Through Space that No One Knows

I wrote this as a teenager … Wavering, faltering and lurching on Through space that no one knows.  Black, white But never red. The rainbow stays no longer than meaning. Shrinking, misplaced expectations, desire’s lost, To the rainbow. Rolling blackness, a burst of sound, No satisfaction as the tears go by.  Don’t touch me, I’m fire. Go forward backwards It’s basic. Wavering vibrations always remembered, … Continue reading Through Space that No One Knows

Our Teeny Tiny Tuscan Town

Following on Points of the Compass Italian Style, our accommodation in the Tuscan town of Verrucole was an old stone house, #9 Via delle Forte.  Like our accommodation in an old converted winery in France, it was exactly as it had been pictured and portrayed on the internet.  However, on arrival, our hosts were on site trying in vain to restore our heating.   They managed a temporary repair which involved something about bypassing a circuit breaker with a switch.  What it meant was Continue reading “Our Teeny Tiny Tuscan Town”

Points of the Compass, Italian Style

By the time we headed towards Verrucole we had already been on the road for two weeks and, I must admit, I had a homesick moment and thought it might be nice to be heading home instead of climbing into the hills of Tuscany.  The weather didn’t change as we crossed the border from France into Italy, but, oh, the drivers did!  From a reasonably easy and courteous driving experience into the frenzied and chaotic pace that seems to be the earmark of the Italian driver – full out fast, or stopped; red or green and no in between.  Add to this too, that once off the autostrada, a Canadian might consider many of the narrow roads to be no more than paved bicycle paths.  We therefore stayed on the autostrada as long as we could before branching away from the coast and entering the hinterland that is Tuscany.

As we climbed and manoeuvred the switchback roads, we passed numerous small villages often perched precariously half way up the hillsides or on mountain tops. The valleys of Tuscany are very narrow – it is down the side of one tree-covered mountain and right up the side of another with villages built into the hillsides, often times perching one above the other.  Coming around yet another sharp bend in the road, I exclaimed, Continue reading “Points of the Compass, Italian Style”

Wales … how do you spell that?

It started with a remark to my lifelong friend at New Year’s, something about it being an anniversary year of some status of our friendship and wasn’t it worthy of a trip together.  Twenty years ago our anniversary trip had been to the Eastern Townships for an extended weekend.  Ten years ago it was five days in Vancouver.  This year it would be a trip to …. well, we had trouble figuring that out.    There were more than a few phone calls, some skyping, joint web sessions, an in-person session in Niagara-on-the-Lake, some grumbling from her husband about not having decided yet, and a number of ideas pursued and discarded before we confirmed that this anniversary would be spent in Wales.

In recent travels we have taken to naming our trips with an acronym—FRIT for our sojourn to FRance and ITaly, etc.  Now if Deb and I had gone to Ireland it would have been easy, it would be Continue reading “Wales … how do you spell that?”

Age has all sorts of impish tricks

My father often repeated a quote attributed to Bette Davis: “Getting old is not for sissies.”  I saw a recent photo of myself that seemed less than flattering and I asked out loud, “When I did get so old?”  My adult daughter’s quick response was, “Only recently, Mum”.  In childhood years I am quite old, but in senior years I am still very young.  If I live to be as old as my grandmother I still have another 30 years ahead of me.

Recently my husband had a short hospital stay that was unexpectedly extended an extra night. My dilemma was that after battling heavy traffic for two hours to get to the city to retrieve him I was told that he would not being going home and would have to be picked up between 6.30 and 7.00 a.m. the next morning.  That was going to be a lot of driving and very little sleep for me and so I called my daughter who lived in the city. Apparently I sounded flustered because she immediately left work and came to get me, took me to her home, fed me, even did my laundry and provided me with a toothbrush and clean socks. I expect it to be many more years before I lose my autonomy but I think this could be seen as the initial crossover onto a long and slippery slope towards dependency.  It simply was not that long ago I was stepping in to help my own mother.

Age definitely creeps up faster the older we get, or perhaps we are creeping more slowly, and Age is an easier pill to swallow if we retain a sense of humour because Age has all sorts of impish tricks.   For instance, Continue reading “Age has all sorts of impish tricks”

What will my grandchildren find?

win badgeFollowing on yesterday’s post, my own teen years were the flower power, flower children, make love not war, hippy, long-haired, draft-dodging, protest-marching, drug-induced 1960s. Fashions were bizarrely similar to today. Today’s flared pants “sitting just below the waist” were my bell bottomed hip huggers; today’s “Capri” pants were the pedal pushers of my youth; and my daughter’s jacket is my “pea” jacket of 40 years ago. I watched TV programs like the Ed Sullivan Show, and The Man from U.N.C.L.E., which was filled with the thought-of-but-not-yet-possible sci-fi gadgets of today. My music was the Beatles, and the Rolling Stones, The Who, The Animals, and Bob Dylan droning endlessly on. We challenged Continue reading “What will my grandchildren find?”

Superior’s Shore

I am currently away from my home computer and home resources. I got called up for duty … babysitting duty that is.  I am about 900 miles west and 500 miles north of home, where, at times, the winter can get bitterly cold.  I lived here in Thunder Bay on the shores of Lake Superior for over 20 years and survived many a cold snap of minus 35F.  I arrived here as a 20-something and left as Continue reading “Superior’s Shore”

Paintings that Rock

Usually we paint things that mean something to us – they are a memory, or a desire, a dream or a reality, a truth, sometimes a lie.  Oftentimes we may not know what it is that draws us to paint it, we just know it stirs something within us.  The more we feel for what we paint, surely the better the result will be.  Every time I put tool to surface it is inevitable Continue reading “Paintings that Rock”

The Doors

During travels in the Languedoc Roussillon region of southern France, I found myself taking a lot of pictures of doors – beautiful wooden doors, often with carvings and flourishes, many of large proportions, many beautifully painted or polished. No matter the status of the attached building or home, the doors stood as a proud statement of welcome to the most grandiose as well as the humblest of dwellings.  Whatever their status, they all beg the questions – who has passed through this door? And what Continue reading “The Doors”