GRANDFATHER'S SHELL

"To live in hearts we leave behind, is not to die..." -Thomas Campbell

  Every afternoon they walked. Rain or shine . When they were younger. As they grew older it became apparent that they would need rain gear. So one day, they bought matching rain coats with hoods and boots that would not leak.  They laughed at themselves. Married 60 years and able to laugh.

Then they would walk down the lane, past their little house with the wrought iron gate. To the beach. To the sand. 

To where the tide  washed in and out and left treasures. Small hermit crabs, sand dollars and shells. So many shells. Their house was filled with them.

Sixty years ago they had walked down to the same beach. The tide pools were  full of sea urchins and starfish. He had proposed there. She said yes.

He didn’t have a  ring. But he  found a large abalone shell in the tide pool and gave it to her. 

When they got married and bought their little house with the little wrought iron gate, she placed the large shell on the mantle.  Over the years she moved it around the house, never quite satisfied where it sat. 

She used it to hold her sewing threads. He used it one season to hold his fishing lures. During dinner parties it became an ashtray. 

The men standing around the abalone shell dropping their cigarettes, flicking ash into its pearly depths. At Christmas it held popcorn strings for the tree.

Then one year she died.  He sat in their little house with the wrought iron gate, and held  their shell. He had polished it. 

Her ashes he scattered at the beach where they used to walk. The shell he placed on the kitchen table filling its centre with mandarin oranges. 

A year later he died. And the shell passed to my parents. 

My mother kept thread in the shell as well. And my dad used it as an ash tray.And Christmas cards and Candy inevitably found their way  to it. 

I would put my little dolls in its great bowl and pretend it was a magical carriage for Cinderella. 

And today it sits by our fireplace.  Full of stories 

Sometimes a small cat will climb in and purr and mew and sleep. 

But I will always imagine my grandparents walking to the ocean, hand in hand, like they  did. 

Hand in hand all those years. With the rain and  sun and  wind dancing round .

Hand in hand I see them. 

I see the abalone shell by the fire and I remember them……

Photographs 2022
 

WINGS

"Use the wings of the flying Universe. Dream with open eyes; see in darkness..." -Dejan Stojanovic

WINGS ..........................

Scatter dreams like broken glass. And the wings of time I seek

I call upon y our name. 

No one hears my song tonight.

And I cry upon the wind, oh restless mournful one.

As they rise from dust to ash and they dance upon the heart.

Restless, haunting sound, tonight. Feel the beating their hearts and so they die.

Weary wings you call to me................

May my eyes see truth this night?

Have you seen the land I seek?

See me with your heart, wings of light you cry with me.

Weary moon it seeks  you now.

I fall before I soar........

Will the sun be scorching now

Will the sea rush over me.

Fly beyond the moon tonight.

And the wings are calling me this night of nights.

And my heart it calls to me.........

Photographs 2022 "WINGS" original song, copyright 2022.
 

TAKE TWO SQUIRRELS and CALL ME IN THE MORNING......

"The smells of slow cooking spread around the house, and impart a unique warmth matched only by the flavour of the food.."

                                                                        -Yotam Ottolenghi

   When I was growing up, Mr. and Mrs. Bliss lived across the street. They loved the holidays.  At Halloween it was candy apples and fudge . At Christmas it was leftover Halloween fudge. At Easter it was  more leftover fudge. 

After Christmas we would have them over, for Shepherd’s Pie or Bubble and Squeak ( cabbage and potatoes or other veggies, smooshed into a fry pan)

 Then Mr. and Mrs. Bliss would return the favour.

One year it was Pig Poke Stew and French bread. Or Creamed Chip Beef with a wibbly, wobbly seven layered Jelly salad.

Last year they served a Depression meal of Peanut Butter Stuffed Onions, dandelion Salad and something called Garbage Plate: macaroni salad, with fries, chili, onions, mustard and ketchup.

But this year, they promised to make a treat.

The day of  our dinner, Mr. Bliss  tucked a large white napkin under his chin. He placed  a plate of fudge near me.  “That’s for dessert” he laughed.  I poked at the fudge. It was hard as a rock.

Mrs. Bliss  came  in with a huge bowl of something that seethed and burbled.

A stew . “Appalachian Stew” she said in a merry voice. “The perfect time of year for it. ”

Mr. Bliss plopped a huge helping in our bowls. “Eat up!” he said. “And you can take the leftovers home with you!

A stew with Veggies and Lima beans. I hated lima beans, so I pushed them out of the way and lined them up on the rim of the bowl. And I hated stew.

“I always use fresh ingredients. Isn’t that right, dear?” Mrs. Bliss leaned over to her husband.  “Quite. Quite” he slurped.

My mother asked for the recipe. That was  her first mistake.  Mrs. Bliss handed her a neatly penned copy .”I knew you’d ask, she said, so here you are.” That was the second mistake. My mother read the ingredients….

“Take two squirrels, onion, corn, Lima beans, pork, potatoes, pepper tomatoes. Fry up the squirrels in a half pound of butter…..cook for three hours till…..”, My mother stopped reading.

Mr. and Mrs. Bliss burst out in laughter. “Well, of course  I didn’t use REAL squirrels……”

“Not this time, “ said Mr. Bliss.”Appalachian stew comes from Kentucky! Calls for young squirrels. That’s how we used to make it .Or use raccoons……”

“Oh yes, raccoons make a wonderful stew,” said Mrs. Bliss. “But squirrels are SO divine. I usually get them at the butcher’s over on fourth street.  And you don't have to clean all the fleas and little crawly things off of them.“

"Butcher does it for you..." said Mr. Bliss

My mother visibly relaxed. So did I. I popped a prehistoric piece of fudge in my mouth.

“So I used RABBIT instead,” bubbled Mrs. Bliss.”Soft ears, soft paws..”

“Makes for good eating.” Mr. Bliss burped.

Needless to say there were no more dinners after that.  We resorted to tea and scones and mincemeat tarts. Something safe. Something without paws…..

 

 Photographs 2022