wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.


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Remembering

In the fall of 2014, a blogging friend and I exchanged seeds through the mail. She sent me hollyhock seeds and I sent her poppy seeds. We looked forward to the spring when we would plant each other’s flowers.

I was sorry to hear that the poppy seeds didn’t sprout for her that next year, but her hollyhocks grew for me.

In November of 2015, she died of cancer. I was shocked because she had been such a positive person. I never would have guessed that she would lose that battle.

I planted the hollyhocks in my vegetable garden because I go there every day, rather than in a flower bed I might rarely visit. Year after year, I think of my friend fondly, yet sadly, almost every day  when I watch her hollyhocks grow, from the earliest leaves to the huge stalks loaded with flowers. It’s as if she’s saying hello whenever I go out to my garden.

If you would like to visit the blog of Barb Beacham, and browse back in time over some of her posts, here is the link: https://salmonfishingqueen.wordpress.com/ 

She was a wonderful person and I still miss her. I’m so glad I have her hollyhocks in my garden.


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The Islands

Vancouver Island is surrounded by many other smaller islands. It’s an easy boat ride to go for an overnight picnic on one of them. With our troller and the sporty boat of our friends, we did just that. Here we are snuggled up together.

The aluminum skiff is handy for ferrying us to shore for some exploring and picture taking.

So many plants and shells are different from those on most beaches of Vancouver Island.

Our friends’ dog may have been a bit nervous at first, but he proved to have sailor’s blood running in his veins. He had a great time and was as good as gold.

Dogs and people all got along fabulously and had a good time.

More on this outing next time.

*** Again – a reminder that all my novels are half price until the end of July. The Wind Weeps remains FREE. See my webpage for more info: www.anneli-purchase.com

 


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Photo-shy

I hesitated about posting the photo below in my last post, because it shows one of my sisters in “not her finest hour.”

We had gone for a walk – it might have been to Sunday School, judging by my mother’s suit and hat – and on the way home, my father probably suggested a family photo. We sat on the grass, ready to smile, but my sister never liked having her picture taken. My brother was laughing at the fuss she was making. It was a fairly common occurrence as she went through the Terrible Twos. For us it was, “There she goes again,” and I’m sure my mom had just said something funny to try to jolly her out of her mood.

The other part I love about this picture is how I have my arms around the youngest sister. I’ve always felt very protective of her, maybe because she was always the youngest. You can’t change your ranking in the family. I was the oldest; she was the youngest.

The old homestead (not ours) on the top of the hill was like a landmark in the days before the roads were put in. Our house was two blocks farther on, behind the old one. For years, the field in this picture had a path through it to the downtown area. Later, as more houses went up, roads were built and that beautiful field and path were no more.

Here she is again, making a fuss about getting her picture taken. You can see my mother’s arms trying to make her sit for the photo.

But it wasn’t always bad. This day when she was going to be in the Fall Fair Parade, she was happy enough to have her picture taken. I think she should always have smiled for the camera. She takes a good picture.



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A Big Birthday

Some of you may remember a post I did about my mother-in-law, Myrtle, about a year and a half ago telling about her amazing walking achievements. In her 90s, she still walks about three miles a day and does all the  exercise programs available in her retirement home. To read the post, in case you missed it or want to refresh your memory, here is the link:

https://wordsfromanneli.com/2016/07/29/walk-across-canada/

Today, Myrtle is 96 years old and still going strong. She knows that the secret to staying young is to keep moving.

Here is a photo of her outside her residence door just before Christmas 2017. I think she looks great.

Happy birthday, Myrtle.

96 years young today.

 

 

 

 


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Vintage Books and Glasses

When I visited my sister recently, I had forgotten that she has been the guardian of some of the old family treasures from long ago. It was a pleasant surprise to see the items being kept safe behind the glass doors of a china cabinet.

The small blue liqueur glasses and decanter were perhaps bought in our first few years in Canada, more than half a century ago. The small wine or martini glass with the yellow swirls and the spiral stem is from a set that came to Canada with my parents back in 1953. This one is probably all that is left of the set.

When I saw it, I thought of my tongue. Odd, you might think, but memories that involve the senses can be very strong and long lasting.

My parents used to bring out these special yellow swirly glasses at Christmastime and pour a little egg liqueur from a bottle of Bols advocaat. We children were too young to be allowed alcohol, but once in a while, and because it was a festive season, we were allowed to lick out the last bit of advocaat from the yellow swirly glasses. Kind of gross, in hindsight, but as kids, we were thrilled.

So you can see that the yellow swirly glass holds special memories for me — not only the taste of the advocaat, but the smell of Christmas baking, the beautiful Christmas music, the coziness of the house and the love given to us by our parents.

Some might say these glasses are just inanimate objects, but they hold the key to a gold mine of memories.

Under the shelf with the glasses, two books leaned against the back of the cabinet. The old copy of Forever Amber, which I read when I was 16 (and that wasn’t yesterday), and another of my favourite stories, Little Black Sambo. The bigwigs now say that this book is racist, and have banned it, but I loved reading it and never once felt anything negative towards people of another race from that experience. My family and I simply loved that story.

Thanks to Luanne Castle https://writersite.org/2017/11/02/magical-bowls/

for the nudge to trot out old memories.


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The Happy Couple

Today’s post is probably going to be the last of the “doll series,” mainly because I don’t have any more dolls. This last pair is the oldest and came to our household about 1975 as a wedding gift brought back from Mexico by one of my sisters.

They both look a little bit in shock. The impact of the meaning of the word “lifetime” has just hit them.

After 42 years, her hands are swollen from all the hard work and her feet look sore. He has obviously been tearing his hair out, putting up with her, and his hands and feet are pretty clumpy too.

But they’re still together. They must have something good going on to make them stay.