I'd Rather Dance than Watch

Last week a group of ballroom dancers put on a show at my mother's care facility.  Mum, pretty in her flowered hat, seemed to enjoy the music and costumes, but after about 30 minutes said with uncharacteristic clarity 'I'd rather dance than watch'.  Such clarity is rare, so I paid attention.

It seems to me that I've been watching the dance for some time now.  Work (has it been a month since retirement?!) required nearly all of my concentration for  the Dance of Professional Life.  The Dance of Home Life was something I watched, standing on the sidelines like the wallflower at a school sock hop -  definitely an onlooker with neither the time nor the energy to join in the rhythm.

It's only been a month, but I'm getting the hang of it - finding the rhythm and taking the first, hesitant steps.  The garden has been less for looking and more for digging. The cottage has been less a setting for meals and bedtime and more for relaxing and dreaming.  There has been more face-to-face time with friends and relaxed time with my mother.  I'm getting the hang of this Dance of  Home Life and I'm liking it!

Mum's words I'd rather dance than watch, sum up the way she continues to live her life as physical and cognitive restrictions become more and more evident.     It's lovely to know that she still steps right onto the dance floor................and that I can still learn from her.

Today's illustration has Mum front and centre in her flowered hat.  It was Dad's last anniversary gift to her, a year ago today.  Mum is surrounded by all the signs of spring in Victoria - a glorious time for The Dance!

I am going to try something new-to-me for this post.  I'll be responding to comments right in the comment section.  Let's see how that goes!

This post is linked to Mosaic Monday with Maggie at Normandy Life and to Amaze Me Monday at Dwellings, the Heart of Your Home.

Some Endings and Beginnings

Yes, Dear Reader, it has been a long time.

There really is no knowing where to start, but this return to my nearly-abandoned blog began with an ending - a small and trivial one in the Grand Scheme.  Today, April 30th is the last day of the year for Rory, the Cairn Terror, to run on the beach until October 1st.  It's always a bit sad, as he loves the beach, and I love to walk there with him, but in summertime the beach should be for children.  We'll stick to the Esplanade for the next 5 months.  Sea breezes, salt air and no sandy dog!

There have been other endings.  The big one was the death of my father in early winter.  The best of men, the best of fathers, he left as quietly and sweetly as he'd lived his life - a birthday celebration for my mother, a family dinner and then the end.  He was sung to heaven by his three daughters, all of us with him in the last moments. His obituary, in part....

Malcolm Jerome, Major (Ret.) RCAF, passed away in the loving arms of his daughters at the Royal Jubilee Hospital, Victoria, BC on November 15th, 2017, after suffering a stroke.

Malcolm “Mac” or “Cuddles”, as he was affectionately known, was born in New Waterford, Nova Scotia on June 20, 1928 to Angus A. and Honora MacDonald by whom he  was predeceased, as well as by his sisters ...........

Mac was the kindest, most generous, sensitive, wisest and wittiest man there ever was. A coal miner and boxer from a tough Cape Breton town, he put himself through St. Francis Xavier University while working in “the pit” and was commissioned as an officer in the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1954. He served at Namao, AB; Baden-Soellingen, Germany; Centralia, ON; Hamilton, ON where he earned his MBA from MacMaster University; Kingston, ON where he taught at Royal Military College and Queen’s University; and Ottawa, ON where he left the military after 20 years for a sterling career with the Department of External Affairs where, during his final working years, he traveled to nearly every Canadian embassy abroad, usually with Mary – his “little dark-haired nurse” – by his side. In retirement, he devoted himself to humanitarian work with the Canadian International De-mining Corps, and together with Mary served meals at the Shepherds of Good Hope soup kitchen in Ottawa. A voracious reader and keen thinker, Mac was respected, admired and much sought-after for personal and professional advice by all who knew him. He instilled in his children, grand, and great-grandchildren a sense of adventure, humour, self-reliance, respect for diversity, resiliency, and optimism, and that each were special and loved uniquely. He honored Mary with a life well-lived, full of love, adventure, romance, devotion, and dignity............

There isn't a day I don't think of something I'd like to tell him or show him or ask him.  I know how fortunate that makes me - no regrets, no sadness - a lot of good memories.

Something for which I am very grateful is that my father knew, before he died, that his grandson and namesake - our dear son - was in complete remission from the Leukemia he'd battled for more than two years.  Endings and New Beginnings.

