Recitals and Graduations

June is the time of the year for recitals and graduations. As grandparents we have the pleasure of witnessing the accomplishments of our grandchildren.

Recently we spent a Saturday attending a dance recital in which three of our granddaughters performed. This is an event produced by the dance studio to demonstrate the advancement of their students. It is a time for parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and family friends to be there to support and applaud the young dancers. The studio does a great job of mixing the more advance students performances with the beginners. It is entertaining to watch the little, costumed dancers so excited to be on the stage strutting their stuff. Some are concentrating so hard on following the steps previously learned, while others are watching the prompter’s off stage or looking for familiar faces in the audience. The more advanced students wow the audience with complicated routines. The most important aspect is to be able to tell your beloved little ones that they were great and how much you loved watching them dance.

This past Saturday we were at the graduation of our oldest grandson from St. Lawrence College. This is the culmination of three years work and a time for pomp and circumstance. Graduates file into the arena under the watchful eyes of parents and family. Tears are shed as grads receive their diplomas. Photos are taken to commemorate the occasion. Pride shines in the eyes of the audience. Parents know that their children are armed with an education and will go out into the world to become valuable citizens.

Two little boys in the row we were in shouted “that’s Daddy” as one of the grads walked across the stage. As the grad returned to his seat the boys called “Daddy, daddy”. The dad stopped and turned to the voices in the bleachers and waved with a big happy smile on his face. A moment to be proud of his accomplishments before his sons. Not all the grads are teenagers or twenty somethings.

Whether you are attending a recital or a graduation these are rites of passage which parents and grandparents are privy to witness and moments of pride all around.

Celebrating a Birthday With Easter

Good Friday found us as a family celebrating Easter and ‘the old guys’ birthday. Thursday evening; to ‘the old guys’ surprise our son, daughter-in-law and two grandchildren had arrived. The plan was for Kevin to cook a special meal for his Dad’s birthday. That evening we worked together to cook two triple chocolate cheese cakes. Kevin stayed up until after 1:30 in the morning to baby sit the cheese cakes to ensure they set up properly and were ready for the eight-hour chill time required.

Friday the girls and their families arrived to wish their Dad a happy birthday and to enjoy the meal their brother was preparing.

I have been teaching Zeke and Amelia to play crokinole, so several games had to be played until Zeke complained that his finger workout had resulted in a sore finger. Tyler’s girlfriend tried to teach Zeke how to play checkers but he hasn’t quite mastered that yet. This is the kid who shows his Nan how to fire up the Wii and play Star Wars games on it. I am sure that it won’t be long before he has checkers down pat as well.

Six of the adults engaged in a game of Queens while Kevin toiled away in the kitchen. There was two newbies introduced to the game so we split into two teams of three and shared the newbies. My son-in-law, daughter-in-law with myself prevailed as champs of that game, this time.

Kassidy assisted her Dad to serve the family a meal of shaved fennel salad, bourbon marinated steak, balsamic gazed broccoli and roasted potato and leek salad followed by the decadent cheese cake. Everyone agreed that the meal was fantastic.

One of the high lights around the dinner table was provided by six-year-old Zeke and four-year old Ruby. Much to the dismay of their parents they engaged in an arm farting contest to see who could make the biggest fart sound. They were actually very good at it.

At the end of the meal we had a clean up and then rolled into the living room to recover from over indulging. We all agreed that it had been a wonderful day of celebrating ‘the old guys’ birthday and Easter.

A special thanks to Kevin for the amazing meal and to Jennifer for bringing her homemade Easter Eggs to share with everyone.

Friends Who Can See You in Your P.J.s

While I was still a working woman, I had my routine down pat, up at 5:30 am, showered, dressed, fed and out the door in one hour. Now that I am retired I am a little more relaxed. I get up when I wake up, usually 7:30 am, make breakfast, read the newspaper over coffee, watch Canada AM and then shower and dress. I do have a rule to not go past 10 am to be dressed but this past Saturday the rule changed. It looked like a good day to clean house and I would shower and dress after the work was complete.

