Facinating Friday

OK as Friday nights go this was above typical and not quite fantastic. I certainly struggled when leaving work with the idea of getting ready and going out. It had been a long week, information over load and not enough answers to everybodys questions. It had been an emotional week too. The needs are great in our community right now, people are in pain. They are suffering from job loss and fear of financial ruin. I had calls this week from my aunt who is having surgery next week, my mom is also having surgery next week, my friend who's grand child has caught a rare virus and my loose the loss of her limbs at 4 years old. My own children are going through some growing pains this week and most of these concerns have been filtered through me. So its no wonder at the end of the week I have not got too much energy left to do anything. As my mother would say; " the mind is willing but the body is weak".



I drove home and found it difficult to even plan what I was going to wear to go for an after work drink. Casual or dressy, sultry or vixen, parading or watching? When it came right down to it comfort won over all of it. Nice dark jeans, peasant blouse and tear drop cardigan and some sexy platform shoes. I touched up the make up, ran some mouse through my hair and a little lippy and off we went!



I picked up my friend and she let me know that her daughters' life had impacted our drink time so we really only had 45 minutes as we had to get her to work. We were visiting a new spot for drinks and it seemed that we were early enough that we appeared to catch the geriatric crowd. So basically the scenery was nothing to look at. However I rediscovered a drink I had not had in years, Campari and soda! It was so lovely and refreshing but it gave me an appetite. Luckily the h'orderves were really fabulous and so happy hour became my happy 45 minutes. We chatted about our weeks' and the drama of daily living and soon it was time to leave. However we decided that we would go to dinner after dropping of the daughter. So I made a reservation at a French restaurant.



After doing our parenting duty we went to the restaurant early and decided to have a drink before dinner. We were the only patrons at that time and so we had a full view of the place and choice seating. We had a view of the front door and the open kitchen. We were able to observe this wonderful French Chef create sumptuous dishes. The strangest thing happened, my friend developed a crush on the Chef. Our conversations and ramblings were punctuated adoring statements; " Look at his dimples" , " he is so handsome!", " he had broad shoulders, and a little belly". Of course our food was truly fabulous. Salad de Capri and Moules Mariniere with Pernod and frits. Bliss!! We rounded it out with a capacino and creme brulee.

The evening was coming to a close too soon, we were enjoying ourselves. My friend admitted to never really enjoying food this way. She explained that she liked good food and enjoyed the taste of fresh ingredients but she had never been one with her food. Tonight she learned to eat her muscles by the shell, and sup the broth. She savoured each spoonful of creme brulee, letting her taste buds dance as the smooth creamy testure lit up with the taste of Grand Mariner. She said the whole expereince was as exciting as having a pedicure! I was delighted to hear it, I mean some one who enjoyed the whole culture of eating, not just having sustenance!

As we were waiting for the bill, a man and woman arrived to be seated for dinner. I recognized him as a man who was a bit of a womanizer and we had often "bumped into him" at Friday night happy hours. This married man was with his wife who was not it seemed kean to be out. We said our polite hellos and enjoyed the squirm as he tap danced through the light chat . No doubt there will be some not so light chat going on after we left if she had an intuitive bone in her body.

It was only 8 pm so we went back to her house for more wine and chat. I delcined the wine as I felt like a headache was hovering and wanted to avoid being taken under be a migraine this weekend. We fell into a wonderful rhythm of sharing and feeling and of course with sharing comes a few tears. It has always been risky for me to let my guard down and feel things as I then walk around feeling. That leaves me vulnerable and then I get mad at myself for feeling anything or having expectations that anyone might feel the same as I do. It is complicated I know! However I got through it staying relatively sane and bed time soon approached. I went home to Daisy and reveled in her happy dance as I walked through the door. Being loved that way was easy. I tousled her hair and let her out, she bounded off with a happy bark.

Today I learned that I have lots to teach, my closest friend did not know I lived in France as a teen or that I had fear of never being good enough. I also learned that I need to be kinder to me and let the fear go. All easier said than done. So today should's are that I will practice kindness to myself each day and so I need to learn how to do that. The universe will tell me how, I do have faith.

Ramblings of a girly girl.

I know, it is a strange title, but today I discovered that for all the equal rights and independence I have I also want to be a woman, a girly girl! Really, I have tried for years to be practical and not indulgent but having lunch today with a colleague we both shared an "ah ha" moment.

