Eureka!

I received a wonderful new 'old' book today. Vintage, really. 

And I want so much to tell you the story of how I came to possess this special novel; however, I need to backtrack a little before I go on. 

Many moons ago, around the time of my youngest daughter's birth, I discovered the charming movie, One Foot In Heaven. I'd been spending many a late night up with the new baby, and finding very little on TV to keep me awake after the evening news and National anthem had finished. Suddenly, the hymn The Church's One Foundation (my favourite hymn) caught my attention and a great discovery was made.

One Foot In Heaven was a WWII era movie based on the best selling book of the same name written by Hartzell Spence. CBC in the late 1980's was digging deep for late night content, and I was to be the recipient of this surprise offering. It starred Frederick March and Martha Scott as the Methodist Reverend Dr. William Spence and his devoted and long-suffering wife, Hope.

The story begins in Stratford Ontario Canada (something else that grabbed my attention) but the action quickly moves to the US mid-west where the Spence family (eventually expanded by the births of daughter, Eileen, and sons, Hartzell and Frasier) relocate and move from challenging parish to even more challenging parish.

The very old, very faded black & white movie gripped me from start to finish; and, the hymn The Church's One Foundation featured prominently throughout was a wonderful bonus. It was, however, a number of years later before I was able to record a copy of the movie for the rest of my family to watch, and we've enjoyed it often ever since.

I'm not really a religious person, but I grew up going to church, so I appreciate a lot of the old music and the positive values and virtues practiced by many.

A number of years ago, I decided to try to find a copy of the book One Foot In Heaven, an easier task than I thought it would be. I quickly found a very nice copy on eBay and tucked it away on a book shelf for reading 'sometime'. That 'sometime' became 'now' last week when I wasn't feeling well enough to do much more that read and relax. And read I did.

One Foot In Heaven, the book, was as enjoyable as the movie: It was longer, more detailed, and arranged differently than the movie, but still a wonderful read! And when I'd absorbed the poignant concluding words and closed the back cover, I suddenly wondered if there were any more books by this terrific author.

Turns out, not only were there more books by Hartzell Spence, there was a sequel to One Foot In Heaven (copyright 1940) titled Get Thee Behind Me (copyright 1942). Now I was on a mission, scouring the internet for better offerings than were currently available on eBay (books without notations or highlighter markings).

I found just what I was looking for on a site called AbeBooks.com where I was directed to a book seller called Shelley & Son Books in North Carolina. Their writeup indicated the, Get Thee Behind Me book they were selling was, "a First Edition, red cloth with black and white illustration and lettering, author's signature on front free end paper, no other writing in the book, full refund if not satisfied." Eureka! So, I bought the book for $25.

The book arrived in 7 days (way ahead of schedule) and is everything I expected. The exterior of the book is in great shape and the interior is pristine. The author's signature makes it even more special to me (I've always been a bit of an autograph hound).

And, by-the-way, it turns out my copy of One Foot In Heaven (blue in colour) is also a First Edition. What luck! The two books together look as though they have been missing each other for many years and I'm glad to have played a part in reuniting them.

I dearly wish I could have met Hartzell Spence, but I feel a little connected to him having read about his life with his parents and siblings as told in his own words. How lucky I am to now own the sequel, in which I can read more about the Spence family I've grown to love.

50 Years Ago Today

Click on photo to enlarge
This photograph was taken by my dad,
Ross Hunt, 13-seconds before
the Apollo 11 blast-off.
Glued to the TV, are myself
& sister Jennifer on the left,
and brother David on the right.

It's hard to believe that 50 years ago today astronauts Neil Armstrong, Edwin (Buzz) Aldrin, and Michael Collins began their historic journey to the moon.

Blasting off from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida at 13:32 UTC on July 16th, 1969, and splashing down again in the north Pacific ocean at 16:50 UTC July 24th, they fulfilled President Kennedy's dream of safely landing a man on the moon and returning him home again to the earth.

At the time of this amazing voyage, I was only 11, my brother David was 7, and our sister Jennifer just 4 years of age; yet, I remember well our dad taking the photo above, to document his children's participation in the global event watched by millions of people around the world.

I also remember that I was allowed to stay up late four days later to watch the lunar landing and hear Neil Armstrong's stirring words from the surface of the moon about the truly, "Giant leap for mankind."

I'm glad my parents realized the significance of the Apollo 11 moon mission; and, that my dad had the foresight to snap the photograph that still evokes warm memories even now, 50 years later.

