On an Afternoon Walk - Wrinkled Lovelies

 

Pittosporum tenuifolium ‘Silver Queen’

 Leaves more lovely as they fade

Precious homosapien ‘Grandparents’

 Faces more cherished as they age.

“Even with all my wrinkles! I am beautiful!.”

~ Sarah Louise Delany, educator

Beautiful Shadows

There is always a horizon surrounding me,

when the world is too big 

so full of distractions,

gathering bright shiny things

that blind me to my focus

When I choose to slow my dance, 

the world is only a moment and

I’ll see the flowers along my path,

remembering my grandmother's gardens ~ 

all my horizons become beautiful shadows.

“The eye is always caught by light, but shadows have more to say.”

~ Gregory Maguire, novelist

Book Review: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

Writing this review is rather like trying to put together a puzzle. But I can’t find the corner pieces, or the nice neat pieces that go around the edge of the picture. To envision the eight year old child, Marguerite, speechless after her rape and the Maya Angelou, 86 years old at her death in 2014 an articulate, wise and honoured woman there seems to be no one ‘picture’. In graphic detail, her experiences, both emotionally and physically are displayed in a voice that really seems very kind. As a young child, and then as an adolescent that kindness still had to develop. With each of her experiences, from the abuse at eight, to the brutal travel to Mexico with her father, the overt or hidden racism that every black person of any age has to deal with, Maya Angelou has not only stepped out of the cage that society had forced her into, but developed a strong and wise voice in story and poetry. Each time she survived an attack on her being, whether physically or emotionally, she learned the lessons of resilience. She had the benefit of having strong, loving female relationships ~ her grandmother (Momma) in Stamps, Arkansas ~ staunchly religious and owner of the local general store, her mother, Vivian Baxter (Mother Dearest), independent and fun loving, in San Francisco as well as Mrs. Bertha Flowers, a local teacher in Stamps who helped little Maya regain her voice after several years of silence. Her other stalwart was her brother Bailey, who was her confidant, until he was at the grand old age of sixteen.

At fifteen, Maya went against rigid societal norms in San Francisco and became the first black female street car conductor. She questioned her sexuality after reading The Well of Loneliness, a lesbian novel (1928) and realizing that she was tall, deep voiced and not as developed as her friends. Another societal norm to puzzle about until learning she was pregnant. All in all, Maya Angelou, climbed through, over or around what life had to throw at her. Fear, anger, wonder, curiosity, and determination bolstered her all along the way.

“She comprehended the perversity of life, that in the struggle lies the joy.”

~ Maya Angelou,  I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Title: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Author: Maya Angelou

Copyright: 1969
Copyright renewed: 1997 by Maya Angelou

Forward Copyright: 2015 by Oprah Winfrey

Publisher: Ballantine Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House company of New York

Type: Autobiography

Format: Paperback

ISBN: 978-0-345-51440-0

ebook ISBN: 978-1-5883-6925-3

Across the Lake

Across the Lake

“You see that big hill across the lake, Tim? That’s where your grandmother and I would take your father when he was quite a bit bigger than you.” Ben Harper and his grandson were on a walk around the lake. They would soon be home and having a hot mug of cocoa with as many marshmallows on top as Tim wanted. “Tomorrow, we’ll get in the car and drive way up there……see those vans at the top.” Ben chuckled. “You’re too young and I’m too old to slide down there,  but you’ll be able to see the city and the prairies from the top. We can walk around there today. The path goes around in front of the bottom of the hill.”  

Tim listened to his grandfather. He didn’t really know what it was, but he knew his grandfather felt something like sadness. Even if he was smiling and tried to act happy. But Tim knew his grandfather was happy. He just shook his head - he had confused himself. “I’m getting cold, grandfather. Let’s go get that hot cocoa. We can come back to the hill tomorrow, and bring grandmother with us.”

“The past is a candle at great distance: too close to 

let you quit, too far to comfort you.”

~ Amy Bloom, Away

Chapter One, Episode 56 - Bees n' Apple Trees - Situationally Theirs

July 01, 2020

Review, Edit and Update:

Bees n' Apple Trees is Dez's first inkling of the challenges she would face in establishing her 'big idea'. She's still excited, but has yet to dig just a little deeper. 

The only change I made was an addition of the description of Dez trying to imitate Samuel's voice when talking to Emmie.