The bathrooms were clean, the vacuum pulled out and the feather duster sprayed, ready to do their jobs. That was when everything changed, the phone rang and I immediately recognized the voice of a dear friend from Oshawa. When she asked for our house number, my mind scanned the next weeks activities thinking that they were planning on a visit. But oh no, they were on our street and seconds from the door and I was still in my P. J.s! I gave them directions and then called down to the ‘old guy’, “we have company from out-of-town coming, in 20 seconds”. The ‘old guy’ was dressed in his blue, paint splashed work pants, held up with the brightest red suspenders you will ever see. He was preparing to re-paint our book-case with the fourth reincarnation of colour.

Our dress and the housework were quickly forgotten as we welcomed our friends with hugs. We were surprised and delighted with their visit. The unplanned can often be the best visit. For the next three hours we reminisced and shared what was going on in our lives since the last visit.

In the bedroom the vacuum sat forlornly in the middle of the floor and the feather duster was abandoned on the dresser. The vacuum cleaner, feeling sorry for itself, moaned “she never leaves me out like this”, to which the feather duster responded, “get over yourself, you are not the most important thing in her life!”.

In the living room the conversation flowed with laughter as we shared stories about our grandchildren and past fun we had enjoyed as young families. Old friends who are no longer with us were remembered. They told us about their furnace malfunction on New Years Eve. The furnace spewed black smoke and soot throughout the house and they had to make an emergency evacuation. Fortunately no one was injured.

I did manage to sneak away for few minutes to get dressed but did not want to waste any precious time away from our friends.

With reluctance we said our goodbyes. More hugs were shared and promises were made to visit each other again. They had a date in Kingston to watch their grandson play hockey and did not want to be late for that. Not only are they great friends but also loving grandparents.

Friends that you don’t mind seeing you in your pyjamas are treasurers. You know that they did not come to see if they could write in the dust on your furniture or if your floors needed to be vacuumed. They came to see you and you alone.

I do have to admit that as they drove away I turned to the ‘old guy’ and said, “thank goodness we made the bed”!

Old and New Memories

The day has finally arrived. The date that the sale of our beloved house in the woods is closing. New owners will take charge of the woods and gardens. I expected to leave it for one last time in tears but found that we have created many great memories to take away with us. There are the Thanksgiving Dinners, Christmas Dinners, Eggnog Parties and small intimate dinners with family and friends. Also we watched grandchildren chase, in vain, the rabbits in hope that they could catch one and take it home. We had campfires in the backyard and roasted wieners and marshmallows.

Wildlife that entertained us throughout the seasons will never be forgotten. There was the otter that had his own icy slide into the water, the doe that gave birth just off the back yard and the partridge who laid her eggs in the woods.

The gardens developed over sixteen years gave much pleasure but caused work too great to continue. I hope that the new caretakers of this little property enjoy all the lovely yellow daffodils that will pop up next spring in the front woods. Each year I added more bulbs in the fall and the display was grand last spring with yellow and white heads bobbing in the breeze.

I will miss the rabbits and secretly hope that they too will miss our little conversations each morning. They would sit along the driveway; just far enough to be out of reach but still close. I would walk parallel to their location, stop and in a low voice ask them about their plans for the day. Continually I would admonish them that the gardens were off-limits but to help themselves to the clover.

Snowy days in front of the wood fireplace with a good book and a glass of wine will be replaced by snowy days with a good book, a glass of wine and the heat of our gas furnace. The aesthetics is lost but also the back-breaking and dirty work of carrying firewood and later cleaning the ashes out of the fireplace.

We are settled into the new house and feel at home. This will be a place to create new memories. Family Christmas is going to be held here and it will be the start of many more family gatherings. We have already started flower beds, albeit on a smaller scale and the lawn can be cut in a half hour rather than a two-hour project.

