Christmas came and went in a flurry of wrapping paper and ribbons. Perfectly browned, a 25 pound turkey, with all the trimmings, topped off the best of joyous days. And my car went every day! Well, I have yet to try it today, so a plea to your gods might be in order. In spite of the forecast for a green Christmas, clouds moved in and deposited enough flakes to cover the ground making an already festive day brighter. Last night the temperatures plummeted so the household is happy that the backyard pond will be frozen enough for a family hockey scuffle (can’t call it a game). I, in my wisdom, will watch from the window.
As the New Year approaches, I look back on 2011 with thanks that I made it through. January 1, 2011 was the beginning of one of the worst years of my life when that very morning at , I twisted my leg and did serious damage to the muscles and ligaments. I was already suffering from a nasty sinus infection that invaded during the night – no doubt after . In February, my finances went into the toilet. In April, I had to make the ultimate decision to part with my beloved Bailey, my furry companion of 13 years.In August, I had an accident and broke four ribs and my leg. How’s that for a crappy year? As a result, I will not be wandering to wonderful destinations south this year.
Sometimes when one wanders a friend or friends share the experience making it a richer moment. With the holiday season descending upon us at great speed, every day sings its own melody. Malls and stores provide background carols that swell my spirits as I scramble to find that perfect gift. After dark the night skies are alive with multi-coloured lights that to me are beacons of joy. Last week I gathered my dear old friend, and I’m not shy at using that term because she is just the right side of 90, and headed off to centre-town to see the light display. We drove around and around not able to get enough of the festooned trees and garlanded gates. ConfederationPark is beyond beautiful, its breath taking. “Look here, look there, oh my” were constant utterances. The spirit of the season was imbedded through our eyes.
Then yesterday I got the call. Another dear friend from Arizona, my walking buddy, called to take me on the ‘walk’. Her Christmas present to me was to talk to me while she wandered over our morning hiking ground where she and I have shared our thoughts, our feelings and our hopes. For 30 minutes we chatted. I miss her and since I will not be going south this year, the call was extra special. The best presents do not always come wrapped with a bow.
Not quite wandering, but joyous just the same, I am going to physiotherapy and the results are more than encouraging. I am walking with only a slight limp now and am convinced by next week, I will be wandering with a strong stride. Halleluiah.
For my regular followers I wish you the merriest of seasons with family and friends.
Halleluiah, after three back-to-back performances of the Messiah, the North Grenville choir were applauded with standing ovations and tears of elation. I’m proud to be a member of such a dedicated bunch of choristers.
With the holiday season nearly upon us, I’m wandering from here to there selling books. I can’t believe how quickly Snow Business sold. Here I am just weeks from Christmas and only two copies left. I suppose that’s better than having piles of them in my cupboard but I really am sorry I will disappoint those who might have liked it for a young one for Christmas.I will stock up in the new year. I can’t believe it will be 2012. Our old house in the country turns 100 and with several generations that have passed through it holds a wealth of stories. Maybe my next collection of short stories should be based on Farmer’s Cottage. Even the story of the house name is worthy of telling. Apparently when the area was settled there were two families on this road and the son of the other farm prospered and displayed his success by building a large red brick house in 1910. Not to be outdone the son of the pioneer that settled this property in 1840 also built in 1912 but made his house (mine) a foot longer and wider than his rival and called it spitefully Farmer’s Cottage and imbedded a plaque to announce this to all. Well we have no facts to substantiate this fable but we love it none-the-less.
The weather is remarkably warm for December but I did get out trying to capture elusive shots of ice crystals – I’m not really succeeding – will have to stop by the photo shop for some tips.
For those of you who follow my blog on a regular basis, I apologize for not posting anything lately. That would be because I haven’t done much wandering. This nasty break in my leg refuses to heal and has literally grounded me. I have managed to get out a few times to celebrate birthdays with friends and to attend a book fair but other than that – between my temperamental car and my leg I’m not too mobile. Every now and again one has one of those years and 2011 has thrown me several nasty curves. Frankly, I cannot wait for this one to end and start fresh in 2012. I have great expectations for that one as I have definitely paid my dues this year.
I can hear you thoughts grinding away thinking that I should have written volumes as I sit here with my laptop – some, but not as much as I should. I have finished the first draft of a novel and need to aggressively seek a publisher. It’s a different direction for me as I grow my writing skills. I am venturing into the General Novel field with a story written for a female audience (18-30) that leads the reader on adventures across Canada and solves a mystery. It has taken me 2 years to bring it to this point. Hopefully I find a publisher that thinks it worthy of print.
