Cathedral Area Arts Festival

Sun warm

  light warm breezes 

   music filtered through the air

    vocalists, bag pipes and dancing

Walking, talking crowds filled

    13th Ave and two side streets 

     strolling past tented kiosks

      in front of open shops

All ages and manner of dress

 Loose flowing pants or skirts

  Shorts, big floppy hats

   Strollers with tots, sleeping or curious

   one or two dogs on leash and well mannered.

My only purchases: food.

  First stop - a chicken taco

    Second stop - a spring roll

      Third stop - scuffles, 

chocolate puffed wheat square, 

  and one cinnamon bun

    Last stop: a loaf of raisin sourdough bread

My other interests:

  Pottery  

   Jewellery

Nothing forced money from my wallet!

I walked about half of the entire length of 13th Ave 

  only one short foray into one of the side streets.

Time for home!

“We were a train full of strangers, and they were all the same.”

~ Cherie Priest, Dreadnought

Just a Curiosity

I needed a place to put my coins ~ change saved for 

a gift down the road

I keep them all wrapped 

snugly but they are too heavy 

for a plastic bag! 

I emptied a plastic container that had held four cranberry scones ~ they were good ~

toasted with butter and cream cheese. The heavy weight of the coins in this empty container 

that had held just a treat for me struck me 

with the weight of our food purchases.

Just a curiosity while keeping these coins safe.

“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”

~ Henry David Thoreau

Tax Time

Setting aside the must do’s and should have’s, there were taxes to be done. April may bring showers, but April 

always brings tax time. Nerves all a jangle, it’s like edging into the unknown! My knowledge of financing an 

entire country is zip. Do we know if the money managers that we hire 

with our votes know what they’re doing? 

I can only assume that they do. 

Listening to political debates 

gives me little knowledge 

of the best person to juggle 

finances with citizens welfare. 

Balancing the budget, 

laws or not, 

is challenged 

by very human opinions, 

beliefs and biases. 

So I fill out the forms, sending them 

into the void that is the tax machine.

“You can’t know, you can only believe - or not.”

~ C.S.Lewis

Undercurrents

Undercurrents

Yachts lined up at the Marina left Shandra with mixed feelings. She worked at the little cafe serving the local Marina’s clients and tourists. She listened to them visit about their sailing experiences, the places they docked, how far they could travel on their yachts. Most of the yachts were not really what she would call a yacht. “You’ve been watching too many Bond movies!”  One of her coworkers frequently gave her a hard time about her opinions. On one hand she wanted desperately to just leave work, climb aboard one of the larger yachts and head out to sea. On the other hand, she knew that the cost of a yacht, and the yearly upkeep was far more than her little apartment cost. Probably more than she made in a year at the three jobs she kept up. And then there was night school. “It’s just not fair, Nolan. They come in here complaining about how many bills to maintain their yacht. My money concerns are about keeping the lights on, the heat, food, a roof over my head and tuition.” Shandra’s tables were filling up. “I guess I’d better put a smile on my face, stop complaining and be grateful that these yacht folks and their guests come in at all.” She tucked away her longing to sail away, and greeted the patrons, filling their water glasses. “Can I get you something to drink or an appetizer?”

“Don’t set your goals by what other people deem important.”

~ Jaachynma N.E.Agu, The Prince and the Pauper

Chapter Two, Episode 152 - Clouded - Situationally Theirs

 Clouded

Time and money may be the only things that Samuel Forrester ever worried about. He had to talk to James about it. The season was growing short. Seemed it was shorter this year, or maybe he was just getting older. His joints did creak a bit now, ‘specially in the morning. Once he got going, things smoothed out so’s he forgot all about it. Maybe it was his season growing shorter. Who’d take care of all this garden and who’d help Miss Dez with the orchard and the bees? That’s where the money came in. Where would he go if he ever got so laid up he couldn’t work the land? Oh, he’d saved up money over the years. Didn’t have anyone to spend it on anyway. He wasn’t a clothes horse. Fixed up his truck whenever he needed to and babied it because he wanted to. Elizabeth wasn’t getting any younger either. But she wasn’t out in the weather like he was. The rain was finally coming down. It’d been hot and dry on the Island this summer. He had to spend more time and Miss Em’s money on keeping his plants alive. Grateful that the water pipes had been in good repair. A day off from the garden was a relief. “Days like this get me all mixed up about things.” Samuel washed up his lunch dishes and put them away. Hadn’t always taken the time to take care of things. The relationship he had with Elizabeth had changed all that. 

