Uncle Bert's Garden

Uncle Bert's Garden

Piles of bricks from the fallen chimney, stacked carefully, sat. They sat as only bricks know how to sit. Heavy, stolid and misplaced, but ready to do whatever job asked of them. I stood over them that one spring morning, wondering what on earth I was going to do with them. The roofers had just left and would only have hauled them away for an added cost. My tiny budget had just barely allowed for roof re-shingling. So, stuck with this neat pile of bricks, an image wavered up from an old memory. It was my old uncle’s yard when I was a tiny girl. Pigtails hung to my shoulders. Freckles were sprinkled across my nose and I had on 'my garden clothes'. That's what my mom called them. 

'Go get your garden clothes on, honey. We're going out to see Uncle Bert. He says he needs your help in his garden.' 

Uncle Bert was a skinny man, tanned from days working in his large market garden. His hands calloused. His broken fingernails always dirty. Uncle Bert had taken some old bricks and made me a special garden spot by lining bricks in a curvy line out from the fence that separated his land from the open fields. I helped him as much as a five year old could. I had to hand him one brick at a time and, believe it or not, bricks are heavy for a little girl. I worked hard! With each brick I gave him, he sat back on his heels, pushed his cap back with his garden dirty hand and pointed the brick at me. 

‘See here, girlie, never throw away even a brick that looks all crumbly. Even ones with notches knocked out of 'em or clumps of mortar. Make sumpin’ out of 'em. Be it a door stop or a pretty little garden.’  

Uncle Bert stopped long enough to place that brick just so, with a pointy end up and the rest buried deep in the soil. I handed him the next 'crumbly' brick and his story traveled on. 

‘Those bricks was my chimney for a long long time and did a real good job. Now see, they make a pretty garden edge. Now, you hand me one more of them bricks and then we can get to plantin’ us some pumpkins.’ 

Wearing my garden clothes - yes, I still have certain 'garden clothes' - I was ready for yard work. I smiled, picked up a 'crumbly' brick and started to design my garden for Uncle Bert.

“I was brought up to reuse things.”

~ Annabelle Selidorf, architect

Privileged To Be ~ PRIVILEGE ~ Theme for August, 2019

Piles of bricks…...

Reshaping the past……

Inspiration evolves……….

Villages are where…….

Important beliefs……..

Later on, they went……..

Eccentricities become……..

Grand experiments often………

Embedded in all our stories…………

“What am I owed except the responsibility to see life as a gift?”

~ Craig D. Lounsbrough

Good Morning

Stepping outside 
to greet each new morning 
as the sun tips over the cedars, when cool breezes begin to stir carrying the distant screech of gulls ~ when shadowed blossoms brighten and light rain on grass mimics the dew, 
I breathe deeply of life.

“Be willing to be a beginner every single morning.”

~ Meister Eckhart

Nature View

Victoria has a plethora of urban wildlife. I’ve often mentioned that I see deer, squirrels and raccoons in and around my patio. Yesterday morning, as I sat at my desk writing in my journal, I glanced up at my window. A slight movement had caught my eye. There, sitting as peaceful you please, was a fawn. I recalled the few details of deer behaviour that I knew. The doe hides her fawn in a sheltered place while she goes off to forage. This was the thought that went through my head, and it may in fact have been true. The fawn barely moved when I tapped on the window to get a better ‘nature view’ for my iPhone. After too many taps, the fawn, three to four months old got up stiffly, licked at a

spot on its side and moved away. The next I saw, the fawn was lying quietly in front of my patio, protected by the foliage there. Over an hour and a half I watched the fawn becoming concerned. I spoke with SPCA Wildlife, who told me that a doe would ‘hide’ her fawn for up to two hours. As I was on the phone, the fawn got up again and stiffly walked away. I’ve not seen it since. My hope was that any injury the fawn may have had was minor. The SPCA did assure me that deer heal incredibly quickly. Did the doe return? Questions that will never be answered, as I have not seen any deer since.

*******

Today at 05:45am - When I opened my curtains to my patio this morning, I thought to myself - ‘I hope my little fawn isn’t there.’ No sooner did I have that thought when I saw the fawn curled up between the two plants, looking perky and content. I quickly turned out my lights and got my camera.

06:15 - my movements must have suggested the fawn was not in the safest place. A wise move, as the yard care folks may be here today with their noisy machines.

If I see it again and it's condition is deteriorating there will be another call to SPCA Wildlife. The fawn does look like it's doing ok. 

