The Trees Know

The trees know 

of water and wind

of changing seasons

Keeping their roots 

in the dark

the trees know

to conserve water

to bring forth a new shoot

to settle into change

The trees know 

of water and wind 

of changing seasons.

“Do like trees: change the leaves, but keep the roots. 

So change your ideas, but keep your principles.”

~ Victor Hugo

On an Afternoon Walk - A Song for All Seasons

I have a ceramic story tree on my desk. J.R.R.Tolkein wrote of Treebeard, the oldest of the Ents, in Lord of the Rings. J.K.Rowling wrote of the Whomping Willow in Harry Potter. On the farm, I’d go in the grass between stunted prairie trees to read. In Victoria, B.C. the gnarled old Garry Oaks enchanted me and reminded me of our arching elms here in Regina. The swaths of pine and fir on the mountain sides are mysterious and mystical. 

To add some music to these forested memories, this 'singing tree' greets me on my walks to the grocery store. In spring, it welcomes sprouting branches, in summer displays these wonderful green leaves, in autumn bejewelled in yellow, orange and red and in winter wears a beard of snow. My friend is always changing and forever unchanged.

“Trees are the poems that the earth writes upon the sky.”

~ Kahlil Gibran, Sand and Foam

Flight Plans ~ 2

Wishful thinking is magical

 ~ plans take a nibble

Knowing when to fly 

 ~ changes everything

“Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing.”

~ Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief

One More Time

Blossom Time - Royal Albert china

So many thoughts this Easter morning. Where do I start? Spinning from ordinary todays to special days of childhood,  

I liked the dress up part best, a new dress, a new Easter bonnet ~ Flowing along life changes, those precious times

were washed away, held only 

by the fraying strings of memory. Now on my own, in my own place, resurrection of these things

a slow and joyous task, brings out 

the china dinner plate for my breakfast,

drifts me back to long ago Easter and special days 

when we set the table, placing the silver cutlery just so, 

making sure the pretty pink blossoms 

on the plate had the laneway take me 

to the end of the orchard. One more time, I set 

a pretty china plate, but with ordinary cutlery.

“You can find something truly important in an ordinary minute.”

~ Mitch Albom

A Day Off

Everyone needs a day off from time to time. From retirement, from only adult conversation, from household chores, laundry and grocery lists. And it doesn’t have to be planned! Better that it’s spontaneous, out of the blue, and full of fun. Today was such a day and I am glad of it. On this quick change list: painting, drawing, exercises, painting, mixing up bread dough, lunch, more painting, ABCD puzzles, drawing on each other’s arms and playing dress-up. All in all it was a whole lot more fun than my planned household chores, laundry and grocery shopping. 

“A child can always teach an adult three things: 

to be happy for no reason, 

to always be busy with something, and 

to know how to demand with all his might that which he desires.”

~ Paulo Coelho

To Come Again

 

fine rain

  cool breezes

    overcast skies

      yellowing leaves 

seasons change

  one to the other 

    until summer 

      returns again

“I think that to one in sympathy with nature, 

each season, in turn, seems the loveliest.”

~ Mark Twain

Two Sides

Two Sides

“Passion!? Whatever do you mean, Hazel?” Harold rattled and shook his newspaper out, settling back to read. His wife was getting his tea. He always wanted the water boiled properly, his tea steeped precisely for 2 minutes, loose leaf tea ~ absolutely no tea bags and just hot enough so the flavour of the tea was enhanced. She knew right away that she’d made a mistake suggesting he was passionate about his tea. Her mother said he was just a brute, always insisting that Hazel get it right. “Let him make it himself!”

Hazel knew they were both right. He was a brute and she had plans to change that situation. In the early days of their courtship, his ‘passion’ about tea, was interesting. He had taught her about how tea was correctly grown, cured and transported. She had been fascinated with his knowledge, and went with him to conventions and tea tasting events. Over time, she became bored and he became just stodgy about it all. “Here you are, dear. I’ll be going now.” Hazel put her coat on, picked up her suitcase, waited in vain for a ‘thank you’, and went to stay with her mother.

“There is nothing that exists that has only one side. 

Even a piece of paper, thin as it is, has two sides.”

~ Terry Goodkind

Regardless

Climate change?

or

Saskatchewan weather?

or

Both?

“I want you to act as if the house is on fire, because it is.”

