Catch it while we can?

Spring, that is. It seems to me that we really only have three seasons, here on the Eastern side of North America. Spring is so fleeting that it hardly qualifies as a full season. Yes, I'm thrilled today's a beautiful day and that any minute now the trees will burst into leaf, but oh, I long for a more gradual transition. Am I complaining about these last bleak months we've lived through? You bet I am.

Compensation is at hand, however. This morning I began removing those heavy and dark winter woollies from my closet and replacing them with lighter, more colourful clothes. And man, does that ever feel good. Even if I'm not quite wearing them yet.

Years ago in South Africa I had a friend who told me, to my great surprise, that she loved winter clothes. Well, she was British. Sadly, she and her family emigrated to New Zealand and we lost touch. But I think she liked the fact that, in those ancient days, winter clothes were slightly more formal. As for me, my bliss is to wear three garments only. Two kinds of underwear and a light dress!

A Westminster Wedding

What to say when, in my mind, I've been in London all morning? Maybe simply that I'm grateful for the years I lived in that city, and today even more for the fact that one of the first boroughs I got to know was Westminster. My great-aunt lived in a flat on Horseferry Road (how do you like that?) and I often went to spend weekends with her. Favourite Sunday afternoon haunts were Westminster Abbey and the Tate Gallery. Even better, at that time the number of tourists was minimal compared to today. In the 'Sixties, when May came around, we'd notice the influx of Americans. How different it all is now.

As I watched the proceedings in real time I kept on getting flashbacks to old memories, all good ones fortunately! But would I have liked to have been there, in the crowds? I don't think so. The intimate view brought by modern technology was just so incredible, and to be able to share in the ceremony so amazing. Maybe, if I'd been younger, or actually invited to the wedding, my opinion would have been different.

Catherine is a beautiful, brave young woman. But I'm still puzzling over the deeper significance of wearing a dress with a train. My silly side suggests having yards of fabric trailing behind you might stop you rushing down the aisle. Or maybe it would hinder the quick exit if you happened to change your mind at the last minute? Certainly it adds to the dignitas of the occasion. Still, there has to be something more to it. Does anyone have any ideas?

The Magic of Three

We were away for the Easter weekend, back in our old haunts and with the great delight of picking up contact with old friends and acquaintances.

On Monday morning I began packing my bag in preparation for returning home, and as I did so I realized that after three nights I was already beginning to feel settled in. I'd made a little place for myself, so to speak, even if it happened tobe in someone else's house. (Thank you, Ute.)

I know that when I travel far away I'm pretty much over the worst of the jetlag after three nights. There's some magic that happens between falling asleep and waking up that brings me into this different place. And I'm grateful for it.

Easter is so much about the magic of three. But then, there's also that business about the Easter bunny and looking for eggs, isn't there? I always thought the two things had nothing to do with one another but now, for the first time in my life, I realize there's a symbolism there. The children go out into the garden (weather permitting) to search for the new life that lies, waiting to be cracked open and to bring joy and sweetness to us all.

Thresholds

We have a family birthday coming up in May, and a few weeks ago a baby was born to one of my niece's. This means, of course, that presents are in order.

I was speaking to our daughter this morning, and moaning how I never quite manage the time factor when it comes to posting parcels enough in advance. She told me she was the same and said for her too, this was a difficult threshold.

That set me thinking, because it is, to me, a new way of looking at the matter. Why do certain fairly trivial things become mountains in my life, when I know that once I get down and take action, it's sure to be a breeze? Plus, I'll feel virtuous instead of guilty. Not to mention how the whole affair will be hanging over my head for days if not weeks. Maybe this is something I could change without too much effort. Certainly I find that writing down the tasks I want to accomplish helps a great deal. But sometimes those notes get carried over, and carried over, and carried over.

Tonight is Maundy Thursday, and ahead lies a very great threshold. This year, particularly, I feel its magnitude, and yet I look forward to the resurgence of life and healing that Easter Sunday will surely bring.

Do you know what the birds say?

That's the Shakespeare quote that's been much on my mind since yesterday. Although the weather was chilly, the sunshine was glorious and the wind had stilled after the blustery gusts of the weekend and Monday. Suddenly I heard a loud bump and saw that two quarreling birds had hit the side of our house. One fell dead immediately. The other landed on the deck and lay stunned. Not wanting to frighten it to death and hoping it would recover, I didn't go outside until hours later when I found it had moved a bit. So I took out a saucer of water and sure enough it manoeuvered closer and drank a few sips. Only a few minutes later, it too lay dead.

And then again, came a bang and another bird lay dead on the grass. I think that one flew into a window. Came a flurry to stir the air and a whole fleet of their companions were fluttering in our maple tree and that of our neighbour. After checking our bird book, my husband told me they were waxwings and that they liked to strip trees of berries. Not that our maples have such things (do they?) Now today the flock are still busy in our street.

So, in this 'still' week, I'm wondering, do these birds do as the ones mentioned by Shakespeare (the swallow, the dove...) and say 'I love, I love'?

Record Store Day

Yesterday I mentioned Earth Day. Today, according to my man, is Record Shop Day, when you're supposed to remember/think/blog about the first record you ever brought. Yes, Nostalgia City, big time.