In the meantime, I have returned to writing some children’s books and have published Snow Business. Way back in the 60’s and 70s when my children were babies, I wrote a lot for children. It’s fun to realize I can still findd that inner child.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Not even a broken car can ground me. Wedged into my friend’s compact, three of us headed off to Pennsylvania for five days of relaxation and friendship. The trip down offered glorious spectacles of fall colours transforming the mountains into nature’s gardens. The week was spent exploring the Poconos, swimming in a delicious salt-water pool and wandering along the Delaware River. According to Murphy’s Law, my camera was nestled in my car ready to go and of course I switched cars and forgot my camera – grrr. While there, I learned a new card game which I immediately introduced to my grandchildren on my return so they could beat the pants off me. Why are they so smart? Ah, but I’d not have it otherwise.
I have spent the morning sorting out the dilemma of my car which I have been informed will plunge me into spending way too much money. Can’t live with those metal beasts and certainly not without them.
On the positive side, signed copies of Chicken Soup for the Soul O Canada are now available through me at $14.95. Just email me at fourteencups@hotmail.com
Michigan was showing off with trees sporting deep reds and blinding yellows. I went in search of that perfect shot but diverted from autumn leaves to seed pods and intricate patterns. The sugar beets fascinated me with the way the light played through their stems. Delicious time spent with my daughter was too short and I had to be back in Port Hope to speak to a group of avid readers.
Autumn colour enticed me with my camera to wander back roads. I left Port Hope after speaking to an attentive group about Wandering Backward and spending the night with life-long friends simply catching up. I took advantage of the glorious weather to head along the
Welcome Roadto Garden Hill. The leaves were just hinting that they would turn brilliant shades within days. My destination was Oshawa where I intended to spend a few days with relatives. Garden Hill has changed little since I was there last - over 60 years ago. The vistas of rolling hills nourished me – something I don’t experience in the OttawaValley that stretches long and flat.
Once in Oshawa, I gathered up my elderly relatives and drove to Port Perry and beyond. The fall leaves eluded us, there were yellows but few reds, but I did capture one or two decent shots. The next day we drove along the lakeshore to Port Hope. Even though I’ve been in Ottawa for more years then I was ever in the Port Hope/Cobourg area, I still miss the big lake. This drive was my LakeOntario fix.
The drive back to Ottawa presented more fall colours than I’d seen since leaving Michigan. However, I drove and did not stop to take pictures. I arrived home to learn that the Chicken Soup for the Soul O Canada was due to launch on November 1 (I will keep you posted) and my story On The Hill is being featured. Also, the new children’s book Snow Business has gone to print. Yea! I can hardly wait to see them. This was truly a celebration for Thanksgiving.
I escaped! With a packed suitcase and books I wandered away from the confines of my healing couch (it did a good job) and headed down the road to Port Hope where I was scheduled to do a workshop. The drive was uneventful and I arrived with enough time to spare to get myself organized and greet the enthusiastic participants. They were a delightful group of storytellers and I have no doubt several will set themselves to writing their memoir. The time flew and I headed west to Michigan arriving well over an hour ahead of schedule. I had plenty of time to think about the workshop and realized that a weekend retreat workshop with that group of people would be productive and fun. I’ve never done a retreat but maybe ….
So here I am in Michigan peering out at heavy frost covering the ground. On my return journey, I’ll be stopping off in Oshawa for a few days and will head to the hills with my camera to catch the fall colour. It’s so good to be wandering again. Yahoo!
For you followers of my blog, this not one of my best shots but it does tell you that Autumn is wandering this way – a month early! One of the harbingers of summer’s end is the country Fair. Seeing as I cannot yet wander around comfortably I did only a quick stop at the Richmond Fair yesterday.
The smells, sights and sounds have changed little since I first attended with my children in 1975. Pungent BBQ’d dogs made my mouth-water. Sweet cotton candy being mouthed by blue lips of a toddler made me grab my camera (his father gave me permission). A child with his face painted as Spiderman clutched fuzzy prizes as he stumbled toward the exit tired and happy.