Bees n' Apple Trees

Something that had seemed so simple had turned into a really big job. But Dez couldn’t get the beautiful image Samuel had painted out of her mind. When she spoke with Emmie the afternoon before, it was only to ask if she would approve of supplies for DIY beehive boxes. Dez had been in the orchard on her own before but had never really looked at the apple trees. The trees that would blossom and provide food for her beekeeping project. 

Dez had been a city girl for most of her life. Her grandparents lived on a farm in another part of the province. Dez and Emmie stayed with them each summer in the school holiday. It may have only been two or three summers, but to Dez it seemed like it had to have been each and every summer. Every year she looked forward to helping her grandmother pick peas or beans. She could never pick them as fast as her grandmother. Every year she looked forward to helping her grandfather on the tractor. He would sit her on his lap and let her hold the steering wheel and ‘drive’ the tractor. He rested one big calloused hand on the wheel ‘just to give my arm a rest, little Dez.’ As she got older she knew he was really keeping the tractor from going kitty-corner across the field. Listening to Samuel talk from his storied memory welcomed back all those summer memories. Her city-ness fell from her shoulders and lay among the weeds and grasses growing among the trees. 

That night, alone in her apartment, she opened her patio door. She needed to hear the sound of the wind in the trees and birds in the air as they settled for the night. Sweater on, she sat on her balcony, hunched over her laptop. Consistent through several websites were the basic needs for a healthy bee colony. A good supply of fresh water. A variety of food sources. Limited exposure to pesticides. Not always in that order, or in that wording but always the same. Yes. It would be a big job. A quick email to Emmie confirmed that they meet at the orchard again in the morning. 

~~~~~

“Emmie, I’m really excited about my ideas! We’ll get the trees pruned, and I’ll need a little tractor to cut down the grass, and then I’ll plant wild flowers in the back meadow. Oh, before I do that we have to make sure there’s a water supply near by and…….”

“Dez. Slow down. You’re always the one to tell me that when I have one of my big ideas. What are you talking about? I thought you were just going to get a couple of beehives and take care of bees.”

“Ok” Dez took a deep breath. She barely slept the night before. All her ideas and plans swirling through her head. First it was too much. Then it wasn’t any good because she didn’t have any money to put into it - but she had to check the bank. Then all she could see was apple blossoms, bees and honey. Delicious honey on Cook’s fresh homemade bread. Then it was no good because the bees would die………She finally fell asleep. Bizarre nightmares of giant bees stinging her right through purple beekeeping gear while Samuel was falling down laughing at her. Lopsided beehives buzzing all around her. 

“Emmie, it’s not as simple as all that. You may not want to go ahead with this project.”

“Why not? You get a few bees and a couple of beehives and they make honey. I really didn’t think it was all that complicated.”

“I did get caught up in the story of Samuel’s grandpappy building beehives. When you and I walked out to the orchard, we didn’t go very far inside. I’m grateful that you ok’d the DIY beehives. But, like I said, you may not want to keep going with this. When I went home last night, I looked up what a bee colony would need to be successful. After all, I wouldn’t want you to spend a bunch of money only to have the bees all die. So this is where it gets difficult. First bees need a supply of good fresh water.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Samuel has talked about a stream at the back of the property. What’s the next thing.”

“The bees need a big variety of flowers. Not just one source. That’s where the wild flowers come in. It’s mostly weeds way at the back where the beehives are going to be. I don’t know if any of the weed flowers are ok. And one other thing - we have to keep pesticides away.”

“We can talk with a beekeeper - remember Matt? He’d know about all that, and Samuel might too. What else.”

“The apple trees. The ones at the front aren’t that old but the ones at the back are. Samuel says they haven’t produced apples for years. ‘Gone stagnant. Nobody takin’ care of them’." Dez dropped her voice low and gravelly. "When I looked that up, he is exactly right. So….and here’s the really expensive part - the trees need to be pruned and any diseased ones taken out.”

“So you need money, equipment and help to clear up the orchard for two beehives. Wow! What would the advantage be to the estate? I suppose a healthier supply of apples. And honey. We may even be able to expand the number of beehives.”

“Are you serious, Emmie? It will cost so much and take so much work!’

“Think about it Dez. What are you willing to do to make this work? Between the two of us, we can map this whole thing out. We’ll need to call in someone to help do it right. But you’d have to give up your job in the city and maybe even move out here.”