Speaking of memories we already have one that began as a bad moment and now we can laugh and share the story with friends and family. Furniture from one house does not always translate well into the space of another home. Such was the case with our antique professors desk. Its first home was the living room but after thinking about it overnight I declared that the livingroom was not working so the couch and entertainment unit were moved and the desk was relegated to the spare room as a temporary office space. The movers had stated that the desk would not fit down the stairs and had to find a home on the main floor. The ‘old guy’ did some measurements and announced that it would fit. Assisted by one of our sons-in-law they tilted and turned the desk and began the trek to the basement. I was in the den when called to the stairwell. Our son-in-law had a deer in the head-lights look and the ‘old guy’ was on the other side of the desk which was solidly lodged in the stairwell. I turned and walked away returning to the den. Soon the sound of a saw could be heard. Yes, the ‘old guy’ was cutting off the ball feet of the desk. This approximately 3 inch difference allowed them to move the desk to the basement. What was left behind was gouges and scratches on the walls and saw dust. Our daughter walked down to view the damage and looked her Dad in the eye, ‘you are going to fix this? right?………..NOW’ she said. Dry wall mud and paint soon had the wall restored to its original glory and the desk which was not level before had now been made level.

With the pressure of maintaining two homes removed ‘the old guy’ and I look forward to many more happy memories in our new home and neighbourhood. Hopefully these memories will not require the use of drywall mud and paint.

Old Friends and Eggnog

People come in and out of our lives, and the true test of friendship is whether you can pick up right where you left off the last time you saw each other.

Lisa See

Today ‘the old guy’ and I travelled up the 401 to our favourite art store. After making our purchases we then travelled to Oshawa to visit old friends. Friends we keep in touch with by email but friends we have not had the opportunity for face to face time with lately.

Stepping through the door great bear hugs were exchanged and for the next four hours we talked non-stop. Old memories were recalled. We talked about our children, grandchildren, happy days and sad days. The ‘old guy’ and Ken reminisced about the years working together and where other guys are from those days.

One memory we recalled was the annual Christmas Open House at our home. The feature of the event was home-made eggnog. This hi-octane drink was made from scratch. Milk, cream, whipping cream, eggs and rum were assembled into a wonderful festive treat. One of our guests was heard to say “I can hear my arteries hardening”.

The morning of the party I would start whipping up the eggnog. Each batch was poured into a sterile, five gallon pail, yes I said five gallon pail. This pail would not fit in the refrigerator but fortunately this was made when the weather was cold enough to allow storage on the deck. A tight-fitting lid was on the pail. We did not want to look out the window and see drunken blue jays or squirrels frolicking in the yard. When guests arrived, sometimes up to seventy people, we would fill the punch bowl and refill it as people enjoyed the nog. The recipe has been shared with many family and friends over the years. It can be made without the rum for the kids to enjoy but that seems like a waste of eggs, milk and cream.

During our visit it was revealed that Ken couldn’t locate his copy of the recipe so I decided to share it with my blog followers. You will find it below.

When we left for home it was with promises to visit again soon. Life is too short to let old friends drift away and when we can pick up right where we left off years ago it is obvious we are all friends for life.

TRADITIONAL EGGNOG

6 eggs, separated
1/4 tsp salt
2/3 cup sugar
1 pint (2 1/2 cups) light cream
1 cup milk
1 cup light rum
1/2 pint (1 1/4 cups) whipping cream
freshly grated nutmeg

Beat egg whites and salt until frothy. Gradually beat in 1/3 cup sugar and continue beating until stiff peaks form.
Beat egg yolks until light. Gradually add remaining sugar, beating until thick and lemon coloured.

Beating constantly, very slowly add light cream, milk and rum.
Whip cream until softly stiff.
Gently fold whipped cream and egg whites into egg-cream mixture.
Chill thoroughly.
Serve sprinkled with nutmeg.
Makes 12 cups. Maybe doubled or tripled.

