Time, began in a garden.
I am not sure where this quote originated from, or who to attribute it to. But I do see it on signs, and plaques in garden centres often. I love the simpicity of it.
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Thank you to all of you who have read todays post about scrapping, went to the
Blogging with Integrity
site, and took the blogging with integrity pledge. I encourage all of you to do this, please spread the word.
Thanks to Lori E, of Family Trees May Contain Nuts, for doing her research and finding us a site that explains how and what to do if this happens to you. I wish I had known about it when it happened to me.
You can read the advice that they have here.
Integrity, it is such a small word, but it has such large meaning.With all the problems Bloggers have been encountering lately, you would think that having your photos, and posts stolen, or copied would be the last thing you would have to worry about. But unfortunately it is not.You can read about one Bloggers fight here, Debi Ward Kennedy is fighting for her blog rights, because some one is stealing her posts. In fact he is doing much more than plagiarizing them. I found out about the pledge through her blog, after she posted about the difficulties she is encountering. You will find the badge on my sidebar. Should you wish to add the badge to your blog, you can find the link here.Blogging with integrity.Now go and take the pledge!
If August was the month of excess, of too much heat, too much summer, then September is the month of realization.Coming to the conclusion that it is going to start getting darker soon, it is not just a faraway thought. Knowing that the beautiful sunny days are going to go away, and soon. Rains will fall, temperatures will drop, the gorgeous flowers will droop.September is both the month of knowing, and of denial. Knowing that it can't last forever, even though in August we thought it could. Denial that it will happen, and happen very soon.Sweaters come out of hibernation, socks crawl out from under the bed, and wrap themselves comfortingly around our feet.
The cat sleeps even more, crawling sleepily and sloth like, from a patch of warm light to pillows drenched in the last of the golden honey. He has no recall, no memories of of shivers, chills, and drenching rain. He lives in the moment, and the moment is now, a patch of sun, and a full tummy. He does not know this is the month of realization. And if he did, he would not care.Sometimes I think that I want to be the cat.Leaves change, almost before our eyes, turning into golden drips, amber crystals sparkling in brown sugar sun. We know what is coming, and we dread it, even as we allow the last kiss of the summer warmth to touch our heads
And part of us waits, because we know that summer will return again next year.
First of all, Happy Sunday. Secondly, I have to admit it is not a good idea to change colors and photos on my blog when I have a order deadline to meet. Not a good idea at all.Thirdly, there are a few issues on this blog, one being the colors, when I see my blog, the colors are nicely coordinated. When I view it on another computer, well, let's say pea soup and Ritz crackers is the closest color combo I can describe it as. So please be tolerant, I am sure things will settle down after it has all had a chance to simmer into a great tasting soup.Until then, enjoy some photos from the archives, and let's hope that they don't clash to badly with the background.Have a wonderful Sunday.The boots will be coming back, they are my nephew's and live in Armstrong. I do have another pair of my old boots, not quite as nice, and they are travelling in the trunk of my car. As soon as I get a chance, I will do a mini photo shoot of them, and change the header.
I would like to thank Connie, from Far Side of Fifty, for inspiring me. She wrote a beautiful post about a old photo, wondering who that person was. It motivated me to go and search out old family photos housed all these years in a chocolate box. A treasure, I had no idea lived in my cupboard. Read her post here it is called Wistful Wednesday - Who.Amazing things, live in simple boxes, old chocolate boxes to be exact. Treasures, hidden for so long, unearthed when you least expect it.Connie's blog post inspired me to search for the old battered chocolate box in the cupboard. The one that we had put away over 10 years ago. Part of his Mother's possessions, I knew most of the photos it held were unmarked, but I wanted to be sure. Since Rose has Alzheimer's, and none of Gar's family are living, there is no one to tell us who the people are.There were very few names on the mostly black and white photos, somber faces, long forgotten. History no longer repeating itself if it could not be remembered. Photos from times long gone, some even the turn of the century.There were people who looked like farmers, riding tractors with children, who's children are long grown, photos of a funeral, documented in deary black and white.
And some color photos of birthday parties.
Frankly, the birthday celebrations looked like a lot more fun.The photos that meant the most to me were the smallest, black and white, with a border, and dated on the back with only a year written in faded blue ink. They were of a baby, one who I know is Gar, and his now deceased sister. There is so little of his childhood left, only memories. Rose can't tell me funny stories of his growing up. She can't share family stories with us, Alzheimer's has made sure that it robbed us of that.