Dez was stunned. She was sure Emmie would turn the whole project down. “Emmie, I don’t have any money to help fund this thing.”

“But if you gave up your job and your apartment, moved out here, I would hire you on as…I don’t know….project manager. I wouldn’t be able to pay you much, but if we can make this a viable project....who knows what could come of it. What do you say……Project Manager?

Dez wanted to say yes to the whole thing right then and there. But this was important enough to take some time to think about it. “Emmie, right now I need to go home. Have some supper and sleep on it. I know, right now, what I want to say, but I need to paint right now….That sounded weird but I need to paint. I’ll call you in the morning and let you know.” Dez gave Emmie a quick hug. “I think I can hug you now. I’ll call you in the morning.” Dez turned away quickly. She was sure she was about to cry.

“You can’t make decisions based on fear 

and the possibility of what might happen.”

~ Michelle Obama

For Rylie Rose'Marie

A Rose was born

to join the throng

yet she will sing 

her very own song

From far away 

this great-grandmother thrills

for the day when I hear 

her very own cries and trills.

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language

And next year’s words await another voice.”

~ T.S.Eliot, Four Quartets

Fragments ~ 2

Fragments

“Do you remember Sundays in the old days? I s’pose you are too young to remember my old days. After all I am your grandmother. That was just silly of me. Why don’t I try to paint you a picture - not in real paint - I’ll just tell you a story. There were always hats. New hats every Easter.”

Grandmother Sarah looked off into the distance as if trying to conjure up those days. She started to hum quietly. I just listened and watched as her thinning lips barely moved to old familiar words. It wasn’t even close to Easter but her memories as they surfaced were a wonderful connection with a Grandmother I was slowly losing. Her soft wrinkled skin, made even softer when she smiled, was beautiful with her storied memories. 

“Tell me about the hats, Grandmother. What were they like?”

“Were we talking about hats? What kind of hats, dear? Oh yes, Easter hats. Well, everyone in the family, except the men of course, got new Easter bonnets. They weren’t like the bonnets with big shiny ribbons that tied under your chin. I hated those - still do! Never could stand anything tied under my chin. I felt like I was choking. Even when the nurse tucks my blankets up close over my neck and under my chin.”

Tears welled in her gray-blue eyes that only a moment before had been shining with the passion of old memories. It had only taken a second. I should have been used to the sudden shifts in emotion after the last six years of her declining health ~ it always made me sad. I wanted to bundle her up and take her home with me, but even a hug could frighten her. So I gently touched her arm to remind her that I was there with her.

“Those Easter bonnets must have been beautiful.”

“Beautiful and fun! And when we went to church, everybody looked at everybody else’s to see who had new hats and who was wearing the same old hat with new ribbons or flowers on it!”

“Let’s walk a bit, Grandmother. My old knees are getting stiff sitting on this bench.”

“Old knees? Why, you must be the same age as my granddaughter and she is definitely not old. Where do you want to walk to?  I’m not sure I should be with you.”

“But Grandmother, I am your grand-daughter. See here’s a picture of us with mother and dad.”

“Well, I don’t know where that came from but I do recognize everyone, just can’t remember their names.”

Now the tears were welling up in my eyes. We had been walking toward a nurse coming across the lawn to meet us. At one time I resented these strangers taking care of my Grandmother, but now I was grateful for people that cared passionately for my very special Grandmother. I knew she was safe from the outside world of everyday life, even while her inside world got more frightening for her. The nurse suggested to me that the inside world may grow quieter, but until then I would listen to Grandmother’s stories piece by piece.

“What was scattered gathers.

What was gathered blow away.”

~ Heraclitus

Bridges

Bridges

“Gentle, never garish, honey. Remember you’re sending this Thank you card to your grandmother in Tuscon. She sent you a lovely going away gift so just be careful what you write. You’ve only met her once and then you were a sweet five years old. She’s never met you as the wild child you are now.”

“Oh, come on mom. You’ve sent her pictures of me with my pink hair and torn jeans. Surely, she would have figured out that I’m kind of ‘garish’ - whatever that means.”

Melanie was trying to get Jodie to communicate more frequently with her grandmother. Melanie didn’t get to see her very often at all. They had been fairly distant when they lived in the same state, but now they were not even in the same country. Canada had never seemed anything but a land mass on the map before her job had taken her to Vancouver. At first Jodie was angry. Leaving all her friends behind, friends she had grown up with, was ‘absolutely the worst thing in my life and I’ll probably die!’ Once they were settled, Jodie settled. Texting and email and FaceTime made their move seem not so distant. But her grandmother didn’t text, didn’t think she’d like email or FaceTime, so Melanie thought that sending her a card in the ‘really old fashioned way’ (Jodie’s words) might be interesting to them both. Jodie agreed and did seem interested, but trying to get her to sit down and write was next to impossible.

