Growing Versions

It became a joke between us.  On a regular basis, when we were commuting up to 2.5 hours a day, I would exclaim: "Wow, look at that, they tore that old barn down." or "Look at that huge new development. That really came out of nowhere!" My husband would jokingly respond, "Yes, dear.  They tore down that barn 1 year ago at least." or "Yes, they've been building that strip mall for 6 months." My observation skills when I was commuting were exceptionally dull.  Months and years would go by of me driving day in and day out and I would not see major (never mind minor) changes in our neighbourhood and community. Finally, after 7 years, we were lucky enough to be able to make the decision to move to the city so we wouldn't have to commute.  Right away, I noticed a difference.  Even though we still used the car a fair amount, at least at first, we are able to walk most places.  It was like I got new glasses.  My observation skills sharpe...

Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset. -Saint Francis de Sales Okay.  I'll try.

There are sce nts i n this world that bri ng me back to somewhere, places where I ca n not go.  I smell that smell a nd get a hit of some time before that will  not come agai n.  For me, lilac sce nt se nds me o n a be nder .  Upo n sight,  I begi n to remember what they smell like.  However, it is the smelli ng of them directly, which I ca n o nly  really bri ng myself to do  a doze n times a year (3 times so far this year), that fills me with such a mix of regret a nd pla n maki ng u nique to them a nd me  that I ca n barely sta nd to look at them.  I have bee n avoidi ng them, I see them across the street a nd a ki nd of lo ngi ng takes over. I remember a spri ng. I remember my gra ndmother's garde n a nd a freedom that I have  not really felt si nce. I remember glass upo n glass filled with lilacs, sce nti ng every room a nd shapi ng  pla ns I made. What sce nt makes you remember a place?  Does it eve n hav...

I let the beach and the trees and the tadpole pond (and the grandparents) help do the parenting this weekend.

I was laying down on the floor next to my son's bed the other night,willing (okay, mentally begging) him to sleep.  As I lay there, I turned my head distractedly and looked around.  My eyes rested on an old cardboard box that was holding odds and sods in the kids' closet.  On the side of the box, it said: "50 lbs. WHALE MEAT". Reading the label startled me.  The box had come from the village where we had lived for 7 years before moving to the city 3 years ago.  The coastal village had one of the last remaining whaling stations in North America and it was closed down in the early 70s.   The box had contained some old books that we had gotten from some friends who still live there, so I can trace back its origins more or less, but it still stopped me in my tracks.  What struck me was that in a 2012 world where what this box once contained is now widely considered morally off limits to box up and distribute, the box itself was still quietly sitting here ...