About this time every winter, I begin to yearn for an injection of more colour in my world. So when I saw that Yellow was this morning’s one-word prompt from The Daily Post, I felt compelled to take part.
The following photos were previously shared on my blog over the years, but I thought it fitting – as well as worthy – to give them a second look.
These last two photos are from my Instagram account:
Last but not least, something to wake up the taste buds:
“How wonderful yellow is. It stands for the sun.” ~ Vincent Van Gogh
Our house yawns astonishingly quiet and empty. The beaches here on Sandy-Feet Avenue and Perry’s Point look abandoned, lonely and forlorn; bereft of the three little beach bums that ran across them countless times a day.
A myriad of reminders surround me: empty sand pails, tiny mementos in the form of sea glass and shells from the beach, our grandson’s toy army tank left behind, a day pass from Windmill Bight Park, a box of our granddaughter’s favourite crackers in the cupboard, a candy wrapper under the bed. There is even a folder of GoPro videos they made saved on my PC desktop.
And I’m amazed at how much longer it takes for the dishwasher and the washing machine to fill up in their absence.
We miss our two grandchildren – plus one little friend – but we had an incredible time together filled with sweet summer memories and photos to look back on.
And there is always next year, God willing!
Here are a few captures from last week.
During one of these lazy afternoons, our girl decided she wanted to write a story. So while her friend and our boy continued playing on the beach, she sat down nearby with a pad of lined paper and a pencil. When I asked her what her story was about, she said with a shy grin, “Cats.”
I guess the (grand)apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“Daily Post Prompt: Never Again – Have you ever gone to a new place or tried a new experience and thought to yourself, “I’m never doing that again!” Tell us about it.”
On Saturday, I saw this photo on Facebook that brought back a memory for me. Also on that day, I read the above prompt from the Daily Post. So I couldn’t resist sharing said event from my childhood.
My friend Nancy, my younger sister Lynn and I were walking home from school one late afternoon in St. John’s, when we noticed from the Boulevard the many ice pans on the surface of Quidi Vidi Lake. I think it might have been spring thaw.
Quicker than you can say “last one in is a rotten egg,” the three of us ran down to the lake’s edge, dropped our book-bags on the shore, and proceeded to jump from ice pan to ice pan across the surface of the deep water. Not once did either of us think anything could go wrong. I guess we were so young and naive, we had no fear of the risk we were taking.
Luckily, Nancy’s father happened to drive along the Boulevard while we were playing there. Before we knew it, we were swiftly ordered into his car and driven home. At the time, we didn’t feel so lucky, but I shudder at the thought of what could have gone down if he hadn’t. Perhaps all of us!
Of course, our parents were outraged and we all received our punishment. The next time I saw my friend Nancy, she told me that her father gave her a good spanking.
“And that was it?” I asked, incredulous. My parents didn’t give spankings as discipline. They knew what really hurt: grounding my sister and me for a full week. No outdoors for seven days except to go to school.
I remember thinking at the time that Nancy had gotten off easy compared to us. Yes, she’d endured a spanking, but at least her suffering was “behind” her. 😉
Now I realize Mom and Dad had wanted us to appreciate how dangerous our activity was, by giving us a whole week to think about it. Never again did we dare to risk drowning by “copying pans.”
*copy: To jump from one floating pan of ice to another in a children’s game of following or copying a leader when the ice is breaking up in spring in a cove or harbour. A game of follow-my-leader over the broken ice, every cake of which, it may be, sinks under the weight of a lad. It is a training for the perilous work of seal hunting, which came later in the life of Newfoundlanders. You will see the merry young lads ‘copying’ as they call it—jumping from pan to pan till far out in the Cove in fearless rivalry. ~ Dictionary of Newfoundland English
Did you ever jump on ice pans when you were a kid?
Have you ever done something new and regretted it?
Nothing gets me out of bed in the morning quicker than the expectation of savoring rich, delicious coffee.
At least two big, fragrant, caffeine-infused cups are an essential part of my routine and a necessity to get my brain working. Later in the day, however, my beverage of choice is tea, usually of the green variety.
I know; big deal, right? Why am I blogging about something so ordinary?
Because sometimes, something as simple and mundane as your cup of tea or coffee can be elevated to (extra)ordinary, depending on where you are, who bought it or brewed it for you, or who may be around to share the experience.
Sometimes a cup of tea is made extra special when it comes to you as a gift – a pretty mug and coaster in your favourite colour, along with your first infuser, and a yummy variety of loose tea flavours from DAVIDsTEA. (Thank you, Daughter. 🙂 )
Other times, a cup of coffee can be special when you get to enjoy it in a new locale.
Like the Caribbean!
And that is whether you drink it inside where it’s cool…
…or outdoors in the incredible, tropical heat.
Morning coffee tastes particularly wonderful in Rome…
Of course, when in Rome, it should be espresso, shouldn’t it?
Perhaps cappuccino? Nope. I stick to old, reliable Caffé Americano– style.
Java on the balcony of your room in Cannes also tastes pretty darn special.
And during a dinner cruise on the Seine in Paris?
The pleasure of a coffee after your gourmet meal is hard to outclass.
But as delightful as you can imagine all of these cups of coffee and tea were, there is one cup of tea I remember the most with enduring fondness. Today in particular, it makes all the others pale in comparison.
It is the memory of Mom and I sipping tea together in the late afternoon sun…
…on an incredibly special day, made that much more memorable by an intimate moment shared.
Today also happens to be a noteworthy day for my family. To be able to indulge in a good ol’ cup of orange pekoe tea with my mother today, on her birthday…it doesn’t seem like a great deal to ask for.
But again this year and for the rest of my days, fond memories will have to do.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
Knowing how much you always loved your tea,
this morning I’d like to imagine Dad putting the kettle on
and the two of you enjoying a cup together.