tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83603427642769236192024-03-21T09:17:54.324-04:00What I'm thinking todayA collection of random thoughts, worries, celebrations and memories.April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.comBlogger626125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-55777585837763205942023-07-13T11:59:00.001-04:002023-07-13T12:43:30.051-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - July 13, 2023<p>My daughter sent me a photo the other day that has kept me tickled with smiles, chuckles, and a flood of summer memories. The picture is of my granddaughter buckled into her car seat and blissfully cradling a variety pack of cereals. The caption read, "Picked up a Hoeller camping tradition!"</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcfl7gvbJhdtQa24bj1q7lkH1RDCgcEXEtN9dqDmU19utd1DremSKJnJzE__habTr1T9NDxeGZedp-EsyFFfpWqzAhxHZXaNgNuvIQdoh_Wy00f35jqbDiRYt2_YJ-HgU_-JFsUDpURRccz3bjmA_UdoihTcxpROA7xA3YpvQV0wrGvn1BpgrQ0O6ndOGr" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="731" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcfl7gvbJhdtQa24bj1q7lkH1RDCgcEXEtN9dqDmU19utd1DremSKJnJzE__habTr1T9NDxeGZedp-EsyFFfpWqzAhxHZXaNgNuvIQdoh_Wy00f35jqbDiRYt2_YJ-HgU_-JFsUDpURRccz3bjmA_UdoihTcxpROA7xA3YpvQV0wrGvn1BpgrQ0O6ndOGr=w640-h400" width="640" /></a></div><br />Ah yes, the simple joys that package brought to camping with our kids back in the day. All of the cereals off limits at any other time along with one or two duds - bran flakes really?? in a "Fun" pack?? It was a required purchase for every camping trip.<p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyAbC6deBjWQJbM299CTTUU4ocxmCVnsyUqF4IpKVnkNr1ueIluXXCbnR13U0JVrZOEh9clOq1LpBrnks-0_PeiDug-IAuBDo_9eNTF6iVxawbbvptX-AaSqF35xWF9txYn83eKHtDp_Wlpvj706Rwj9-T86qohb4Jav95GuYPHKwOnBTX1gSnYtIRXQVi" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2452" data-original-width="3661" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyAbC6deBjWQJbM299CTTUU4ocxmCVnsyUqF4IpKVnkNr1ueIluXXCbnR13U0JVrZOEh9clOq1LpBrnks-0_PeiDug-IAuBDo_9eNTF6iVxawbbvptX-AaSqF35xWF9txYn83eKHtDp_Wlpvj706Rwj9-T86qohb4Jav95GuYPHKwOnBTX1gSnYtIRXQVi=w640-h428" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 1997</td></tr></tbody></table><br />But there was nothing new about this tradition. It began with my mother. Though we never camped - my mother would never have tolerated that - we did travel most summers to her family's beach cottage at Breezy Point, NY. <p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjppoDz91MIB1MhBfb2uTE97SPp_SiWmxRaDH0O5oVIGxC9esU8oRr4soa_ItmN569tPgivn2EJlL-nEOMG1TpgVhuWm6ocazYmrg_CBQDF04VRjERG17-p7fX1JEi-n8M8JCQclaNOQTU2GSwDAtpGaTNbRrLioIW8pBhFM6r-FfWiuW00-CwkXX9e0OQq" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2301" data-original-width="1534" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjppoDz91MIB1MhBfb2uTE97SPp_SiWmxRaDH0O5oVIGxC9esU8oRr4soa_ItmN569tPgivn2EJlL-nEOMG1TpgVhuWm6ocazYmrg_CBQDF04VRjERG17-p7fX1JEi-n8M8JCQclaNOQTU2GSwDAtpGaTNbRrLioIW8pBhFM6r-FfWiuW00-CwkXX9e0OQq=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and her girls - 1960 Breezy Point</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Mom always bought her girls one of those tantalizing variety packs of cereals. As I recall each box had instructions on how to open it, add milk, then eat it right out of the box. Well, the bowl in a box "feature" never really worked that well, but eating the otherwise forbidden sugary nuggets right out of the box was a perfect snack. <p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWvjznKYH5U8mAgMy00XlOqtMTLox-vNqhhiEx1Lvcp4GaKQ9X7DWbdVv0TXKV-m7Hvf7bwZdGrunXrjA5sFC452CxhRqcAJ5ONihSlX5pmMdP2rpnO99cXgRZA61lPlZgeh6HiLm472WW7ArCMNFhItIb2rzV9ymcLkFZJl-FeFGU3bsFkInlMDJAEZpw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1174" data-original-width="1763" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWvjznKYH5U8mAgMy00XlOqtMTLox-vNqhhiEx1Lvcp4GaKQ9X7DWbdVv0TXKV-m7Hvf7bwZdGrunXrjA5sFC452CxhRqcAJ5ONihSlX5pmMdP2rpnO99cXgRZA61lPlZgeh6HiLm472WW7ArCMNFhItIb2rzV9ymcLkFZJl-FeFGU3bsFkInlMDJAEZpw=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My younger sister and I on the beach, 1961</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Better yet was those morsels floating in a cereal bowl surrounded by a sea of another food we only had at the beach - whole milk (3.2%)! The 2% part skim milk we had at home was not available in the US at the time and skim milk was simply out of the question according to Mom (Thanks Mom!). The full fat milk felt like cream in my mouth and the way it clung to those corn pops, frosted flakes, and fruit loops was divine!<p></p><p>Of course the variety pack could also spark some screaming fights first thing in the morning over who got what, but I don't actually remember any of those. I only remember the special thrill that wriggled through me when I saw that mouthwatering assortment of cereals go into Mom's grocery cart, the same thrill I see in the photo of my granddaughter. </p><p style="text-align: center;">That's Tradition!</p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-23884325983881224512023-07-10T12:08:00.001-04:002023-07-10T12:09:20.069-04:00Monday Meander - July 10, 2023<p>No doubt about it - summer is here! The typical entourage of mosquitoes (lots of those this year!), June beetles, fire flies (not so many yet), bumble bees, and butterflies have buzzed and fluttered onto the scene.</p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgSKHZB1o9IcVxlLSCe5Z5w7ZeDLpadH1f2c9ne0ltG3UkGjZxaHvl1b_4VcrGJ89EkNOACbaIcD35AJa-5v46O1hT7wvXyu6w3UC7B2-TUDPp9paz8xJ1UZmfrhmkbiNqYfyctKzfyMLvDIUK8sNajG9cr_XlyND462ENFw1gqCmcYOR3l1PYgYKc0-5v"><img alt="" data-original-height="1652" data-original-width="1652" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgSKHZB1o9IcVxlLSCe5Z5w7ZeDLpadH1f2c9ne0ltG3UkGjZxaHvl1b_4VcrGJ89EkNOACbaIcD35AJa-5v46O1hT7wvXyu6w3UC7B2-TUDPp9paz8xJ1UZmfrhmkbiNqYfyctKzfyMLvDIUK8sNajG9cr_XlyND462ENFw1gqCmcYOR3l1PYgYKc0-5v=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>Though rain remains a sometime thing, the fire risk has retreated to low here as drought conditions have eased. The air quality has returned to normal fluctuations as forest fires come under control - at least for now. This year's crop of fresh local vegies and soft fruits are filling up store shelves and brimming bins at farmer's markets. In short, all is well or at least normal.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiSc1R2mV75uaiEB2DZ2zoKWInp4LPD66M6jTzTtQC8WfExwQj_LByBlVxYLQbSL95xEsVRkH0i4CCeDaJgT-vI6IiR869_StS3tktCF5Qt8I_fgCPs6b3l8ct-qzravylogYTXw7zVMARIJJlY-6BN96KYfuRDzJe0IPAtV7t4tCHmh_YEbo4EaWtKftko" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="2592" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiSc1R2mV75uaiEB2DZ2zoKWInp4LPD66M6jTzTtQC8WfExwQj_LByBlVxYLQbSL95xEsVRkH0i4CCeDaJgT-vI6IiR869_StS3tktCF5Qt8I_fgCPs6b3l8ct-qzravylogYTXw7zVMARIJJlY-6BN96KYfuRDzJe0IPAtV7t4tCHmh_YEbo4EaWtKftko=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br />I'm not a heat lover by any stretch and listening to the dire heat warnings forecast last week, I'd have not dared to ventured outside. But I stuck my nose out the door, followed by my feet and stepped into a lovely warmth just perfect for sittin' - ideally by a lake - enjoying the gentle breezes. I don't have a lake outside my door, but I do have a couple of Muskoka chairs perched in afternoon shade.