So there we were, two fiftish women with really only work in common but something drew us together. I discovered that we had children of a similar age with similar temperaments and interests. The chat started at work and moved on to family and for a while local events. It was interesting to discover that we had come from similar roots. We were both feeling the stress of a job that fed the personality trait of doing more for someone, always being the giver, in a setting that had unrealistic expectations of how to do the job and look after ourselves in the process. Curious though, we both never seemed to change our behaviour.

We were enjoying lunch at a wonderful restaurant, "Blumen "in Picton, the setting of another world and despite the soggy prospect of rain the place totally charmed us. So much so we indulged in desert, or was it the chat?

We were able to sit out in the gazebo, the balmy breeze spread warm air through the structure. The humidity just enough to keep summer in mind while the eyes feasted on the rusty oranges and reds of the fall. the garden setting beyond the building was reminiscent of an English country garden and I smiled contentedly as I breathed in my surrounding.

As we began to share a bit more about our lives the dialogue focused briefly on our own self esteem. That being a bit of a risky topic for a new friendship we kept it light. Then she said something so profound I felt my eyes bulge and I laughed out loud! She said; " You know I was asked recently what I do for myself, and you know I could not think of one thing. It is strange how we loose sight of doing things for ourselves. Sometimes I see and hear women who have families talk about their shopping and their hair appointments and their diets and gym memberships and they look put together and I think " how dare you take care of yourself while you have a family! " Then I realise I don't hate them I just wish could put me in the mix and feel good about that."

I high fived her and told her I know exactly what she means. Neither of us actually resents these women, we resent ourselves for not putting us first when it is our turn. We bleated on a bit more and then our lunch arrived, and so the topic moved to food and great experiences about food. My colleague then shared a bit about her daughter who had just come back from a university experience in Britain. Her daughter felt she missed the life style there and how spontaneous people were as they seemed to live in the moment. Since I was a former Brit, I felt I had to comment on that. I agreed with her daughter and I quietly reflected in my head on how over the years I had become less spontaneous. The next thing I know my brain has been hijacked and I am sharing with her my "spontaneous " visit to the city a couple of weekends ago. I told her how I struggled with the just going and being in the moment with my old friend. And this is where it gets good, she says; " well if your friend had just called and said "I need you," you would never have thought twice, but because it was about you having fun you stopped in your tracks to evaluate." It was certainly a light bulb moment for me. Even at 50 I am still evaluating and measuring everything I do in terms of how this will affect others. I am still struggling with putting me first. I know while she was dispensing advice for me the same light bulb was shining brightly in her head. I do believe at that moment we decided on desert.

So after the milk chocolate cheese cake and the stewed plum strudel with creme Anglaise we decided that we needed to book one of these enlightening lunches once a month. As we paid our bill we cooed and smiled and said thank you while wafting accolades everywhere about the wonderful lunch. We said our goodbyes and moved on into the rest of our day.

As I drove back to the office almost 40 minutes away, I had time to think about who I was growing up. Yes sure, strong and independent, but I was a ballet dancer who loved beautiful delicate things. I was a romantic who loved the sweeping off her feet kinds of experiences, doing things spontaneously, I liked being pretty and dressing well and loved , loved , loved my shoes!! I loved going to restaurants the fine dinning kinds, the limousines and glamorous life. Where did it all go? Well I could pay a shrink for a long time figuring it out, so I am not going to do that, but take that money and buy perfume, a yellow couch, new stilettos and frilly underwear so what if no one ever sees it I will know I am wearing it!

Today's shoulds are about taking more time, more solitude to rediscover who I am and nurture the frilly side of me, while balancing with the practical woman I have become.

Random thoughts and chocolate chips.

Today felt more like fall. The breeze was chilly and every where I looked I saw leaves turning yellow and orange in neon like patches on the maples of every street. In my job I am on the road a fair bit. The county I travel is large. It takes in a swath of land from Algonquin Park to the tip of Prince Edward County. The communities I visit out side the city are rural and each little town or hamlet has its own unique story and culture. While there are times I complain about the physical aches and pains I experience from driving around never really getting any exercise, I remind myself to let them go. You see the daily experiences far out way the complaints.

Today I saw water buffalo grazing in a field. They looked content, some looking about them as the geese flew over head. Some sitting in the dip in the hill sunning themselves and others walking the boundary of the field. In one corner of the farm there was a small fenced in area filled with calves frolicking and nudging each other out of the water trough. It all made me smile and marvel at the same time. I mean water buffalo, here , near my own back yard just doing what other bovines do. However, it was a remarkable sight.


