about recycling!” Their grandson was always with his grandparents after school til one of his parents got home from work. “Grandma, teacher gave us a project today. We have to recycle something and then write a paragraph about it. We can find something in our house, in nature or in the school.” He had looked pretty dejected about the whole thing. “Looked like he’d lost his last friend. Let’s see if we can get that old bird house for him. If he doesn’t want it, well, maybe you can fix it up, Charlie”

Robbie’s grandparents did indeed get the birdhouse for him. The owners were more than happy to get rid of it. “We were just going to throw it in the trash. That fence has to come down. I don’t even remember where it came from, or why it’s hanging on the fence. If your grandson can revive it and use it in his school project, then it’s in good hands.”

Over the next few months, Robbie took it apart, put it back together again with new nails, and gave it a fresh coat of bird friendly paint. His paragraph told the story of how he got the birdhouse, that it was about to be thrown away, and that he would hang it in the tree in his front yard. There were little mistakes - Robbie wasn’t the best at describing things ~ but he did get a B+. Fixing up the bird house had been fun!

“There is no such thing as “away”. When we 

throw anything away it must go somewhere.”

~ Annie Leonard

Sweet Dreams

This little tree all leafed out as though ready to dance would be a perfect date for the wise old story tree sitting with his friend owl on my grandfather’s desk. But the little tree, all dressed for the dance, was a real, honest to goodness tree, rooted firmly in the ground on a wide green lawn. Grandfather’s story tree was very old and dusty, the pages in its story book never turning. 

What no one ever knew, was that in the midnight hours, they met in someone’s dreams as a Lord and his Lady. Owl flew ahead of their handsome carriage to a great ball in a forest. They danced the night away with their many friends that came from lawns, gardens and bookshelves; kitchen cupboards and sideboards. All transformed for the ball until just before dawn, when they disappeared back to their places.  She rooted once more on the wide green lawn, and he to my grandfather’s desk. Their friends to their homes across the world.

I only knew about these midnight trysts because one night I dreamed it. But only once. In their finery, he bowed and she curtsied and said: “Tonight, m’lord, we have chosen to dance in your dreams. Tomorrow, Sir Owl will lead us to another.”

“The world is full of magic things patiently waiting 

for our senses to grow sharper.”

~ W.B.Yeats

With Only Minutes

With hesitation and not a 

little annoyance I could see 

a middle aged man stop on 

the very sidewalk I needed 

to get to my appointment. He had 

stopped, looking intently 

at his cell phone. A business call perhaps. None of my business, 

except that he blocked my way. 

I had my cane, and could have 

tried to move him out of the way, 

but I’m not a violent person. 

And he was bigger and younger than me. 

Deciding to take the pathway on the neighbouring 

property that connected to my destination, 

I was greeted by these gorgeous prairie lilies 

nestled in the greenery. I must have done a little 

stop - start - stop as I only had minutes to spare. 

But the beautiful orange wings of prairie lilies 

have always captured my heart and my imagination. 

After all what could happen ~ would I be shown 

the door before I even got there? Not likely. 

I just don’t like to be late. I risked it anyway 

when these beloved prairie lilies shone on my path.

“People from a planet without flowers would think we must be

 mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.”

~ Iris Murdoch

Built for the Bees

Bees need shelter in their busy flight from flower to flower

to deposit their pollen 

to make nectar and feed 

their queen bee. The challenges they face are many: pesticides, parasites and humanity’s threat. We plant milkweed and bee balm to offer them help, but shelter ~ Where is it? On my stroll through a garden, a cute little house stood barely tall, tiny holes in its face and midst the grasses and flowers. The 

Native Prairie Garden gardeners had added a bee nest 

with the bee balm, lavender, milkweed and such. 

“Wherever there are bees, there are flowers, and wherever 

there are flowers there is new life and hope.”

~ Christy Lefteri, author

Native Prairie Garden the entrance to the Royal Saskatchewan Museum across from Wascana Park. (saskatchewan.ca)

For more information about bee homes, go to: garden therapy.ca

Crisped

I thought it odd, lacy baby’s breath with 

no blossoms or white blossoms still tightly 

wrapped within themselves, their delicate 

stems a gauzy cloud. No gardener was there 

to ask my questions so I looked to the pink roses, blossoming through the white picket fence, a beautiful backdrop to the spent baby’s breath. Bravely blooming they did seem a reminder of the cruel heat of the past week’s end, explaining the missing dainty white flowers on the gauzy stems.

“We should enjoy this summer, flower by flower,

 as if it were to be the last one we’ll see.”

~ André Gide, French author

(1869 - 1951)