This country Fair became a family tradition - not just to attend but to enter in the various competitions. My children have shown cattle, sheep and rabbits. They crafted art and cooked delicious offerings. Tucked away in our albums are the Richmond Fair ribbons and pictures with trophies. We didn’t win them all, of course, but what a great way to teach children that by simply participating they won our respect. I’m glad to say that the tradition carries on and yesterday I proudly accompanied my grandson to collect his picture with the First Prize ribbon attached. Mom’s cookies didn’t fare as well but as far as we were concerned they did and we devoured them on the way home. With my camera at the ready, I tried for that shot that might be the one to win a ribbon in 2012.
Well here we have it! I just sold another story to Chicken Soup For The Soul for their next anthology to come out on November 1st called Oh Canada. I will have it available at the Ottawa Independent Writers Book Fair on November 20. The story On The Hill is about taking friends to Parliament Hill on Canada Day. Watch for it.
In the meantime I will be wandering off to Port Hope to give a seminar on writing memoirs and to speak with a book club. I will continue on to Michigan to spend some time with my daughter then return to visit with friends in Peterborough.
When I themed this blog, I had no idea I wandered so much. Even a trip to my favourite restaurant the Black Dog in Manotick to share food and gossip with dear friend(s) could be considered wandering. So I guess I can say that my direction was aptly named. I hear from many of you that you read my blog – why don’t you sign on as a follower? It will lead you to other great blogs.
So I’m going to wander off to the kitchen and devour gingerbread with applesauce. Then I should probably wander back to write, write, write.
For the first time since my fall, I grabbed my camera and headed to the pond to catch a shot or two of our new young heron. He’s very shy and I had not been able to venture near before. Quite the contrary this time - he was as interested in me as I was him. My injuries seemed to disappear as I concentrated on getting the best shot. A movement across the pond caught my eye - two turtles were watching my slow dance to get closer to the big bird. Of course they became subjects as did a lonely water lily in a crowd of leaves. Happy with my little foray, I headed back toward the house, stepped into the garden to take a photo (not showing you this one) of my one decent rose this year when a beautiful garden snake lifted its head from dozing quietly to see just what and who was disturbing it. One does not have to wander far to find those special moments and accommodating subjects.
Well folks, I haven’t done much wandering this month since I took a nasty tumble off a ladder. I’ve spent the month healing broken ribs and a cracked tibia. Yes, I know – hurts like the dickens. However, forced to be still, I did a fair bit of writing and submitted a few pieces. One little children’s book has already been accepted – I wait to hear from the others and I will keep you posted as to when the children’s book is published.
Our routine in the household has been entirely disrupted with the introduction of a new puppy. Athena (that’s my grandson’s choice) has adopted her new pack with vigour and total adoration. She’s even beginning to get the pee-pee thing under control. She was the runt of the litter and came to us at 6-weeks old. She had a lot of catching up to do but I think we are there – she has tripled in size.
I have managed a couple of necessary outings beside the one to the hospital and tomorrow, I’m tackling a big one. Once a year the old gang from high school, yes that’s right, get together for an afternoon of renewed friendship. We have been together for 60 years. A few have parted this life but as a whole we are still a solid group. There is not a single one of us who thinks that because we are in our 70’s we should slow down. That might explain why I fell off a ladder. So my wanderings start again.
Sometimes wandering takes up all your time. That’s my excuse for not keeping my blog up to date – well that and the fact that my computer was in for repair. I spent the last few weeks saturated in wonderful music and performances at the Music and Beyond Festival. Day after day, accompanied by a friend, I drove into the bowels of the city, searched around to find parking (managed to get a hefty ticket that did put a damper on the festivities) and basked in vocal, string, oriental and other magical musical offerings. It was pure self indulgence.
Immediately after the festival I wandered to a cottage located near the highest point in Ontario. Four gals enjoying camaraderie, food, a refreshing lake and wine – there’s not a better way to spend a summer weekend. It was almost perfect except Mother Nature threw in a storm at four in the morning but – hey, it’s only water falling from the skies and so what if my sleeping bag got a little damp. My camera was at the ready and I captured some really nice shots. I wandered down the Opeonga and admired the spectacular views before arriving home to see that storms had ravaged Ottawa and the immediate area. Fortunately my property only lost the top of a tree and it was one I had been trying to muster courage to fell. Thanks MN.
Weather is on everyone’s mind these lazy summer days as the mercury is rising and frying. But our house is totally absorbed in the newest arrival. Athena is six weeks old and the cutest wee puppy you ever saw. Yep, my camera is shooting away.