Further along the road I saw two falcons dipping and diving over a newly cropped field. Just the other day the field was high with corn. Now its a golden stubble lined field, all the easier to spy your pray in if you were a falcon. I slowed down to gaze at them and watch their dance and saw the rabbit one of them yanked from the ground, the other turning and flaying after the lunch now safely in the clutches of the master hunter. I had a moment of distress for the rabbit, but heard my fathers voice, " it is the cycle of life". So I left it there not wanting to give into the pain of loss for the rabbit or the family in their warren tonight wondering if there relative was going to make it home. Of course that thought was completely attacked by my rational brain and then I needed to know if rabbits could even have that kind of brain? Shaking my head to clear the craziness forming in my brain I was distracted by a field full of rusting farm implements.

The field reminded me of the market auctions I used to go to with my father on a Monday at Lanark. Apart from the hours of which I stayed in the vehicle while my father wheeled and dealed, I loved going to the cafe for lunch with him and his friends. It was called the Ladyacre Cafe. I loved, loved, loved the rich lentil soup. My father used to shake so much white pepper into his soup I sneezed every time. On the way home he always stopped at a corner shop and bought me a treat. It is no wonder that our whole lives we associate food with our understanding of "being good enough". ( A topic for another evening)

Soon I was at my destination and more great experiences. My clients simple vegetable garden and the pleasure it brought her to be eating her own home grown food. Their goofy tail wagging dog that just needed me to love him for a few seconds. On my way home driving over the river and hearing the water tumble over the rocks and how the sound refreshed me and the stress of the day began melting away.

These simple pleasures in my day to day travels makes everything I do an adventure. Sometimes feeling like a child in awe of what I have seen, sometimes feeling like a wise old woman knowing that I have witnessed a moment in nature that is often hidden to others.

Today's shoulds are about seeing the adventures as gifts. Accepting them and storing them so I will know when to use them in my journey.

Fun and frolic

All my life I have had these episodes of Deja Vu. I know what you are thinking, there are many different reasons for such a phenomenon, and I can just about agree with at least three of the theories.


The most popular theory is that we trip the switch to our memory banks when we smell things that have a heavy emotional component. Like the smell of freshly ground coffee and smokey bacon in a deli sends me straight to my Grans kitchen. I immediately get the visual but I also get the sense of contentment and safety. The safety part would likely take years with a therapist to figure out, but you get the idea. Scent most defiantly is the strongest trigger for memories for me. A light smell of perfume and I am transported to the memory of watching my mother get ready for a night out with my father. The smell of Brut reminds me of how popular it was with "us teens" in the 70's and "us girls" would wear it to the discos. Here is a slightly odd variation how ever; when I go home to Scotland my mother still does my laundry, don't ask it is something she likes doing. One of my favorite things to do when I come home and unpack is put away a night dress or a sweater just so that when I am in the place of needing some nurturing I can slip them on and smell the fabric softener and remember that my mother loves me.





Another theory is the light. Our mood is swayed by levels of light, and so light can trigger a Deja Vu. The idea of Deja Vu is the sense that you have experienced something before so strongly that it appears to be happening again. Light can transport you to a memory or perhaps the light can trigger an emotional response. For example; turn down the light to create a cozy and calm atmosphere, bright light infuses the room with energy that your body reacts to so much that you physically tense and then relax when the light level changes. Again just to prove I do things differently, I react to the colour of the light. When I grew up the light seemed to be omni present. It was there when I went to bed and again when I awoke. It always was a soft golden colour and seemed only to brighten when the winter winds were whipping through the trees, only then did it change to a white light that seemed to make the shape of everything sharper.





The final theory is that through your dreams you manifest your hearts desire. Things that you want to experience or things that you need to let go. In some cases the dream becomes the platform to try things on and see if we like the new bits of our personalities, so much so that it can feel as though you are experiencing it and wake up exhausted from living your dream. You put those memories aside and then suddenly one day you experience the right light or a land mark stands out that triggers the memory of a dream. ( It does not however account for those dreams where I am running around naked while everyone else is dressed. I suspect that's a whole other topic.)



