Splash!!

 

“Catch me, Grandma!” 

With my arms open, 

ready to catch a 

flying, screaming 

and laughing child, 

I was drenched, afloat and happy. 

There is nothing so joyous as grandchildren!

“Grandchildren are the best reminders 

of the beauty and innocence of childhood.”

~ Nana Mouskouri, Greek singer and politician

Well Spent

Toys, stickers, puzzles

   giggles and joy

a meal around the table

   watching Elmo

hand shadows under the lampshade

   toys strewn all ‘round

an evening well spent

“Grandchildren are the dots that connect

 the lines from generation to generation.”

~ Lois Wyse, Funny, You Don’t Look Like a Grandmother  (1988)

There are Times

Times my hands show me how old I really am - thick ropy veins, skin thin and wrinkled

Old scars from a nick here or there 

from rose bushes or blackberry vines, 

cuts from the paring knife when preparing meals, 

one white patch from a cooking burn

lumpy and bumpy fingernails 

that snap off too easily, 

(I could blame that on the pandemic 

with no access for a mani/pedi, 

but no, they are as old as the rest of me, 

and have been through as many battles)

when I think of these so called battles ~

they are not wars fought, but life lived. 

kneading, stretching or punching the life into bread, 

rolling balls of cookie dough between my palms, 

squishing ground meat into meat balls, 

wrapping both hands around a fresh warm cup of coffee 

when the day has grown cold; 

penning these words and thousands more 

crocheting afghans that would not win any prizes 

at the fair but kept me focused on the next stitch ~ 

gifts for the babies of many family and friends

pruning bushes and trees ~ feeling the strength of my grip 

all the way to my shoulders. 

fingers digging in spring soil feeling the richness of dirt. 

picking peas in the garden and eating as many as possible. 

tenderly holding a warm peach picked from a summer tree 

holding it to my lips, feeling the juice sticky and sweet 

on my hands, dripping all the way to my elbows. 

I am grateful for my hands and 

when I think of all these things, 

my hands are no longer old and wrinkled

but silent diaries of my life, 

sculpted while I live with them 

gifts that caress me when I lotion my skin, 

hide my eyes when I cry and 

make silly faces to make babies and children laugh. 

And best of all, 

my hands have held my babies - 

my sons, my grandson and my great-granddaughter. 

“He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist.”

~ Francis of Assisi

Chapter One, Episode Eighteen - Digby - Situationally Theirs

May 23, 2020

Review, Edit and Update:

An introduction to James Edward Digby, the butler at the Beaufort Estate with few repairs to be made for this episode. Some additions made for clarity.

Digby

The  Invisible Menace. Digby had used those words once. If he had known that they had stuck, he would have been embarrassed that he had ever used them. At the same time, the more he learned about this virus, it truly was a menace and only visible by scientists.  When he looked back on the day that he, Martha, Brigitte and the rest of the staff abruptly left Mrs. Beaufort, he was ashamed. To leave his post in such a manner was unforgivable, and yet Mrs. Beaufort had forgiven all of them. 

James Edward Digby, tall, clean shaven and very tidy, was making his supper from ingredients from the groceries Mrs. Beaufort and her sister had delivered. As he chopped onions, carrots and potatoes for the stew he was making, he reflected on his past many years in employment at the Beaufort estate. Before him, his father had been the Beaufort butler. Digby, Sr. had taught him everything about being a butler, lessons for young James when he was very young. As a boy, he had watched his father dress in his butler’s uniform, straighten his bow tie, put on the black shoes that young James polished very night, and go to work. James was in awe of his father. When he came home in the evening, he transformed into just his dad. Relaxed and always ready to help him or his brother with homework, play catch or just talk with his sons. Digby’s parents had both been gone for many years, and his brother lived on the other side of the world. His mother and father had been deeply in love for whole of their sixty year marriage. He and his brother talked regularly over first telephone, then Skype and now FaceTime. They had not seen each other for.....what was it....23 - 26 years?

Being a butler, and more importantly the Beaufort butler, was all Digby had ever wanted. He had taken over the position of Beaufort butler when his father retired. He had, until then held other outside positions as butler, however was most pleased when he could come home. Not only was he able to make sure his parents were cared for in their senior years, he was employed where he wanted to be. As a boy, on evenings when there was to be a party, he would sneak over to the mansion, hide in the shrubbery close to the front door and watch as guests arrived. His handsome father, in his formal butler attire, greeted them all and ushered them into the mansion. Those guests that had known him for years greeted him ‘Hello Digby. Good to see you. How is your family?’ It was on those evenings that James knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. Some of his friends wanted to be firemen or policeman, doctors, nurses or lawyers. They laughed when James said he wanted to be a butler ‘Just like my dad’.

