Saturday, April 30, 2016
I wonder how many people own four Scrabble games. You can see where our recreational priorities lay. The oldest came from Grammy, who taught me how to sew. I can't think of anything that impressed me more than learning how to stitch something with right sides together, then turn it inside out and *poof*.... magic! She taught me to embroider - the green corduroy scrabble bag was the first thing I ever sewed. Grammy's letter bag has words on it (lined, no less) and I always thought that was a brilliant choice of fabric. I loved that April also had two Scrabble games - one for home and one for the cottage. In one of her boxes was a list of 2-letter words that her Aunty Lil had made. Emma humoured us by playing now and then, but she never was a word nerd - much to our disappointment.
AI = sloth
XI = 14th letter of the Greek alphabet
EN = for typography
EL = rail
KI = chi
EM = for printing
Thursday, April 28, 2016
(from left to right)
Top row: Teddy Daniels, Julia Fitzgerald, Margaret Marty, Lilith Gerund, Matt Scallici, Puck Anastazi
Middle Row: Prudence Tait, Mavis Rosenbaum, R. Skippy Cavanagh, Kathy Reid, Chett McLeod, Rosa Milne
Bottom Row: Cassiel Brown, Eileen Rose, Lillian Leif, Verkoi Storm, Clara Redwater, Mr. Anthony
PS from Heidi: if you're interested what inspired this entry, go to my real blog.
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
My life is in pieces. Literally. Under the work bench in the garage, I dusted off six boxes of April's mosaic tools. Beside that, were piled stacks and stacks of square tiles. I remember her hunched over a project, working out there til the wee hours. I'd see her through the garage window - mosquito net on her head, forgotten cigarette burned down in the ashtray, CBC playing on the ghetto blaster. I still use that bug hat when I mow the lawn.
Friday, April 22, 2016
I'm listening to Richie Havens.
"Let the river rock you like a cradle.
Climb to the treetops, child, if you are able.
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel"
When I first moved to Elora, I knew I had found home. My daily walk through the cedars is the thing I'll miss most. Those incredible trees cling to the uneven ground, their roots snake around the boulders, and create steps to make my climbing easier. Their tenacity is inspirational. They are holding on, where I am letting go.
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
I'll leave my bird feeders for the new owners in hopes they'll continue to provide for my feathered family. I'll miss my upside down nuthatches, the dumb little juniors on the ground, the beautiful finches - gold and purple, and my fire engine cardinal who winters with me. Can't say I'll miss the goddam squirrels. I never managed to outwit them.
- black oil sunflower seeds for all
- antler for the bush
- could no longer afford Niger seed for goldfinches so now filled with sunflower seeds
- diamond willow smeared with peanut butter. Big hit with everyone,
- canary seed for cardinal
-Niger seed for years. Now sunflower seed. Finches prefer this one.
- Mr. Stow's bird feeder.
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
Sunday, April 17, 2016
April 15, 2016
Perhaps it will feel great later, but letting go is HELL. I remind myself that freeing up space in my life is preparing the ground for new experiences. After all, I'm going to condo, not a palliative care ward. I'm blessed with good health. There is so much to be thankful for. This house has felt like a noose tightening around my neck for several years. Instead of embracing the adventure, I seem to be sabotaging this opportunity by getting sentimental and identifying so deeply with every object I touch. How will I ever be able to tackle Emma's things?
One of A's shells. Downsizing ain't for sissies.