My reason for sharing this information is that I recently had a Deja vu experience. Actually I had two experiences. When my parents were visiting this summer I was overwhelmed with emotion. I loved having them here and wanted things to be perfect. So much so that I was making myself crazy trying. I was not in my comfort zone and put that down to being exhausted. Over the first two weeks I had little flashes of things that made feel like I had done this before, but nothing grabbed hold. Then we were taking the train from Belleville to Toronto and it suddenly hit me. I had dreamt about this whole Holiday in a recurring dream. I was looking out the window of the train when the dream fell into my vision. In my dream I had been flying in what appeared to me to be a low level aircraft that was so close to the ground it followed a road. The movement and the light as the train whizzed by proved to me that in fact it was a train I was on in the dream and then it all fell into place. My dad is a believer but my mom is a sceptic, still she nodded and smiled and acknowledged that it was interesting to feel I was having that experience. Then I began to give her details of the rest of the trip. I was traveling with them to Orlando Florida. This trip was not like my previous Disney Land adventure. I was able to describe to them where we were staying and when I got off the plane I knew exactly what route to take to get to the condo. There were so many other details that I made a believer out of my mother.



Then again on the weekend I got to experience Deja Vu again in a big way. The day started in an odd way for me. I am usually doing house work at 7 in the morning so I can enjoy the rest of my day. However I was putzing around and in no hurry to do anything. I was remembering recent conversations I had had by e-mail with an old dear friend, and he was on my mind for the rest of the morning. I recognized that I seemed to be stalling and not getting my day in motion. Then out of the blue my friend called. That alone was a wonderful surprise but to my amazement he invited me to join him in the city for the weekend. Although I like to think my self spontaneous I can be a bit rule bound and needed a few minutes to get my head around the invitation and I accepted, packed my bags and got on my way. I could feel that there was something special about the event but I rationalized it as excitement. Once we got settled we headed out for dinner. I was still feeling like this experience was surreal. We got into the taxi and as we headed down town the light and ambiance of the street took me to another recurring dream where I had experienced this all before. I gasped as I had this realization and my companion asked me what was wrong. I explained and he smiled and just dismissed my reaction. The evening could not have been better, filled with all the charm and coincidence of the dream. Some of the details stood out brighter than others but I had a hard time shaking off the feeling of living in parallel universes.



That experience was very important to me. Not just because it was a wonderful enchanting evening giving me time to reconnect with an old friend, but because I could be comfortable in the experience as I knew exactly what was around each corner.



Living through the unknown is dealing with life as it unfolds. Sometimes we gleam clues and ideas about how to handle or create opportunities in the unknown by our own brains processing information or by a series of coincidences. That at a later date, when we take time to understand them, realize we have had a deja vu experience.



I am lucky to have these experiences often and enjoy them. In fact I revel in them as they allow me to grow as a person. I know this all sounds a little much like I had too much wine and just began to philosophise my own experience. But just take a minute to think about those moments when you know the phone is going to ring, or not to take a specific route to work and learn later the was a huge accident. Ask your self then, what helped you make that decision? And then ask yourself; Is coincidence a chance happening or an event already planned where we may or may not have already been given prior knowledge through our senses stored in a way that we experience them in our dreams and then have knowledge how to handle them?



For me it is one more experience that lets me live without regret. Today's shoulds are to remember to just be in the moment and not to try to control all that is my world. It is not mine to control. I should also remember that not everyone is going to see what I see no matter how I try to paint the picture with my words, my emotions or my visions.

Kitchen Energy

Finally over the headache I felt energized and decided that I should make the ginger cookies I promised myself yesterday. The house was still and the morning dew was spangled over every blade of grass. I smelled the green everywhere around me and it took me home.

I made the coffee and got going on with my baking. Never being able to do one thing at a time I decided to make chocolate chip cookies, ginger snaps, and potato scones. I peeled the potatoes and got them boiling, warmed the oven and mixed the ingredients for the ginger cookies.

The yellowing pages of the recipe reminded me I need to copy to the computer so I never loose my Grans ginger snap recipe. It has been copied many times over the years and I believe this copy is in my mothers hand writing.

Her name is Grace, and if anyone ever lived up to their name it is my mother. Everything she does is with elegance and grace. Her writing is precise and even. As a child I always admired her hands. She has long fingers and the arch of her hand always moved in soft gentle ways. Her light touch made her the queen of pastry. She still makes amazing pastry and cakes. I remember the folks in the small village we lived in calling and asking her to make Christmas cake and sometimes wedding cakes. At Christmas time the sideboard would be laden with cake and the smell of sweet icing intoxicating. It was so hard as a child not to break off a chip or two of the fondant icing. Luckily she always made one for the family too. My brothers and I were a good team at eating cake. I loved only the icing, my younger brother would steal the marzipan and my youngest brother would eat the cake. If there were left overs my mother would wrap it up in parchment paper and put it in a tin. I remember hiding behind the couch with the cake tin stealing the icing chunks and putting it back in the side board.

