A Thankful Heart

Hi, everyone! It’s a wild and windy Thanksgiving weekend with storm surges in my corner of the world, so I thought I’d share a few photos that show weather that is more, shall we say, temperate.

“The unthankful heart
discovers no mercies;
but the thankful heart

will find, in every hour,
some heavenly blessings.”
– Henry Ward Beecher

“I’m grateful for always
this moment, the now,
no matter what form it takes.”
– Eckhart Tolle

Autumn sky

Happy Sunday, all,
and Happy Thanksgiving
to my Canadian friends and followers!

♥♥♥

September Sky

Indian summer winds blow through the hills,
As the autumn sun shines on your hair;
I will always remember the day that we met,
In that wonderful time of the year.

So, will you dance with me tonight, my love,
Beneath the September sky?
Will you sing with me tonight, my love,
And we’ll waltz for the rest of our lives.

~ excerpt from the song September Sky
by Louise Morrissey

I will never forget the night we met in September of 1994, when “I fell head over heels in LIKE,” and how my whole life changed. Thank you for being you.

Further Reading: The Day We Met

RDP Friday: Autumn

Viv in the Moment: Look Who Has a Birthday!

Hello, my peeps and pets!

Vivian K. Perry here, happy to report that I’m turning fourteen today!

Where have the years gone? Time seems to be flying by ever since we moved out of the city, back when I was only three. And I’m hoping for many more years yet on this side of the sod. My staff is doing everything they can to keep me happy and healthy, I can certainly vouch for that.

Taking a break from playing fetch with my favourite ball

Anyway, I’m off to celebrate my special day by going outside to explore Perry’s Point for the millionth time.

Thanks for visiting and have a purr-fect week!
Head bumps and sandpaper kisses,
Vivian

A Cat Pic, Southpaws, and an Abundance of Jennifers

Vivian in her “Summer Happy Place”

Happy Sunday, all!

The above photo was taken by my son’s significant other, Jennifer (yes, another Jennifer, but I’ll return to that topic in a bit).

Vivian was enjoying a catnap in our back garden that day. Some days during summer, she crawls into the wild rosebushes in our garden for naps that can last for hours! She hasn’t got the life, I know. Thinking of the photographer reminded me of something I wanted to share.

Photo by Pexels.com

First, about the southpaws: I am a lefthanded person. I was one of those little girls whose grandmother tried to switch her over to righthandedness, whether I was holding a spoon, fork, crayon or pencil. But I was having none of that. No siree bob. Mom finally convinced my Nanny Lambert that it was useless for her to keep trying.

I was the only lefty in my immediate family. My parents, sister, and brother were all righthanded. But then something interesting happened.

I had: 1 GIRL and 1 BOY

My brother had: 1 BOY

My sister had: 1 BOY and 1 GIRL

Three of those boys, our only sons, were born lefthanded! What are the odds on that?

Now, back to the “Jennifers.”

There are three other Jennifers in my extended family. No, none of them were named after me (shucks).

These other Jennifers are the wives/significant others of mine and my siblings’ three sons! All three couples have been together for years. ❤

Funny how life in all its randomness created such a happenstance. Do you have any strange coincidences in your family? Many southpaws? While thinking on that, have another, more closeup look at our Vivian. Thanks again for the great capture, Jenny!

Once Upon a Time*

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Last week while I was sifting through old papers, I found this piece of writing from decades ago. Thankfully, we have all made peace since then . . .

Once upon a time, there was a girl from St. John’s.
At the age of fourteen,
she moved around the bay with her family.
She hated her curly hair,
adored her Persian cat,
and loved to get lost inside stories and songs.

When she grew older,
she fell in love and got married.
She was happy.
She had a beautiful little daughter.
Not long after,
she gave birth to a handsome son.
She liked to tease him and call him
her little “curly boy”
because he so much reminded her of herself.

A few times,
when she and the husband had terrible fights,
she had to take her girl and boy
to her parents’ house.
But the husband would always tell her
how sorry he was,
and she would go back because she loved him,
and wanted to believe him.

Eventually, she stopped believing.
She moved back to St. John’s
and started a new job and a new life.
She still had her beautiful daughter,
but she lost her curly-boy
to his dad.

She found someone
who reminded her of her love
for stories and songs.
She loves her cats,
still hates her curly hair, and
misses her son
with an ache that never goes away
and leaves her pillow wet with tears
every night.
Still, she knows
she is doing the only thing she can.

She hopes someday he will understand
how, once upon a time,
there was a girl from St. John’s
who couldn’t fight anymore,
and only wished for
a happily ever after.

~ Jennifer Kelland, 1995

picnic table in a winter garden

*Evergreen post from 2014

Sunday Snap: Giving Thanks

I know 2020 has been a year like no other, but still . . .

I’m thankful for my health.
I’m grateful for my home and who I share it with.
I’m thankful for a world of diverse cultures, colours, and wonders.
I’m grateful for the people who fill my life—and have filled my life—with love, sunshine, and warmth.

“Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.” – Melody Beattie

“When I started counting my blessings, my whole life turned around.” – Willie Nelson

“The more grateful I am, the more beauty I see.” – Mary Davis

♥ ♥ ♥

 Happy Thanksgiving,
Canada. 