We had no idea that there were any baby pictures, we can't ask her. So to come across a chocolate box containing photos of someone I love, is quite simply a treasure.
Spend these last glorious golden days lavishly. Squander them, spread them as far as they will go. Eke out every last drop, memorizing, and absorbing the sunlight as it sprinkles through leaves, the crisp tartness in the air like the first bite of a fall apple.
Relish the colors that are created by the cooler nights, the warmth of the day, making flowers sparkle, even as they droop.
Spend these days, for soon they will be nothing more than a faded tan, and a memory.
Fall has come, leaves will drop, rain will be our constant worry, but for now, scoop up arm fulls of the first day of Autumn. Revel in warm toes.
Celebrate and spend lavishly.
Ever discover something gem like in your world, something that you never realized was there, all this time that you have lived in the area?
I had my first "almost real" photo shoot yesterday. And when I asked the family about favorite places they mentioned Crescent Park.
All this time that I drove by this glorious huge, undiscovered, amazing park, all those years. Why didn't anyone mention this to me? I know that we have two amazing beaches, and they tend to be the hot spots in White Rock, South Surrey, but this park, amazing. And it's only 15 minutes from our place.
It has a duck pond! OK! I am in! Me and duck ponds, we are like this, [crossed fingers]. Ducks!!!!!
It has trails, and playgrounds, and acres and acres of fields, and apparently a rope course. All undiscovered by us, all this time.
I can hardly wait to go back and explore, hard to believe it has been there all this time.
Have you discovered any gems in your area, after a long time of living there? Tell me.
Whats your morning routine like? Do you read the newspaper while you eat your cereal, sitting in your favorite chair at the kitchen table.I used to sit in my favorite chair, and read the newspaper in the morning. Now however, I have to sit on the other side of the table, where the light is not so favorable for reading, and the cushion is not so comfy.Bootsie has decided that he likes to sleep on my favorite chair at the kitchen table. When he does move, it is only to jump into the computer chair as soon as I vacate it. We will also find him curled up in a cosy nest on the messed up covers before we make the bed.If we dare to relocate him, we are rewarded with a baleful glare, you haven't lived until a cat glares at you. Trust me! Contempt, disgust, and disarray, all put together in a black and white fur coat.From the cat that is now sleeping in your favorite chair.At least until he decides to choose another favorite chair. Then that one will become his also.
The oddest part of being an adult sister is how the sibling hierarchy has blurred. I like being the oldest, yet sometimes I feel much younger than my Sister, Turf Toter. That doesn't mean that I don't take her advice when she gives it. I am sure that she only tolerates my advice because it is something that I have always freely given.
Besides, being the older sister should have some perks.So, that beautiful golden evening when we were walking through the Armstrong Fair, and she mentioned my blog, I listened. And this is what she told me.She told me not to put so many photos of flowers on my blog. People, she told me want to see more than just flowers.So dear sister........here are some new photography subjects just for you. Not a flower in sight. See I do take your advice!
I took this shot of Bolleen, [named after Bolleen Creek, in Armstrong] from the deck, high above the pond, at Turf Toters farm.
That little flash of orange near her tail? A curious goldfish, exploring, hoping for a insect, but only getting a mouthful of fur. She likes to tease the fish, by laying on the edge of the pond, and dabbling in the water with her tail.
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The morning that we left Armstrong to come home, we made sure to stop by my parents place and have a visit.My Mom took me out to see her share of the community garden, it's towering sunflowers dwarfing her, with their nodding yellow heads. She picked some kale for us to take home with us that she had seeded herself, and we walked among the sunflowers while I took lots of photos.
It was a short moment, one that I am cherishing. We don't see my family very often, and the visits can be intense with their busyness. These quiet few moments of connection are even more special to me, and I can pull them out anytime I am lonely for family.I had picked up some gorgeous April Cornell place mats, and cloth napkins with a sunflower motif to give to her as a parting gift. She adored them, and has always loved any of April Cornell's work. We noticed how they matched with the sunflower cards I had made for her so I spread them out, and took some photos.When I got home that night, and was reading blogs, I noticed that April Cornell's blog was featuring her designs for tablecloths, and one of them was the exact same sunflower pattern that I had given to my Mom.A small coincidence, but every time I see a sunflower now, I have this great memory of the time I walked through Mom's garden with her.
We spent part of last week up in the Okanagan, at the normally sleepy little town of Armstrong where everyone knows everyone.Until the September long weekend, when the
Interior Provincial Exhibition or the IPE starts.