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjTofDRnClDtzfHxR4M_2RRasH-UTZE7QenyCfXFVZXlY2Ffu9h2E0SoNnwFCh9JFMoqNUALfRiIuQUzqm_K6zDMnzBVQo7U4K3U1t6j7GXIRMf2boc0Mhz91-0I7-CY7yRP-OgNmBrIFw_joOxE0lK9n0Aq-tAMKuMVYUWYBg1_tKyJDDDA2EcADxmp7Rd" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2631" data-original-width="1952" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjTofDRnClDtzfHxR4M_2RRasH-UTZE7QenyCfXFVZXlY2Ffu9h2E0SoNnwFCh9JFMoqNUALfRiIuQUzqm_K6zDMnzBVQo7U4K3U1t6j7GXIRMf2boc0Mhz91-0I7-CY7yRP-OgNmBrIFw_joOxE0lK9n0Aq-tAMKuMVYUWYBg1_tKyJDDDA2EcADxmp7Rd=w475-h640" width="475" /></a></div><p></p><p>The perfect place to sit, sipping an iced coffee, just listening, watching, and pondering. My problem solving skills blossom to stellar levels from my chair in the shade. I'll spare you the insightful revelations and remarkable solutions to complex global issues that came to me. They're almost as good as the perfectly argued remarks I come up with in the shower. Brilliant stuff! Clearly a legend in my own mind, or shower, or Muskoka chair.</p><p></p><blockquote>Summer breeze makes me feel fine<br />Blowin' through the jasmine in my mind<br />Summer breeze makes me feel fine<br />Blowin' though the jasmine in my mind</blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MsW8rXPcnM0" target="_blank">Summer Breeze - Seals & Croft 1972</a></p><p>Have a great week all. </p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-181644805668632732023-06-29T11:05:00.001-04:002023-06-29T11:05:11.388-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - June 29, 2023<p>The first week of summer 2023 is in the rearview mirror. Here's what she brought:</p><p>We went from near drought to monsoon, with 97mm (3.8 inches) dumped in torrential downpours interspersed with sunshine. Then the rain stopped and the wind shifted, bringing in the wildfire smoke from the north, and this time it really stank! At one point yesterday afternoon the AQI in my neck of the woods reached 223 (very unhealthy), while at the same time the city of Toronto could boast the highest AQI in the world at just over 300 (hazardous). Blech!</p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdkJJyjYFditG4ta23jFGD8zrhtXi9kpGsuy6ubiFuugBKvRcXRB41a_iPsTm_j_k6GThkdPfuyW9bqTDx0CiGzq4K1f2xdS3u6894EXSZBh7Y3Ef5oBXmGlWwtXjkjslGGmv60wTTUvURajsgHaDvJfrbyVpJ-nklFzHAgZsdiCUetUB7aQPL8pRRKNB_" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1846" data-original-width="3663" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdkJJyjYFditG4ta23jFGD8zrhtXi9kpGsuy6ubiFuugBKvRcXRB41a_iPsTm_j_k6GThkdPfuyW9bqTDx0CiGzq4K1f2xdS3u6894EXSZBh7Y3Ef5oBXmGlWwtXjkjslGGmv60wTTUvURajsgHaDvJfrbyVpJ-nklFzHAgZsdiCUetUB7aQPL8pRRKNB_=w640-h322" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view outside my front door, just before the smoke got really bad.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>Meanwhile, the strawberries came in right on time and they are luscious.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjhGbWbRdP-RNy4B43PLA7wlOAJCjRacrmMSq5i9tXUx4YIiR4xSDI3dKJJ_TOUl94U9nlZTvoAQKQm4NaSWVwAYKelHPPNNu7lh4Pqxqu2QT40eUewBC6PPjN2yQbe-gudlhG1Q40BGYZLoM2eipv3LBPgyLH1jXhUbkevbTfwzCIWf2SCiclaOq8txzUD" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1938" data-original-width="2980" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjhGbWbRdP-RNy4B43PLA7wlOAJCjRacrmMSq5i9tXUx4YIiR4xSDI3dKJJ_TOUl94U9nlZTvoAQKQm4NaSWVwAYKelHPPNNu7lh4Pqxqu2QT40eUewBC6PPjN2yQbe-gudlhG1Q40BGYZLoM2eipv3LBPgyLH1jXhUbkevbTfwzCIWf2SCiclaOq8txzUD=w640-h416" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><p>I don't pick the berries myself anymore - strawberries are just too low to the ground for my knees and back. So I bought two flats (12 litres/quarts) of berries for $72 and processed them into 13 x 500ml jars and 5 x 250ml jars of luscious jam. </p><p></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmBqW06t-sIT4Y6Iq18RbBCU521Q1ORRHqThqzCk7nC8IXmWEKoysQa0OwUn_5srajGDqiU_TQ7P0oQVFLHaN7b5OqEumxu_FqbnPJdLuOa-SUhuvZnVLIVCscUbdEX4bgzF7yujnf8d__9zaMmB4-EMJtxP3v_8koKNUlwRwqU8lZutlEtnWreKA-4HMd" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1897" data-original-width="3152" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmBqW06t-sIT4Y6Iq18RbBCU521Q1ORRHqThqzCk7nC8IXmWEKoysQa0OwUn_5srajGDqiU_TQ7P0oQVFLHaN7b5OqEumxu_FqbnPJdLuOa-SUhuvZnVLIVCscUbdEX4bgzF7yujnf8d__9zaMmB4-EMJtxP3v_8koKNUlwRwqU8lZutlEtnWreKA-4HMd=w640-h386" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Batch one of 4</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZAZSvCOIze4X6YZn1Bn2cz2zkxzQDfT2lgebEHAqkBTgO1q89Qic5t1s8_JiDIgpxYvuB-ZLK0W6udV2Li_aCZOakb22XrvKdcU7JFfZebCXDYArVAo4mwoHIbXtN8ywHmReaFupvY6VZ4nU-Y7647AxnThBfSUxMSHeMrcsJoklClq60EpqfhofWiP_a" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2991" data-original-width="1947" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZAZSvCOIze4X6YZn1Bn2cz2zkxzQDfT2lgebEHAqkBTgO1q89Qic5t1s8_JiDIgpxYvuB-ZLK0W6udV2Li_aCZOakb22XrvKdcU7JFfZebCXDYArVAo4mwoHIbXtN8ywHmReaFupvY6VZ4nU-Y7647AxnThBfSUxMSHeMrcsJoklClq60EpqfhofWiP_a=w416-h640" width="416" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Of all the berries, strawberries demand the most prep work and truth be told it's a labour of love for me. I don't really like strawberry jam. I love the fresh berries but nothing made from them. No jam, no yogurt, no ice cream, not even strawberry gin (well maybe a bit of that...). But those first berries of summer are an all time favourite of the rest of the family. Just open the jar and give them a spoon! <p></p><p></p><p>My favourites, raspberries, blackcurrants, and wild blueberries, are coming!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br />So is Canada Day.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4NNlm5arkttc-1BbCpNOry6V0WNlDgUVOED776YRz01-4VV1uFNo_-7NNpeFgodwN9AFfadPMFG_uTdiMi_998y4J7FRTqOzM9PqdEmq1-QmNIFuKhUCzm54xz8sPiX3Xaof08xttIQ5RFx6boAuInoEDTEZKZgs7wz9CrxBfWq8O0l9Z4AZMQlm_wGNN" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4NNlm5arkttc-1BbCpNOry6V0WNlDgUVOED776YRz01-4VV1uFNo_-7NNpeFgodwN9AFfadPMFG_uTdiMi_998y4J7FRTqOzM9PqdEmq1-QmNIFuKhUCzm54xz8sPiX3Xaof08xttIQ5RFx6boAuInoEDTEZKZgs7wz9CrxBfWq8O0l9Z4AZMQlm_wGNN=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">I am humbly grateful to have my home on this piece of land in Canada. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I am keenly aware of the debt I owe to the native keepers of this land.</div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">I acknowledge the Anishinabewaki ᐊᓂᔑᓈᐯᐗᑭ, Huron-Wendat, and Haudenosaunee.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I also acknowledge the Chippewas of Georgina Island First Nation as my close neighbour.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">I recognize the contributions that have been made by the Métis, Inuit, and other Indigenous Peoples in shaping and strengthening our communities.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I thank all the generations of people who have taken care of this land for thousands of years.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Miigwech.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDJV8S1amQH7krySr05OMtwVYsW5YgsLmd6fAJQqn8fb4qZ6AO6FlepQZdNPrhOs6YNCV-XNfbMgaOcuToC0OOL68yKtFVi5rh4U8shaDZwfCLpNPf5Yfs4YG_K3cJ-Q_k_PF36Es5ssOeXi7xcwEs5w3oFNMDNo8n3X9JjUiQTl0oKyEhq32sZxLMui4h" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="238" data-original-width="748" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDJV8S1amQH7krySr05OMtwVYsW5YgsLmd6fAJQqn8fb4qZ6AO6FlepQZdNPrhOs6YNCV-XNfbMgaOcuToC0OOL68yKtFVi5rh4U8shaDZwfCLpNPf5Yfs4YG_K3cJ-Q_k_PF36Es5ssOeXi7xcwEs5w3oFNMDNo8n3X9JjUiQTl0oKyEhq32sZxLMui4h=w640-h203" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I'm thrilled and so very proud to be a part of the colourful mosaic that is my home on native land. We're not perfect, not by a long shot; we're not without problems; we've got critical issues and controversies that need tending, but not right now. Let the problems and politics, failures and controversies take a back seat this coming weekend.