Dear Neighbor . . .

 

(source)

 March 20th, 2026

Estate Lane

Middleton, Nova Scotia

-2*C/28*F

mostly cloudy

Dear Neighbor,

Hello on this, the first official day of Spring!  That is something to cheer about, even if it really doesn't feel really springy at the moment. The buds are appearing on the trees and the snow has all melted away (here at least) and the small tender promise of green shoots are bravely poking their heads out of the hard cold ground. The sun, when it shines, already has the promise of the warmth to come in it. This is a change that I, who never deals well with change, can happily welcome!  Spring brings with it the hope of warmer days and the greening of the land. Never have I heard a body say "Darn, it's spring," not ever!

 

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I spent most of my formative years living on a small air force base two hours north of Winnipeg, Manitoba. Winters there were harsh and bitterly cold, but Spring was magnificent. The snow seemingly melted overnight, leaving in its wake vast puddles of water that lay upon the ground waiting to be absorbed into an earth not quite ready to accept it, still being held in the grip of a winter that always seemed to take it's own slow time to depart. There was naught to do but to wade our way through these puddles to get to school. In boots that slipped on over our shoes, slowly and carefully sloshing and sliding through the water . . .  hoping that none of it would make its way over the tops of those boots, soaking our feet.  "Getting a soaker" was the terminology used, and nobody really wanted one.

I remember Easter holidays from school.  We would be playing outdoor games on grass that was dotted with stubborn little piles of snow, yet undeterred from remaining, the brown grass beneath our feet slowly drying while green shoots started to poke through.  The air was crisp but held  a growing warmth that we had not felt in months. We all felt the urge to throw off our jackets and revel in it, and sometimes we did.  Everything felt fresh and filled with promise.

 

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The marble bags would come out and those little glass balls would be polished in anticipation of the games to come. I liked the pee wees, but there were only ever a few of them in a bag.  If we were lucky the Easter Bunny would bring us a new skipping rope and a bottle of bubbles.

Windows thrown open to blow away the cobwebs.  Winter blankets aired on the line. The air was just loaded with the promise of brighter things to come. It was a wonderful feeling.

It still is.

 

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I have gotten in all of my ant bait. The trick is knowing just when to put it out. I think it is still a bit early, but it won't be long before it is needed I am sure. I had so many plans for this week, to clear out cupboards, etc. but I only got the one done and I still haven't begun sorting everything for my income tax. I have it all stuffed in a file folder and every year I say I am going to start in January being a bit better at recording things rather than just saving the receipts and then I don't.

It is much more fun to look at a pretty wreath made from saucers, flowers and ribbons. Yes, I am the great procrastinator. I don't think anyone is better at it than I am. I tell myself that I do my best work under pressure, but that's just an excuse, however much truth it might hold.

Procrastination should be my middle name.

 

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Every season is a fresh start,

a mini new year 

to reset our homes with rhythms

of prayer, gratitude and story.

As the days, months and years pass since my return to Canada I find I am more and more able to look upon the things of those 20 years spent in the U.K.  with gratitude. At first it hurt to think of any of them with any measure of grace, but I find that now I can think of things and they don't automatically pain my heart.  

There was a stone path that led down the hill from the Manor to the village when we lived there, and in the springtime it was lined with the yellow blooms of primrose. I had heard of primrose before, mostly in that song about Primrose Lane, but this was a real Primrose Lane and it was beautiful.  The village green would be awash with budding crocus, purple and white  . . . fat little bumble bees visiting each one, their wings humming gently,  leg bags awash and swollen with the dust of gathered pollen.

It is the small things and memories such as this that are beginning to bring joy to my heart once again.  There is still a bit of melancholy attached, there probably always will be, but they are not as painful as they once were. 

 

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Something stopped me short this week. I was reading David Butler's IG and he said that he had posed a question to his son this week. "What if today I offered to give you a million dollars, with one condition.  That you die tomorrow. Would you take it?" His son's response was immediate. "No." He then posed the question again, each time raising the amount of money offered. The answer was always the same. "No." with no hesitation.

I asked myself the same questions. I asked Eileen.  The answers were always the same. No.

Lesson learned. If we would not give up any of our tomorrows for any sum of money, then that must mean that of all of our tomorrows with their potential for happiness,  and hope, new adventures, and experiences, both good and bad . . . are priceless. Are worth more than any amount of money we could be given.

Then why do we live beneath the wealth of our promises?  We are not waiting for a valuable life to happen. We already have one.  Food for thought. Perhaps.

Its time to shake off what no longer serves us. New growth needs space. 

And on a side note, the cats have been enjoying the dry leaves of the last autumn bustle around the yard, blowing past the deck and dancing in the air. Even I take note now and then, thinking perhaps it is a bird visiting the feeder, which has seen no birds at all except the one lone junco.

I am not sure what I have done wrong. No birds have been attracted to it. I need to be more patient I guess.

 

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I needed to go and pick up some prescriptions later in the day yesterday and Eileen went with me as she wanted some tylenol and ibupropen for her ears which have been hurting her. (I told her she needs to go to outpatients and get an antibiotic, but she says she is not sitting there for hours and hours.)

Eileen used to work at the drugstore in town. She worked there for many years as a cleaner. Everyone we met in there was so happy to see her and greeted her warmly. It did my heart good to see how valued she was by the people she used to work with. It is the same everywhere we go.  Everyone seems happy to see her. Perhaps that is because she is genuinely happy to see them. She is polite and smiling and gracious. To everyone. Life may have dealt her a harsh hand of cards from the beginning, but she rises above it all, like the cream in a bottle of milk.

I love my daughter so much and am really enjoying her being here with me. I will be sad when it ends, but it has to happen. This was only ever going to be temporary. I will not be here forever and she needs to be settled and happy in her new circumstances.

I am going this afternoon with Cindy to take Dad and Maryann for their weekly outing. Eileen has a visit with her CSS workers, so that will be today taken care of.

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

☾ ° ★° * 。  

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

*Nature's first green is gold,

her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower,

But only so an hour.

~Robert Frost

In The English Kitchen today, Loaded Pierogi Casserole.  Cindy has made one of these a week or so ago and it sounded so delicious that Eileen and I wanted to try it as well.  Yesterday was the day and it was fabulous!  Quick, easy and very tasty!  Eileen is going to have the leftovers for breakfast today, or so she said last night!

I hope you have a beautiful first day of Spring. Be happy. Be safe. Be blessed. Don't forget!

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

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And I do too!