“In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous.”

~ Aristotle

SPCA Wildlife ph. number - 1-855-622-7722

*wikihow.pet - information about age of fawns

 Author's note:  

Update one week later: did not see the fawn again so can only hope it survived it's possible injuries.

Midsummer City Stroll

Taking my time ~
shaded by beautiful old trees.
Midsummer blossoms in colours more
brilliant than soft spring pastels ~ vibrant sunny showoffs greet me with good cheer.

And so I stop ~

take a picture here or there and wonder what beauty is around the next corner

Will I miss my bus because I dawdle? 

Yes….. there it goes! A farther stroll in the warm summer air, the whoosh of traffic, hammers and drills of construction on streets and avenues ~

and yet flowers still blossom innocent of these noisy surroundings.

“But the beauty is in the walking -- 
we are betrayed by destinations.”

~ Gwyn Thomas

Celebrating Summer

A summer celebration and a summer festival. Two excellent events on yesterday's gorgeous Sunday afternoon. 

I found, by chance, The Victoria Flamenco Festival final day at Confederation Square. It had been running from July 25 to July 28. Even in a short half hour, I listened and enjoyed the superb music and flamenco dancing. 

Our Place Society celebrated ‘….50 years of helping those most often overlooked’ with music, drumming and dancing, bubbles and balloons. People of all ages attended and enjoyed visiting this community for Sunday's lovely summer afternoon.

“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.”

~ Jonathan Grimwood, The Last Banquet

Movie Review: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood Directed by Quentin Tarantino

Photo taken through window in Downtown Victoria

Not an easy movie to write a short blog post on! My first impression was ‘this is boring’. My second impression was much different. While I definitely enjoy movies, even violent and sensational ones, I do not consider myself a movie buff. In discussion at coffee with friends after the movie, the extent of detail and texture in this movie was revealed over hot coffee in a local coffee shop. I hadn’t recognized the depth of this story, even though familiar with the history of the brutal Sharon Tate murders from the summer of 1969. Going into a movie with expectations because of a famous director or an impressive cast sets one up for missing out on such depth and the sardonic nature of Quentin Tarantino’s movies.

When my expectations were for gruesome, bloody and violent scenes Quentin Tarantino disappointed ~ for a while. This movie delved into the gun toting violent nature of at least one fictional TV western of 1969, starring Leonardo DiCaprio as Rick Dalton. Not only was he a fading actor, this genre of movies was also fading into the sunset. His driver, handyman, and one time stuntman played by Brad Pitt, had become a close friend. At the same time, their relationship showed the absolute divide between the stars of Hollywood and the ordinary guys of the time. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood was more of a trip down movie nostalgia lane into 1969 with tension building toward a twist at the end. However, the nostalgia created the texture and voice of this movie. The detail was evidenced by the fantastic car culture, lost hippies, the Spahn Movie Ranch where part of Charles Manson’s family lived, the ubiquitous smoking of cigarettes as well as scenes of movie making on dusty lots with trailers, costuming and sets built and moved. Al Pacino, as Marvin Schwarz, movie producer, brought the movies to the controversial Spaghetti westerns in Italy when he lured Rick Dalton out of the U.S. to Italy. Rick’s lack of faith in such movies crumbled when he feared for his own career. Sharon Tate, played by Margot Robbie, in a very star struck scene, went to one of her own movies starring Dean Martin and Nancy Kwan. In the dark of the movie house with her big eyes, she thrilled to the audience joy in her movie. Actual footage was shown, which was true throughout the movie, part of the historical essence of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. There were other present day actors with brief, but significant, walk-on roles throughout this movie. I must admit my lack of familiarity with many of them. 

I have reconsidered my initial opinion that this movie was boring. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is a movie to see again, so I can better appreciate the exquisite layers of this movie.

“I’m a historian in my own mind.”

~ Quentin Tarantino

Partial Cast of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Written and Directed by Quentin Tarantino 

Leonardo DiCaprio - Rick Dalton, fading TV western star

Brad Pitt - Cliff Booth, stuntman for Rick Dalton

Margot Robbie - Sharon Tate

Emile Hirsch - Jay Sebring

Al Pacino - Marvin Shwarz, Spaghetti Western movie producer

Kurt Russell - Stunt manager

Damian Lewis - Steve McQueen

Timothy Olyphant - TV western actor

Mike Moh - Bruce Lee

Julia Butters - TV western actor, 8 year old child