I happily finished my baking just as the rest of the house began to wake up. The heady scents of ginger and all spice mixed with the buttery goodness of the scones had everyone gathering in the kitchen to sample the goodies. My boys love it when I make potato scones and so they were the first to go, slathered in butter and nice strong Cheddar. I was able to rescue a few cookies for taking to dinner tonight. However, I have to tell you the sense of contentment and love is huge when your kids hover over your baking waiting to score the biggest cookie no matter how old they are.

For all the media chatter about food, and healthy food and our emotional dependence on food, nothing feels as nurturing as food made with love. Generational love, passed on, and on so that each generation is loved by all those before them. For now this is how I get to love my boys.

Todays shoulds are only to just revel in the great energy there is in my kitchen. I know my Gran is here looking over my shoulder and beaming with pride. Today I have created my happy place and I am going to sit and sip my coffee, feel the breeze through the patio doors and let my senses consume me as I embark on a little time travel.

I thought you too might like the cookies so I have included the recipe here for you. I hope they bring as much love to your kitchen as they have to mine.

Gran's Ginger Snaps

3/4 lb of self raising flour

4 oz of butter

4 oz of sugar

2 tsp of freshly ground ginger

1 tsp of bicarbonate of soda

2 tbs of minced crystal ginger ( sugared ginger slices)

pinch of all spice

2 tbs of golden syrup

and 1 egg

Mix the dry ingredients in a bowl. Melt the butter and syrup, add to a beaten egg slowly beating as you pour in. Add the wet to the dry ingredients , mix until smooth and well mixed. Roll the dough into small balls and roll lightly in sugar. Make sure you space well on a baking sheet flatten slightly.Bake in a 350 degree oven for 12 to 15 minutes depending on your oven.

Treacle Toffee

I awoke this morning to the smell of wood burning smoke hanging in the air. Someone last night had a fire in the neighbourhood. One of those little back yard fires that takes the chill out of the evening and lets you believe that you are camping. I was not sure if I liked the smell and as I sat on the back step sipping my coffee breathing it in , cursing my soggy butt, I tripped a switch that took me to my grandmothers pantry.



I loved the walk in pantry. It smelled of all things wonderful. There was a side of smoked bacon hanging wrapped in cheese cloth, fresh ground coffee, strong aged Cheddar, freshly baked bread and always , always a home made sweet.



My Gran kept a large pantry, it was a great place to explore. The spice cupboard was exotic, each earthen ware jar perfectly labelled in her neat hand writing. Although I never liked jam as a child I loved the look of the jam on the shelves. Each one sparkling and glowing in the light like a jewel. I liked to run my fingers over the tops of the tightly stretched cellophane tops that bonged like a drum, each with its own timber based on the contents. Apple jelly, blackcurrant jelly, raspberry jam, gooseberry jam and all sorts of fruits in syrup or brandy. The jars of fruits made the best sound, they seemed hollow almost. She also had braids of onions hanging alongside braids of garlic. Under the table were large pot of earth where she kept winter leaks when it got to cold to leave them in the garden. There were shelves stacked with biscuit tins. She was well known for her baking. The tins usually contained her precious shortbread, ginger snaps and something called a gypsy cream, it had a hint of coconut and was very yummy. When there was a fete or a church bazaar she would scoop up all the prizes. I enjoyed visiting this kitchen.

I have this great memory of making treacle toffee with my Gran. I would sit on the table and watch as she busied about with the butter and sugar beating them in a pot and then slowly warming them on the wood burning stove. She would then add the treacle and I would get to lick the spoon. As the concoction bubbled and boiled she would dribble in small small amounts of cider vinegar and the toffee would begin to smell amazing. The pot would be taken off the burner and sat in a galvanized steel tub filled with water to cool. I was forbidden to go near it. She then kept me busy with other chores in the kitchen which I was happy to do. Later when the goop in the pot had cooled enough to handle she would butter the marble table top and pour the treacle onto the table. She would then help me butter my hands and together we would pull and play and giggle as we helped aerate the toffee and watch it turn from a dark blob to ribbons of gold. I loved the part where I would snip the toffee with the scissors in to bite size pieces while sampling of course.