However, rack my brains as much as I may, I can't recall the first disk I ever bought. Obviously, it wasn't that memorable. But my husband can remember his. In fact, we still have it. This is a 9 inch vinyl recording of Fats Waller, still in its sleeve, with a photo of the musician himself and the title 'Aint Misbehaving'. Many, many many's the time we've listened to it over the past fifty years and it's still fabulous. Although, I have to confess, since we downsized I haven't found a good place to put our turntable and so it lurks in the basement. One of these days...

Music is one of the great pleasures in my life. I'm so grateful to have the opportunity to listen, especially when it's a live performance, still the bestest way to go. And I'm fairly eclectic in my tastes. That is, I was, up until a few years ago. Now I no longer manage to keep up with pop music, don't do rap much at all (I think that's when I started to lose it). Like many other things, music has become so varied and complicated today. So now I'm faced with a dilemma. Should I make an effort to be more au courant, or shall I simply Let It Be?

Soap crisis!

I should have waited to post this for earth day, but seeing as my need is immediate you're going to get it now. And therein lies the problem. I can't get it now. A bar of soap, that is.

My preference is to use a plant-based soap, usually Weleda Iris, but I can't get that locally and am not a fan of internet ordering. The last time I ordered a cosmetic on-line, we had to collect the package from a location a fair distance away, so apart from the nuisance factor there was the cost to the environment and the gas cost to us.

When I went into our nearest source of such things (Pharma Plus, actually), I noticed a drastic reduction in the range of bars of soap. Pump containers and tubes are taking over. Frankly, I don't this is good. Consider the pump. Great for the manufacturers because I'll bet you that 99 times out of 100 you use more of the product than is necessary. Never good for the environment, when you think how how water is increasingly polluted. Also, like those tubes, when it's done what are you left with? Plastic.

Now, when you use a bar of soap, what you're left with is a tiny sliver. And even this can be useful because you can do as my mother used to, and put it in your linen closet or down the side of your upholstered chairs to keep the towels, sheets, etc. smelling fresh and unmouldy.

We're so clever today at making basics more convenient, but sometimes there's something to be said for certain old-fashioned ways.

This day in my life

On this day three years ago, my beloved mother passed over. It was exactly a month before her ninety-eighth birthday. She'd wished to go with my father, but the heavenly world decreed otherwise because she still had a couple more years to go. At first that was really hard for her, but afterwards, as with so much in life, she accepted her fate with calm grace.

One of the things she loved to do during her later years was to watch cricket and tennis on TV. In particular, she was an Andre Agassi fan. So last night at the library bus, what did I find my hand reaching for? Yes, it was 'Open', Agassi's autobiography.

Sometimes I still feel her warm and loving presence, although she doesn't visit me in my dreams as my dad occasionally does. Today I will light a candle and spend a few moments being grateful for all she meant to me.

Little green apples... or red ones.

Is it just me, or is it getting harder to find a good tasting apple? Yes, we buy organic. For the sake of our budget we usually buy a bag rather than pick out individual apples. But not always. Yes, we try different varieties, although sometimes I wonder if that's a good policy. But more and more I find myself disappointed in the flavour. This is sad because in general I'm fairly addicted to apples, and like to eat one mid-afternoon. Lately, however, I've been thinking 'Maybe a pear or some grapes would be a better idea.' And that to me is sad. An apple a day and all that. Plus, I've usually eaten a pear or some grapes, or a clementine or an orange mid-morning and I try not to repeat myself.

And on another track entirely, I'm wondering if my computer has a mind of its own. A little boy had been hiding under my desk, and next morning, uh no, no tadaa when I pressed the button to turn on my computer. Tried again. Still nothing. So I did what's usually advised and checked to see whether the machine was still plugged in. Yes it was. So I went on to the next step, unplugged everything and plugged it all in again (I have a separate screen and keyboard). So now, when I go to Safari or Firefox and start to type in one of my fave websites, instead of throwing the name up straight away I find quite different suggestions taking over. Who put those in??? Those gremlins perhaps?

The gold of good intentions

Forgive me if I wax a little nostalgic here. You see, yesterday was Mothering Sunday in England, a mothers' day that occurs on the middle Sunday of Lent, rather than in May as we do in North America. The traditional flower gift then is lily of the valley.

Some years ago, I happened to be in Sussex spending a few days en route to see my parents in South Africa. For Mothering Sunday, my two daughters took me on an outing to Sheffield Park and garden, a National Trust property (see link for more http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/main/w-vh/w-visits/w-findaplace/w-sheffield-park-garden/). On arrival we got our priorities right, and first went for tea and scones. Yum. Then we wandered around those magnificent gardens, laid out by Capability Brown himself ... and don't you just love that name?

When this memory comes up for me, a particular kind of soft joy rises in my soul. I hope and trust it will stay with me for the rest of my life. What made that day so special, apart from the fact that we were blessed with sunshine? I think it was the thought my girls had put into it. And I was reminded of this by a Monday morning phone call from a friend, who told me she'd taken her mom on a surprise outing to a butterfly conservatory and how wonderful that had been.

Smallish deeds, perhaps, but ones that glow will a special kind of grace... for which I'm grateful.

And as a p.s., the gardens around White Lodge were also designed by Capability Brown. One of these days I'll blog about them on my writing website. I'll let you know when I do.