This was the second drought in three years and Father said he may have to sell the farm. Mother was up in arms since it was her father’s father’s father’s farm when they immigrated from Ireland. The winters here in Canada were cold particularly in St Jacobs and the summers were scorcher. Unlike the cooler summers in Ballybunion. Father would argue with Mother, “But Luv, we have to be reasonable! Your forefathers were wise enough to save their life savings and leave their land before the famine sucked them dry. Now we may just have to make a sage decision as well. Maybe it`s time to just settle with some cattle. There is always money in beef.” Mother was silent but her body clearly stated how upset she was with Father.
Ellie was not waiting any longer for Father`s decisions. She was leaving at the end of summer which wold give her ample time to help her parents move. They knew she had a “pen pal” from Toronto and although they had let her take the bus for a visit a few times, they had no idea of Ellie’s plans to leave St Jacob’s.
Lindsay was actually more than a casual friend; Ellie had fallen in love…fallen hard. She was eighteen, fresh out of high school and ready to explore the world. Lindsay had already signed a lease for an apartment for the two of them and they would both go to George Brown College to study Hospitality and Culinary Arts. She loved baking and Lindsay`s strength was in cooking. They had it all planned. They would work in posh restaurants for five years, save their money and open a B & B north of Toronto in the country. More and more city people were paying an arm and a leg for a weekend getaway outside the city along with fine dining.
She would wait until a week before moving to announce her plans, and avoid any scene she may see from Mother especially; she was pretty sure Father would also be “disappointed with his little princess.” She looked up at the sky and it was almost like a warning of the storm she was moving into. Once her mother and father realized Lindsay was a girl, Ellie was prepared for the worst …a cyclone for sure.
In August during the hot air balloon festival in a neighbouring town, I would love watching dozens of balloons in the sky at dawn and just before sunset. I saw fewer in the morning but so many late afternoons. Behind our house was a vast field and it is said when the hot air balloon lands on the property, the owner of the balloon offers a bottle of Champaign to the owner. Unfortunately our backyard was not the vast and the balloons always landed outside the property line…darn!
pre-dusk skies
balloons landing in meadows
distract tomcat
mice escape their hunter
farmer Joe toasts with champagne.
Daisies have always been my favourite flower and when I was in college studying Gerontology, the professor asked us to choose an animal and a flower that best represents us and write about both with images as well. It felt like show and tell! Here I was in my mid 30’s gong back to college with two kids in school. I chose a doe and a daisy.{We’ll leave the doe aside for now.} The daisy was due to the strength of that flower that grows wild in meadows and the layers of petals, I felt, represented the multiplicity of my personality…still many underneath to discover. I believe that is a lifetime journey to continue to learn and grow. Death sometimes comes to the living if one no longer has the will of searching or learning.
I wanted to choose daisy as my nom de plume for Japanese poetry forms but I don’t like the translation of that flower in French, Marguerite. The “g” and “t” give it a harsh tone. My second choice was sunflower again for its robust nature and form. And I love the French translation, Tournesol, which is much softer… ça coule mieux {rolls off the tongue better}.
Chévrefeuille tells us more about the history of the daisy with varied legends of its meanings. Take a look below * for an enlightening and interesting read.
And now, I shall try to write a few haiku with some of these other meanings of a daisy.
thru grasslands,
wind blows while daisies waltz
children giggle
I love the sense of offering a daisy to someone, means to keep a secret. I like to imagine when a youth discloses to me for the first time, my handing him or her a delicate white daisy. This is our bond of secrecy, it is safe with me. A friend as well, who confides in me…this would be a nice gesture to seal our bond of secrecy, non?
tearful disclosures
embracing her friend
hands her a daisy
~
first time disclosure
embracing precious faith,
bids a white daisy
In conclusion, a snapshot of my thoughts in relation to a daisy and how it has enabled me to grow despite the subtle insights hidden underneath each layer.
“If you’re thinking about white daisies, there’s more to daisies than that. They can also be bright and sunny yellow, purple, pink, red, and orange. Daisies look like cartwheels with petals as spokes. In other ways, it also looks like a star that’s shining brightly.Even if daisies are a very common name for this flower, it’s also known in many other names. Names like ox eye, horse gowan, moon penny, poverty weed and dog blow all pertain to the daisy.
Daisies are not poisonous. In fact, a lot of people add daisy leaves to their bowl of fresh garden salad.
Victorian Interpretation: Daisies have many different meanings attached to them. In the Victorian age, it meant innocence, purity, and loyal love. It also means that you’ll keep someone’s secret. You’re saying that “I vow never to tell anyone” – when you give someone a daisy.
Superstitions: Based on Scottish lore, daisies were referred to as gools. For every farmer who owns a wheat field, they have an employee called the gool rider. They had the task of removing the daisies from the fields. For these farmers, if a big crop of daisies was found in your field, you had to pay a fine in the form of a castrated ram.
