Desert Blooms

Desert Blooms

The desert was like a vast dry ocean. Shallow rippling ridges shadowed by the lowering sun. The only coolness, if one could call it that, was on the porch. The only greenery were the succulents and cactus strewn across the desert and nestled up against the house. I was waiting for Emily to arrive. In the distance I thought I could see the kick up of her dusty old Land Rover. She had been to town all day for meetings and farm business and groceries. We had been married for over 20 years and my heart still seemed to flutter when I knew I’d see her soon. As a young boy, I had been too shy to say much to her. My mates hadn’t had the same problem with the girls they wanted to date. As we grew, our paths separated, our lives took different paths. Every now and then we met by chance. With a bit of maturity came the perspective that if I didn’t get over my boyhood shyness I’d better do something, so I finally asked her out. Slowly our lives took on a comfortable rhythm and we decided to marry. Emily moved to my farm out in the no man’s land of the desert. This was where our interests really came together. Emily had always been concerned about the environment and I had learned about hydroponic farming on the deserts. We found ourselves in long involved conversations, until we ran out of words and just walked quietly through this land that so many had turned their backs on. So it became our sanctuary. An errant breeze stirred the sheer white curtains on the open windows behind me. I had wine and glasses chilled. Our supper table was set with our old chipped crockery, salad was cooling in the fridge. Emily pulled up and jumped out looking as lovely as ever, at least in my eyes. “Oh, Norman darling. I don’t look lovely at all. I’ve been meeting-ed till I am exhausted, my clothes are a mess, my hair is stringy - but I accept your complement. I’m just glad to see you - I could hardly wait. Keeping my foot off the gas was almost more than I could  do.” I unloaded the groceries and put them away while Emily set our supper out. The moon rose as the night air cooled and was still.

“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen and 

waste its sweetness on the desert air.”

~ Paul Hoffman, The Last Four Things

Author's note: Edited February 14, 2024

Edges of Autumn

Beacon Hill Park, November 2, 2012

Sidewalks lined by ancient oaks

leaves with rust crusted edges 

cling lightly, await full colour

watching where I place my feet,

worried about a bump, an edge anything to trip me up ~

I look to the canopy above, 

no longer is the tree just a tree.

my perspective changes

vision of life flowing from roots

through the solid trunk

branching and branching

until twigs hold the greenery 

then let go of the leaves 

on this first day of autumn

“Autumn…the year’s last, loveliest smile.”

~ William Cullen Bryant, Indian summer

Author's note: Edited February 14, 2024

Climate Change

I bought a sunflower today

it’s sitting on my patio table

in the dark and the cold

I kind of feel that way sometimes

sitting out in the cold and the dark 

but it’s my own cold and my own dark

I am responsible for keeping warm and turning the lights on

but if I can’t keep warm, if I forget, 

let icicles drip from my nose

bump into walls because it’s too dark

my feet turn into blocks of ice,

stub my toes when I walk past a chair

goose bumps sprout up and down my arms

and I knock tissues to the floor searching for them

I’d better pay attention

~ brighten up my perspective

go find my sweater, put on my socks

walk my hands along the wall to the light switch,

to step out 

     in the warm, warm sunshine

          to find the hugs that share warmth and light

“If the world seems cold to you, kindle fires to warm it.”

~ Lucy Larcom, author 

(March 05,1824 - April 17,1893)

Recognition

to recognize 

that what I know

that what I feel 

are as different as

noxious weeds or magnificent sunflowers

weeds grow in any dreary climate 

roots reaching and leaching

seeds spinning out with the wind

cluttering up the soil of the mind

sunflowers grow tall and strong

rooted in beauty, joy and radiance

seeds of hope and gratitude

fresh perspectives planted each day.

“The world is a tragedy to those who feel, 

but a comedy to those who think.”