Rare June Tulips

As published in the Hamilton Mountain News

I have been a fan of spring tulips ever since I heard the story of the birth of Princess Margriet of the Netherlands in an Ottawa hospital during WWII, and Canada’s temporary grant of international territory status that allowed the newborn princess to retain the citizenship of her temporarily displaced Dutch mother.

The hundreds of thousands of tulips in Ottawa gardens and parks today are an ongoing gift from the Dutch royal family and the Dutch Bulb Growers Association, in recognition of the care and consideration given to Queen Juliana and her family during their stay in Canada; and, in recognition of the great sacrifice by Canadians during the liberation of The Netherlands.

Tulip season in Canada usually runs from the end of March until the middle of May, with peek bloom time in mid-April; however, unseasonably cool and rainy weather this spring allowed gardeners and sightseers alike to enjoy gorgeous displays of tulips for much longer than usual.

It’s unfortunate that the conditions required to produce this year’s extended tulip blooms are not conducive to the planting of vegetables and the blooming of fruit trees, so I hope this isn’t the beginning of a weather trend. That said, this spring’s rare June tulips have been a real treat, and the history of their introduction to the Canadian landscape in 1945 is well worth remembering.

Liquid Squirrel

Opening the pool this year proved more unpleasant than usual.

In order to make the memory a little less grizzly, I decided to set the story as a TV show listing. The "investigators" were daughters Laurel & Chelsea, son-in-law Bryan and myself. The squirrels were a black and a grey.

Doug's Story

GORDON, Douglas Murray 
(DJ Doug)

September 30, 1958 - March 2, 2019

With profound sadness I announce the sudden passing of my husband, Douglas Murray Gordon, age 60.

Doug was born in Hamilton on September 30, 1958 and spent his formative years in the rural Flatt Road area of Burlington. He attended Woodview and Maplehurst Elementary Schools & Aldershot High School in Burlington, and McMaster University in Hamilton.

Doug was the darling much-loved son of cherished mother Jean Alvina (nee Taylor) and his role-model father, the late Hugh Moore Gordon. He leaves behind his dear friend and beloved son Andrew and daughter-in-law Jenn (Dunphy) Gordon; and, his beloved first-born child, daughter Laura Gordon; loved and respected older brother David and sister-in-law Peggy (Yates) Gordon.

He is also mourned by mother-in-law Olive (Macdonald) Hunt; sister-in-law Jennifer Hunt; brother-in-law Joseph Fazakas; step-daughters Melody and Laurel Haigh, and Chelsea and son-in-law Bryan Salisbury. Doug was Papa to Noah and Ethan, and Grandad to Rachel, Aiden & Mattie-Belle.

Highly skilled, Doug was an enthusiastic and integral part of many business endeavours, including successful partnerships with friends Greg Wright (MC Tech), Jan Foss Pedersen (Fun Photos), and Joe Monahan (Pharmacy Joe Deliveries). His work passions also included his long career as DJ Doug (Royal DJ) and mentoring mature students in construction skills (The Centre). 
Kind and gentle, Doug was a true romantic and my dearest gift. Doug & I met in the fall of 2009. He had been divorced for 15 years and I'd been a widow for 19. We met when I attended a family wedding for which he was engaged as DJ. Eight whirlwind months later Doug planned a romantic proposal, complete with a lovely ring, and the engagement promised a wonderful new beginning.

Doug worried when he was seriously injured two weeks later that the relationship wouldn’t last; but, love endured and grew while we continued making plans for our wedding. Doug and I were married October 17th, 2010 amid falling autumn leaves and surrounded by family and friends. It was a mutual love that would last.

He was very proud of his family connection to Canadian hockey greats, including Syl and Gillian Apps and Dave and Ken Dryden; and, honoured to lay claim to a kinship with Canadian NASA astronaut Commander Chris Hadfield. He took time to stay connected and spend time with extended family, and played an integral part in the planning and implementation of Dryden family reunions and other Taylor and Gordon family events. He was well-known for his delicious deviled eggs.

Calm and considerate under pressure, Doug smiled through incredible physical pain, cooked like a master chef, generously offered his time and considerable talents to anyone in need, delighted in nature and wildlife, took wonderful photographs, and generally lived life with gusto.

Doug was inspired by the quotation with which he ended every email: "I have made it a rule of my life never to regret and never to look back. Regret is an appalling waste of energy. You can’t build on it: It’s only good for wallowing in” – Katherine Mansfield
It was the foundation on which he built every day of his life.