His cell phone buzzed. The call display told him it was ok to answer it. “Wonder what James wants.” He picked up his phone and walked out on his back porch. Sheltered from the steady soft rain, he spoke into the little gadget. He just couldn’t call it a telephone. Telephones had proper receivers, solid and just set for one purpose. “James. Just about to call you. What’s up?”

“With this rain, I suspected you weren’t busy. Do you think you could come up to the manor? Miss Emelina and I are reviewing the budget for the garden, the orchard and the rest of the yard this afternoon and we’d like you in on our discussion.” Another of Samuel's worries. How much money was he really spending on the whole place? He didn’t have any plan, just got what he needed and gave James the receipts. He tried to keep a lid on his spending, but James kept the receipts and had never told him to tighten his belt. They’d worked like that for years. He smoothed the wrinkles on his brow. “What time? I can come up right now. Just had lunch and not doin’ anything this afternoon.” He’d get a chance to find out how this year had been. They should have been doing this all along. If he could maybe get somebody to work with him, so there’d be somebody to take over when it was time. Like that young man...Tucker was his name? He’d talk with Miss Em and James about it. How it would fit in the budget. Even just one day a week. That boy’s still in school, so weekends. He took a real interest in the place, but had to stop coming.

~~~~~

A fly on the wall would have heard raised voices in James office. “What are those two old fools fighting about, Martha? Not like them. Samuel sure looked worried when he came in here. That’s not like him either.”  The two women stopped what they were doing, their attention on the closed office door. “Elizabeth we just need to keep working and let them alone.” She really wanted to go in and learn what it was all about. 

“Samuel, settle down.” James Digby had never heard Samuel raise his voice. “Miss Emelina will be here soon.” Costs had skyrocketed over the last few years of the pandemic. Shortages, backed up supplies, gas prices up. Samuel knew all that, but hadn’t known the totals of it all. Neither did Miss Emelina. There would have to be cut backs to all the yard care, including garden and orchard. Unless they could come up with a way to make a profit from the fruit and vegetables, they would have to have a much smaller garden. Samuel hadn’t liked hearing that. What James didn’t know, was that it made Samuel’s worries about his own time running out much worse. He had wanted to ask for help for the garden, and he was hearing ‘no’ before he asked the question. For the first time in years, he felt the weight of his solitary life. Solitary, but dependent on the good graces of his employer. “You’re right, James. Guess I’d just better hush and listen to you and Miss Em. I’ll talk when it’s time. Let me go get some tea.” James was tempted to go with him, but decided he needed to be left alone. He hoped that his friend was all right. 

“Elizabeth, is there fresh tea?” He took an old blue mug from the cupboard. “Just finished steeping, Samuel. What are you and James in a stew about?” She filled his mug. “Nothin’. I’m just a cranky old man today. Rain sure is welcome, but the clouds are sittin’ heavy on my head today.” Returning to the office, he still felt angry but not at James, at his situation. He’d have to sort it out himself. He’d listen to what Miss Em and James had to say, put his two cents in when he could and when he was home…..maybe tomorrow……he'd make a plan for himself. In a secret place in his heart he hoped Elizabeth could be part of his plans.

“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.”

~ Mitch Albom

Chapter Two, Episode Seventy-Eight - Boys Again - Situationally Theirs

Boys Again

It was early evening. Samuel was home getting cleaned up. New shirt and jeans. He’d been to town earlier for a haircut, treating himself to a shave too. He hadn’t told Elizabeth. She’d been on him for years to get a professional shave and haircut. He’d always put her off, told her it was a waste of time and money. Now and then he even cut his own hair, or just tied it up. Not this time though. Not with Thom Digby coming home for a visit. Last time he’d seen him was the day he left to go off on his adventures. Thought he’d heard him say he’d only be gone for a couple of years at the most. Here it’d been over forty years! 

As he was locking his front door, he heard two cars come into the yard. Samuel was especially proud of being able to tell cars from vans, vans from trucks; even how many. He  recognized James car, but not the other. It must be his old pal, Thom. 