~ Horace Walpole

Book Review: Revenge of the Vinyl Cafe ~ by Stuart McLean

I had a dream the other night. In that dream I went in to the local video store to look for some comedy tapes. I know they were on the back wall. When I got to the back wall - it was just a wall. No shelves, definitely no comedy!

It’s been several months since I’ve done a book review, so it’s way past time that I did. Revenge of the Vinyl Cafe was the first book for this year’s book club. The Vinyl Cafe fills that blank back wall. 

The Revenge of the Vinyl Cafe is a compilation of eighteen short stories written and told by Stuart McLean. Dave was raised in Big Narrows and is the lead character in a vast array of Vinyl Cafe stories. Stories when Dave was young in Big Narrows, stories when Dave was married and a dad in Toronto, where he runs a store known as the Vinyl Cafe. Stories of Dave and Morley, Kenny Wong of Wong’s Scottish Meat Pies, Sam and Stephanie - Dave and Morley’s children - and Arthur their dog. These are only some of the characters that people Stuart McLean’s stories. I listened to Stuart McLean tell each of these stories on the Saturday morning CBC radio episodes of the Vinyl Cafe. To read them for myself was to hear his voice, his gentle modulation of tones, with just the right touch of humour throughout. I find I don’t need a visit to a video store to find comedy. Stuart, through his characters and with so much humour shares beautiful perspectives of family life in an ordinary neighbourhood. Stuart McLean, Canada’s most well known story teller and beloved by many CBC listeners, died at the young age of 68, February 15, 2017. Thank you, Stuart McLean. You are missed greatly.

“It is not said enough, so I’ll say it again: the world 

is a good place, full of good people, and when we 

act out of that, when we act out of hope, 

and optimism, and faith in our fellow humans, 

we act out of our best selves, and we are capable of 

doing great things, and of contributing to the greater good.”

~ Stuart McLean, humourist and storyteller

Title:  The Revenge of the Vinyl Cafe

Author:  Stuart McLean

Publisher:  The Penguin Group Canada

Publication Date: First Published in 2012

Format:  Hard Cover

ISBN: 978-0-670-06474-8

Type:  Fiction

Ode to My RGH Classmates

Starting as the small ember

built on dolls and plastic stethoscopes

nursing kittens and puppies

although quite healthy but

ready for cuddles

growing stronger each year

nursing school and new friends

learned giving injections in oranges

wrapping tensor bandages

taking out stitches

first bed baths on strangers

cleaning messes that were just gross

relieving shame and discomfort of the sick

our perspectives of what is really gross changed

earning white stockings from black stockings

graduating from a white cap with no band

to a blue velvet band and finally

the black signature band of an RN

the fire in our bellies grown strong

while we worked through shifting hours, days and years.

we are the smoke from that fire in our bellies.

“Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us 

but we can’t strike them all by ourselves.”

~ Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate

Still Singing

“We are the General girls. We wear our hair in curls………”. These are the opening words to our school song at the Regina General Hospital School of nursing. This Alumnae brunch was the 44th gathering of students and instructors of a nursing school that is no longer operating. Nurses take their training in different venues today and have for many years. Still it is always a joy for me to come home to this vibrant group of women. We were 206 strong today. Our class, the class of 1968, occupied two tables of eight today, an increase from the past couple of years. The oldest class here were women from the class of 1949. All of the classes have lost many colleagues over the years and they are still missed. To still be part of this strong group of women is a privilege. Whether high points or low points, these ‘General girls’ are always with me. And I’m not the only one still working, although the majority are retired. One of our group remarried this past June! We support each other with our various perspectives gleaned through our journeys. Dedicated, serious but always a fun bunch, this weekend each year is one that I cherish.

Classes celebrating five year reunions were:

Class of 1952 - 65 years

Class of 1957 - 60 years

Class of 1962 - 55 years

Class of 1967 - 50 years (known as the Golden Girls)

My class, the class of 1968, will celebrate our Golden anniversary of 50 years next year.

“Panic plays no part in the training of a nurse.”
~ Elizabeth Kenny