I was only four when my gran died leaving my father in a grief so deep I was afraid he might die too. A few months later my younger brother was born. It moved him from his grief but he was still sad and broken. My mother worked hard to keep the world a positive place and eventually my dad got back to the man I knew. He built me my own play house, quite fancy for its time. In there I baked his favorite apple pie ( sand and somethings resembling apples) , he came to eat and always told me it was great.



Daisy nudging me pulls me from my revelry and I let go of the sweet memory. So my should's today begin with calling my folks and baking some ginger snap cookies.

Angst

Another Saturday in glorious hue. Mediterranean blue Sky with golden sun expanding with heat, while the gentle breeze brings the cool promise of fall. With these high pressure days come the dreaded migraines. Today I am feeling the numb nerve throb and the expansion of arteries that takes me to pulsing moments of blurring pain and followed be the relief that pulls you into the drift of sleep.

I sit and rest, occasionally falling to put my head down on the cool pillow. My mind wants to get me going. I have things to do, oil changes, christening gifts, drug store visit, vacuuming, laundry and walking the dog. The list competes with my need to get well. I detest being ill. It is such a waste of time. I want so much to be filled with youthful energy and let go the stress clearly building in my body and just have fun. Revel in fact, in the decadence of ignoring my chores and doing something just for me. I have indeed been robbed of that indulgence today, this Saturday in a long weekend.

So its ten pm and I am finally well enough to cope with looking at the screen and moan a while at the loss of a day. From time to time when I wandered the TV I found a fair bit of British TV. I am always grateful for that, it is not only a distraction but a trip home. I particularly love period TV, where they all live in the beautiful land of whimsical gardens and servants.

When I was little I grew up in a village that had a few stately homes around. I was privileged enough to visit them and play in their gardens. It was enchanting, my imagination would run away with me and I could be a princess, or a Lady enjoying the privileges of the gentry. Right up until the day I left to come to Canada, and to be honest a few years after that, I believed that I would be a ballet dancer, live in a posh apartment and be swept off my feet by a dashing Lord driving a red sports car. I would go to balls, ski in Switzerland have loads of babies and run a staff in a large house.

Still there are no regrets, I love my life. I still have dreams, however much less grandiose. I have my little house, with my two children, I don't ski and I still love to dance. My should for today is only that I get well and enjoy tomorrow.

Chilly Morning

It is a beautiful Wednesday morning. The warm glow of butter coloured sun shine melting through the maple in front of the house. The light warms the room, making a promise of comfort chasing the morning chill. Daisey rushes out the patio door with a bark to chase of the squirrels that have boundary issues. I watch her bounce through the long grass that needs cut and begin her usual routine of sniffing for the exact spot to pee. Putting the kettle on to make my morning cuppa, I realise that I am chilled and hover near the stove to feel the yummy heat, the same heat that a week ago I was dreading so much that I drank cold water with my toast. It is remarkable how nature just turns the dial over night and here we are in the next season.

So I have become so much more aware of the change of seasons. I remember in the first few years of living in Canada feeling like Canada had two seasons, winter and summer. Those seasons were extreme and long. The little bit of spring and fall seemed like days of transition instead of weeks. The days of spring feeling wet and muddy, the grass still yellowed from the winter snows and only a few gardens had a daffodil or two. My childhood memories would pull me back to the front gardens of my youth, carpeted with daffodils, snow drops and crocus. I would ache with missing that beautiful transition to summer in Scotland. Which if I am truthful, was really only an extension of spring with a few more flowers and the surprise day or two when the thermometer reaches above 70 degrees. How ever I also remember freezing all summer not wearing nylons, wearing summer clothes that should only have been worn on the Amalfi coast! Our family was lucky enough to get off to Europe to spend a few weeks warming up. I was one of the few girls that came back to school with a tan. Now we avoid the tanning and look for cool spots to avoid the sting of the summer heat.

This morning I am feeling the change of the season. The weather man is telling me it will get warmer by the end of the week and my anxiety only raises slightly, I know that cool is here to stay. The morning chill being relieved slowly as the sun warms up, sipping my tea and remembering warms me. Daisey is at my feet licking the wet from her fur with a shiver as she takes warmth from me to relax. I know now that fall is beginning its emergence. I am energized by that knowledge and looking forward to the routines and celebrations the season will bring. And so I begin my day with the " should do list" . I should cut the grass, wash the car, sweep the driveway, put mulch in the garden and get the bird feeders filled and turn over the compost. So I begin my day.