Not bad For Late October

The roses continue to charm and the changing leaves in the background are pleasing.


This little Maple was chopped down before my time and somehow staggered back for an encore. He tried so hard he can stay forever and he looks pretty good right now.

Fall Is Hanging In A bit Longer

The petunia blooms have packed it in it in but the healthy foliage remains.


The geraniums under the window have produced brilliantly all summer and this is their last hurrah.


I share this patch of lawn with my next-door neighbors who planted the Maple tree when they moved in and they love it. Me, not so much. Strange because I love trees.
It does its best with fall colors but comes last compared to its peers. it's like that one bit of a fireworks display that starts off well and then weakly fizzles out.




I'd love to get consensus to remove all the lawn and plant tall grasses interspersed with mounds of stones.

I'm pretty sure the tree would remain.

So What Is Family For?

Steve has been wandering around for months with a huge hole in his head. Well, actually it's a cavity but it was big.

"you'll get a brain abscess and die," warned his sister.
"You're killing me", I lamented in motherly fashion.
"Stevie, get it fixed," cautioned his loving Aw.

Finally Mother Nature prevailed; his face swelled and there was pain, lots of pain.



Aw and I drove him to the dentist office at eight o'clock this morning. Eight. He'll pay for that, yes he will.

Just think how you'd feel if you glanced at your seat companion and this is what you saw. Before daylight, let alone breakfast.



While he was down the hall, Aw and I did catch up with the fashions in Elle magazine, enough to know there are several models who will soon break their necks if they try wearing those silly four-inch-heel snow boots in Ontario.

The dentist removed the tooth painlessly (it had broken in two) and now Steve is ready to face the world like a real person without a hole in his head.

And how was your morning?

Swamp Walking

I hiked through an extrememly well bred swamp recently. Anyway, according to the sign I was swamp-walking.

I loved the tree shapes.





Around where I live this is what we call a swamp-- boggy, get-your-feet-wet; now that's a swamp.

The Last Of....

This is the last of the tall bush roses. They are around thirteen years old and tough as an old boot. Get too close to the thorns and you can count on spending the next half hour ripping your clothing to shreds while making your escape.

the kale is stepping up to the plate now, looking strong and colorful.

This is the last of the harvest. It's sad to see the last of the fresh tomatoes. It's never the same getting them from the supermarket.

Books and More Books

I introduced my kids to the library system at an early age and they have had a love affair with books ever since.

In our early days in Richmond Hill, the library was one large room in the old town hall. The prim librarian said that four-year old Scott couldn't have his own card until he could write his name. Yes, printing would do. Back at home,he quickly nailed this new skill, thus satisfactorily dealing with his first taste of bureaucracy.

When I recently stayed for a week at my son Mike's house minding the kids, his books (and Lorrie's) kept me company while I read myself to sleep.

Here's the view from one side of the bed.


And the other


And here's the overflow.



All serious readers also have a stash in the bathroom, but I figure you get the idea without the photo.

A view From the Other Side of Town

I was across town tending the grandkids and every morning from the back deck, I got amazing views of the sunrise




The trees were at their brilliant best. There's always that small envelope of time before the winds and rain wash the beauty away for another year.





I hate to see summer slip away but the fall colors do help ease the angst.

I'm Back

And this is where you say, "Oh, have you been away?"
Thanks for asking--yes I have.

I was minding three grand kids while their parents took some needed R&R in Cuba.
Since the kids are aged 16, 13 and 11, my job was to keep them occupied,unaware of their while-the-cats-away power and get them to school on time.

The kids live a fraction the wrong side of the boundaries set by the school board, so no school bus for them. Instead they had me as chauffeur. First, the boys to the high school, then Elise to junior high or whatever it's called now.

I took my parental responsibilities over-the-top seriously for the first few days and figured the little nippers wouldn't get too creative if I kept them busy.

So, they did their laundry


And they kept the guinea pig's cages clean


I thought things were going swimmingly until I made the mistake of wandering past their rooms:




But then I was overcome with nostalgia, recalling the condition of my own children's' rooms and I felt warm and fuzzy and besides, nothing scary was crawling around in there.

They did get some time out for good behavior


And here's the best part: if I behaved like a model grandmother, Ben took Elise on at checkers, thus relieving me of the humiliation of another defeat.

At last count it was 19 games to 2 in her favor.
But listen, I'm a crackerjack at bridge. Honest.