On April 1st I took a big step and retired.  Dear Reader, you know how much I loved my work - how blessed I have always felt to have worked at something that so closely lined up with my core beliefs.  It was a hard decision, but one that I embraced and have only just begun to appreciate.  Freedom!!  There will be gardening, and babysitting, reading and traveling, cycling and walking-for-as-long-as-I like and..........time.  My colleagues gave me a whopping big gift certificate from WestJet and I'll have as much fun planning on how to use it as I will in the using! New Beginnings.

The Great Dane and Yours Truly celebrate at my retirement party.

So there you are, Dear Reader.  I'm back with some hesitancy.  Thank you to Sally and Elizabeth  for blogging again and thereby providing me with the push. If you, Dear Reader are also still blogging, I will be reading.  If you have been in touch with me by email or snail mail, I will be back in touch.  I have made my way through some Endings and I'm ready for some Beginnings.

Are there still Readers out there?  Has everyone gone to Instagram?  Can I still write?  Time will tell..............and in the meantime, here's Rory on his last beach walk until October.  It was a good one.........just the right amount of sea weed and dead fish!

Until next time........soon..........I'm linking to Mosaic Monday, with Maggie at Normandy Life and to Amaze me Monday with Dwellings, Heart of Your Home.

Tea and Empathy

After six months in moth balls I wasn't sure what it would take to shake out the blog at Pondside and give it some light and air.  In the end, it was a cup of tea. 

Shall I go back a little?

In early winter, whenever I found a spare moment I'd visit some of my favourite blogs.  I rarely commented because the Dagwood Sandwich that had become my life left little time for blog conversations.  I missed those chats an awful lot. One blog I particularly like is Delightful Repast where Jean posts recipes that I find easy to fit into my repertoire. When Jean posted about Mighty Leaf Tea I had to take a look, as Mighty Leaf makes very good tea.  Jean offered a contest open only to US readers.  Just as I was thinking another one, I read that a non-US resident winner could have the prize sent to a friend in the US.  Of course I entered!

Fast forward to last Thursday when, to my delighted surprise, I received an email from Jean to let me know that I had won the draw.  I knew exactly where the prize would go.....to my long-time reader Carol, who doesn't blog, but comments as Canadian Chickadee.  Carol lives south of the border, and when I met her several years ago I learned that she is every bit as lovely in life as she is in word.  We both like tea so I was very happy to share my luck in winning the draw.

Thank you, Jean, for such a kind and thoughtful twist to your contest.  I love how you made some happiness go a little further than it might otherwise have gone.  I love the friendly north-south connection that has traditionally been our countries' way with one another.  I love the way your gesture was the encouragement I needed to sit at the laptop to reconnect.

"Nana. could we have a tea party?"

"Of course we can my Precious Girl!"

Even the perfect day can be improved by a Tea Party!!

So, that was the tea......and here is the empathy.  

Many of you Dear Readers have checked in, sent notes and even called to ask if all is well in the New-Old Cottage beside the Big Pond.  We move forward, The Great Dane and I.  Our son has finished his two years of brutal weekly chemo and is now in the wait-and-see mode of monthly blood work and regular bone-marrow biopsies.  We still go back and forth across the mountains to support the little family.  Life is good, as you can see by these wonderful Bobble-head dolls that our dear Daughter-in-law sent us.  When I opened the box all I could say was "They are wearing our clothes!" and I couldn't stop laughing.

There now - the blog is aired out and a duster has been taken to the corners.  Who knew it would be so hard to come back?  Who knew that all it would take would be tea and empathy?

Some Were Left on the Sand

They wait at the edge of the beach

on a rock or a log

at the tide line

or neatly lined up on the Esplanade.

Some are claimed by the end of the day

and some wait all week 

for the beach revelers to return.

Some were kicked off in a rush toward the surf 

and some were abandoned - too full of sand for the long walk to the car.

Some fell from a beach bag

and were only missed

when the salt and the wind

made the tangles impossible to ignore

and some may have slid off feet
eager to dance on the beach.

Some were too pretty to risk in the sand

when bare feet could get to the surf much faster

and one wasn't missed until long after the cry of 

carry me Daddy!

and a dizzying ride on broad shoulders

Some were seen only by the early morning dog-walker

who picked them up and placed them 

safely

so that later in the day

or tomorrow

or the next time

there might be a joyful reunion.

These memories of summer days are linked to Mosaic Monday at Maggie's Normandy Life, to There's No Place like home at Sandi's Rose Chintz Cottage, and to Cindy's Amaze Me Monday at Dwellings The Heart of Your Home.

Domestic Distraction

When the going gets tough

the Tough get domestic.

                        Pondside

When little boys go home after eight magic summer weeks

when a medication-miscalculation sends an elderly parent

into a bit of a tailspin

 when temperatures soar and sane other people step away from the stove

Yours truly goes into Jam Production.