For the Celts, daisies were thought to be the spirits of children who died when they were born. It’s God’s way of cheering them up when He created the daisies and sprinkled them on the earth. This has a big connection to daisies symbolizing innocence.
What’s the meaning of Daisies:
Daisies are flowers that mean different things to different people. It can mean cheerfulness particularly for the yellow colored blossoms and it can mean youthful beauty and gentleness. Some people look at the daisy to be a symbol of good luck. However, the most popular meanings attached to the daisy are – loyal love, innocence and purity. It’s also a taken to convey the message – “I’ll never tell”.Apart from the Celtic legend that daisies were the spirits of children, the symbol of innocence also comes from the story about a dryad who oversaw meadows, forests and pastures. One of the nymphs, Belides danced around with her nymph sister when the god of the orchards, Vertumnus saw her. To make sure that she escapes his attentions, she turned herself into a daisy thus preserving her innocence.In terms of loyal love, daisies are used by women particularly in the Victorian age to see which suitor loves them the most. By picking on the flower’s petals, a woman would know who loves her and who does not.”
“Come along now, Bonnie, you’re holding us all up.”
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Six year old Bonnie was stopping to collect a stone here, a stone there along the way on their family venture along the shores of Ballybunion.
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“Stop being such a slow poke! stupid!!!” shouted her teenage brother, Sean. He was already agitated he had to tag along on this “dumb trip” when his girlfriend was back home in Dublin. “But NO!!, Mum had to visit the old homestead” he mimicked his mother’s voice, “’tis where your great-great-great-grand-dad O’Donnell was born and left for Canada during the famine” As if Sean cared about that trip that lasted one hundred years and they all moved back and lived happily ever after in Dublin, he thought. Big effin deal!!
~
“I’m not stupid! I’m smart, Miss O’Connell said so, so there,” she shouted back sticking out her tongue for good measure.
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“Come along, Bonnie, we’re all tired and hungry. And stop picking up all those stones,now, luv. When we get to Monroe’s up ahead, we can stop for the day and eat a nice plate of fish and chips. How does that sound?” Bonnie scrunched up her nose just thinking of the smell she remembered the last time she had fish at Uncle Gerald’s. “They’re not stones, Mum, they’re precious pebbles and each one has a story to tell. Miss Con…” Her mother yanked her by the hand with a grunt and a sigh and Bonnie knew she meant business. She stuffed her pocket with three more pebbles and ran along side her mum and brother.
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They saw the cabin near the pier and Sean rushed to Monroe’s to order his meal…he’d had enough being stuck with females for the past forty-eight hours.
~
They started walking up from the shore, high grass and spots of heather blowing in the wind made a pretty picture for any artist. Suddenly, Bonnie stopped and noticed something in the heather. “Mummy, come quick!” Her mother came by her side and they both approached slowly in case there was an animal hidden in the bush. Mae O’Donnell’s eyes widened and she put her hand to her mouth in shock. “This can’t be! It looks like it but is just can’t be! Jesus, Mary, Joseph…it is!”
~
Bonnie tugged at her mother’s cardigan, “What, Mummy, what is it.” Tears poured down her mother’s cheeks as she lifted the porcelain doll from the purple heather. “It’s me Gram’s doll. I used to play with it in the attic when I came to visit when I was your age, luv.”
Once upon a time on l’isle des Papillons, there lived a royal family and their minions. It was a small island. The king and queen had only one son and they hoped to find a suitable princess for their Fabien. But Fabien did not like the confines of the castle. It was boring, no children to play with and now that he would soon be sixteen, he had more and more thoughts of escaping this royal prison.
He was permitted to go fishing with Jean Lessard, the cooks brother. He rarely caught anything but he learned to swim, diving into the ocean and swimming with the fish made him feel a part of nature. He got to know Jean’s son Philippe. They were the same age, same height and actually looked a lot alike…it was uncanny. Lately, Jean and Philippe Lessard were taking a longer route to the beach. They found a beautiful wild garden a few kilometres into the woods. They would stop for a few hours there and eat their packed lunch Jean’s brother had prepared for the prince. Of course there was too much for one person and the three enjoyed the royal picnic.
golden lilies tease enchanted harem, butterflies
One day Fabien was lying down on the grass admiring the daisies and wild lilies in the garden. Butterflies were resting calmly as if on cue it was their temps de sieste. Fabien had an idea…he switched clothes with Philippe and decided they would reverse their roles for one month. Fabien was hoping it would give him the opportunity to enjoy his freedom and get to know some of the other peasants on the island. Philippe was delighted to have this chance to eat all the delicacies he had never tasted but heard of from his uncle.
And so three weeks went by and Fabien was enjoying his freedom. He had even met a beautiful girl by the name of Tanya. They would spend hours at the end of their work day in the fields, in that special garden he had introduced to his new love.