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjiDE_BJKN7r5ybuCUhUVKxKWtK80eORonwUCye8kLKU2vs7A-964CvwjrnPI5l-QuXp5cTJ6p06oHngJo6tVLIIQRv-L2mRuJT4K0RPgno7tgAIpOlbXVezPX---Z5OmCjRNlvo6avHO3Nn-bRWVcQf09K5sO6qtCGLa2Gkuo5kRAvgtREX-ULa3kowLYW" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="940" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjiDE_BJKN7r5ybuCUhUVKxKWtK80eORonwUCye8kLKU2vs7A-964CvwjrnPI5l-QuXp5cTJ6p06oHngJo6tVLIIQRv-L2mRuJT4K0RPgno7tgAIpOlbXVezPX---Z5OmCjRNlvo6avHO3Nn-bRWVcQf09K5sO6qtCGLa2Gkuo5kRAvgtREX-ULa3kowLYW=w400-h640" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>On July 1, 1960, John Diefenbaker, Canada's 13th Prime Minister, introduced the Canadian Bill of Rights in Parliament with these words:</p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">"I am a Canadian!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Free to speak without fear,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Free to worship in my own way,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Free to stand for what I think right,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Free to oppose what I believe wrong,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Free to choose those who shall govern my country.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This heritage of freedom I pledge to uphold for myself and mankind."</div><p></p><p>Amen to that!</p><p>Tomorrow is the last day of school. Summer is here. It will be what it will be. Stay safe out there. <br /><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhI8RaCa-uWbVW7AvhTwL2WMMZMuqGxKoqy6ZX6eWS-wcGUhfukNllyP-2LI2rsizOOj6jtIJSWgzhRlyR5gK4Kc_s2VJj3zahdppdSnztDGrjCNatFz4b6a8HHuXmomGTPU4Xizi4j8pcexFL0cKCRrh2Zkw2QK98AKHNvaTymr06aOZmFZwftCmhthkXn" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="983" height="122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhI8RaCa-uWbVW7AvhTwL2WMMZMuqGxKoqy6ZX6eWS-wcGUhfukNllyP-2LI2rsizOOj6jtIJSWgzhRlyR5gK4Kc_s2VJj3zahdppdSnztDGrjCNatFz4b6a8HHuXmomGTPU4Xizi4j8pcexFL0cKCRrh2Zkw2QK98AKHNvaTymr06aOZmFZwftCmhthkXn=w400-h122" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-34987270162919000142023-06-19T15:24:00.000-04:002023-06-19T15:24:00.417-04:00Monday Meander - June 19, 2023<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEtl929OnSRzu6LZRHDZQBuV1Wo1JDrRsZbR27KhJ2S2Ff49c96gNsxBaCqHoDUn7nRhDVG81q_ILIR9Sl4PNl5O62ToAK4BNvyP10o10nJLLAZgXqOqIX5JL-FIgxM2qKUylkGn7F1ObCbo1UYrkQwzAdYFZVh0daZT7gXKh3ERKO3QKlbulub0_0emeb" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2317" data-original-width="1585" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEtl929OnSRzu6LZRHDZQBuV1Wo1JDrRsZbR27KhJ2S2Ff49c96gNsxBaCqHoDUn7nRhDVG81q_ILIR9Sl4PNl5O62ToAK4BNvyP10o10nJLLAZgXqOqIX5JL-FIgxM2qKUylkGn7F1ObCbo1UYrkQwzAdYFZVh0daZT7gXKh3ERKO3QKlbulub0_0emeb=w273-h400" width="273" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I'm meandering through the fields of family memories today, specifically memories of my grandfather. He was born in Lincoln, England on this day in 1885.</p><p></p><p>I adored him and now realize how so very privileged I was to have in my life until I was 29. So many memories of Gramps have been flooding in today that writing this blogpost has taken hours to finish. I want to savour each rich moment. </p><p>I stop to recall: <br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>the feel his hand holding mine as we sat in church Sunday by Sunday,</li><li>the aroma of the House of Lords cigar he lit up after Sunday luncheon,</li><li>watching that same cigar bobbing intriguingly between his lips and the growing length of ash,</li><li>the metal lathe and steam engines he made with it,</li><li>his voice telling the tales of his life as apprentice stationary engineer sailing the cargo vessels between Liverpool and Antwerp (his supervisor was a Mr. Kirkcaldy and he was a man to be feared!)</li></ul><br /><p></p><p></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgqsTVnKWuI3mahy8nWoyTthz5AMVhj6CQ9SiMFLR1Dj6O11k2WZGQ_rJszYdg2IFfaVxur3fkxRxeQ4W6KbHyzzO6N9siPuYJhmUB75rGshYza5OIKT0Aw4qObQhOckPfXJLvz1NEKlogNYOScO15EAfMIcK0fuYXfslGI4Eslcc7hTjizNCpLADZedZ4" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1493" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgqsTVnKWuI3mahy8nWoyTthz5AMVhj6CQ9SiMFLR1Dj6O11k2WZGQ_rJszYdg2IFfaVxur3fkxRxeQ4W6KbHyzzO6N9siPuYJhmUB75rGshYza5OIKT0Aw4qObQhOckPfXJLvz1NEKlogNYOScO15EAfMIcK0fuYXfslGI4Eslcc7hTjizNCpLADZedZ4=w400-h398" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: center;"></span></p><div style="text-align: left;">Training done, Gramps served as Engineer 4th class with the American Transport Line on passenger/cargo ships plying the Atlantic, London to NYC. He met Gram in New York, they married in 1911 and settled in Toronto where he became the chief engineer for the thriving city. He was 68 when I was born.</div><p></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpE6yEKpGxZv7flWcr6S9SuPzkH8uUvwYDRBaoIxym_fumt7XxFXEDHKcUrWJQYspEEaEytGmvAUXlZqCuxDZtzJU2RylngVbe5h8_cASSSI0l0SAo86FWYpeerpDk7Tc9yhAHilYvRq2SG1XyZPQY5hkux82OkZVzKvIQGz_dpydls_7v5dn1Pz7bvncw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1981" data-original-width="2912" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpE6yEKpGxZv7flWcr6S9SuPzkH8uUvwYDRBaoIxym_fumt7XxFXEDHKcUrWJQYspEEaEytGmvAUXlZqCuxDZtzJU2RylngVbe5h8_cASSSI0l0SAo86FWYpeerpDk7Tc9yhAHilYvRq2SG1XyZPQY5hkux82OkZVzKvIQGz_dpydls_7v5dn1Pz7bvncw=w640-h435" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1961 - Gram and Gramps cheer on Dad and I poolside</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNNdf2VGMPvk2KT2RHyVC67TCamwaHEYDVmb4Wt9ABmYfduoE_MBQPgA0Jwu883qtpMiDVR3t3SRA_iKqmfBZB6zxinfYl4MwWrNySUOZ_C9N72bNt6JxSH-RyJhFSa4FkQJbGZ7f6lMFnhXrP7ukG_IRWtjhqm0CUGe4e2ZPJ1o5nn9voHX-OWdAElRWq" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1338" data-original-width="1874" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNNdf2VGMPvk2KT2RHyVC67TCamwaHEYDVmb4Wt9ABmYfduoE_MBQPgA0Jwu883qtpMiDVR3t3SRA_iKqmfBZB6zxinfYl4MwWrNySUOZ_C9N72bNt6JxSH-RyJhFSa4FkQJbGZ7f6lMFnhXrP7ukG_IRWtjhqm0CUGe4e2ZPJ1o5nn9voHX-OWdAElRWq=w640-h456" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">1975 at my wedding<br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />But my most treasured memory of Gramps dates to 1978. Norbert and I had bought land early in the year and having cleared the land, were building our house. Gramps wanted frequent updates on our progress and once the framing was up, he and my dad came up for an in-person inspection. We toured the foundations outside and inside, Gramps nodding and murmuring support. When we came the wooden extension ladder, the one with bits of black electrical tape mending a few of the rungs, we stopped to talk about what was happening above us. I figured the tour was over, I mean at 93 years, I wasn't expecting Gramps to climb that wooden ladder. </p><p>To this day I can hear him say, </p><p></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-size: medium;">"Well, are we just going to stand around here all day and gawk, or get up the ladder?"