This week, my wanderings have taken me to Michigan. As I left the miles behind me, it was quite noticeable that the OttawaValley is about 2 weeks behind south western Ontario and Michigan. Lush greenery, due to the wet spring, lines the roadways and wild flowers are everywhere. It was all I could do to stick to my plan and simply drive – my camera kept calling to me. Fields of daisies, bachelor buttons, lupines and buttercups tempted and tempted. I prevailed and arrived in good time, but I can assure you that yesterday morning, I was trudging through the sugar beet fields to the back where a river meanders and wild flowers abound. The river ran a muddy colour, sluggish and swollen, as I startled a turtle or two and stood to watch a pair of mallard ducks lift off and rise over the massive oaks. I kicked up acorns and stepped carefully around the poison ivy then I saw them. Peeking through high grass and ferns, rose columbines nodded their welcome. Wood anemones and a lonely phlox also begged me to take their photo. The lighting was not great, a little too late in the morning but I did capture one acceptable shot to share with you. It was only weeks ago, I was photographing columbines in Arizona, they’re yellow there, now here where they’re pink and I’ll go home to purple ones. Today, it is too warm to wander but tomorrow, I’m heading down the road, camera in hand.
As one wanders through life the road ahead can be smooth, twisted, lonely, scenic and any number of other superlatives. Sometimes we walk our path alone, sometimes with company. I recently staggered down the roughest road I’ve encountered in many years and without a dear friend at my side it would have been unbearable. Bailey, my furry companion of 13 years took her last walk in Arizona and did not make the long trip back to Canada. I weep still.
Over the years she grew from an exasperating stubborn pup (she and I became friends when she was 10 months old) to age and mellow. We reached compromises and grew to understand each other when words were not needed. She would express joy, love and disapproval with one look. She asked for little and gave much. It has been a month now since we said our last goodbye and friends and family have been my strength. One told me the doggy heaven is richer for having her – I agree.
I continue to walk and her shadow is with me every step of the way.
Spring has sprung and it’s leaking all over the place. The few days of warm sunshine this past week had me wandering off to the nursery to fill the trunk of my car with plants and seeds which I diligently tucked into my well-sifted soil as I fed swarms of black flies. Nasty little critters – my ears are still burning from the bites. I looked forward to showers to coax the seeds to life and make the plants perk up. Little did I expect a deluge, now, I cross my fingers that the seeds have not washed away or the plants drowned.
The ditches along my road are alive with wild flowers so armed with my trusty camera I braved the hungry insects and slogged through the mud to capture a shot or two. Bellwort, dog-toothed violets and trilliums were willing subjects. Contrary to the stark sands of the desert I so recently left, where delicate wild flowers survive in spite of the rigours of the environment, the wild flowers of Ontario reside in lush surroundings. Of course I have to share. These two shots depict the difference yet the sameness of spring’s blooms – a desert primrose at home in hot sand and an Ontario trillium basking in dense foliage.
As I wandered through my emails this morning, I was delighted to read that my grandson came home with an outstanding report card. I’m sure he felt my pride from 2,000 miles away. Being a grandmother has many rewards and many moments rich with special stories. I have written a few and should write more.
My oldest grandchild is almost an adult, the youngest still a sprout. While one struggles with motherhood, the precious words and actions are sometimes missed – but a grandparent is tuned to them all. And sometimes the generations are miles apart – in fact today’s young person is a whole different kind of kid than their parents were. They are exposed to so much more so if you are two generations back believe me you are really out of it.
Except those times when a child needs to be held, needs assurance or a pat on the back. If I’m handy, my arms are always open. I hope my words are wise and comforting.
When I wander down the back lane with a child in tow – well they’re all big now and often urge me along – I’m one happy grandmother. Chicken Soup For The Soul printed one of my stories about just such a walk. The books are available in most book stores so I urge you to pick up a copy and read Generation Gasps.
I surely have fallen down in posting my wanderings. I have to get better at this.
As I approach the date of my departure from Arizona and my beloved desert, the warm mornings take me deeper and deeper into the canyons. My camera ever at my beckon call, my eyes searching for ‘the picture’ I’ve captured some delightful wild flowers, gnarly bark, and broad vistas. This year is very dry and cool by Arizona standards. I love it! But the plants, amazingly resilient in this harsh environment, have taken their time coming to life. I read that they will refuse to appear if the weather is not to their liking and if they do decide to bloom, it is at their discretion. I believe it! This year the wild flowers are almost a month behind and, to date, far fewer than last year. But those that are blooming are displaying vibrant colour, more so than other years. I expect this is to attract the bees and to have a better chance at propagating. How clever of them.