~ Greta Thunberg

Honey Mustard Chicken and Potatoes

Online from 

'Cafe Delites for all good food lovers'

Far be it from me to alter any recipe! That is unless I’m missing one or two ingredients. In this case it was only one - mustard seed. Not to worry, the recipe also called for dijon mustard, so substitutions were not necessary. I did add a squirt of mayonnaise just to pump up the flavour. This delicious garlicky dish started out on the stove, browning the chicken and creating the honey mustard sauce. When the potatoes were added, there just seemed to be something missing…….ahh…..mushrooms. Some lovely little crimini mushrooms in the fridge were just begging to be used. So in they went. No green beans per the recipe? Not a problem. A sprinkling of frozen peas fixed that. It was a delicious late supper ~ that’s what happens when I sleep the afternoon away.

“The only real stumbling block is fear of failure. 

In cooking, you’ve got to have a what-the-hell attitude.”

~ Julia Child

Chapter Two, Episode Forty-Six - A Dinner Evening - Situationally Theirs

A Dinner Evening

It had been a while. With all the Zooming and emails, there had been no need for the Storyteller to get out that way. She wondered if the Estate's name would be changed from the Beaufort Estate to the Crawford Estate. She strolled the grounds while Mrs. Beaufort chatted about the life’s newest changes. And now she was Mrs. Crawford, always smiling and cheerful. No, probably not. The Beaufort Estate would always be the name on the old gate - the old wrought iron gates that were seldom closed anymore. 

Sitting by the small duck pond at the back of the Digby’s cottage, the Storyteller stared into the dark water. How would it all play out? Invited for dinner, she had arrived early at their cottage. It was her opportunity. An opportunity to see what the couple’s plans were. From afar, the Storyteller had heard about their marriage, the Crawford’s marriage and now Martha told her Brigitte would be leaving. Martha was a veritable fountain of knowledge when it came to the Estate’s comings and goings. James Digby, her husband had developed more interest in the finances for the estate. Hired originally as the butler, his position had morphed and changed over the years. Longterm employees, the Digby’s had good instincts about the little community. Cook knew her kitchen and all the nuances of what each person preferred. Samuel could be found out in the garden, in the tool shed or somewhere else on the grounds. He knew and cared for every inch of the land, even the old orchard and the much newer apiary that Dez Eliot had established. 

Emelina Crawford and Dez Eliot were sisters. Sisters that had been estranged for many years until the pandemic had been declared. This sudden, tragic turn of world events brought the two women back together. Neither of them guessed that they would become good, good friends. Dez still lived in her own apartment in the city, and preferred it that way. She had told the Storyteller that, as much as loved her sister and being out at the estate, she never felt completely comfortable, unless she was in the kitchen with Cook. While Emelina could often be found in the kitchen, it was usually only to give some instructions about meals, or to stop in at Digby’s office for staff issues. Otherwise she occupied herself with ………. The Storyteller heard her hosts coming across the Estate lawn, Martha chattering about her day while James answered with an “uh-huh”, “Yes, my dear”.

“There you are, dear! Come in the house, it’s getting cool out here. How long have you been waiting. James, dear, get the kettle on. We need to make this young lady some hot tea.” 

~~~~~

Dinner was a simple affair. Martha had two salads in the refrigerator - a potato salad dusted with dill weed and a green salad with radishes, tomatoes and celery. “Would you set the table please, dear. Plates are up in that cupboard over there. The cutlery in the drawer by the refrigerator. I’m just going to finish the cream cheese icing on the carrot cake while James cooks the lamb chops. He left them marinating this morning in garlic, rosemary from our garden, salt and pepper in olive oil.” James had hung his sweater and tied on his apron. Getting his best pan out he began to fry the lamb chops and soon the cottage kitchen full of the delicious aroma of cooking lamb. The Storyteller stepped outside, clipped wild flowers from beside the back porch and put her small bouquets in the vase Martha provided. Dinner was quiet. After dinner and over carrot cake, they talked about all the changes at the Estate. James was quiet about Miss Emelina’s inquiries about staff benefits and her many meetings with the accountant. She had no idea that he was aware that he spoke regularly to Mr. Winston. Martha talked about her plans for a very belated wedding reception for the Crawfords. She also mentioned that Brigitte would be leaving the Estate in a short time. The Storyteller did notice that James was unusually quiet and wondered if there was something else afoot. 

“Enough shop talk. Our guest didn’t come here to listen to all our plans and woes. And what have you been doing, dear? Writing away as usual I suppose. Are there any restaurants open? Movies?”

The Storyteller told them about her many writing projects. Stories of space travel, and stories for children, poetry, and walks in parks. Martha talked about the squirrels in their back yard, the wild flowers and her little garden. James washed up the dishes and listened as the two women talked. He smiled to himself because he suspected there were changes coming.

“Things change. And friends leave, Life doesn’t stop for anybody.”

~ Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Spider on the Lake

A twig

frozen into the lake

crawled out

on spindly legs

to become

a spider.

“Transformation literally means going beyond your form.”

~ Wayne Dyer

Old Echoes

I’ve always been hesitant 

about taking control 

when wrested from me by 

voices from the past

backed into the spinning corners of time 

~ time to complete something, 

~ time to turn the lights out, 

~ time to go to school, homework not done, 

~ time to stop colouring and set the table. 

Taking control of old echoes 

calms me. 