</span></i></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBaVybigwi2CTiFOnQ580BcEg5s6NZh23RB5pSINMDWutIq-wFlh7aXR9HEBTuLvdkgUWEC_thiZX7SCcBbZz-tAfUsfVR9v8Cp5DhdM5oV7Zix1rBEr3xTDynYib3t4AoQCxTqQILmGqqeeXvo4CNHq58-3wQBvSQkfzWkP0EusA3HeRvINZbEr5p7qkL" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1221" data-original-width="1815" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBaVybigwi2CTiFOnQ580BcEg5s6NZh23RB5pSINMDWutIq-wFlh7aXR9HEBTuLvdkgUWEC_thiZX7SCcBbZz-tAfUsfVR9v8Cp5DhdM5oV7Zix1rBEr3xTDynYib3t4AoQCxTqQILmGqqeeXvo4CNHq58-3wQBvSQkfzWkP0EusA3HeRvINZbEr5p7qkL=w640-h430" width="640" /></a></div><br />This was one of the proudest moments of my life to stand alongside my beloved grandfather in my house, such as it was with plywood subfloor and 2 x 4 framing studs revealing roughed in plumbing and electrical at knee level. He inspected it all, approved of it all. I loved it all. <p></p><p>Descending the ladder was more of a challenge than climbing it, but he did it. Still holding the ladder rails, but standing back on the cement foundation floor, Gramps looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes and said, <br /></p><blockquote style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">"Don't tell mother (meaning gram) about this!" </span></i></blockquote><p></p><p>And I never did. Thanks Gramps. Happy Birthday.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-45863205387973317172023-06-12T13:07:00.000-04:002023-06-12T13:07:09.583-04:00Monday Meander - June 12, 2023<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i> RAIN!</i></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVF4uPTXrC5WdNNj-LFAYvJ0usx8hW5mXhdNX8umom7nie2QfuHYe_Esih5fMeoQGz8LtkBvZJpJ2OhPm9_5eTGKSi_yX5aRJPAajFGchreYA4uh0dbN-Z1jGSwxS0WWGM2CEu8wT8I4AeG-AWrTpQ6tBzyYvkw_dH9826CvBh3T-77RcuF6D-FmPk6A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2914" data-original-width="1943" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVF4uPTXrC5WdNNj-LFAYvJ0usx8hW5mXhdNX8umom7nie2QfuHYe_Esih5fMeoQGz8LtkBvZJpJ2OhPm9_5eTGKSi_yX5aRJPAajFGchreYA4uh0dbN-Z1jGSwxS0WWGM2CEu8wT8I4AeG-AWrTpQ6tBzyYvkw_dH9826CvBh3T-77RcuF6D-FmPk6A=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br />It's been 23 days since the last significant rain in these parts. My fretting about fire danger, smokey air, and thirsty gardens washed away overnight by a glorious 50+mm (over 2 inches) of soothing showers descending from the sky. The garden rejoices with eye-popping colour dripping from every leaf and petal.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0tMvhN5k8kQhy_Alk4eAx1F-SPSmewQjHgjh81UOm2vc3QOJD-j1lTyzEf8NuUnLNTPI63GDxN55ZqjVFPcLLJc4xSb9owfERLMPZBgsxgIMryipbnzBO5BNB9BBs9X46mb-GlM4GNy2VyBqL-pJJnmmQkrV7tQJMfM9wN4AXRsloU2OW1-WTT8_WWw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1877" data-original-width="1877" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0tMvhN5k8kQhy_Alk4eAx1F-SPSmewQjHgjh81UOm2vc3QOJD-j1lTyzEf8NuUnLNTPI63GDxN55ZqjVFPcLLJc4xSb9owfERLMPZBgsxgIMryipbnzBO5BNB9BBs9X46mb-GlM4GNy2VyBqL-pJJnmmQkrV7tQJMfM9wN4AXRsloU2OW1-WTT8_WWw=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgaw4DLpF0tlzgbBRwIXpvUhei9uG7UhmxGXzGXd1dfq4Z-O0eC5KXPmxPChxzvJ8Nln4lSoq0d3vAxnwejZCCy6FJmcowFqhv7bel2qiHtU93U4lcvJhFL6p6kQJqLBoDNnjkQuMIZZDeiPnfPpYWf08zv47FSBpFyB1A8hheRUt-z_6oSMN05g1UDhw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2087" data-original-width="2087" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgaw4DLpF0tlzgbBRwIXpvUhei9uG7UhmxGXzGXd1dfq4Z-O0eC5KXPmxPChxzvJ8Nln4lSoq0d3vAxnwejZCCy6FJmcowFqhv7bel2qiHtU93U4lcvJhFL6p6kQJqLBoDNnjkQuMIZZDeiPnfPpYWf08zv47FSBpFyB1A8hheRUt-z_6oSMN05g1UDhw=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div></div></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg66qrg8bUjD59oZAxl9j_qYpgaVs5srDXnPWeh-sDjQwuJzgcBu8sJWxe3q9M1SV3ZDZHFnJX-7dcZ25HRYPtT1kmtcZohwwUGCU0XdGSkdEZLdrrRR_uvGk-m6xobl0JN_MSxVCVkHTkKAyhwIGe4Qx1XyEfExHsYSDnkyz5yuPKr54pN8OM3gxq57Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2734" data-original-width="2030" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg66qrg8bUjD59oZAxl9j_qYpgaVs5srDXnPWeh-sDjQwuJzgcBu8sJWxe3q9M1SV3ZDZHFnJX-7dcZ25HRYPtT1kmtcZohwwUGCU0XdGSkdEZLdrrRR_uvGk-m6xobl0JN_MSxVCVkHTkKAyhwIGe4Qx1XyEfExHsYSDnkyz5yuPKr54pN8OM3gxq57Q=w475-h640" width="475" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEwrt4dsjAJ65h1NGQuP7y5d5k_Tu4CmDMqtnIHVfuuH4Q5np_vTEs3YAZfeSIw2kpAP-FrExHNU9QhwZVfddV0LzddOwnHkMJ8fmDKIvu0wj9m4Vt7iM9adZZiO6fFqvGc0CYJhE6XMLELAk8SZggpRzdX89hWzHjoFkBx3CcXGVtJs0KNGeofT_nwQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2400" data-original-width="2400" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEwrt4dsjAJ65h1NGQuP7y5d5k_Tu4CmDMqtnIHVfuuH4Q5np_vTEs3YAZfeSIw2kpAP-FrExHNU9QhwZVfddV0LzddOwnHkMJ8fmDKIvu0wj9m4Vt7iM9adZZiO6fFqvGc0CYJhE6XMLELAk8SZggpRzdX89hWzHjoFkBx3CcXGVtJs0KNGeofT_nwQ=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><br />And yes, I was thrilled to get wet taking these photos this morning!<p></p><p style="text-align: center;">It's beautiful day in the neighbourhood. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhi1LKZK5egB_AxKmh9VSs6j_948wnT_rFTYYzbWZ9D0talNH_w8zQsxpkl80BQzEbLxDCKys48n-updbQmmra15WmeHjRbuYEJ8JAl8MoF8LU8K00TE7ALxyvUU8W45RWBv8W-qWnmlGWlJ1btEy_SHfdfQGNV8GcIgVyToPSTKF0AhgYH7U13JTZSHA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4715" data-original-width="3143" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhi1LKZK5egB_AxKmh9VSs6j_948wnT_rFTYYzbWZ9D0talNH_w8zQsxpkl80BQzEbLxDCKys48n-updbQmmra15WmeHjRbuYEJ8JAl8MoF8LU8K00TE7ALxyvUU8W45RWBv8W-qWnmlGWlJ1btEy_SHfdfQGNV8GcIgVyToPSTKF0AhgYH7U13JTZSHA=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-2236907851879003062023-06-08T13:15:00.001-04:002023-06-08T13:23:09.083-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - June 8, 2023<p>Looking outside these days, one would think that given the time of year, June not December, that a hot humid air mass would suffocate me if I stepped outside my door. Not so! It's a cool 16°C (61°F) and the hazy air stinks. Current <a href="https://www.iqair.com/ca/canada/ontario/newmarket" target="_blank">AQI(US scale) as of 12:00 June 8 for Newmarket</a>, the largest town near me: 164 - UNHEALTHY. Toronto is 132.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJBO20Oi3cGVIzQrHjHYjFKSzPnkUoCpIIqm3CmEp7NZEiXcHrrKk6S3_PDPsjnEY443XtG5ZqHAjAnLBlp1bgeefFDD3x8eMIoin5LWzpcj_ZRdEaaZeS0XhKsvg05bOran44A9TigW_zB-bBrhRXBjJ5LWsdEDYTwu-NDOJ-eyM-scxsZ1xdBLM0rQ" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1236" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJBO20Oi3cGVIzQrHjHYjFKSzPnkUoCpIIqm3CmEp7NZEiXcHrrKk6S3_PDPsjnEY443XtG5ZqHAjAnLBlp1bgeefFDD3x8eMIoin5LWzpcj_ZRdEaaZeS0XhKsvg05bOran44A9TigW_zB-bBrhRXBjJ5LWsdEDYTwu-NDOJ-eyM-scxsZ1xdBLM0rQ=w440-h640" width="440" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my street - the haze has been worse and is much worse in the city.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>Plumes of smoke from wildfires in Quebec and Ontario's northeast waft across the land, obscuring the sun and carrying hazardous levels of tiny particles. These fine particles measure 2.5 microns (2.5/1000mm) or less and cannot be seen by our eyes (for reference human hair is around 70 microns). That small size makes them efficient infiltrators of deep lung tissue.