
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
When We Were Young
I could hardly see my blue pottery behind you as you folded yourself into the opening by the dropleaf table pushed up against my lace curtains and asked me to marry you
I said yes and got teary and you swivelled out to the hall and dug through your coat pockets, finding a little green box holding a treasure. You had been carrying it for weeks
We married and invited all the children we loved to be a part of it. The girls still have their flower girl dresses. The boys laugh when I tell them they were so cute.
Nine years and they grew up and we stayed young. I think it must have been the magic on that day when the snowflakes sparkled and swirled.
Happy Anniversary, my love.
For those of you who are so patiently waiting to hear of our landscaping endeavours this fall, a post is forthcoming! :)
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Just when it looked like it was over between us, something happened
Autumn is closing, only remnants remain of the glory and gold of September. Many of us here in the north are closing our garden gates, stacking our pots in the shed and putting the chairs and tables away. But not here at Latitude. The landscapers have just arrived.
Yes, more to come. :)
If you want to see some truly beautiful autumn leaves, check out the stunning jewels at Voyages Around My Camera and the header photo over at Blue Algae Creative. They're gifted, these folks are.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Something about September
September seems to urge us toward awareness of the changes we need to make in our own lives, whether it’s cleaning closets or calling that estranged family member, or picking up that camera, paint brush or pen. It’s a time to put our house in order and acknowledge and honour our own place in the world.
A blogger whose writing I so admire, Rilla, recently posted about September feeling very "poemy". I couldn't agree more. Her post got me to thinking about September and music.
What would be the perfect instrument to capture the spirit of September? For me, I realized, it is probably the flute. Played in the late afternoon and heard from a distance. Strange choice perhaps, but I find it carries a certain melancholy wistfulness apropos of saying good-bye to the festive nature of summer.
There is something about September and the creative spirit. I begin planning my concert and theatre-going season.
I get art framed that we have purchased over the last few months. I look for beautiful things, especially pottery, this time of year.
I crave big, fat books. I dig out my old Norton Anthologies and re-read poetry. I take my son to music lessons and bang the drums and dance with him.
I savour every last golden moment in the garden and plan for next year's. I fall in love with the scent of gingerbread again. And I walk in the woods and dream.
I found this video of a jazz flutist who captures that something about September perfectly with his rendition of Autumn in New York.
Here’s to a “poemy” September for you all. I hope September helps you find your muse. :-)
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Nido de Amor
When my son was about two months old I began attending a postnatal physiotherapy class for moms whose backs were still sore from childbirth. It was about then I was realizing my son came with loads of “stuff” and our cosy – and finally renovated to our taste! – house was too small for the three of us. After class, my son would fall asleep in the car and I began to take that opportunity to cruise neighbourhoods looking for a new home for my little family.
The bungalow was pale yellow, with a little tyndall stone around the front door. It was nestled in amongst mature shrubs and perennials. Not a house you would probably take notice of; there were plenty that style and this one had no added features, good or bad, to attract looks from the sidewalk. Except for that sign out front. Tucked in a rugosa rose that had long overtaken it, there was a hand carved sign that read “Nido de Amor”.
[This is Gryffindor, our front door lion who keeps us strong and brave]
That evening at home I asked my husband what that meant. He said it was probably something to do with “Love Nest”. Oh. How lovely. As a new mom, that went straight to my heart. I imagined the husband, thirty or forty years ago, carving that sign for his little family. I imagined the day he pounded the post in the ground, hung the sign and, together with his wife, planted the rose. So I went back the next week after physio and drove by it again. Then I began exploring the neighbourhood and was smitten.
My requirements were pretty specific. I wanted a two storey home, the master bedroom facing the back garden, a family room on the main floor, a powder room on the main floor, interior walls (I like actual rooms), and a good-sized back garden with mature trees. I also wanted to be near a large natural wooded area with trails I could wander and dream. A river or creek would be nice, too.
I found my house. It came up for sale about six doors down from the yellow bungalow. It was in dire need of renovations, the gardens were a wreck, the fence was fallen, but the bones were good and the inspection proved the house was sound. Best of all, the back garden was a tabula rasa with a stand of large trees at the back casting dappled light over the garden in the evening.
We have been here three years now and are gradually working on the house and garden while raising our little son. I have never been happier.
The little yellow bungalow is for sale now. A few days after the For Sale sign went up the Nido de Amor sign came down. I hope they are taking it with them to wherever their next stop is. It some ways, I feel the sign is still here and that they have passed it on to us. Thank you, little bungalow, for sharing the love.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
White After Labour Day?
My Morden Snowbeauty is in week two of its second flush. I couldn't be more pleased with this lovely beauty.
The pale pink buds are opening this time a little pinker than the first pure white flush and it is really rather enchanting.
My annual pelargoniums will bloom right into the fall if last year is any indication.
And are a welcome counterpoint to all the rosy complexions out there.
My delightful little fairy bells are in full bloom again. This is my first year with them and I hope they make it through the winter as I am rather charmed with their tiny dancing when a breeze blows over them.
My Little Lamb hydrangea has put out it biggest blooms ever, after a harsh winter that took it down to its base.
I wonder if the seven flower heads on it are so big because my toddler cut the others off when they were just getting started? Hmmm...maybe he is a gardener in the making. :)
These creamy little sprays are not a part of the garden.
They are a present from hubby for my birthday. It appears he knows how to make me blush after Labour Day as well. :)
Hope you are enjoying the beauty of your late summer gardens!
One of the most attractive things about the flowers is their beautiful reserve.
~Henry David Thoreau