Dear Neighbor . . .

 

FRIDAY, August 8th, 2025
Estate Lane, Nova Scotia

13*C/55*F, dull skies at the moment

nearest rain 117 miles away

Dear Neighbor,

I thought you would like to see how dry the lawns are at the moment. There is no rain in the forecast for the foreseeable future either. I know that many places are experiencing the same and also fires as well. Here in Nova Scotia, the Government has set a fire ban until October as well as closing all of the hiking trails. It's a good thing Cindy and Dan went hiking when they did last week as it would have been a no-go this week. I am praying for rain, as are many others. Especially for the farmers.

My little boy was relaxing on top of me as I was stretched out in my lazy boy chair yesterday afternoon reading.  He has recuperated completely now, which is a blessing. I was so worried about him last week at this time. I am still not entirely certain of what was wrong with him, but I am truly grateful that he has gotten over it.

Today has been deemed as International Cat Day. At least that is what my computer told me when I first went on it this morning, so Happy International Cat Day.  We will be celebrating it here today with continuous small treats, i.e. ear scratchings, tummy rubs, back tickles, and the occasional actual cat treat.

 

(source)

This is the plum season, the nights

blue and distended, the moon

hazed, this is the season of peaches

with their lush lobed bulbs

that glow in the dusk, apples

that drop and rot

sweetly, their browned skins veined as glands

No more the shrill voices

that cried need need

from the cold pond, bladed

and urgent as new grass

Now it is the crickets

that say ripe ripe

slurred in the darkness, while the plums

Dripping on the lawn outside

our window, burst

with a sound like thick syrup

muffled and slow

The air is still

warm, flesh moves over

flesh, there is no

hurry

~Margaret Atwood, Late August

When I read this poem, I thought of the plum tree orchard that I discovered one August when I was living and working at the Manor. The bosses were away and I was walking down past the hedge towards the tennis courts and secret garden when I came upon it.  There must have been at least 10 or 15 trees, branches so laden with big purple globes that they were drooping under the weight.  Some had burst their skins, and the wasps hovered around them in the late August heat. I came back with a pail and picked as many as I could. 

This is a photograph that I took of them. As you can see the branches were overladen with beautiful plums. I spent a few hours listening to the birds sing and the bees hum as I picked fruit in wonderful solitude, the fruit hanging from the branches around me like hundreds of big purple and blue easter eggs. The whole time I was picking, I couldn't stop thinking of all the wonderful things I was going to do with them . . . plum crumbles, cakes, muffins . . . chutneys and jams . . . wonderful, sugar plummy thoughts. 

Back to the house, armed with a big pail full of plums, I could hardly wait to get stuck in and cook up some lovely plum delights. I cut quite a few into slices as I recall, freezing them in layers on baking sheets, ready to pop into bags and use in the coming Winter months ahead.

I was as happy as if I had found a buried treasure and, I suppose, in a way I had.  I only ever rarely walked in that area of the Estate, usually only when they were away. This was a very happy discovery.

They grew quite a few different fruits on the Estate. Pears, Figs, Raspberries, Medlars, etc. Nobody ever made me aware of these things. I had to stumble onto them. A shame really and such a waste. They did not want or use them.

 

(source)

This is the type of journal I would like to create.  A true nature journal, filled with sketches and small paintings of different flowers and plants in all of their life stages.  Perhaps next year.  I have such a great love of nature and its creations. Botany.

I have a great love of botanical art.

I was able to, several months back, to get my hands on a book written in 1983 by Elizabeth Cameron for her grandchildren, entitled "A Wildflower Alphabet."  It is beautiful and filled with her handwritten descriptions of the plants and flowers on its pages . . .

 

All done in watercolors. They are stunning.  What a wonderful gift that must have been for the children to receive.  I would have been over the moon.

I spent many an hour as a child, scrambling through the brush and the trees that surrounded where we lived.  I remember once coming upon a small graveyard which held only one grave. It was surrounded by an ornate iron railing. I remember thinking this must have been such a special person to have been interred in such a way. It was a most sacred seeming spot, hidden amongst the trees and tall grasses, the air smelling of sweet woodruff.

I daren't like to ponder what the reality must have been. Why spoil the sweet story carried in my child's minds-eye.

Apparently, there are two little girls buried at the far end of my great-grandparent's land/farm. We have always been going to go and investigate to see if we can find them. It is a great mystery to us.

Who are they and why are they there?? Perhaps they are two young girls who died in the Spanish Flu epidemic in the early 1900's and they were buried there as to keep the contagion away from the main house?  My mind does make up a fanciful tale . . .

The truth is probably quite different. 

 

(source)

I have been enjoying revisiting some older films this past week.  First I watched the Dead Poet's Society, which I really enjoyed, and now I have started Memoires of a Geisha. I need to watch them in short bursts. My attention span is no longer such that I can watch any film all in one go.  At least it is very rare that I am able to in any case.  30- to 45-minute-long spurts is all I can seem to stretch to.  I tell myself I am savoring them, choosing to spread them out over a few days. 

It doesn't really matter how long it takes. I enjoy them all the same whether devoured in one go or broken down into smaller treats. They are a feast all the same.

 

(source)

So mid-week next I shall be turning 70. I can remember when I was younger thinking 60 was very old and hardly being able to imagine being that age. How did I get to 70?  That would have seemed to be ancient. And yet, here I am.  And I feel blessed for being so. There are so many that I grew up with who are no longer with us. Some of my best friends that I had in my growing up years are long gone. Kids we went to school with locally . . .  not here anymore.   My father always says, "God isn't ready for me yet and the Devil doesn't want me."  (This is when he is talking about himself.)  I guess here I am.  God isn't ready for me yet and the Devil doesn't want me either.

We were a bit panicked yesterday afternoon. Cindy had gone golfing with Dan and when they got home dad was not back yet from his tea and donut at Tim Hortons. She called here to see if he had come to visit me. It was past 3 pm, and he is usually back from Timmies by 2-2:15 at the latest.  Of course he wasn't here.

We do try calling him, but he never answers his phone. Although it is in his pocket, he cannot hear it. She did try ringing it a few times and fortunately the person he was with heard it and told him someone was calling him, and so he called my sister back. He was at a younger ham radio friend of his's place. Thank goodness all was well.

It is like having a teenager in the house all over again.

As far as I know we are taking him out this afternoon along with his friend Maryann. I don't know for sure yet as I haven't spoken to my sister yet today, but that is the usual Friday happening. We shall see.

And with that I best leave you with a thought to carry with you . . . 

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˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
*"Carpe Diem; seize the day, boys;

make your lives extraordinary."

~Robin Williams, Dead Poet's Society

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In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Savory Yellow Wax Beans.  This is the delicious way that I have been cooking yellow beans for years and years.  It is how my grandmother cooked them.

Have a wonderful Friday.  Seize the day.  I hope it is a great day for each of you. Don't forget!

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And I do too!