***I think I found this recipe in a Dairy Farmers pamphlet years ago.

Hidden Glen..A Childrens’ Story

I had this great idea to create a small play garden for my grandchildren. In a small hidden area of the woods we cleared out an spot for animals and children to congregate. Small rocks were grouped to form a brook  and an iron turtle was added. Stone birds, frogs and porcupines were scattered about the garden and an enamel butterfly hung low on a tree. A small table, chairs and box with plastic dishes were added. All that was needed was the grandchildren to play here. This is where I hit a snag; bugs that I had not accounted for swarmed around the space. The few times the grandchildren were there they were chased away by the annoying bugs. I realized that the play area was a failure but not to be thwarted I began to visualize how the make-believe animals would come to life when human kind left it alone. As a result I started to make up stories about the lives of the forest inhabitants. Coupled with an assignment to write about conflict I wrote the following story in hopes it would be a way to share the garden space with my grandchildren. We can snuggle in a comfy chair and in a bug free environment talk about Jasper, Jimmy, Clyde and Marcus. The following is my first story about my ‘Hidden Glen’ and its’ inhabitants.

Enjoy.

The sun rises slowly, fingers of light poke through the trees of the ‘Hidden Glen, of the small forest. A burbling brook flows through the landscape. In a cozy nook of the brook Jasper, the frog has made his home. Water pools among the rocks providing him with moisture and places to sit and watch for bugs.

It is a tiny corner of the forest populated by a few animals and birds. A raucous Blue Jay named Jimmy makes his home in a nearby oak tree. From there Jimmy can observe the other residents of the forest.

Marcus, a pompous cardinal has built his nest in a towering pine tree. He is vane about his brilliant red plumage and spends much of the day preening. While Jimmy and Marcus are not close friends they do form a bond of superiority. They look with disdain at Clyde, the starling. Clyde has dark, drab brown and black feathers. His home is a straggly nest in the rotting crotch of a forlorn, dying elm tree. Clyde has the nasty habit of raiding other birds nests and stealing their eggs. This has not endeared Clyde to the other forest residents.

As the summer drags on they all enjoy the warm long days but near the middle of August they realize that it has not rained for several weeks. The brook has slowed to a trickle. Jasper hops down lower into the pool but fears that he will soon have to leave in search of water or die in his little pool.

Most of the rabbits and deer have already moved to new locations. Marcus, Jimmy, Jasper and Clyde are the only residents left in the cozy, but dry, corner of the woods.

Marcus and Jimmy, sitting on a branch ask Jasper if he is going to be alright. Jasper’s skin is drying and he is having difficulty breathing. He has become too weak to leave his home.

Clyde flies down to the ground and asks Jasper if he can help. Marcus and Jimmy swoop low over his head, “go away you ugly creature” they scream.

Clyde flies away fearing for his life.

Another day passes and Jasper grows weaker. The next morning there is a heavy dew but no rain.

Marcus and Jimmy sit nearby and watch helplessly. Abruptly, Clyde flies over Jasper, a small leaf is grasped in his beak and as he passes over Jasper, he tips the leaf and a small droplet of dew falls on Jasper’s dry skin.

Time and time again Clyde returns with more leaves and drops dew on the frog’s skin.

Marcus and Jimmy realize what Clyde is doing and join him in bringing dew to Jasper.

Each morning for the next week the three birds formed a team bringing moisture to the frog. Slowly Jasper began to regain his strength. The team worked for another week and then the skies clouded over and life giving rain fell on the forest. The brook began to rise and water flowed into Jasper’s pond. Soon order was returned to the forest.

Jimmy, Marcus and Jasper accepted Clyde as part of their world and while they would still be on guard watching their nests they now saw that even the drab starling had some good in him.

Cemetery Adventures

My brother and I have divided responsibility for flowers on our parents and grandparents graves. This is my year to look after Mom and Dad; so I purchased a cone bouquet of silk flowers and last week I placed the flowers in front of the stone. It was windy and I worried that they would be damaged. This Sunday I went back to the cemetery to check on the flowers.

