Primrose
As I look at these primroses, I hope that mom and dad are sitting up there on some cloud, having their gin and tonics and tequila with lime, and looking down and smiling upon us with approval. Even though I’m not the homemaker my mom was, I definitely inherited her capacity to love and to show love, and for that I’m grateful.
A Loveliness of Ladybugs
And on the evening would go, dad sipping his tequila and lime, mom with her G&T, and me with white wine, listening to the hum of the lawnmowers, the barking of an occasional neighborhood dog, and the sound of familial contentment. I smile at those memories.
Gust or Gale?
They dive-bomb down to the posts in the harbor and push each other off their perches, claiming them for their own as they were the brave ones. Then the displaced bird starts the soaring, careening, freedom dance all over again.
A Plu-Perfect Cabbage
I’d come wandering in and when I’d ask what he was doing he’d say, “Oh, I’m sitting here like an absolutely plu-perfect cabbage.” Or sometimes, when guests would stay too late, he’d comment, “I’m beginning to grow leaves…cabbage leaves.” Oh man – his vegetable references got better and better over the years.
Cozy Mystery
So far, I’ve debunked the desire to live in small-town USA, and a lighthouse. Now village in the Cotswolds will be next – house boats, pyramids, castles, palaces, yurts, treehouses and yachts still remain on the list – and a whole bunch more. Stay tuned.
I Can See the Light
I can imagine a rocky shore with my lighthouse alone on the point – overlooking the craggy cliffs below. It would be tall and white with a red door and black shutters. Or maybe it would all be muted blue and gray. During the summer there would be window boxes filled with bright pink geraniums and deep purple lobelia.
Rocky and Annie
The thing that Bassets and St. Bernard’s have in common? Well, they’re adorable…but the commonality is DROOL!!
The Prince(ss) of Peas
If you’ve ever sung in a choir, you know the tricks for making the words intelligible and not annoying to the listener. A real pet peeve for choir directors are "esses". If one singer starts to put an ‘s’ on a word too early, it sounds like the snakes of the world have arrived.
Ferry with a Cherry on Top
When my brother and sister and I would fight, my parents would band together and (tunelessly) belt out the old Mormon hymn “When There’s Love at Home……” Oh my gosh, that made us crazy!! They would go on and on until we would surrender and we would all dissolve into laughter.
Sky Blue Pink
I want to be remembered as funny, and brave, and independent and dependable. I want to be the fun grandma, mom, aunt and sister. I want people to laugh about our inside jokes, the crazy word games, my cruciverbalism. I want them to admire the fact that I can live independently, courageously, and am not afraid of many things (except tuna salad from a restaurant).
Flowers, Flowers Everywhere!
She never met a flower she didn’t like - except perhaps calla lilies, which she deemed to be funeral flowers. She grew flowers, she bought flowers, but most importantly - she received flowers - every two weeks for about the last 30 years.
88 Year Old Nails
Everyone around us heard the conversation and her announcement got us all to murmuring, “I want to have what she’s drinking,” and “ I wonder how she does it?” and “What’s her secret?”
A Bug’s Eye View
I have been doing a lot of changing over these many months. From being a shattered shadow of myself, to today being pretty darn strong, I am evolving.
Gongoozling
I’m gongoozling right now as I’m finishing up my day’s work. It is cloudy and rain is pelting down. I love gray days here, they are soft and quiet. And still I see the sail boats sailing along, oblivious to the weather. There are two yachts in my line of vision, and here comes a water patrol boat zipping by.
The Secret Garden
There is only one person I know who would plan an incredibly complicated funereal plot. One woman who was so complicated and so detail-oriented, so sweet and so contrary that it would delight her from beyond the grave…