Now here he was. At home. Restless and wanting to get back to work. Concerned about Mrs.Beaufort. Since Mr. Beaufort had passed on, she had been very lonely, relying only on himself and the rest of the staff to take care of her. There were days when Digby felt that they were only propping her up. Then she would have a dinner party and she would be bright and cheerful. Seeming like her old self. He didn’t know how she would be able to manage. It must have been very frightening to wake up one morning and find there was no one at all in the house. Digby was grateful to her sister for stepping in, even though it was completely by chance. He had not even known that she had a sister. She never talked about her family, at least around the staff. Such an odd name…..Desperanza. She seemed quite different from Mrs. Beaufort. There was a family resemblance but their personalities seemed very different. Digby had only met Desperanza over a surprise video chat connection, so really had very little to inform his opinion but intuition.

~~~~~ 

“Hi Digby, it’s me Emelina ~ I mean Mrs. Beaufort. My sister is here with me and helped me figure this video chat thing out. Desperanza, meet Digby, my faithful and wonderful butler. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“My goodness, Mrs. Beaufort. What a pleasant surprise. How are you? I do apologize for leaving you the way I did. What can I do for you?”

“Digby, it’s about what we can do for you. Dez and I have been cooped up Downstairs for two weeks. I put her in Martha’s room; I’m staying in your room while we get past this situation. Now that we are finished our two week isolation, we decided that you and Martha may need help getting groceries. For the most part we’re staying home, but today we’re going into town. We’ve checked with Martha, Giles, Brigitte and the rest of the staff to see what we can do. We’ll be picking some things up for Martha. Everyone else is ok.”

“Well, I do need some groceries if you don’t mind. How is Martha? I do hope she’s taking care of herself. And you! You look so well and sound very upbeat, Mrs. Beaufort.”

~~~~~

Digby had given Mrs. Beaufort and her sister his short grocery list. He was pleased to hear about Martha. He did like the solitary life he led, but so enjoyed working with Martha. She was a very kind woman. They each had their own rooms, as there were many nights when one or both of them were required to stay overnight. That was one thing that troubled him, as there didn’t really seem to be such a need. Because of that quirk, each room was appointed with a bed, desk and easy chair, his room really was more of a private office, as it was for Martha. She had been in his thoughts several times over this last couple of weeks. Working with her for many years, a strong friendship had been established. Were there times when Digby wished it were more? But he was a professional, so anything more was out of the question. As he considered the tragic possibilities of this virus, he did worry about her. 

A solitary man, in a neat as a pin home, was it really to Digby’s liking? Is that all that he wanted in his life? He had watched Martha with her grandchildren. He listened to Cook talk about her family. He heard about Brigitte's many young men. And Giles. His life was rather mercurial. Was it his busy family life? Did he want any of that or was he content with his life as he had designed it? Digby had time to mull over these things when he wasn’t reading a historical novel or working in his small garden. Each night, when he hung up and folded his clothes, put his neat and tidy pyjamas on, he still had no answer. Content, he fell asleep as neatly as he folded his clothes.

“In quiet places, reason abounds.”

~ Adlai E. Stevenson

Time Out

I finally did it. I went outside without my grand-dog Eva. But only for about an hour. Walking Billie, my grand cat, doesn’t happen. He’s a kitten and developing his ‘cat independence’ complete with repeated meowing to remind me that I really am not paying enough attention. Playing chase the ball or little red pointer light has been sadly neglected. I’m not to mind when Billie leaps across my laptop while I’m typing. Then they both just go to sleep. Curled up in their cuteness beside me.

I needed human connection. 

Voices.

Actual speech.

And so I did it. And just before I stepped into the grocery store world, I did one….more….thing. I went into Church’s Chicken and had lunch. Surrounded by the voices of humanity. I ordered the ‘2 Pcs Combo’ - substituted the drink for Coleslaw. Then I ate it. 

I suspect there is little difference baby-sitting grandchildren! It is all a great joy and privilege.

“Pets are humanizing. They remind us we have an obligation and 

responsibility to preserve and nurture and care for all life.”