I trekked across the cemetery. The rain was pelting down on my umbrella. As I walked past a straggly oak scrub I noticed that the brown, crispy leaves still clung to the branches. Wind and rain lashed the leaves and I was sure that I could hear the ghostly voices of the inhabitants of the cemetery. The voices were sad and lonely. They yearned for all the loved ones left behind.

I continued on to the back of the cemetery to my parents plot. I found that the cone was leaning over, the spike on the bottom bent forward. Struggling with the umbrella in one hand and trying to straighten the bouquet and spike with the other hand I was getting whipped by the wind and rain. At this point the umbrella turned inside out. Giving in to the elements I laid the umbrella down and fixed the flowers. Satisfied that they were OK I then fixed the umbrella. I was now soaking wet.

Leaving the cemetery I exited past the leafy oak tree. This time I tarried to listen to the voices and decided that they now sounded like a choir singing the praises of all who dwell here and not sad ghostly voices.

All of this prompted me to recall past experiences in cemeteries. I was unaware of how much time I had spent exploring cemeteries.

Several years ago I took my grandson to the grave of his paternal grandparents. It had been our intention to place flowers on their grave; however; having left town with the street lights shining we did not realize how dark it would be at the cemetery. We stumbled about in the dark looking for their grave stone. We did not immediately find it. The shadows danced around us in our journey causing me to think of all the Halloween stories I have been told. The grave stone was eventually found, flowers placed and a hasty retreat was made to the car. I hope that I have not traumatized my grandson.

The next foray to the grave yard was with my granddaughter. Years ago; my father started a tradition by planting tulip bulbs beside head stones of family members. To continue this tradition we set off with a bag of tulip bulbs and a trowel. Carefully I dug small holes in front of my parents stone and she planted the bulbs. We also added bulbs to my grandparents and my uncle’s grave site. I sincerely hoped that no one would mistake us for grave robbers.

I hope that I have not traumatized another grandchild.

How many grandchildren can share stories about adventures in cemeteries with an eccentric grandmother?

Not an Easter Rabbit

Now that the old guy and I have decided to sell our home in the woods and move into town I have been prompted with many memories from the fifteen years here.

We are both retired and encountered health issues over the past year. A quadruple bypass followed by a heart attack for him and arthritis for me has dictated the move. It is too much work for us to maintain all the gardens and cut two acres of grass. Grass cutting does not sound like a big job but being surrounded by trees there is a constant need to groom the area for fallen twigs and branches. That being said we will be heart broken when we move.

Our grandchildren have been able to enjoy nature with us. There are nine in total and they present an abundance of joy and entertainment. Not only do they enjoy checking out the garden, notice I said checking out, not helping out, they love the wild life. One of the highlights over the past fifteen years has been the rabbits which inhabit our property. These rabbits wander around the yard as if it is their own private garden. During the early years I planted a lovely toad lily in the perennial bed and by the time I had returned the tools to the shed it had been eaten off by the rabbits. I devised a plan to rid ourselves of these critters without actually hurting them. I told the grandchildren that they could keep any rabbits they caught. As one batch of grandchildren figured out the ploy there would be a younger group ready to take on the challenge. I was recently asked by Grace and Amelia if they could have two rabbits and of course I agreed.

One of the funniest memories was watching a rabbit race across the lawn and driveway followed by first one cousin and then the second one waving a long stick. They were determined to catch a rabbit. To date no rabbits have been hurt or caught but I think the chasing by the grandchildren has had its affect on them. Today I can walk up the driveway and the rabbits sit a few feet away and watch closely. I stop and talk with them telling them they can eat all the clover in the lawn that they can hold but to stay out of my garden. My garden is left unharmed by them and they grow fat eating the clover. It has reached a point now that the grandchildren can walk with me and by never walking directly towards the rabbits they too can talk to them.

As we pack and prepare to leave our home in the woods we will take many memories with us.