A Brave, Caring & Ethical Man

 

This blog post contains words I wrote and sent to United States Senator, John McCain, in response to derogatory comments made about him by the 45th American President. I share my thoughts here today in memory of a brave, caring and ethical man.

2018-05-14

Dear Senator John McCain,

I am not a constituent, Republican, resident of Arizona, politician or even an American citizen. I am a Canadian with socially democratic leanings; who is also a daughter, wife, mother, and grandmother; writer, poet, gardener and blogger.

I consider myself politically and socially aware, and not given to blindly following the easiest path. My opinions are carefully considered, and my loyalty extended to a special few. I am writing you today to express my belief that, although I don’t agree with some of your political ideologies, you are essentially a brave, caring, and ethical man.

I respect your service in the military, your principled standards and political open-mindedness, your courage in all kinds of adversity, your wholesome smarts, and your gentle good humour. I am saddened by stories of your internment many years ago, your recent illness and your inconsiderate detractors; but, I’m heartened by your stamina, your spirit and your decency.

I try to put a positive slant on any topic about which I write: It’s my small way of gifting encouragement to myself and to others following years of my own personal sorrows. With that in mind, I wanted to express my sincere hope that you will continue to endure life’s hardships in characteristic John McCain style; and, that you’ll find contentment in whatever lies in store for you.

With sincere best wishes ... NHG

Reviled ... Favourite

Click on Picture to Enlarge
The dandelion, long admired
for its ability to grant wishes
when blown to the wind ...

As new recruit to the Mount Hamilton Horticultural Society's writing group, who cooperatively submit garden related articles to the Hamilton Mountain News, I'm pleased to have been published in the community newspaper's Growing Green column online today.

Text of my initial opinion piece, which they titled, Reviled Dandelion an Early Spring Favourite is linked here and posted below - I hope you'll give it some thought.

"With springtime fast approaching, I find myself looking forward to the first spring colours and fragrant blossoms.

One of my early favourites is the sunny dandelion, or Taraxacum officinale. Though long reviled as scourge to lawn and garden, it is one of the first available sources of sustenance for bees and other pollinating species.

Though children have long admired the dandelion's ability to grant wishes when blown to the wind, the modest dandelion’s astonishing ability to self-seed and its deep burrowing taproot invites definition as invasive weed.

However, dent de lion, or tooth of the lion, so named for the shape of its leaves, is perennial and herbaceous and has many beneficial qualities that might render even the fussiest grass grower silent about dandelion eradication.

Untreated, dandelion is said to be completely edible — roots, greens and flowers — unless allergy or contraindicated medications prohibit. It offers beneficial treatment and curative properties for a multitude of human illnesses and conditions, containing vitamins A, C and K, iron, manganese, potassium, calcium and antioxidants. Dandelions also make an interesting wine and caffeine-free coffee.

I suggest welcoming the healthful herb-like greenery to your garden as you would parsley or kale, picking the seeds prior to flight to prevent too much spread.

That said, if your esthetic sensibilities simply will not coexist with dandelions, allow pollinators to feed on the life-sustaining plant until other pollen-laden blooms are ready, then carefully dig out the roots rather than using harmful pesticides and consider transplanting some of the dandelions to your veggie patch.

The University of Rochester boasts the hardy dandelion as a school colour and official flower. It has honoured the “weed” in its charming school song, The Dandelion Yellow.

Its celebration of the oft-maligned dandelion is inspirational and hopefully contagious. After all, enhancing your garden with healthy multi-species nourishment such as the dandelion aids in pollinator survival and benefits us all in many unexpected ways."

Growing Green is a regular Hamilton Mountain News feature prepared by the Mount Hamilton Horticultural Society (On Facebook and online at gardenontario.org/site.php/mhhs)

It's Too Darn Hot!

So, this morning I was making my mom a pot of tea.

I boil the water and pour it into the waiting carafe, and five minutes later mom starts to pour a cup, and the water is clear. Seriously, I didn't put a tea bag in the pot ... first time ever, I think.

So, we laugh, and I pour the water from the carafe back into the kettle, boil it again, put a bag in the carafe, pour in the water and set the carafe on my island to steep ... and, of course, I got busy and forgot about it.

An hour later, I finally notice the carafe and decide to remove the tea bag before leaving the pot with mom; and, somehow I manage to drop the spoon into the carafe, which luckily doesn't break, but now I can't get the spoon out because IT'S TOO DARN HOT IN THERE!