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFfRdYM2I338yeJYjGfGNQlbFeWE8wDsvs_mRVhYSvOpDKIqd2O1So3jDv3nyk65Ur5XgNwzNk-gGydNbLnXkbS3wumdmwjykF8AR_EFR29bpEM1ovAhEnbu5jwtaI5GwTiOCX9qPOdEZvuHPyEoR4IEtqTCycActzoEr-5GXlEz4sBnlnHOG3yFrHmg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFfRdYM2I338yeJYjGfGNQlbFeWE8wDsvs_mRVhYSvOpDKIqd2O1So3jDv3nyk65Ur5XgNwzNk-gGydNbLnXkbS3wumdmwjykF8AR_EFR29bpEM1ovAhEnbu5jwtaI5GwTiOCX9qPOdEZvuHPyEoR4IEtqTCycActzoEr-5GXlEz4sBnlnHOG3yFrHmg=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smokey Sunset</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I learned this first hand when I was in China in 2014. I wrote in my journal: <p></p><p></p><blockquote>By evening on the second day in Shanghai, I was stricken with an eye-watering, choking cough that erupted with almost every breath. 2am found me on the floor in the bathroom struggling for air and crying. I was sure the trip was over for me. I crawled back into bed where even sitting straight up sleep managed to find me for a scant 3 hours. It was enough to ease a some of my anxiety but I was still plagued intermittently by choked off breathing accompanied by a profound sluggishness of body and soul; every movement was an effort. </blockquote><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgw_8ZjIR7KEEuYdKxBmxrmM4tzjuNcXpPb2yI0e0Sg8iYHEfj39EFfQ4ez1U1SytgEvb3twarVzdCCsKVS26ZLltKDdcLxLWnC0B4zwjkQbs_bv9ShQ72tbIoTUC6Ow21jpF5Tafs1vV1Mxz5FM95Tfn5sH6D_J5Ogh-9eMQKa5PNcyZWcpHjDo54V8A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1155" data-original-width="866" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgw_8ZjIR7KEEuYdKxBmxrmM4tzjuNcXpPb2yI0e0Sg8iYHEfj39EFfQ4ez1U1SytgEvb3twarVzdCCsKVS26ZLltKDdcLxLWnC0B4zwjkQbs_bv9ShQ72tbIoTUC6Ow21jpF5Tafs1vV1Mxz5FM95Tfn5sH6D_J5Ogh-9eMQKa5PNcyZWcpHjDo54V8A=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br />Not a happy experience and the lung damage was a permanent, though not debilitating mild to moderate asthma. I don't get anxious about that anymore. I have meds and boxes of N95masks. The windows are kept shut, HVAC runs, and I'm spending most my day indoors. <p></p><p>Still, I'm finding life these days frustrating and uneasy at the same time. Frustrating because there are things I'd like to be doing outside especially as it is so cool, but the air quality dictates otherwise. Anxious because rain still has not come and so the surrounding forests of predominantly pine stand like Roman candles just waiting for a spark. The forest fire risk is extreme. And all I can do is be aware, be vigilant, and be careful about both air and fire.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I got this!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXPiXfb1hQBbwF4Ut9ho1JFME0FHjMtMHz-ODdbSWNaFjQ_JwiXqTlgmGeT7SfT89Gzd2h1OEMD7zJqlVc2qWoO0yTXPxwIhAUj2Yr7o0i4GFzhJkb7zhvrqEX0a4N2kCGOCeOP149LQvJz8dF8qyCbvol0lDWABqz-Bdj7LM-3hilQhGS8I__mw__TA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2977" data-original-width="1984" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXPiXfb1hQBbwF4Ut9ho1JFME0FHjMtMHz-ODdbSWNaFjQ_JwiXqTlgmGeT7SfT89Gzd2h1OEMD7zJqlVc2qWoO0yTXPxwIhAUj2Yr7o0i4GFzhJkb7zhvrqEX0a4N2kCGOCeOP149LQvJz8dF8qyCbvol0lDWABqz-Bdj7LM-3hilQhGS8I__mw__TA=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p><p><br /></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-29008545442479351692023-06-05T13:30:00.000-04:002023-06-05T13:30:11.502-04:00Monday Meander - June 5, 2023<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjF5NTfaTWeHQXULcxIW8WHPEs7nwZn7RtxkADR8vvotGnhwmqmYX_xRPwxC6XeJfaVr_vl6xC8NN0URp7VG9q8YWtEwt4UcHk1OAvbCHKAi4IgH_S-4ozrSHSIdfXy-S96NXrYyAvj20ULBgo0uR-tMmxkNs9DIPpSWd8bryNKwVZIsphLXVX_kXQtng" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="625" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjF5NTfaTWeHQXULcxIW8WHPEs7nwZn7RtxkADR8vvotGnhwmqmYX_xRPwxC6XeJfaVr_vl6xC8NN0URp7VG9q8YWtEwt4UcHk1OAvbCHKAi4IgH_S-4ozrSHSIdfXy-S96NXrYyAvj20ULBgo0uR-tMmxkNs9DIPpSWd8bryNKwVZIsphLXVX_kXQtng" width="288" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>I'm struggling to find any enthusiasm for kicking off my wagon into the first full week of June. Such inertia is fueled in no small part by the pall of forest fire smoke hanging in the air these days, all coming from Quebec and northern Ontario. Last night I could actually smell it and the full strawberry moon glowed a Halloween orange in the night sky. </p><p><br /><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>This morning's forecasts are dominated by air quality statements with little chance of significant rain until perhaps the weekend.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRktY1-kLYxdsOo9O2TsSosANnZ9p5A_y7LT6BFA3IHiIj7Jt3SRWPULVBYrgfFABbb0WcEBkUki7HwTU6JCAPjfFJyFmgGiYTt8HUbWOXuynpPZ9K-serTCZU_X89wwgZkX24pReyLDkJE1PdCl5H65kLifIKpBp0Ks1tDy7RgNmOo-HTQy8yv7R76g" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRktY1-kLYxdsOo9O2TsSosANnZ9p5A_y7LT6BFA3IHiIj7Jt3SRWPULVBYrgfFABbb0WcEBkUki7HwTU6JCAPjfFJyFmgGiYTt8HUbWOXuynpPZ9K-serTCZU_X89wwgZkX24pReyLDkJE1PdCl5H65kLifIKpBp0Ks1tDy7RgNmOo-HTQy8yv7R76g=w400-h400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://instantweather.ca/2023/06/05/wZRS6S-special-air-quality-statement-issued/" target="_blank">https://instantweather.ca/2023/06/05/wZRS6S-special-air-quality-statement-issued/ </a></td></tr></tbody></table><br />And by tomorrow, the fire danger risk is forecast to reach "Extreme" for my part of the province (circled in yellow).<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxZQelV_hTcdUupi7Zep8GiS_Z2QmVh43-ni3GoOOtUhz0Km29qhj-Y8fWsP2Ub7lFfhyAA0VAlCSgOlnaYUUVLGKWLJHN_HyY1vH7P7zQr3OuMwGzFlzbH6LO5LYCz1QQUuYOq4JqQSiOGUZo9j4MHYGobm13bDMzgdf9tz6mPpfGDARMze4jb6YTkQ" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="880" height="553" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxZQelV_hTcdUupi7Zep8GiS_Z2QmVh43-ni3GoOOtUhz0Km29qhj-Y8fWsP2Ub7lFfhyAA0VAlCSgOlnaYUUVLGKWLJHN_HyY1vH7P7zQr3OuMwGzFlzbH6LO5LYCz1QQUuYOq4JqQSiOGUZo9j4MHYGobm13bDMzgdf9tz6mPpfGDARMze4jb6YTkQ=w640-h553" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://cwfis.cfs.nrcan.gc.ca/maps/fw?type=fdr&year=2023&month=06&day=06" target="_blank">https://cwfis.cfs.nrcan.gc.ca/maps/fw?type=fdr&year=2023&month=06&day=06</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>Is this the future of summers? <p></p><p>I toured my garden this morning with these gloomy thoughts playing in my head. <br />The iris seemed uninterested in my lament. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj15vpmR2KH3OO8rB6I57Z5oV7hasF1FGZ8UCW4wQmIiFSVG8RV_o-KE6ju6aVFhqJrUQTPc_qReqdZnm_pHvYDvya6Dz7M-2IfWGonRB9P29uprubgopSumAlYMIVatW8vEyk2X854eQjMxMpUagxZ0WyNmcrZRLInPzxpYdCd-gQIjw2HZtjFsBBLZw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1493" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj15vpmR2KH3OO8rB6I57Z5oV7hasF1FGZ8UCW4wQmIiFSVG8RV_o-KE6ju6aVFhqJrUQTPc_qReqdZnm_pHvYDvya6Dz7M-2IfWGonRB9P29uprubgopSumAlYMIVatW8vEyk2X854eQjMxMpUagxZ0WyNmcrZRLInPzxpYdCd-gQIjw2HZtjFsBBLZw=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>The lupins just smiled and waved, </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUf5CqMujwsci-yKVaSsomdrs7qxrwDC-BwU8x57hUIMxtBh-u29MeCa8l7G5SvofM1WLn3kPtYedszZ_8AsdiWcewfB42NYKgsVzzLB1VFqPuSN__WqLlhzqR-pzA6D80czvywZAxFARUVJOFZGYOYVnEcXS6RqQKbN0unsnJKnm5b_ewKiVGXfHnXw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2944" data-original-width="1803" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUf5CqMujwsci-yKVaSsomdrs7qxrwDC-BwU8x57hUIMxtBh-u29MeCa8l7G5SvofM1WLn3kPtYedszZ_8AsdiWcewfB42NYKgsVzzLB1VFqPuSN__WqLlhzqR-pzA6D80czvywZAxFARUVJOFZGYOYVnEcXS6RqQKbN0unsnJKnm5b_ewKiVGXfHnXw=w392-h640" width="392" /><br /></a></div><p></p><p>And the pansies remained blissfully unaware. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiSFoF1UiHF5dT0Quvg_ldJh-gc-FTjQS7ZjrJMg_2JhVRlTHMb1vVPmlGRYWybwBg5TFBbCx197JnP-cehqm9HTiu6xXxWEN9y_dgiNeDsKJWGID-jc0iyjjsnRFdDgJpAzYZbRvw8aDR8FXg1NZc5WjPms3ypCM52q3_uhqCHEP7sGz4N8TjcseueEA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1134" data-original-width="1608" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiSFoF1UiHF5dT0Quvg_ldJh-gc-FTjQS7ZjrJMg_2JhVRlTHMb1vVPmlGRYWybwBg5TFBbCx197JnP-cehqm9HTiu6xXxWEN9y_dgiNeDsKJWGID-jc0iyjjsnRFdDgJpAzYZbRvw8aDR8FXg1NZc5WjPms3ypCM52q3_uhqCHEP7sGz4N8TjcseueEA=w640-h452" width="640" /></a></div><br />I'm sure I heard them giggling with yellow delight!<p></p><p>So the message from the garden would seem to be:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWXx6OxZ4dPsauJiWXOZIHpc6yk5T7DSE-1Z-2KWiAFUWWiPoNMhl4IqmyG5AVkEHUBDQNmtBSAjLukLTH7W8vrJcmRkkzEd3Vp0i3AyzeR3eJ4LmEvJ79Li7KMy1ec5nZme5__J5OigxZ3rdVN6m_eObqLYnDX2QyIVpfVoAS8tkUyGhd_ehB4hCvrA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1913" data-original-width="1275" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWXx6OxZ4dPsauJiWXOZIHpc6yk5T7DSE-1Z-2KWiAFUWWiPoNMhl4IqmyG5AVkEHUBDQNmtBSAjLukLTH7W8vrJcmRkkzEd3Vp0i3AyzeR3eJ4LmEvJ79Li7KMy1ec5nZme5__J5OigxZ3rdVN6m_eObqLYnDX2QyIVpfVoAS8tkUyGhd_ehB4hCvrA=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>And one more thing...</p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">PLEASE<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><i>Be fire smart!</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><i>Be aware. Be vigilant.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-11368010866324231002023-06-01T11:34:00.000-04:002023-06-01T11:34:23.947-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - June 1, 2023<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhsGKi862yY-2eYkGg3rMVpcl5wyhR7JsHmPIA3tIiQlUv0dlCMA8PagO4Z905H0eJbMKZeN2ryBKlub6LtAMmgsRIwJ2WvbBtgOBZ7uHhvhSjj7V856MGg-RQF64_7d9MRFujzAAigC6Y3UtSs75dioB3FzhWBxDOw4APg6LDpZIb6Q_bTTvaN3ppeqg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhsGKi862yY-2eYkGg3rMVpcl5wyhR7JsHmPIA3tIiQlUv0dlCMA8PagO4Z905H0eJbMKZeN2ryBKlub6LtAMmgsRIwJ2WvbBtgOBZ7uHhvhSjj7V856MGg-RQF64_7d9MRFujzAAigC6Y3UtSs75dioB3FzhWBxDOw4APg6LDpZIb6Q_bTTvaN3ppeqg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Summer has jumped the gun this year, rushing her entrance onto my doorstep a full three weeks before the solstice. Her usual entourage of bugs - black flies, mosquitoes, deer flies, and ants - are all present and correct for June 21 too. Even the "Bobbsey Twins", high humidity and poor air quality have shown up this week along with a heat warning in tow. My plants and flowers which last week were dodging frost, are this week crying out for copious drinks and umbrellas. There has been no rain here since May 20th and so the <a href="https://cwfis.cfs.nrcan.gc.ca/maps/fw" target="_blank">fire danger</a> is high. Please, PLEASE be vigilant.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiVCPNfLD-nwWtAc0I8n2J34u46M1pLW7ZmgUxlxrIDtPbPk17QDB6By-U51E4ClKgHj3QTYA0zweSONnKNjETWFGZkCd98edCUBsuZphHFw-5GhvG32xd_aKVeMevDvKX6E9j1mVP3auXVtBcX5vr88nI_zI_1iWq3Ckp5hlXURSi_azHVoyC0IW2ggw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="880" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiVCPNfLD-nwWtAc0I8n2J34u46M1pLW7ZmgUxlxrIDtPbPk17QDB6By-U51E4ClKgHj3QTYA0zweSONnKNjETWFGZkCd98edCUBsuZphHFw-5GhvG32xd_aKVeMevDvKX6E9j1mVP3auXVtBcX5vr88nI_zI_1iWq3Ckp5hlXURSi_azHVoyC0IW2ggw=w400-h345" width="400" /></a></div><br />Watching my grandchildren splashing in their backyard wading pool this past Sunday brought back a flood of memories. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjBsVeA9z11rqAl_2z0bpaYQDylfJcjOfk1vQzVHQ1Ck09nbsvEWvS_NXZc2GvY4cN4YIXTBYmqtaZB-m7bfKuNCN6791ASTntMofc2k3FlehSa4IZ2XN7Y_dOkxFid9AofCf0lfIVMURL5kPctJ6CXhepLLGfQwF1fccdFqlX3fFescV7IOilWcz_sUQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1298" data-original-width="1947" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjBsVeA9z11rqAl_2z0bpaYQDylfJcjOfk1vQzVHQ1Ck09nbsvEWvS_NXZc2GvY4cN4YIXTBYmqtaZB-m7bfKuNCN6791ASTntMofc2k3FlehSa4IZ2XN7Y_dOkxFid9AofCf0lfIVMURL5kPctJ6CXhepLLGfQwF1fccdFqlX3fFescV7IOilWcz_sUQ=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br />Hot! Hot! Hot! So hot the tar bubbles up between the pebbles on the road; round, shiny black globs. I can smell the tar - acrid gasoline fumes rise up from the road surface. My flip flops stick haphazardly as I walk; sometimes a step is unhindered, other times the foam sole sticks then releases raising fine black strands of gooeyness. Round flat, black globs decorate the bottom of my favourite summer footwear. I scuff over to the lawn hoping the grass will wipe away the sticky tar. It's futile. Now I have flipflops with green grass clippings stuck to them. <p></p><p>Happy days with wind in my face bike rides, 5¢ popsicles, 10¢ ice cream cones, Coppertone® sun tan lotion or maybe just a coating of baby oil (there was no sunscreen), big circulating fans swirling in the windows (the only A/C we had), family bbq's, and a backyard pool made summer an absolute delight.</p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUPgquvEWjNoqD6MniYaowY7VS5JMnE3z0BvoHd586XU9dliC4ruzS6lC6E2NbBDQxFerLAZ3qyN8Gl5Un816Zo65TnGmk0UmScfN_wj9tiayCQXKXF0bgcpJdHNdvtcNg9oaFR6r3mAuOojX4W04RaAmtYshK6xFiZsHwgkPcNvvHq-83dz-ADYnVwg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1211" data-original-width="1800" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUPgquvEWjNoqD6MniYaowY7VS5JMnE3z0BvoHd586XU9dliC4ruzS6lC6E2NbBDQxFerLAZ3qyN8Gl5Un816Zo65TnGmk0UmScfN_wj9tiayCQXKXF0bgcpJdHNdvtcNg9oaFR6r3mAuOojX4W04RaAmtYshK6xFiZsHwgkPcNvvHq-83dz-ADYnVwg=w640-h430" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me just chillin', 1972</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Freshly filled in the first week of June each year, the water temperature began as a bracing 16°C (61°F) and then crawled it's way up to a blistering 23°C (74°F) by mid-August, aided at least in some small part by my mother and I dumping buckets of hot water to it while Dad was at work!</p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijK91Ep_4Qfvv8PNebLHXbLWO1Q-1G1iahZpT6gmfsVaUf8P6q2Hh1XQgxcbTbftNfksCkIFqC4lFiS43j2AOczvFO06IqRFdnOwsYGbT3SQOJGa8rxs3WengQdj_yf_OXQF70g5cqvEEOFMaaD1FEZWh6oEGwV1jMJTq0GnVmylOrkq9iW875KfH1Lw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1371" data-original-width="1977" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijK91Ep_4Qfvv8PNebLHXbLWO1Q-1G1iahZpT6gmfsVaUf8P6q2Hh1XQgxcbTbftNfksCkIFqC4lFiS43j2AOczvFO06IqRFdnOwsYGbT3SQOJGa8rxs3WengQdj_yf_OXQF70g5cqvEEOFMaaD1FEZWh6oEGwV1jMJTq0GnVmylOrkq9iW875KfH1Lw=w640-h444" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad's idea of chillin' in the pool, 1972</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1_66gINcTq9CnrZykQmpFGFkwLlxugtIAlsLiJ2cgtCRTS-Kh22MoTUKfcu4hISEoD7PwtTdOLNSmfKEsDS6-Mgt6TXX0bA1ODTEqsuxhMqb2MSPQA-MO4LrNgIkejz7G5CJHcYJExSd1suyHd1DNKp4GvaNWWffx-d4ZzRnWe-seoetIvuZB3eYI4g" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2445" data-original-width="1854" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1_66gINcTq9CnrZykQmpFGFkwLlxugtIAlsLiJ2cgtCRTS-Kh22MoTUKfcu4hISEoD7PwtTdOLNSmfKEsDS6-Mgt6TXX0bA1ODTEqsuxhMqb2MSPQA-MO4LrNgIkejz7G5CJHcYJExSd1suyHd1DNKp4GvaNWWffx-d4ZzRnWe-seoetIvuZB3eYI4g=w485-h640" width="485" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom 1971</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhsQNLA_5F7JqfAPOYB0cUbVqIiJ1bnDq2hBF5vswtQDA4Y0zgzqUnCp4oE_CyppidhOfnUsj1PphjsGVru-3uSL9TdPnSqSbGF8xSZiAIZo05HqEIOlb6z1lbCSCC6FRdJxbbQa1GYppLcR5Rw2P0IadBG9z9aUO0pbfDPbFG6Y-sYz0TC9urdcKpMlw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1226" data-original-width="1818" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhsQNLA_5F7JqfAPOYB0cUbVqIiJ1bnDq2hBF5vswtQDA4Y0zgzqUnCp4oE_CyppidhOfnUsj1PphjsGVru-3uSL9TdPnSqSbGF8xSZiAIZo05HqEIOlb6z1lbCSCC6FRdJxbbQa1GYppLcR5Rw2P0IadBG9z9aUO0pbfDPbFG6Y-sYz0TC9urdcKpMlw=w640-h432" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My version of taking a dive, 1972</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>Stay cool folks. Be fire smart.