~~~~~

“Martha, do you think Elizabeth will have everything ready for us? For Thom and Sonja? Is Samuel coming over to eat with us?” To an outsider, James would appear relaxed behind the wheel. Martha knew otherwise. He gripped to steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white, flexing his fingers now and then to ease them. And then asking if Elizabeth would have anything ready?! “Really James. Elizabeth? Not ready when one of her meals is at stake? Of course she’ll have everything ready. She’s probably tapping her foot wondering how late we’re going to be.” Martha laughed at her normally orderly and calm husband. “You’re right, as usual, Martha. I’m just so glad to have Thom home.” 

~~~~~

“Well, Sonja, what do you think of my brother and his wife? You’ve been awfully quiet this trip.” Thom had noticed and just assumed that she was taking in all the new green, so different from the snow covered mountains she was used to. She and Martha seemed to get along, even in the short time they had met. As much as he loved the mountains and the life they had together, when he drove onto the estate, youthful memories flooded his mind. His sight strayed across the yard, almost expecting to see his father waving him in. But it was more than that. He actually could see a familiar figure waving. It couldn’t be. Samuel’s father? No it couldn’t be. Samuel? It was Samuel. Thom rolled down his window and waved back. He laughed at the same time - the three boys were just not boys anymore.

~~~~~

Elizabeth did have their suppers ready, the table all set with the good dishes and silver from upstairs. Even flowers and a table cloth. It made the kitchen quite festive. She tidied her hair and hung up her apron. She wanted to do it all up right for James, knowing that he’d been tied in knots since his brother told him he’d be coming. Expecting Samuel at any time, she put her sweater on and went out the back door just as the two cars parked. Samuel came up to the house at the same time. Car doors opened and shut. Walking past James, Samuel gripped Thom’s hand, looking at him hard in disbelief. They pulled each other into a hug. James joined then and they just looked at each other. Not a word was spoken. 

“Sonja,” Martha whispered. “Sonja, let’s go in the house. I’ll introduce you to Elizabeth, a good friend and the estate cook. The three of us can get to know each other while these three boys get reacquainted.”

Sonja had been feeling quite out of place now that Thom was home. Like a second left shoe. She still had a lump in her heart, but knew she could do nothing for her family in the Ukraine except send them money. She didn’t know if she could be the sociable partner that Thom needed. Or that she would even like these women. Martha seemed very nice, kind, but what about this Elizabeth. She should have stayed home. Thom could have come here himself. When she heard Martha whisper her name, she steeled herself, took a small breath and smiled. Whispering her reply she said “Yes, Martha I would love to meet your friend and leave these three to themselves. I suspect we’ll be eating before they will.” The three men had moved off, walking toward the orchard. James turned back and called out. “Tell Elizabeth we’ll be in soon. There’s just something we need to do first. If you ladies are hungry, please start without us.”

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains 

unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.”

~ Nelson Mandela

It's Only a Dollar

Integrity held fast. It was only a dollar. Easy enough to just slip it in his pocket and keep quiet. Mason felt bad enough shivering on the cold wet pavement, a paper coffee cup sitting empty in front of him. People only tossed him a coin and kept walking without saying anything. Once in awhile some man or woman would greet him with a smile. This woman looked like she could afford losing a dollar. Not rich, but when she stood at her car, Mason knew she was better off than him.

“Ma’am? Excuse me please. This fell out of your purse when you pulled out your keys.” Mason held the dollar out to her. She turned abruptly. “What?!” Mason stepped back. “Your dollar ma’am.” Her face softened. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me. I didn’t know there was anyone else on the sidewalk. Not in such a good mood, the bank’s closed…… but then you don’t need to hear my troubles. Keep the dollar and here…no I have a better idea. That diner across the street is open.” The woman hesitated. “That is, if you’ll come with me.”

“Conduct reveals character, and we best understand integrity 

when we see it lived out in a person’s life.”

~ Charles H. Dyer, Character Counts

As the Grass Grows

Ordinarily, I find a quotation after I write my blog post. This time, it was a quotation that inspired this essay. Why have I flipped things around? I have mentioned from time to time a writing project of mine. Some that know me may have heard about many different writing projects I have undertaken. There’s a story that became an ‘under the bed’ story. A story that seemed full of promise. A promise that faded away. Then there was a addictions nursing manual - too clinical! Little bits of poetry I’ve struggled with. And of course, Situationally Theirs, my pandemic story with Dez and Emelina. How and when will that wrap up? (I can’t bear to say the word ‘end’.) I’m not certain my present project will be any different. Except, there is a personal difference in the content.

