Time for My Close-up

It was Elise's first day of horseriding camp and I was thrilled to take her. Despite her excitement she sternly cautioned me on the way, "Gramma, absolutely no picture- taking. You drop me off and you go. No pictures."

This is Elise when she is prepared to pose, with her Uncle Steve.


I managed to sneak a picture of the office/cabin when her back was turned.


In any new situation she turns super cool; suddenly she is nine going on thirty-nine and there is't anything she doesn't know. It's what I call the "yeah, whatever" mode. I was counting on that to catch a shot of her before she headed off to the stables. That wasn't a total success.


I tucked the camera away and departed, leaving her to a blissful sweaty day getting used to her horse- for- the- week named Whiskey. Trust me on this, there is no picture of Whiskey.

Later on the way home, we stopped at Macd's for a little sustenance and she allowed a quick shot while she munched and called her mom about her day.


We both understand about that line drawn in the sand; she knows I'll take a few quick shots and I know that when she's grown she'll pore over pictures like these and the whole wonderful day is re-lived.

Auction Day

It's only a fifteen- minute drive into the countryside before I arrive at my destination, salivating at the vision of treasures that might await me.




A couple of minutes drive down a winding lane and I park, leaving plenty of room for the Mennonite buggies that have their own area.


The building is called the Khaki Club and an inside sign boasts,"Horseshoe capital of Canada." There really are horseshoe pits outside but apparently renting the building out to local auctioneers is a more profitable venture.

There wasn’t much of interest inside today so I concentrated on the outdoor offerings.

This little darling tempted me for a few seconds. What if I got it in a low bid and sneaked it on my son’s lawn? Ah, too much work on such a hot day.


There are lots of tools and garden miscellaneous out here.


I left empty handed and on my way home I passed the horse that never moves from his corner. In all the times I've come this way the sentry is always at his post.Someday I'll stop and ask him for his story.

A Kinder, Gentler World?

When I was a kid most Vancouver neighborhoods had back alleys. Us kids carried paper bags of refuse out back to the cans permanently stationed at the lane and once a week, a truck lumbered down the alley and men emptied out the refuse from the cans. Way in the future would be hydraulic squashers to flatten the debris and the Man From Glad with his sanitary non biodegradable plastic bags.


Parental supervision wasn't in anyone's vocabulary and we played in vacant lots where we made forts, dared each other to touch a passing garter snake and occassionally jabbed at dead rats that had succumbed to the poison left out for them. This was a seaport town remember.
Now the kids have playgrounds where someone else has figured out what they can play with and how safe the equipment is. And who ever heard of play dates?


Mail was delivered to our door six days a week. Six. Now its five days and forget about mail pickup at the mall mail boxes on weekends. My mail box is stationed at the end of the block and I miss the sound of mail plopping to the floor from the slot in the door.
You gotta love that walk to the box on blizzardy days, but curiosity always gets the better of me. It's like hearing the phone ring--it might be someone other than a telemarketer.


In a lot of ways, we had better services but we were tightly reined in about who the neighbors could be and aside from the standard "white bread" restaurants there was a smattering of Chinese and no take outs.

I miss some of those "perks" but today is better. Trust me on this.