</p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-34086894460073000232023-05-25T11:20:00.002-04:002023-05-25T11:35:22.655-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - May 25, 2023<p> A story of Survival</p><p>They spent another night crammed together in the garage. It was the fourth time this month that they'd been hauled from their pride of place and unceremoniously plunked onto the oil-stained cement floor. Jammed in between vehicles, a generator (not running!), and tools of every description, they spent yet another cold night. They were safer though than the ones left outside. Those poor beings had only burlap rags weighed down with bricks to protect them from Jack the Nipper. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjKbKP7rLpur7_UgNLWReLOp9bqfAPv41eLqcFLh936lro-YpQ3T3rKWi2EB1UUbfDBTXowc7eXt7Mw__sKOO_zP9anYyvNWnBiJJoywU_LEa_CidMpfhMbt0Sw2zpgOWN5pgRs3Q3EPdMyKxZZzGZyC1-wGf2bRR9syz84ZVmwCajIRuH8T8ntL7JzQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1859" data-original-width="1859" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjKbKP7rLpur7_UgNLWReLOp9bqfAPv41eLqcFLh936lro-YpQ3T3rKWi2EB1UUbfDBTXowc7eXt7Mw__sKOO_zP9anYyvNWnBiJJoywU_LEa_CidMpfhMbt0Sw2zpgOWN5pgRs3Q3EPdMyKxZZzGZyC1-wGf2bRR9syz84ZVmwCajIRuH8T8ntL7JzQ=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>The day star rose to full brightness and the garage door opened, flooding the huddled mass with blinding light. One of the vehicles, the great silent one, rolled out of the garage allowing a cold draft to swirl in and around each one of them. Perhaps a shudder rattled through their slender limbs, surely they shivered. But then one by one they were lifted out of dankness into the warmth and light. They heard tender words spoken in hushed tones, mumbled apologies for the hardship and encouragement to keep on growing. </p><p>What joy! What bliss! </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMo8XwppnB3N8KkMZUI-7enKMpHZfusOu9aH-yECo6LNjCFJfNlXKcmRf9EZlhCPTKQVdIOuX9NiLeOUMVjygV7Q-P2Ol42LbVFc1QAfuObmxW1lbMQ8PCKGIOIpqEwAXZcQQEs3_S4OA-iKu3Uqo_QUwKvvL6nlWPfVP-BytEBCmIuRHSwIOrH3UcOg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="3025" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMo8XwppnB3N8KkMZUI-7enKMpHZfusOu9aH-yECo6LNjCFJfNlXKcmRf9EZlhCPTKQVdIOuX9NiLeOUMVjygV7Q-P2Ol42LbVFc1QAfuObmxW1lbMQ8PCKGIOIpqEwAXZcQQEs3_S4OA-iKu3Uqo_QUwKvvL6nlWPfVP-BytEBCmIuRHSwIOrH3UcOg=w640-h324" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>There also came a solemn warning - Jack Frost, aka The Nipper, would be on the prowl again tonight. For their own safety, they would have to spend yet another night on the cement floor in the dirty garage. </p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-57342354156018244792023-05-22T10:57:00.004-04:002023-05-22T10:57:34.384-04:00Monday Meander - May 22, 2023<p>It's a holiday Monday! </p><p>Capping off a long weekend with sunshine. And not just any old long weekend but the summer kickoff weekend. I wrote in my <a href="https://quagmire53.blogspot.com/2023/05/thursday-or-thereabouts-may-18-2023.html" target="_blank">Thursday, or Thereabouts post</a> last week, that I was hoping that this great first long weekend of summer was much brighter and gentler than 2022's version and kicks off a season of warm days and starry nights along with enough rain to keep it all beautiful. Well we got the much needed rain on Saturday, all 52mm (2.05 inches) and we got warm sun on Sunday and today. So we're off to a great start. </p><p>It's been quiet here at the homestead. No family gatherings or other social events, which feels a bit odd, like there's something out of place. I'll try to fix that next year! Saturday's rain left me ample time to meander through photos of past Victoria Day weekends. How and where have I let loose the bonds of winter on this revered weekend in the past?</p><p>A few times we were cruising. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXqBQqBmvkz0Kzw5X5r_ZODh8dxUEzq-Ts3ni4Av4l2A6-P6lkmMyNNLdaerfqgCayGtZGB-cXSItgBVHpSllWXar1NfN5JLg6J-5gpXlXzsfYW_kKxs7ieh7hRvVBsKg8W0-PwRhGavREF1b-MhW4Ta_fGRJ4nLXUzJZ-2zjrw_L7N2zWDgTNzxR_tw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2283" data-original-width="3427" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXqBQqBmvkz0Kzw5X5r_ZODh8dxUEzq-Ts3ni4Av4l2A6-P6lkmMyNNLdaerfqgCayGtZGB-cXSItgBVHpSllWXar1NfN5JLg6J-5gpXlXzsfYW_kKxs7ieh7hRvVBsKg8W0-PwRhGavREF1b-MhW4Ta_fGRJ4nLXUzJZ-2zjrw_L7N2zWDgTNzxR_tw=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Dover, England</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgudvRU0_wzQCEBKx7Lv9LiWGTf2540XuCm1nKFlnxJxMPYQ0ZuFNg3Cmo_N1HYKC-U4erd58kS--iTtaQqp9_lWLJg4gNg6Ix2M8c5gbePfo6i3WpXziK97k2xWPpc7rnCkR5zeNXYV6ZFCu4hiUOOQPM-lE_i1RJCmjvavwHeQvLcCXrI46hZUX046A" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3228" data-original-width="2425" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgudvRU0_wzQCEBKx7Lv9LiWGTf2540XuCm1nKFlnxJxMPYQ0ZuFNg3Cmo_N1HYKC-U4erd58kS--iTtaQqp9_lWLJg4gNg6Ix2M8c5gbePfo6i3WpXziK97k2xWPpc7rnCkR5zeNXYV6ZFCu4hiUOOQPM-lE_i1RJCmjvavwHeQvLcCXrI46hZUX046A=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amsterdam</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeVSxD2wjLuOrNv3WIxSLqzIxJ2hu_2m8ZpqQUp1_NdYFBvibJwLTq3bgVLgz-zSVQc9RapWggOuQuGoDSPrRwmJ2h0rwrF5aLofgsGdH4ijM5yjHgA9pDIseWuzhHf1Crwt4z7fC7WZYIxsySXkXpuNmHLrneFc0qF_ql4ghebtHqqzi0KxFmST0WmA" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3357" data-original-width="2519" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeVSxD2wjLuOrNv3WIxSLqzIxJ2hu_2m8ZpqQUp1_NdYFBvibJwLTq3bgVLgz-zSVQc9RapWggOuQuGoDSPrRwmJ2h0rwrF5aLofgsGdH4ijM5yjHgA9pDIseWuzhHf1Crwt4z7fC7WZYIxsySXkXpuNmHLrneFc0qF_ql4ghebtHqqzi0KxFmST0WmA=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Venice</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="text-align: left;">And guided by Schwartz, our intrepid we found places to raise a pint in every port!</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXkw4vqyiSCcL1zEBHiM4TWwlCoSxqK2K3grSLQ1J2Kt5bFd5uTnxrqj5kroMPIbGtWhNuF-zrwbXvSIfMGfQnZcn1xpD56Q3ECDYWb1_Yru7_IeLmb9IRH97ABlNAGR1on1cuEa4-aJg9O6IItg0X9b9pJQjtqDGD-ZcgyjuNyZR5mBjP5ovMcoR4BA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="866" data-original-width="1155" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXkw4vqyiSCcL1zEBHiM4TWwlCoSxqK2K3grSLQ1J2Kt5bFd5uTnxrqj5kroMPIbGtWhNuF-zrwbXvSIfMGfQnZcn1xpD56Q3ECDYWb1_Yru7_IeLmb9IRH97ABlNAGR1on1cuEa4-aJg9O6IItg0X9b9pJQjtqDGD-ZcgyjuNyZR5mBjP5ovMcoR4BA=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br />But most often we are here at home where blossoms and blooms, firewood and feasts, with feathered and furry friends along with little ones decorate the