As I sift through memories, or gaps in memories, I am astounded by the moment I am in. By the speed of the moments that have passed. A friend once said to me, and it was in jest, that my life ‘was as interesting as watching the grass grow’. At the time it sounded like I didn’t have enough details in my life. Actually I still don’t have anything on a global scale. I’ve not been an astronaut, a scientist that has discovered the cure for any disease or disorder, or a magnificent concert pianist. Those all sound too grand for me anyway. 

In the past weeks, my belief in what I write had begun to fade. Time and money spent on writing and the tools of the trade. I could spend time and money on golfing, or quilting, or some other activity. Golfing has never interested me for long, quilting I enjoy doing but have never immersed myself in it. I love baking bread but find I tend to eat anything I make. Then I just blossom. In the midst of any activity, words and ideas trip over themselves in my mind. Characters show up uninvited. Scenes form from nothing, while I paint, or bake, or walk. And so I write my story, the one that is ‘as interesting as watching the grass grow’.

“Story is the narrative thread of our experience - 

not literally what happens, 

but what we make out of what happens, 

what we tell each other and what we remember.” 

~ Christina Baldwin,  Storycatcher:

 Making Sense of our Lives through the Power and Practice of Story

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

Book Review: The Jane Austen Society by Natalie Jenner

The Jane Austen Society by Natalie Jenner was a delightful read. The first descriptors that come to mind are mystery and romance. That is far too easy, much like Natalie Jenner’s lovely novel. The first chapter opens in 1932 outside the village of Chawton, England. A fictional cast of characters takes over for the remainder of the novel from 1943 to 1946. As the story develops, they found a common goal. That goal? To revive and restore Jane Austen’s presence and her many literary works within the village where she had lived, something not favourable to all villagers. An unlikely lot of characters - the village doctor, a teacher, a bachelor farmer, a distant relative of Jane Austen’s, and a house maid are at the core. Money is needed. Then there is the problem of a will. As in any village or small town, they all know of each other, but have kept themselves to themselves, each having experienced their own sadness and losses. There is history of past failed romances that have been buried. New ones that blossom. A fairly predictable story, but just when I had it figured out, things curved in a different direction. Throughout the novel, Natalie Jenner leads the reader skillfully through this charming story. 

Last night’s book club discussion provided mixed reviews. Always interesting to me, are the many and varied perceptions whether a work of fiction, history or autobiography. In the middle of a cold February, this was a good read and an interesting discussion over Zoom. 

Although born in England, author Natalie Jenner immigrated to Canada at a very young age. She presently lives and writes in Oakville, Ontario with her family and her two rescue dogs .

“they were ironically the survivors, yet it was 

beyond him what they were all surviving for.”

 ~ Natalie Jenner, The Jane Austen Society.

Author: Natalie Jenner

Copyright: 2020

Publisher: St. Martin’s Press

Type: Novel

Format: Fiction

ISBN - 978-1-250-248732 (Hardcover)

ISBN - 978-1-250-272188 (International, Sold outside of the U.S.)

ISBN - 978-1-250-248725 (ebook)

Fictions and Fantasies

Sagas and legends told ‘round campfires and kitchen tables,

translate into novels, movies and family secrets.

Threads and tapestries 

of lives lived, wanderings wandered, fiction and fantasy thru' history ~ birth to death 

may not be sensational 

filled with deep poverty or opulent riches 

but just with day to day awakenings

to arise at sunrise, say good night at sunset.

To feel the joys of family or

the sorrows of family or ~

probably both of no great consequence

to none but the person of the moment

Legends with gold and black threads, 

truly lost in the mists of storytelling,

are trumpeted and embellished until

only heard as fiction or fantasy

but stories nonetheless ~

stories that excavate the past to show us

where we have come from ~

giving us a map to show mistakes or opportunities.

Our personal stories,

one crossing over the other 

colour and texture our days and 

whisper dreams through our nights ~

Sagas and legends told ‘round 

campfires and kitchen tables, 

warm fictions and fantasies

from sunrise to sunset.

“An actual saga demands change, both in its characters and its world.”

 Katharine Kerr, novelist

“The truth about the life of a man is not what he does, 

but the legend which he creates around himself.”

~ Oscar Wilde