“Mom! Come here! It’s Grandmother!”

Oh no, something dreadful has happened. Melanie was frightened, sure that her worries about their move had come true. That her mother had fallen, was in the hospital. Melanie’s mind revved into high gear as she raced to the kitchen phone. Just as she got to the kitchen, she saw Jodie smiling?

“Come here! Hurry up! Mom’s here Grandmother. She looks all panicked so you’d better tell her you’re ok.”

“Mom! Is that you? When did you …..how did you……”

“Melanie, dear, slow down now. Don’t you fuss at me for spendin’ a little bit of money. Miss Britches here helped me buy this contraption before you moved. There was a workshop at the Seniors Centre and I learned how to use this fool thing. Do you think it makes me look old?”

“Grandmother, you are old! But it doesn’t make you look ancient. Mom, what do you think?”

Jodie was jumping up and down with excitement.

“Well..um...well..ah. I don’t know what to say? It’s wonderful. I was worried that you’d not get to meet each other again. And now, well now I guess I don’t have to worry anymore.”

“Well now, honey, I’m sure you’ll find something else to worry about. Meanwhile this wild child grand-girl of mine will keep tabs on you so I don’t have to worry.”

Grandmother and Jodie had pulled off a huge surprise for two people that barely knew each other. It was all thanks to a deep need to keep family together - and of course, thanks to the technology that created that bridge.

“It’s not faith in technology. It’s faith in people.”

~ Steve Jobs

Future Panic

Future Panic

“Hope for the future! Hope for the future!! Are you kidding me? Have you even listened to the news even once this last six months? We’re headed for a major war. None of this sending our troops overseas. We’re going to need them here on our own soil!”

“Have you no faith. You teenagers are always so pessimistic. Never seeing that you have oh, I don’t know …….university to go to next year. And then there’s your sister wedding in the spring. I could go on, but I think you just might get it. Both of those things are in the future.”

“But mom, I’m talking about the future future. Not next year. I’ll just go to university for the parties ‘cause it won’t make a difference if I pass or fail. But I sure could have fun and hook up with some really sweet girls.”

“Well, while you’re having so much fun don’t forget about your grandmother’s 75th birthday the year after you start university. She’d be so disappointed if you were off partying. Now, here take the keys and make sure you drive carefully. You don’t want to mess up your future - or today. Love you, honey.”

“Love you more, mom.  See you after school - in the future!”

Garvin gave his mom a hug, picked up his backpack and went to his very last high school class.

“Life’s under no obligation to give us what we expect.”

~ Margaret Mitchell

One Particular Toy

One particular toy one Christmas
Of all hoped for toys and gifts
From Santa Claus or even from under a Christmas tree.
From my cousins Sandra and Mary on a family holiday
To Grandmother’s when I was but five
It was a little red iron and ironing board
That today is not allowed in the stores.
A little red iron plugged into the wall
It really did get warm!
The ironing board just fit a five year old
I could iron clothes just like my mom!
Now both iron and ironing board have gone the way of all toys.
Yet, my memory keeps them safe from harm
And yes - I still love ironing. 
With a big girl’s steam iron and an ironing board that fits.

“Christmas is the keeping-place for memories of our innocence.”

~ Joan Mills, Author

As A Child

Potomac River, Maryland, U.S.A.

As a child ~
Political climate was not a curiousity.
But where Grandmother and Granddad lived?
Road trip to Maryland, U.S.A.
Celebration with cousins, aunts and uncles warm memories
Ancestry is the curiosity.

“All that children need is love, a grown-up to take 

responsibility for them, and a soft place to land.”

~ Deborah Harkness, A Discovery of Witches

The Groups of Wonderfulness

Ma    Mom    Mother    Momma    Step-mom    Auntie

A string of words that call up the names from The Groups of Wonderfulness

I know…..some  may have seemed not so wonderful for their own reasons

none of those names to be written here

The Groups of Wonderfulness accepted the challenge 

The challenge of motherhood without 

a written text book   an instruction manual   a policy and procedure manual

Such manuals are only in oral history passed down from

Great-great grandmothers   Great grandmothers   Grandmothers 

And all the Aunties and Stepmothers down the ancestral years.

The one principle common to all Groups of Wonderfulness

Love and protect the children until……………..

“People are wonderful one at a time. Each one of them has an 

entire hologram of the universe somewhere within them.”

~ George Carlin, Last Words