Lunch With My Grandparents

When I was a kid, my grandfather would go out to the garden first thing in the morning and come back around noon with an armful of cucumbers and tomatoes.

My grandmother would cut and serve them for lunch. Fresh garden veg is one of my most profound memories of my grandparents.

Today, garden-fresh cukes and tomatoes for lunch.

Just like at my grandparent’s house.

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48

As I ring in my 48th year today, I find myself truly cherishing this place in my life.

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B-Day gift from my oldest daughter. I love her artwork. 

The Little Things

My husband is not particularly sentimental in an outward sort of way. He reserves that space for me, as sentimentality is a condition I dine on daily.

So, when he wandered home tonight with three bundles of the flowers we had at our wedding (my favourite) and a box of croquembouche from the local bakery for my birthday, my heart could not contain itself.

We’ve spent the last 20 years together and the relationship is one of comfort and mutual respect. To wash his socks that he needs for tomorrow means something. Lilies and French pastry from our wedding mean something.

These are the most wonderful gifts —ones that find themselves infused with the knowing that the person receiving them gets the thought that went into them.

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The Summer Reading Challenge Quilt

I am totally loving the Summer Reading Challenge quilt my writing group students are making right now.

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Each student has a list of books they have to read this Summer, and the way they log them is to create a square illustrating their favourite moment in that book.

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Six teams.

28 students.

There will be more than 300 squares on that wall by the end of the Summer.

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My favourite part is how it reveals how everyone interprets a piece of literature differently. Every book shapes the individual in its own way.

Time Machine Travels – 1975

A few months back, I asked my step-father to begin transferring over to me all of the photography and historical documents from our family.

I’ve always held dear the responsibility of family historian, and he graciously agreed to begin the long process after spending the last few years digitizing most of it.

Amongst the family trees, gorgeous photography, and art from the late 19th and early 20th century, a collection of more recent pictures flung me back to 1975.

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Me and my brother

Life in 1975, at the tender age of 4, proved pretty basic. We’d moved from the Mid-West to the Rocky Mountains of the United States, and I adored my wee bain of a brother.

These pictures are pure magic and a little heartachy all at once.

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Getting ready for church on Easter Sunday, 1975

My mom looks so fresh and wonderful in these photos. Gone almost four years now, I miss her and wish often to be able to consult her on so many things despite our challenging relationship as mother and daughter.

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Summer fun

This series is from the first year at my childhood home where we lived for more than a decade. I was surprised at first to see how shabby the backyard was as my parents always took great care, but remembered that they’d bought the home to fix up. These are so cute.

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My mom and brother in the backyard of our childhood home.

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Sister and brother always together

My brother and I, who remain extremely close, had a good cry over these yesterday before recognizing that they also very much defined the nature of the two of us as siblings.

Our time machine trip proved a sweet reminder of our constant bond, and how time cannot strip away connection.