~~~~~

The Serenity Prayer says: ‘change the things you can’ 

~ doesn’t work for an ego maniac or 

someone just terrified that the results will be bad.

‘accept the things I cannot change’ 

needs a good deal of soul searching

with a liberal dose of humility - 

or should it read a soupçon of humility 

or a dusting of humility? 

then there is 

‘the wisdom to know the difference’ 

I am not one of the old souls 

with the wisdom of a thousand years, 

only the ability to acquire, to learn. 

deep breath ~ take control ~ 

hands on the wheel before the car 

~ that would be me ~

veers off the road. 

“My life didn’t please me, so I created my life.”

~ Coco Chanel

It’s Only Change

Nickels, dimes and quarters 

sit at the bottom 

of purses, pockets and 

under couch cushions

~ forgotten treasure to be unearthed 

Intention is like that

in moments, hours or days

left to sit at the bottom of life

or on the edge of my desk

~ forgotten treasure to be rewritten.

“Time is the coin of our life. You spend it. 

Do not allow others to spend it for you.”

~ Carl Sandburg

Chapter One, Episode 47 - Mom's Advice - Situationally Theirs

June 22, 2020
Review, Edit and Update
After taking out unnecessary spaces and punctuation, there was little else to fix. 

Father's Day just passed, this writer asks: do Dez and Emmie have similar feelings about their father? Will this be identified in a future episode?

Mom's Advice

Mother’s Day had not been big deal for Dez for over ten years. Her father - and Emmie’s father - had outlived their mother by exactly one year. Dez had tried to avoid Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. She often wondered how her sister, Emmie, managed these special days. Neither sister had children, although Emmie had been married, so they could easily avoid being subjected to the celebration of Motherhood. Dez, disappointed in herself for feeling this way, knew and had worked with many great moms. There were many women who had been just like moms for her. Was Emmie’s mother-in-law like a second mom to her? The sisters had never talked about that. In fact, in the last several weeks that they had been reunited, they each had studiously avoided the subject. 

Today, Mother’s Day would not leave her thoughts. She cleaned the whole house, not a task she ever relished. She did the laundry ~ before she even saw the bottom of the underwear drawer. She was tempted to wash the patio doors, but before she could, her paint brushes got her attention. I could finish that water colour I started a few days ago. Just a touch in the corner. That persons suit needs a bit more red. Before long, washing the patio window was not even a memory. The canvas Dez was working on was a stylized painting of several people on, what looked like, a grass green surface. In the foreground there was a grouping of four substantial people. Not particularly close to each other but obviously a group. One other man, barely separate from the group, was striding towards them. In the back ground, a thin woman, dressed in blue, stood with her arm raised. Dez stood back from the painting. There’s something missing. I don’t like the bareness of the picture. Too much green, but I don’t know. Dez dipped her brush in water and dragged it across the top of the canvas, watering down the green so it was almost translucent. Giving it a chance to dry, she sat down to read, but was unable to concentrate. She got up and stepped outside on her balcony. The streets were busy with people believing that all the pandemic restrictions had been relaxed. Dez wanted to shout down to all of them to ‘Get it together! A bunch of you are going to be sick!” But, she didn’t. Her mood and her energy were low.