Yesterday, my friend and I wandered up a canyon, stepped off the designated path and found ourselves in nature’s garden of desert wallflowers and verbena nestled against red rock and agave. Our shutters were busy. The day before that, we climbed high elevations and captured vistas.
My dear old dog does not wander with me anymore but she enjoys her bed by the back door where she keeps watch over the back yard. The sunrises and sunsets have painted the sky, these we enjoy together. Well, I do as she finds the perfect place to pee.
As I measure my car trunk against the closets of stuff that need to travel with me north, I count the days until I leave. I will be home in time to exercise my vote – I implore you to do the same, each ballot speaks to our freedom, please honour it.
Whenever I wander I’m always aware that my camera is in the car – just in case. But last Sunday, my phone rang at . “Grab your camera. We’re going up to Sedona.” Sometimes my gods are really up to the job because I had my camera in the house because I just charged the batteries – lots of juice for the venture ahead.
Snow had fallen overnight and Red Rock Country was draped in white wonder. My friend, the person who called so early, has a very different eye than I so we look for different subjects. I tend to seek unusual textures and contrasts, like odd skies and close ups. My friend looks for the total scene. By we had spent pixels galore. I didn’t catch that perfect shot but did get a few nice ones - the light was giving us some trouble..
By the skies were bright and the snow ran in rivulets in the gutters. As a displaced Canadian escaping winter – this is how one should experience snow. Back in Cottonwood, fewer than ten miles away there was only a skiff. Such is the weather in this part of the high desert. Monday, I was able to sit out on the patio reading.
This week, spring is here. The streets are lined with trees in blossom and several small desert flowers are starting to open. Every morning from now on will be a discovery walk as the desert comes into bloom. I expect there will be fewer flowers this year as it has been dry. But, a few showers can change that so if there’s any precipitation that will change everything. Desert flowers are amazing as they can lie dormant for years then come alive. There is always the chance that you’ll find a specimen that you have never seen before. A plant can be a green clump one day and the next be in full bloom. A guava spike can grow 2 feet in a day. So dear readers for the next little while do not be surprised if I rant about the desert blooms – it’s my thing. And I’ll post picture too.
Sure didn’t wander far yesterday, Clouds rolled in and dropped wet stuff all over the valley, the first since I arrived in this high desert. But rain in Arizona is very different from the OttawaValley. The gentle showers (albeit continuous throughout the day) were not at all unpleasant. A glance up the mountain told a different story though – heavy snow that closed the main highways. This morning is still cloudy but dry so I’m heading off with my trusty camera to see if I can get that unusual shot of the buttes. Tourists try to capture the bright sun on the red rocks, and rightfully so they are so beautiful. But I want to capture a mood that enters your soul. Today may be the day.
Speaking of soul and holding that special moment – On one of my regular trips outside to let Bailey do her morning pee, a shooting star, spotlight bright, sped across the entire sky following the curvature. It was but a split moment. I see it still.
Sometimes I wander into new experiences and last night was one. I went to a bluegrass concert. Didn’t know much of the music, however, just seeing the skill and dexterity of the performers strumming that banjo and fingering the guitars left me in admiration; man it was amazing. Bluegrass will never be my favourite but I wouldn’t hesitate to go again.
Ah, sometimes one knows when they have done the right thing. I pulled up the headlines of the local papers this week to see that Ottawa and most of Eastern Canada is in a deep freeze. And here I am wandering around basked in sunshine in Arizona! Yep, sure did that right. The desert is still sparse but some brave vegetation is starting to peek through, last year it was well into March before the desert plants came to life. As Bailey and I wander amid the cows, kicking up red sand, I watch for that special something for the camera’s eye. This Sego Lily I took last April.
Did I tell you that Bailey is the colour of Bailey’s Irish Cream? Of course that is how she got her name. Well she is now pink; especially her paws. The red sand does not take long to transform her. Have you heard of dirt shirts? They hang on every rack here to encourage the tourists to part with their money.