At this point, I wonder briefly if I might be getting old, before I remember that it's more likely I'm sleep deprived; so, I take a deep breath; and, we laugh again.

I use a second spoon to remove the tea bag from the pot and mom finally gets her cup of tea ... but, the carafe is still holding the first spoon hostage.

Rodent Revenge

CBC reporter, Brett Ruskin, was bitten this morning by Nova Scotia's famed groundhog, Shubenacadie Sam (a sort of rodent revenge, I thought) and, I found myself laughing out loud.

I did not find Ruskin’s injury humourous (although, in hindsight, organizers might have seen it coming) or the circus atmosphere of the Groundhog Day ceremony and aftermath to be entertaining (it was, as always, unnecessarily frightening for the unfortunate groundhog): I laughed when Ruskin temporarily lost his composure, on-air, and interjected something like, "Forget the prediction, I'm bleeding."

Groundhog Day has long been my favourite day of the year; because, regardless of the whole six-more-weeks-yea-or-nay thing, it figuratively gives me hope that spring is out there, somewhere. For many years, though, I've disliked the unfortunate circumstances thrust upon the poor captive rodent.

Terrifying a shy marmot monax (the groundhog’s Latin name) simply for entertainment value, just seems cruel to me; and, since the CBC reporter was injured in a greased-pig-style stampede to corral Shubenacadie Sam - who’d suddenly tried to escape his captors and literally go over the wall - I thought Ruskin rather deserved the beleaguered groundhog’s defensive bite.

All laughing aside, continuing to assign knowledge of spring’s arrival date to a shy prognosticating groundhog, who uses the inconclusive shadow-or-no-shadow method, seems antiquated and unnecessary. After all, spring arrives on March 20th every year, one way or the other - Always has, always will.

The 60 Year Milestone

My First Photograph
Held by a Nurse - At 2-days-old
The Camera Flash Reflected on the Window Glass
Through Which my Dad Took the Picture

I woke up this morning, having reached the 60 year milestone; and, I initially found it a tough age to accept.

This birthday, though a long time coming, simply arrived before I was ready - before I could achieve many life goals, to my own satisfaction. My unfinished "bucket list," so-to-speak, includes: 

• Completing the BA I began long ago
• Finding myself, life's-work-wise
• Owning more of my house than the bank
• Mastering the piano and ukelele
• Writing a great Canadian novel, and
• Acquiring a few stamps in my passport

I was born 60 years ago today at the Salvation Army Grace Hospital in our nation's capital. My dad always said I was the most expensive thing he ever bought at the Salvation Army. Mom and I spent a week in hospital - as was the custom back then - during which, my first photograph (above) was taken. It was an inauspicious beginning that eventually resulted in:

• The first High School graduate in one branch of my family
• A successful marriage, not once but twice
• Three special children and four treasured grandchildren
• Certificates for Fashion Design and Writing For Publication
• Second place in an international fashion design contest, and
• Oft published in local papers; and, in Reader's Digest, thrice

This taking stock - the listing of my accomplishments - certainly helps counteract the negativity of the bucket list and the unwelcome reality that I'm closer to the end than I am to the beginning, these days. It also brings me consolation through the following four positives:

• I'm happily married to a supportive and loving guy
• The elusive BA is neither time-sensitive nor essential
• I'm still moving forward, so anything is possible, and
• Not all great destinations reside in a passport

So, here's to my next milestone - whenever and whatever it might be! Since I can't keep birthdays from coming, I'll work on accepting them gracefully. After all, now that I think about it, there's usually cake!

My Grandad

 A picture of Grandad baiting a hook
while my hair flies as I cast my rod
behind him, and Grama looks on.

My grandad, my dad's dad, had a gruff demeanor and a gravely-gruff sounding voice: Even so, I remember him as one of the kindest men I ever knew. Though he suddenly passed away nearly fifty years ago, in my heart and mind, he remains a truly memorable individual.

The late 1960's found my grandparents semi-retired and transplanted to a home in Florida: We were all missing them very much. One evening in October, my father suddenly decided to fly south for a visit. As I was still awake when he was making his plans, I implored him to take me with him.

A late-night phone call, to my elementary school principal's home, and I was quickly given the go-ahead to miss a week of school in favour of another educational adventure. The very next morning I was on an airplane with my dad, headed to Florida for the vacation of a lifetime.