“Martha is kind of maternal. She has her daughter next door. Her grandchildren are her joy. If I were one of her grandkids, I’d really like her to be my grandma.” Talking out loud was a way for Dez to break the silence of her home that sometimes seemed quite oppressive. This Mother’s Day was a tough one for Dez. “And Cook. She may be a bit gruff from time to time, but she would have been a great mother. Could have taught me how to cook, like my own mother didn't.”

Her canvas dry, Dez picked up her brush again. “Hmmm. The green is too flat. Making it translucent helped but………” It still needs something. Brush down again, Dez put water on for tea and rummaged in her refrigerator for a snack. Suddenly angry, Dez blurted out “I don’t feel like I belong there. It was ok when Emmie came and picked me up that night. It was ok when we stayed in isolation for two weeks. It was ok when we’ve been busy with the orchard and the garden. But now? When this pandemic thing is all over - if it’s ever going to be all over - I’ll come back to my little apartment and my little job. Emmie will do whatever it is Emmie has figured out for herself. And we’ll probably seldom see each other again.” By this time Dez was fuming. Fuming and her heart was starting to break at the loss that hadn’t come yet. And maybe never would. But just the thought of it was too much for Desperanza Eliot, a strong resilient woman. “What would Mom say?   -    Desperanza, you can keep sulking and kick all the doors you want, but how will that help? Do you want to be part of that group on Emmie's estate?” 

Dez went to her bedroom where she kept a picture of her parents. “I don’t know mom. I think I do. But I can’t just butt in. They all have their own lives and families. Mom, I’m so lonely and I miss you so much.”  “How does Emmie feel? She is your family, Dez. Don’t forget about her.”

The light bulb lit up. Like the one in the refrigerator when Dez  opened the door. Mom’s right. Mom was always right. Guess I’d better stop talking to her! My patio door is open. Anybody can hear me nattering on to myself. Dez picked up her phone and punched the speed dial for Emmie. There was no answer so Dez left her a message. “Emmie? I’m picking up some pizza and coming out there to share it with you. Call me.”

Dez’s phone rang almost before she tapped the stop icon. “Emmie? Where are you?….Outside my building?!…I just called you and left a message. I’ll buzz you in. Come on up.”

It was all she could do to not hug her sister when Dez answered the door. Emmie had been crying. “What’s wrong, Emmie?”

“I miss mom. I want her to be here with us.”

“Damn, Emmie I was just talking to her picture! I miss her too. This Mother’s Day has been harder than all the rest since she died. I’ve been pacing around here feeling sorry for myself. Mom - or maybe just the memory of mom - telling me to ‘stop sulking and do something about it’ pulled me up short. All of a sudden I was really hungry - I haven’t eaten much all day. My solution: A nice hot all-dressed pizza and go get Emmie.”

“I just cried and cried. But how could you tell? I thought I washed off all the salty mascara that had dribbled down my face.”

“Emelina Beaufort, have you forgotten? Every time you had some break-up or got in trouble with mom or dad, I knew something was up. First you’d go to the bathroom, you’d hold your head up high with your nose in the air. I didn’t see you go into the bathroom, but when I opened my door, your head was at that angle and your nose up in the air. I’ve always been able to tell.

~~~~~

Dez and Emmie, just two years apart, went out that evening. Picking up pizza, Dez got two slices of all dressed with extra mushrooms. Emmie’s pizza, in an effort to eat ‘more healthy’, ordered two slices of thin crust vegetarian pizza (with extra cheese). Taking it to the park by the water, they talked about their mom. The sewing and mending she had done for them, the secrets they hadn’t told her, the terrible cook she was - except for that one cake - what was it called…..Decadent Chocolate Pudding Cake. “We always ate it with vanilla ice cream! I was sure Dad always ate more that either of us.”

“No he didn’t. He just pretended he was to make you worried you wouldn’t get enough.”

As the sun settled on the water, they talked of the changes to their lives since they were united only weeks before. Emmie’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Dez, why don’t you come and live at the estate. You know I’ve got more than enough room.”

“I would hope that one day, I would at least live closer. Right now, I feel like I need all my things around me. Things I’ve gathered over the years that are tied to certain memories, events… people. But I’ll be out and I want you to come in. Now I’m going to sound like I’m twelve years old - we can do sleep overs at each other’s house. I’ve got that apiary to get up and running and you’ve got the garden and your whole house to manage. But we are family, Emmie. Let’s stay that way.”

“Mothers are like glue. Even when you can’t see them, 

they’re still holding the family together.”

~ Susan Gale, Canadian artist