Dear Neighbor . . .

 

SEPTEMBER 11th, 2026

Estate Lane, Nova Scotia

12*C/53.6*F

Sunny day ahead

Dear Neighbor,

I was up very early this morning to wake Eileen up at 5 a.m.  She has her MRI in Halifax in about half an hour or so from now. It is a two hour drive and I can't drive into the city so one of her workers was taking her for this. They are not insured to take me too. Its just an MRI so I know she will be okay. Once this is done then things, hopefully, will move a bit quicker.

She was feeling nervous yesterday about it.  I called her up about 4 pm and said "Lets be naughty!" I know we were only out for supper on Wednesday night and then she stayed overnight, but I wanted to distract her a bit and give her something to smile about. I took her to a new little diner not too far from us and we had the two can dine special. Two classic cheeseburgers with fries and a pop for $22.99. I treated her to a sundae for dessert as well.  I have to tell you, the burgers were excellent. I managed to eat almost all of mine, and a few of the fries, and I was full.  Its a great little place. Clean, decorated just like a 1950's diner.  Old music from the era playing and the waitress was cute and really nice.  We both enjoyed the experience very much. And we built a happy memory.

Another plus, her sister messaged her in the evening. There has been no contact for quite some time, so that was good. Eileen was really pleased. Let us hope it continues. It needs to.

We both thank you all so very much for your happy thoughts and prayers. They really do mean the world to us.  We need them and we cherish them. Somehow things become easier to manage and get through when you know that someone is praying for you and cheering you on.

 

I hope you know 

you aren't broken glass

you are sea glass

shaped by the tides

softened by the waves

that once felt like they'd shatter you

what you've been through

hasn't made you less

its made you rare and luminous

even the roughest waters

can create something beautiful

and that's what you are

a reminder that survival

can turn into art.

~unknown

I can't remember where I found this, on Pinterest I think. It really resonated with me. I like the thoughts of us being a piece of broken glass discarded but shaped by the waves into something beautiful.  Something treasured from something thought to be without worth. 

I listened to a talk yesterday on YouTube by Jane Clayson Johnson. on hope.

"Hope is like a star, not to be seen in the sunshine of prosperity,

 but to be discovered in the night of adversity."

This talk was given near the end of April this year at a BYU Women's conference, just 3 months after Ms. Johnson lost her only daughter tragically after a long battle with mental illness. I really hope that you will take time to listen to it at some point. I promise you that you won't be sorry. Hope is something we all need and there are times in our lives when we need it more than others. "Hope is not just wishful thinking. It is a force that lifts and heals."

Which of us does not need some hope in our lives. I cannot think of one  . . . 

 

(source)

Eileen and I are invited to my friend Jacquie's for lunch tomorrow. Eileen is excited about that. She likes Jacquie. Jacquie invited us earlier this week. Eileen has been looking forward to it all week. It is not a bad thing to have something like that to look forward to. Life needs to be full of little surprises like this.

Yesterday Glenna popped over because she needed some help bringing something up on her iPad. I was only too happy to help and we had a lovely little visit while she was here. A surprise it was.  And then she ended up coming back again to ask if I could photocopy something for her, so a double surprise that was quite unexpected and quite pleasant! And then last night my cousin Geralyn messaged me and we spoke for a while on messenger. It had been some time since we had spoken so it was nice to be able to catch up with each other.

Ironically Glenna is now dating one of Geralyn's ex-paramours . . .  yes it is a small world and no we did not speak of it. Some things are better left unsaid I think.

 

(source)

There are twelve months throughout the year,

From January to December -

And the primest month of all the twelve

Is the merry month of September!

Then apples red

Hang overhead,

And nuts ripe-brown

Come showering down

In the bountiful days of September!

There are flowers enough in the summer-time,

More flowers than I can remember -

But none with the purple, gold, and red

That dye the flowers of September!

The gorgeous flowers of September!

And the sun looks through

A clearer blue,

And the moon at night

Sheds a clearer light

On the beautiful flowers of September!

~Mary Howitt (1799-1888, from September)

I love the "ber" months as you know. Cindy and I will be taking dad later this morning with his friend Maryann to the mall for their weekly get-together. I am looking forward to the drive and seeing the changes in the leaves that I know will be there having progressed from what was seen last week.  Already there were some scarlets. I know today there will be even more to enjoy.

The guinea fowl were out wandering late in the day yesterday, after the rain we had in the morning.  They are down to two now. I had not seen them in a bit, so I was quite pleased to note that there are still at least two of them. They do wander and mishaps befall them. They are quite large and plump now.

 

(source)

I cannot express the joy I feel when I get a card or a note delivered to my mail box. A warm letter from someone I love, or even an email swoops up the scale of joy for the whole day. And one of those beginning "We regret to inform you that the merchandise you ordered," and so on, is a dampener for the spirit. There ought to be other ways than a letter to convey bad news.  Letters should be gay and conversational . . . intimate. Ideally they should be written with quill pens in 18th century rooms, done in violet and puce. The Art of Letter Writing has sadly fallen into disuse in our day, especially when email is so much quicker and easier.

Did you know that on Etsy, for a fee, you can get a handwritten letter, even a love letter. And they are not inexpensive either. They carry a hefty price-tag. Who would have thunk it?

I think the art of letter writing should be revived, for in these times most people see little of their friends at best; and often, when they do, good conversation is impossible. Reading letters of the past gives one such a full, immediate impression of personality that it brings nostalgia for what is gone.  Keats's letters for instance, are sufficient, if there were never a sonnet or ode of his left. The letters of Katherine Mansfield have all the delicate translucence, the swift bright quality of her spirit.

Most of my letters begin with an apology of sorts, I fear  . . .  "We are all busy and well."  But letter writing takes time and thought. And we all fill our days with far too many things.

I have a cardboard box filled with my mother's letters to me and I cherish them. She wrote us, each of her children religiously, for many, many years, once a week until it became too painful with her arthritic fingers and hands. I am so grateful that I kept them, although in all truth I have had a difficult time to read them because they make me sad and feel her loss even more. But I am grateful to have them.

 

(source)

It would be remiss of me to end my missive today without remembering in some way 9/11. It is hard to believe that it's been 25 years since that awful day. It is as clear in my mind as yesterday.  Something terrible happened to us on that day, not just to Americans. Many lives were lost, too many to count, but also piece of innocence was lost that can never be replaced. Today I honor and remember all that was lost.  The lives. The innocence.  May we never forget.

And now a thought to carry with you  . . . 

☾ ° ★° * 。  

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

*Look at the stars lighting up the sky;

and not one of them stays in the same place.

~Seneca the younger

It is quite a thought to think that most of the stars we see now, are no longer in existence, having burnt out on their way to gift us with their presence, or at least that's what I have been told.

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Easy Gremolata Baked Cod. Such a simple, yet incredibly delicious dish. An old favorite.

I hope you have a beautiful Friday filled with sunshine and lots of the things and people that you love. Along the way of your day, don't forget . . . 

═══════════ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ═════════════ 

⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ════════════  

And I do too!