~ James Cromwell

Homeward Bound ~ 3

Homeward bound this morning. Weather and road reports are good. This Christmas holiday has been full of wonder and hugs, with so many great visits with extended families and old friends seen too infrequently. Of course the very best was seeing the youngest of extended family ~ my great granddaughter with her energy, sweetness and two brand new teeth! She has wonderful parents who are absolutely in love with her.

My son and I will not arrive in Vancouver until tomorrow as we have one more family visit on the way. One of those brief but brilliant stopovers that stretch out holiday goodness before setting us Vancouver bound tomorrow morning. Looking forward to being with my eldest son, my grand dogs and grand kitty tomorrow despite the very bitter sweet parting of leaving our loved ones in Saskatchewan. To have family and know family is a true blessing  my life.

“The reason it hurts so much to separate is 

because our souls are connected.”

~ Nicholas Sparks

Group Dynamics I

They say (whoever ‘they’ are) that the success of most things is all about timing. The timing of baking a loaf of bread. The timing from here to there. The timing of…….well most things I guess. The timing of establishing new relationships is of concern to me this morning. In this case it involves group dynamics. When someone new - let’s call him Willie for now - enters an already established relationship there are two possible outcomes. An immediate and polite welcoming or an extreme not so welcome. 

My challenge has been to facilitate the former. This ‘established group’ and the newcomer need space. The only space they have to share, at least this morning, is the kitchen/dining room/living room. So everyone has to hold still and pay attention to whether teeny tiny hisses or equally teeny tiny licks are in the offing. Right now, it is more often the hisses - rather like air leaking from a small tire - when one of the big dogs approaches too quickly, too closely or even thinks about it. As the de facto ‘pack leader’, it is my job to maintain control of the pack, along with a good dose of calm. The ‘stare downs’ are the most interesting and sometimes downright funny. Who backs down first? Who turns away first? It does vary but this tiny kitten with an uncertain name as yet, does tend to get bored with this silly game and back up, turn around and go find something more interesting to play with like a scratching post, or a curtain to climb (NO!!) or a pillow to snooze on. The occasional gentle but very firm reminder to my grand dogs to stay down asserts my 'pack leader' status.

All is calm and quiet. But…. What if I take a nap? What happens when I go to bed tonight? Or even if my back is turned while I load the dishwasher and remove the kitten before closing the door? My ‘eyes in the back of my head’ mom feature, I was sure, was a bit rusty. In the past, that alert has always been well timed. So I listen for the tinkle of collar tags, click of nails on the floor, and a tiny hiss to set my alert system to active. Even if a wee bit rusty, the eyes in the back of my head are open and work pretty darn good for these curious canine and feline grand-kids of mine.

“If the timing’s right and the gods are with you, something special happens.”

~ Rick Springfield

Painting Lessons

Painting Lessons

Rising in the morning, I went into my studio. As I stood looking at the old painting, tears streamed down my face and memories flooded from my heart. It was not a particularly good painting because I was only ten and hadn’t been painting long. All the tools an artist needs had been given me by my grandfather. He had painted the original portrait of my mother that I had tried to paint as a child. My grandfather had taught me so very much about life and about painting. We would paint together, our easels side by side. If I wanted a certain colour, grandfather would teach me how to mix up colours to find the shade I wanted. He showed me how to create light, texture and distance. It was always a joy to be with him in his studio overlooking the water. Grandmother brought us lunch and we would sit outside on the patio. There were times when my parents wondered whose house I really lived in. The tears streaming down my face were not only tears of sadness. They were tears of sadness sparkled with the gold of these wonderful memories. Just before lunch, my twelve year old grand daughter would be here. I had her easel set up beside mine and we would be overlooking the sparkling blue water. Her grandpa told me he would have a lunch of tomato sandwiches, lemonade and watermelon for us before we started painting our own memories.

“All you need to paint is a few tools, 

a little instruction, and a vision in your mind.”

~ Bob Ross

For David - Rest in Peace

Once more

grief has dealt a heavy hand

this time

tempered with 

peace and ease for

a tossed and troubled soul.

A man who loved

the puzzles and mystery of humanity

working the land for its fruits,

his family more than life itself,

his grandchildren with joy and cheer

his friends always with a helping hand

and he served his country with pride.

A man of simple wants

whose tender and kind heart

could not be hidden

from children or animals

despite a sometimes gruff and stern face ~

kind and twinkling eyes 

gave him away every time.

“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that 

in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

~ Kahlil Gibran