This one stop sign, town swells to massive proportions of over 150,000 people. That's not counting the chickens, cows, horses, ducks, carney's, and the rodeo bulls.There are wall to wall horse trailers,, more cowboy hats than there are trees, and everyone drives a pickup truck .It's a great country fair, amusement park, and rodeo, all wrapped up in cotton candy, and a corn dog.
We spent time touring the exhibits of handmade crafts, and homemade baking, saw the animals, and hung out at the amusement rides.
As I was politely cutting through a long snaking lineup, I ran face to face with a woman who was staring at me with a odd look.
I know you from somewhere she said! I looked at her, she looked at me, "the local elementary school" she said.Nooooooooo....... my icy lemonade starting to warm up in the evening sun, I was rather anxious to make it back to our table.
"But I know you, you live in White Rock, right?""Yes, I worked at the garden centre.""Oh that's where I know you from, I always shopped there."Imagine, 150,000 people come to town, and the one person I cross in front of in a line up knows me.
"If I had my life to live over again, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring, and stay that way later in the fall.
I would go to more dance; I would ride more merry-go-rounds.
I would pick more daisies."Paraphrased: attributed to
Get out there now, while you can, live life, dance, walk barefoot, ride more merry-go-rounds, and pick more daisies.
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These hands of a gardener show their real age. There are no lovely long painted nails, and perfect skin. Cut scraped and ragged, these are the hands of a gardener.
Out in all weather, they have gardened in the raging sun, and the freezing winter temperatures. They are hands that have mixed soil, filled pots, and planted seeds. Lifted endless watering cans, and watered hundreds of accumulated acres of plants. These hands of a gardener have nurtured tiny seedlings, and hauled Christmas trees in the rain.These hands of a gardener have pushed wheelbarrows, chopped weeds, and dug soil. They have sprinkled unlimited amounts of seed to create
masses of summer color.
They have picked up tools, and pruned branches, deadheaded flowers, until they ached all night.They are showing their real age, and it is only the beginning.Because these are the hands of a gardener.
This is definitely not our dream home.
Honey, I've found our dream home, there is only one problem......somebody already lives in it.On the way upcountry, we passed some of the long drive by discussing what features we were looking for in our dream home.We both know that we would like a veranda, one that wraps around all sides of the house, and large overhanging roof lines to deflect the sun, and the snow. We talked about size, we both like a smaller, simpler home. A few acres, in the country, and definitely on a hill. Nothing below the road for us.We wished for a combo shop/guest house out back. Part of it will also be used as a studio. I envisioned a beautiful garden encircling the yard, meandering gravel paths. Veggies growing in a split rail fenced space, so the deer can't get to them.Cats sunning themselves on the patio, and the dogs running up to the fence line.Chickens clucking contentedly in the pen.Rising on a gentle hill above the road, near enough to my family, and only 15 minutes from Armstrong. It looks like it has character, which is what I was looking for. We found it by accident while driving around photographing old barns.
Our circumstances do not permit us to move just yet, and of course someone else owns it.......right now.
But a girl can dream, her muddy boot dreams, can't she?This is one home that I am definitely going to keep a eye on.
There is no place like home, and home is where the heart is. It was nice to get away, and to see my family, Armstrong is a wonderful gem in the Okanagan.
The drive home only reinforces our desire, and certainty that this is "home" for us. Although our circumstances do not allow us to move up and fulfill our Muddy Boot Dreams quite yet, I am remaining sure that one day they will. After all, my heart is up there in Armstrong, and home is where the heart is.I have just returned, and there is not enough time yet to down load the over 1000+ images that I took.
There was also not enough time to edit, delete, and
feed Bootsie the neighbors cat.
He showed up 20 minutes after we got back. And made up for a weeks worth of missing his canned food, by gobbling up a half a can in less seconds then it took to feed him.
I have lots to share with you in the coming week, and I am sure that at least 10 of the photos are not blurry, but I have to wait and see. We went to a huge fair, and a rodeo, and had heaps of good times.
There was a tremendous lightning storm that hit the power poles, resulting in fried computers, and no phones, so I couldn't email, or read any blogs for at least 2 days.
That really puts a crimp into a busy turf business, everyone was waiting to see if I would go into computer withdrawal. I didn't, but I was grateful to the tech who came out and fixed the internet.
Those were some hairy hours.
So have a lovely weekend, I will be making more cards to replenish my stock, feeding Bootsie, who has missed out on many meals from us. And doing some downloading, and editing.
RememberHome is where the heart is.See you later.