We were picked up in Tampa by my grama & grandad, and Grama’s brother Charlie. During the week, I got to: swim in the ocean, drink orange juice freshly squeezed in an orange grove, watch an alligator eating raw chicken, glimpse a rocket at Cape Canaveral from the highway, go trick-or-treating, tease Grandad by repeatedly knocking on the door and then hiding behind a bush, and spend a lovely afternoon fishing while Grandad and Daddy accidentally caught and battled both a crab and a stingray.

This amazing week with Grama and Grandad as well as neighbouring great-aunt Hilda and great-uncle Charlie remains vivid in my memory. I remember my dad, who rarely enjoyed vacations, really seemed to enjoy his week with his parents, and I loved every minute of it.

Just prior to boarding our airplane home; my grandad, while hugging me good-bye, said something strangely serious considering my young age. He told me that he wanted me to remember the good times we had together, the laughing and joking and hugging; and, that I shouldn't come to his funeral when his time came.

Once on the plane, I remember crying because there were no window seats in coach on the side of the plane that faced the viewing area on the tarmac. I also remember that a nice flight attendant let my dad and I sit in 1st class so that we could wave good-bye to our loved ones.

My grandad died in Florida, less than three months later from a sudden heart attack; and, my dad (with his sisters) headed south again, this time to bury his father. I didn't get the chance to say that I couldn't go on this sad mission: The decision was made for me. And though I alone knew, that the decision was my grandad's preferred choice, I was relieved.

Losing this special man, the day before my 10th birthday, hit very hard and close to home. Over the years, I've tried to honour my grandad around this time each year, by remembering as he said, the good times we had together and the laughing and joking and hugging.

All these years later, uncle Charlie, aunt Hilda, my grama and my dad have all passed on as well. Luckily, I'm still comforted by the memories I treasure from that unexpected reunion in Florida, and the few faded photos - like the one above, taken by my dad - from that last week we all spent together.

Poppies

Click on Image to Enlarge

Yesterday, I attended a Remembrance Day ceremony at my youngest granddaughter's elementary school. It was an innocent salute to fallen soldiers who gave their lives in service to their country.

The school choir opened with a song about peace, love, and hope, following which we: heard a recitation of Canadian physician, Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae’s rondeau, In Flander's Fields; witnessed the laying of paper wreaths of poppies by student members of the Brownies, Girl Guides, and Scouts; viewed a moving slide presentation on the sacrifice of service men and women; and observed a moment of silence followed by The Last Post.

I was proud to see the children from Junior Kindergarten to grade five respectfully participating in this short but moving memorial tribute; and inspired by the hard work obviously put into this ceremony by the school staff.

The poppy serves as the official symbol of respect and remembrance for soldiers who have given the ultimate sacrifice, as Lieutenant-Colonel McCrae did before the end of WWI. It is fitting that the meaning of his inspired poem and the symbolism of the lowly poppy live on through future generations.

"Red are the poppies
Of the blood stained battlefields

Still giving us hope"

© 2005-11-05 - nhg

Carvepalooza

Click on Image to Enlarge
Our little lefty literally attacks
her pumpkin at Carvepalooza 2017

Saturday evening, some of the usual participants gathered around my sister's dining room table for an evening of pumpkin carving. This year we nicknamed it Carvepalooza 2017.

Four generations attended, including two men who helped with the heavy lifting; although, only the x-chroma-zones actually did any carving. My mom watched and kept us all company, as four of us dug in to my sister's "home-grown" pumpkins.

My sister carved a creative traditional jack-o-lantern, and her annual mouse-house accomplished with a power drill; my youngest daughter cut out her own hand-print and scraped down the outside of her orange-green pumpkin to a freaky finish; I carved two skeleton hands and spooky eyes into my tall orange canvas; and my youngest granddaughter attacked her pumpkin with enthusiasm, strength and endurance I have rarely before seen in a six-year-old.

At one point, a Bach organ prelude filtered up from the lower level of the house - my brother-in-law practicing for a Sunday church service - providing Phantom of the Opera-like music that somehow seemed totally appropriate to the occasion.

We missed the family members not in attendance this year, but otherwise enjoyed the evening immensely, even the clean-up. As always, the favourite part of the evening is lighting up all the finished jack-o-lanterns and taking pictures in the festive glow: It's always an Ooh and Awe moment.

Click on Image to Enlarge
This years' jack-o-lantern collection

Kudos to my sister for growing the fabulous pumpkins we carved this year: It's a real accomplishment. And, tonight three of those orange beauties lit up our front porch to greet the youngsters who came trick-or-treating.