Baby Love

In the midst of the pandemic as well as my deep despair over everything that is going on in the world right now, comes a welcome respite of joy and gratitude.

My only sister and her husband became grandparents last night, to a perfect little girl who was longed for and whose mom went nine days overdue before finally going into labour late yesterday morning. I am brimming with happiness for them all.

Due to Covid-19 restrictions, my nephew was only permitted to stay in the hospital during labour and delivery, so like my sister and her husband and her other grandparents, he now has to wait until mother and baby are discharged to be with them.

A side note: when this same nephew was a baby and my firstborn was a young girl, she absolutely adored him. How do I know? Back then, she had a locket. She kept a pic of him in that locket along with a pic of herself. I smile whenever I think of it.

I can’t help but recall how thrilled I was when I became a grandmother fourteen years ago, to a dear little bundle who felt like a gift from heaven for all of us. And now my memories take me back to the day my own daughter was born.
I became a mom when I was barely a woman myself. So young I was, a child having a child. It didn’t take long, though, for me to make my baby a priority and to fall in love in a way I never had before.

Eight years ago, I wrote a short poem about it.

Baby Love

Remembering that day in June
when you were small and pink and new
your needs so urgent, your helplessness
eclipsing all I’d planned to do

Your eyes, the bluest I’ve ever seen
gazed into mine, I drank you in
strawberry mark on your behind
that perfect dimple in your chin

The tiny o your lips would make
when, nursing done, you fell asleep
that newborn smell, the lightest heft—
who knew that love could feel so deep?

My firstborn with her firstborn 

What are you grateful for today?

Smile

Sunday Snaps: Hope*

If ever there was a time to have patience, we’re living it right now.

While we each strive to do our part in what is expected of us during this pandemic, I hold onto hope.

I hope the global outbreak will become a distant memory sooner rather than later.

I hope common sense and cooler heads prevail. In many ways, the outcome is up to us.

I hope, above all, we remember to preserve the most precious part of our humanity: our kindness and compassion for one another.

 Embrace hope
and stay healthy, everyone.

*Photo Challenge: Hope

Perry Boys – a Look Back

Given the COVID-19 pandemic, I’m having trouble concentrating long enough to compose an original post. So today I’ll share a post from exactly five years ago, a nostalgic look back to simpler times.

When my husband Paul was six years old, he and his family moved from Newtown – the little community in which we live now – to live in the capital city of St. John’s. Their parents relocated so that Paul’s oldest sibling David could attend the Vera Perlin school for his special needs.
On the day of the big move, Paul crawled up under the house – the actual house we live in now – in a show of protest. “Everyone should be able to live where they were born,” he argued through tears, but the die had been cast. He was pulled out and packed into the car with everyone else.

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On the very first day at their new school, Paul and his other brother Kevin, who is one year older, decided to walk home from school for lunch, despite being told to stay there and eat the lunch they’d brought. But when they saw other children going home, they wanted to go as well. Unfamiliar with their new neighbourhood, the two boys got lost, and Kevin started to cry.

Brave little Paul tried his best to console his big brother by distracting him. “Don’t cry, Kev. Look at the pigeons,” he said, pointing at a bunch of them as they waddled across the sidewalk, hoping the strange, tame city birds might cheer him up. It worked, and they ended up following a classmate to his house. Between the jigs and the reels, their dad had to leave work and go pick them up.

Let’s go back a couple of years when Paul was four and Kevin was five, to another time the younger boy displayed his wisdom. A new addition to the family of three boys had arrived, and this time, it was a girl! When their mom brought baby Julie Ann home, the boys crowded around to get a look at their new sister. Kevin’s eyes opened wide when her diaper came off to be changed. “Look, Paul,” he said, incredulous. “She ain’t got nar topper!” (penis)
“No, ya foolish,” Paul said, enlightened beyond his years. “She got whatever Mom got.”

Now before you think I’m beating up on my brother-in-law, I’d like to share one more tale. Okay, two. When Paul was about nine and enjoying his summer vacation in Newtown, Kevin saved him from drowning. Paul was diving with some other boys off of Burnt Island, but he tired in the deep water and panicked. Kevin grabbed him by the hair on top of his head and pulled him to safety.

newtown

Years later, when Kevin was just beginning his teaching career, he and Paul were driving along in St. John’s one evening. Without warning, Kevin pulled over, stopped the car, and jumped out. He’d spied two teenage boys in a fist fight near the local hockey rink, and he wanted to stop them. Paul watched as he parted the boys, reasoned with them, and ended the scuffle.

It was a day he never forgot. Where most people would just keep going and not get involved, Kevin stepped in and tried to solve the problem. It made Paul really proud of his brother.

Paul confessed there were other boyhood fights where Kev stepped in and rescued Paul himself, fights my husband started and couldn’t finish. I would say he’s grateful for those too. And so am I. 🙂

L to R: David, Paul, Julie, and Kevin
L to R: David, Paul, Julie, and Kevin

Thirteen-year-old Paul

Originally posted on March 24, 2015 here.