Speaking of money, it is sad to see how the economy has affected the little town where I spend my winters. So many businesses are no longer and the windows are blinded by sheets of plywood. I have had to re think my regular stops as several were my haunts are no longer. People are still turning there homes back to the bank to get out from under crazy mortgages. I count my blessings.
Here in the west the night skies are indescribably breathtaking. As I wander out each morning around 5:50am, to take Bailey for her morning duties, above me is a canopy of brilliant stars, some bright and large, some small and soft. The community I am in turn out their exterior lights at night letting the dense sky showcase millions of crystal lights sparkling against a black palette. Really, folks, they don’t twinkle – they just grab your soul.
Who knew there were numerous small stars below Jupiter? Each morning, I gaze at this wonderful array and wish I knew more about astronomy. Maybe I will enroll in one of the many courses offered here. High in the Mountain is the ghost town, Jerome, a former mining community turned tourist attraction, nestled in a depression – it too glows like a jewel, another morning treat. When I stand all alone (well I do have Bailey but she is sniffing other interests) it is as if the sky is there for me alone and I selfishly treasure it. I know no better way to start my day!
The morning was soft, puddles sparked in the night light of the motel, it was warm and promising. I headed for the lobby to stock up on morning sustenance and no sooner returned to my room than I heard a great explosion of thunder. I glanced out the door to a wall of falling water. Believing the local weather announcer that it would pass over by , I struck out at . Of course it is still black as could be at that hour but I like an early start, it was still raining but nothing disastrous. I was no sooner on the I44 than I realized the announcer’s mistake, I was driving blindly through a waterfall. Fortunately a truck pull-off was right there and I turned in, and jockeyed for a spot to sit awhile when the rain let up so I just drove through and back onto the highway. As I so often mention this wide open country is 75% sky and right about then I witnessed the most spectacular show of lightening illuminating the vast space above me. I was spellbound never having seen anything like this before. Ah, but it was all too short as the announcer was only out by 20 minutes – the skies cleared , the day lightened and I had clear roads ahead. The radio was still speaking of the snow storms and bad weather that loomed ahead so I was wary. That’s when I saw the hawk settle into a roadside tree, my good luck travel omen (I had only ever watched for my bird guardians on the start of my trips before), but I was not shunning this one and nodded my thanks. I can’t help but wonder why they are always birds of prey.
I did not know what I left behind until I arrived in Albuquerque in record time with great driving conditions and flipped on the TV to hear of all the devastation in Missouri and beyond with close to 30 tornadoes wreaking havoc and taking toll, the second greatest New Year disaster, what I had enjoyed as a spectacular light show. I scanned the stations to get news of the roads ahead, but could not get anything so ventured out early morning with my fingers crossed. That hawk was mighty. I have never had such glorious driving conditions and with the painted desert covered in snow, the red rocks breaking through presented textures and pallets one would otherwise never realize are there. At the 108 mile marker to Flagstaff, I scanned the horizon and was not disappointed as the white peaks of the San Francisco Mountains rose to the occasion. I drove into a picture perfect winter scene with the ponderosa pines laden with globes of snow and the ground pristine white. I have driven through there in winter conditions before (in fact, nearly always) but this was a treat. The temperatures, though were very cold (3 degree F) and as I turned down the I17 to Cottonwood I became alarmed that the snow would never end and that I was to arrive after three and a half days on the road at a place colder than home. Never failing as I rounded a corner ¾ of the way down the snow disappeared and the temperatures climbed. I arrived at my destination to glorious blue skies.
Well, I arrived, but my landlord didn’t! When he did, 4 hours later after I called, there apparently was a misunderstanding and a missed email. So Bailey and I sat in the car soaking up the sun. At this point, I think I should tell you, I was wretched, suffering a miserable cold for the entire trip fighting raging fever and a choking cough and to add to my misery, I misstepped while loading the car in Albuquerque and wrenched my leg, I am a very snotty cripple at the moment. Not only that, I was sitting at the curb for 3 hours staring at a garage door, the house looks less than desirable.
Finally a white SUV pulls up and the garage door opens. After apologies and explanations, Bailey and I open the door to a fabulous house. I am delighted! It has everything I need and is open and spacious. How deceiving those garage doors were. This morning, I wakened after a good nights sleep to the promise of healing, my cold is just yucky but the fever is gone and I am able to limp about without falling into everything. Today, I shall attempt to be the food gatherer and seek communication remedies. The New Year looks promising and I wish everyone hawks and owls in their lives.