Not unlike the warm glow of the jack-o-lanterns in the darkness outside, Carvepalooza is a lovely long-standing family tradition that lights up my heart each year.

Click Image to Enlarge
Photo by: Bryan Salisbury

Our New Teen

Our New Teen
Blowing Out Her Candle

It seems only yesterday that my first grandchild came into our lives; and, suddenly this delightful young woman has reached the milestone age of thirteen.

We didn't get to spend her actual birthday with our new teen, but she graced us with her presence one lovely afternoon a few days later.

I'd made her two-dozen chocolate cupcakes with vanilla butter-cream icing, to which I added piped chocolate 13's as decoration; and, she dutifully posed for the traditional blowing-out-the-candle photo.

Aging clearly hasn't changed her, rather, it's enhanced the quirky, loving, intelligent, talented and beautiful woman-child we've loved since her birth. I'm blessed to call her my grand-daughter and wish her the happiest of thirteenth birthdays!

XO  Grama

Our New Teen

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Some happy moments I've shared with Rachel
Clockwise from top left:
- Meeting Astronaut Chris Hadfield,
- Flower Girl at my 2010 wedding
- Wearing a dress I originally designed for her mother
- Visiting the touring Anne Frank museum
- Swimming in our pool

My oldest granddaughter, Rachel is a special joy and very dear gift to all who know her: A loving, spirited, intelligent, thoughtful, and beautiful young woman of whom I am very proud.

Rachel is celebrating her 13th birthday today. I wish her health, happiness, and dreams fulfilled; on this special day and as she continues her journey to adult-hood.

Love always,
Grama

Mug Full of Love

Click on Photo to Enlarge

The mug full of love I received
from grand-daughter Mattie-Belle

Last night, I received a mug full of flowers; and, except for the dandelions, I'm positive they were plucked from my own front garden. The gift giver was my nearly six-year-old grand-daughter, who’s nonchalance was almost comical.

She breezed past me in the kitchen with five flower blooms floating on green packing crepe in a glass mug of water. After pausing briefly to let me catch a glimpse, she placed the offering on a table near where I sit to watch TV.

As she was retreating, I inquired if the flowers were for me, and her reply was a simple, "Yes." She didn't appear to need anything by way of acknowledgement, and the matter-of-fact manner of her gift-giving was refreshing.

Too often, gifts are given with strings attached, and sometimes feelings are hurt if expectations are not met. My grand-daughter's mug full of love came to me freely, out of pure generosity; thank-you and hug she received not withstanding.

I'm in Reader's Digest!

Click on Image to Enlarge

Nearly six months ago as part of their 70th anniversary celebrations, Reader's Digest Canada reached out to their readers, asking, "What does Reader's Digest mean to you?"

I responded with a submission about my family's history with Reader's Digest, beginning with my dad's "Word Power" training and ending with the publication of my Reader's Digest "Life's Like That" submission in 1999 and its republication in 2004.

Imagine my delight, to discover that my recent submission has also been chosen for publication; and, that this time I'm in Reader's Digest as a 'Reader's Comments' full-page feature: Specifically, the September 2017 anniversary year issue - Page 7.

If you subscribe to Reader's Digest or can pick one up in a local store, I hope you'll enjoy reading my little piece about, "What Reader's Digest means to [me].

Mommy - Daughty Day

Click on Photo to Enlarge
From City of Hamilton Website

This afternoon, daughter Chelsea and I took some much needed time off. We don't often have a chance to get out one-on-one; and, this Wednesday seemed as good as any for what Chelsea calls a Mommy-Daughty Day.

One of the places we like to go during the summer is Wednesday's at Whitehern, where we can enjoy music and bottomless tea or lemonade for $1. This was our first and only opportunity to attend this summer, and I'm glad we didn't completely miss out.

Armed with comfortable folding chairs; we set off for a sojourn in a peaceful urban garden; enjoyment of 1920's era guitar, violin and vocal music; and a refreshing beverage.

Today, Mike and Jill Daley's cheerful tunes rang through the trees and foliage while Chelsea and I enjoyed the ambiance, each others company, and the beautiful vintage garden setting.

Lucky for us, dark storm clouds that threatened to end the afternoon's entertainment early, managed to hold back their raindrops; and, eventually passed right by the Whitehern garden before the lovely concert was over. 

Chelsea and I returned home refreshed and rejuvenated, having once again enjoyed a brief outing, and more ready to take on what life has to offer in the days to come.

Here's to Mommy-Daughty Days! I highly recommend them.