One day Fabien rose early to go for a walk in his favourite garden. He tripped along the way on a gnarled root bulging on the path and fell to the ground unconscious having hit his head on a rock. He was there all day still out cold surrounded by fluttering butterflies, hopefully a princess might wake the sleeping beauty.
budding flower graced by butterfly kiss beauty rests
On my way home last night I walked from work very slowly. Cutting across the bushes in back of our office was actually nice with the leaves all gone, it was just wide open snowy space. It was snowing again but it was very mild compared to the day before. So I took my time relishing the fact that I didn’t have to walk briskly to stay warm.
When I got on the street it was really nice to see the cars covered with snow, and quiet…it was late…so all I heard was the soft crunch crunch underfoot and the snow…you can hear it falling if you pay attention.
I thought the street lamps looked so pretty and took a few photos hoping to catch the falling snow…but alas, my smart phone is not a professional camera.
This photo was taken Jan 14th with the blind closed;thought that was a pretty nice effect.
As I approached the lamp at the corner of an alley, I noticed a dark blob…not sure what kind of animal until I realized it was a cat sitting stoic; he looked like a statue and we stared at each other for a a good two minutes. I didn’t budge safe for my thumb on my smart phone. I was relieved I had turned off the clicking so that would have scared him off. Sneaky, huh? I did that last year so I could take shots of sunsets from the office window like the one above taken last week.
(troiku)
twilight walk stops in snowy tracks alley cat
stops in her tracks staring down at each other winner takes all
alley cat show off in the night photo shoot
Well, monsieur le chat did not stick around too long and ran by me and just took off. I realized he may have just been waiting to get around me all that time. When I didn’t budge, I suppose he thought, silly old woman has a few loose screws, I’m outta here! and off he went. Or perhaps he was late for a rendezvous…the little matou!! (matou also means a player, have called buys matou many a times as a teen)
silly old woman few loose screws scardey cat
félin d’ruelle poursuit une trôlée chattes en chaleur
le gros matou rendez-vous de minuit chez minette Latour
Reading Karuna’s post on the use of plastic straws, at Living Learning and Letting Go made me think about how I behave in regards to recycling; if I am at home I will actually put a straw in the dishwasher even though I have tons in the pantry for company especially my grandson. And yet, old habit die hard I suppose since they are plastic and not paper, my grandmother never EVER wasted anything. So some habits from way back when have not died. Now that does not mean I am a model for recycling…oh no, I am not but I do try.
We still have a long way to go. Last week we had a cocktail for a major corporate sponsor. The food was delicious but OMG, but the use of these fancy plastic miniature containers was mindboggling…at least we put them in the recycling bin…but still.
I remember accompanying my friend on a business trip to New York City in 2001. I had not been to Manhattan since I was a child. I was amazed how it had changed and it was so clean. During the morning Jake was at his convention and we would meet later mid afternoon. One afternoon we went to The Plaza for high tea in the Palm Court. It was truly an experience, he said, I just had to see. The waiters were elegantly dressed and walked like they were actually floating slightly above the floor; there was a musician playing the violin in the middle of the court. It was quite impressive. It was like walking into a 1950’s movie…well, for me anyway.
We sat on the elegant chairs and waited to be served. We had arrived a bit late however and no one was in a mad rush to serve us. I enjoyed listening to the music and observing people who seemed accustomed to this kind of attention. I wonder if my wide eyes and open mouth threw them off…the waiters, I mean. Oh well, at $25 a person for a slice of cake and a cuppa we decided since it was almost five o’clock, we would go up to The Rose Club for happy hour and I had the best Manhattan I had ever had. The patrons were certainly more sociable. And that was my experience with High Tea at The Plaza.
noble patrons
sip tea from fine china,
violin serenades
The small tree outside my front window is no longer bare this lovely winter. It has gems dangling like crystals and diamonds. I had not noticed that before…the ice storm a few weeks ago had coated it completely with crystals but many had thawed, some had fallen but some have hung on for dear life…
life of a gem
survived darkness forever
life outside the mines
survived darkness
gives sparkle and life
northern winters
life outside darkness
hanging on those twiggy arms
crystal jewels
Walking to do some errands today was challenging but with the studs under my boots, my wool socks in my lamb wool lined boots (Saute Mouton), my warm Gortex mitts, cagoule and wool hat, long wool coat I was almost perfect…my cheeks and nose were so cold…my eyes cried…the wind so cold…brrrr at -20C. Fortunately, my son tells me it will go up to -2C tomorrow…yay!! It will be a lovely day to walk to work. I think I will take the longer route if it is this mild and maybe get some shots of winter scenes.
Mister Winter
stay a spell, drink a cuppa
warm up your innards
twenty below
bitter winds burned my cheeks
drink some hot tea
exhale that warm breath of yours
make me smile up at the sky
Tournesol dans un Jardin 