It's an effective distraction

and it's all due to a love affair with 

Rosemary Fig Chicken

featured on Ms Toody Goo Shoes blog.

The problem was that each recipe required

an entire jar of Bonne Maman.

There had to be a better way,

and a call out to friends across the city

yielded enough figs for a lovely batch of homemade Fig Jam.

Cue the ripe figs.

Free for the picking.

Yours Truly up a ladder 

choosing each juicy, ripe, delicious fruit.

Cue the peeling and chopping

and a little tasting, of course!

Cue the steam on the hottest day of the year.

Cue the hot, sweet, sticky mess in the kitchen.

Cue the wonderful results.

Yours Truly It may have been hot, sticky mess

but it was entirely worth it.

Worries disappeared in the steam

sadness was sweetened 

and the sense of accomplishment

was good for a stingy thrifty soul.

Sunday dinner was that amazing Rosemary and Fig Chicken

and it was declared DELICIOUS!

This post is linked to Amaze Me Monday with Cindy at Dwellings The Heart of the Home, to Mosaic Monday with Maggie at Normandy Life

Making Apple Pie Memories

Good apple pies 

are a considerable part

of our domestic happiness

          Jane Austen

Jane Austen knew a thing or two about Domestic Happiness, and so do little boys.  Overheard on a sunny summer afternoon............

First Born Grandson:  Nana, could you buy an apple pie?
Yours Truly: Buy an apple pie?  We don't buy pies, we make them!

And so, Dear Reader, the Great Pie Making Adventure was underway.  Oldest Grandson had never seen a pie being made and very much wanted to try.  He was so sweet in his care that I not not think him deprived for lack of pie.  He told me My mummy doesn't make pie because she has lots of kids and because my daddy is sick and she has to go to work in the Air Force..........

..........and he is absolutely right.  His mother ins remarkable, and pie-making is something that a Nana can teach.

The recipe book was brought down, ingredients were gathered, apples were peeled.........Nana, why is your book so old and raggy?.....Nana, why don't we use the peels?.......Nana, what would happen if you didn't cut the apples in little pieces?......... flour and shortening were  mixed and pastry was rolled........Can I do that Nana?

Of course you can roll the pastry.  Pie making means using your hands, but not too much, because we want the crust to be tender. The concentration was something to watch.

Can I make the fancy edge, Nana? ....... and Yours Truly had to face her pie-making-control-issues and just let the fancy edge happen.  It was an edge that deserved the term fancy!

In no time at all the pie was rolled, filled, crimped and into the oven.  There was a lot of peering through the glass of the oven door and more than one Is it done yet?  ......... and in due time, it was done!

The pie was tested and pronounced delicious and better than from the store.  By evening it was all a yummy memory.

In a fast-paced world.  In a world in which life gets turned upside down and families are shaken hard it's good to know that some things just don't ever change.............

Little boys 

the magic of a fresh-baked pie

and a Nana's happiness 

at a simple pleasure.

I am very happy to be linking this post with No Place Like Home at Sandi's Rose Chintz Cottage, Mosaic Monday at Maggie's Normandy Life and with Amaze Me Monday with Cindy at Dwellings Heart of the Home.

Hollyhocks

I once had a house in Kingston, Ontario.  It was near the lake - Lake Ontario - and the summers we spent at that house on Montgomery Boulevard were magical.  I remember, especially, the Hollyhocks at the kitchen door.  After three years of living in an apartment in Germany the sight of the Hollyhocks in all their blowzy glory was enchanting.

This summer has been  wonderful for Hollyhocks on Vancouver Island.  I see them in the cottage gardens as I walk through the Village or in Fairfield, where every house seems to have a cottage garden!  Hollyhocks peek through fences, lean over gates and tower over the poppies, lavender and roses.

There's something about Hollyhocks beside a gate that says 'Welcome'.  A garden with Hollyhocks doesn't take itself seriously because Hollyhocks, like Foxglove are messy.  The flowers are a delight, but the seed pods are messy, and the leaves are susceptible to mildew.

But..........a garden gate with a view of pink Hollyhocks at their prime, when the flowers are fresh, the buds fat and ready to burst and the leaves unblemished is a treat.  

I don't know if Hollyhocks still grow at the kitchen door of that Kingston house, but they will grow next year at the New Old Cottage.  I asked the gardener at this gate for some seeds and was offered a whole envelope full!

This post is linked to Maggie's Mosaic Monday, No Place Like Home at Sandi's Rose Chintz Cottage and to  Amaze Me Monday at Dwellings, The Heart of Your Home.