days. <div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2272" data-original-width="3408" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijcYzK6-D-fOLO55MlhMb-oCgOuoOPnPDUr0qjqh7T6J1zhsHb5GlFGW36bUplWsxkq7z3E0GDNtfWbL-cIFyA9y_6SWskYAsTSCGtyTYDbhOmkyXE8Ur_mh_mu52yKW70xcDuGQZy2orUWFyi_p14gs4YYYGcMBl74Ma805cwW5ry_v5KeVEdu4uZqw=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEjc0Lz14lllry0dzsFRCcKwXHxLvzRDzsfOsvjQeeJpaxOIC0T8yO50Dn0DgXA0R8A1ihF-9w8CBkBboHAbaD4lkN9ia43L9F0tLeil2NT0spuAFIV5nqhO9fxBDeavrU06R3QyzNOh4oNeSwGkm_Ja5aQmuH--6VUXkNotDkO3Lxg_IETizwBwQWbQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2572" data-original-width="1715" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEjc0Lz14lllry0dzsFRCcKwXHxLvzRDzsfOsvjQeeJpaxOIC0T8yO50Dn0DgXA0R8A1ihF-9w8CBkBboHAbaD4lkN9ia43L9F0tLeil2NT0spuAFIV5nqhO9fxBDeavrU06R3QyzNOh4oNeSwGkm_Ja5aQmuH--6VUXkNotDkO3Lxg_IETizwBwQWbQ=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1uyGHKc1bN0Sr-To1Id0E1_za1_y_hxNDJ9LYonYHlb1kxgUxZj6Udtkdc-vgNtb1vgGTNfhSEYjSBvBFk0g624bDq1mBNkfmHxvlRh-VESovjloIjFWKkzNO5M8G60EZjl3oAaXH-24S79F0MeXXLU76hSxhhXy__FVstEQMOGVtfZqIjiDuumBY6g" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1846" data-original-width="3050" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1uyGHKc1bN0Sr-To1Id0E1_za1_y_hxNDJ9LYonYHlb1kxgUxZj6Udtkdc-vgNtb1vgGTNfhSEYjSBvBFk0g624bDq1mBNkfmHxvlRh-VESovjloIjFWKkzNO5M8G60EZjl3oAaXH-24S79F0MeXXLU76hSxhhXy__FVstEQMOGVtfZqIjiDuumBY6g=w400-h243" width="400" /></a></div><br />Even this year, we made it fun in our own way. There was a trip into town - for more bits and bobs for the bathroom reno and new training shoes for me. What we came home with was a bag of elbows, hubs, and shut-offs, no shoes, and a new laptop computer! Turns out the computer store was beside the sports store. Who knew? And there was this sale... Need I say more? </div><div><br /></div><div>There was a bbq - burgers, local asparagus, and red wine, a sumptuous Baco Noir I'd been saving for just this time.</div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">It's time to swing into summer. Let's do this!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLnzEtp0rMv2EFj7a6q8cGESGq7RNI4EN_o9wJEdgPZ2mwAMc9WY-PHNc34oYGIi_qX2FjXDYqr_eOalItyyFkrlma7jhAkrmY8QxiApWl3cs_TM0SFBiIRBZ8e1w-hNOjCLtJoc-Dk42Mmrp1n0an-6wuvGVyjX7iXY9jAfc-_nk00UAfHhtln9oQSg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1761" data-original-width="1761" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLnzEtp0rMv2EFj7a6q8cGESGq7RNI4EN_o9wJEdgPZ2mwAMc9WY-PHNc34oYGIi_qX2FjXDYqr_eOalItyyFkrlma7jhAkrmY8QxiApWl3cs_TM0SFBiIRBZ8e1w-hNOjCLtJoc-Dk42Mmrp1n0an-6wuvGVyjX7iXY9jAfc-_nk00UAfHhtln9oQSg=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> ©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></div></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><p></p></div>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-83549303583321794742023-05-18T11:21:00.000-04:002023-05-18T11:21:26.914-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - May 18, 2023<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFfhx72m0_sBWDO-uDS5Id3CU9Yia7VbQGWTffB4TM1cm7e9TmEdYaIN9D3ATKFiRjoxD7-PPvXo3EEPXIIjKjW2qu0yxpbFPjG0qxwql0F08uWGvH8b6OQCeV058GGjkbPI86JHpkDt5tfGrghFpLpIGdCIEWTKpc7Dx3rL87148iz7oe1ruPj8H8Zw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1756" data-original-width="2912" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFfhx72m0_sBWDO-uDS5Id3CU9Yia7VbQGWTffB4TM1cm7e9TmEdYaIN9D3ATKFiRjoxD7-PPvXo3EEPXIIjKjW2qu0yxpbFPjG0qxwql0F08uWGvH8b6OQCeV058GGjkbPI86JHpkDt5tfGrghFpLpIGdCIEWTKpc7Dx3rL87148iz7oe1ruPj8H8Zw=w640-h386" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>The first long weekend of summer sits perched on the doorstep. Traditionally (like in my childhood!) this was called the Victoria Day weekend and officially it still is. However, more often than not one will hear it called the the May TWO-FOUR weekend in Ontario with the Two-Four subliminally suggesting a case of beer not a birthdate.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjILioEZ98epdlCoFHBTigYvicG-Kg46X9P5L4YUrsaJk681FjdNGZ1keIbpPw3zqoa6Ns9Ly83y5uVQ1J-mSAwYeLIv9zmXMpTxiIFEVJQ17bf2BU1Heq_6VPcaaU6vcghxRSbVX__psmcmk0dKrUtbHhc5O_NV6PgoFFmNDZ3Fi9psV44L4wm7Nj2lQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2097" data-original-width="3932" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjILioEZ98epdlCoFHBTigYvicG-Kg46X9P5L4YUrsaJk681FjdNGZ1keIbpPw3zqoa6Ns9Ly83y5uVQ1J-mSAwYeLIv9zmXMpTxiIFEVJQ17bf2BU1Heq_6VPcaaU6vcghxRSbVX__psmcmk0dKrUtbHhc5O_NV6PgoFFmNDZ3Fi9psV44L4wm7Nj2lQ=w400-h214" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>This is the weekend that the winter weary break free! Garden centres, home centres, grocery, and beer stores stand ready for the onslaught of eager, perhaps even at tad frenzied customers. Even if one is not a gardener, cottager, golfer or outdoor projects person, this is still a weekend that comes with a sigh of relief and a smile or three. We made it! It's safe to come our now.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqg6nyhsmf2fDk-PETtbLtrtC5oMKfLacQgWj9igTT5yjT40psV4IkTwpWnhUOo1NOf--lD7dFaogCeiq_45xrn4wW86z5SBxZ5ec6m3dUgFyFpCLqppmscBHczv8EhIosg-LMe0czb6MN_QOH4Amp7rZWYkY0hqNWHhvsUrnU4VmXdXI2T7Q_AyRc-Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqg6nyhsmf2fDk-PETtbLtrtC5oMKfLacQgWj9igTT5yjT40psV4IkTwpWnhUOo1NOf--lD7dFaogCeiq_45xrn4wW86z5SBxZ5ec6m3dUgFyFpCLqppmscBHczv8EhIosg-LMe0czb6MN_QOH4Amp7rZWYkY0hqNWHhvsUrnU4VmXdXI2T7Q_AyRc-Q=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>This year, the weekend will mark the one year anniversary of a devastating storm which struck on a sultry Saturday afternoon, May 21.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #040c28; font-family: inherit;"><blockquote>Described by meteorologists as a historic derecho and one of the most impactful thunderstorms in Canadian history, winds up to 190 km/h (120 mph) as well as around four tornadoes caused widespread and extensive damage along a path that extended for 1,000 kilometres (620 mi).</blockquote></span></div></div><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Here's what it looked like outside my front windows at 1:16pm:</div></div><p></p></blockquote><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyVEMSSKGsj9nmimx_nZpaf9YBQpAb-9haLMEwHCxzKYj_eCcO26ovKpls-_8YFynarIziLsxTSQxvVxqHuxg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div></div><p>Although we had no significant damage, neighbouring communities did not fare so well and are still recovering. Twenty-six days later another wild storm ripped through and this time we did not escape unscathed.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVUfX5eBSbACF5Jx_kyTQCIHdGHsqhrrrffp5LlFuUhu2rckKLGdChPO1BVso4EF9wJft3LU8xPThACFcXLtPBRhHIEcFFSDJ4392cVKCnN9iHyAszYwsag8yQxyUwTW1G0_eKWd0QP9PAZeQzPQEwYlkmGgeatGDKGK2adb2NTcl3s4dRBoRV6UCKmA" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1929" data-original-width="3637" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVUfX5eBSbACF5Jx_kyTQCIHdGHsqhrrrffp5LlFuUhu2rckKLGdChPO1BVso4EF9wJft3LU8xPThACFcXLtPBRhHIEcFFSDJ4392cVKCnN9iHyAszYwsag8yQxyUwTW1G0_eKWd0QP9PAZeQzPQEwYlkmGgeatGDKGK2adb2NTcl3s4dRBoRV6UCKmA=w640-h340" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking out the kitchen windows</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWWPmLfc9ijMAwTlgFNKkl3bEpgTjBOF9jzAFhqVL5qE2Ug0n1S8H_uE9ToehlXWAc5xsFoKE9WTKVrp1INjC0K58OxrbtqD9dHY6h6LSltO4BdwG9WDBC8EY8i6yzfS-w1ItE6kDFCuIuKTc3Yz8iHhjbNNsvrDdz7OTz1YrftKztFudxviOmlE1GEQ" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1890" data-original-width="3736" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWWPmLfc9ijMAwTlgFNKkl3bEpgTjBOF9jzAFhqVL5qE2Ug0n1S8H_uE9ToehlXWAc5xsFoKE9WTKVrp1INjC0K58OxrbtqD9dHY6h6LSltO4BdwG9WDBC8EY8i6yzfS-w1ItE6kDFCuIuKTc3Yz8iHhjbNNsvrDdz7OTz1YrftKztFudxviOmlE1GEQ=w640-h324" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another tree down</td></tr></tbody></table><br />And in the back of the house, trees had snapped but got hung up and four more were semi-uprooted and leaning toward the house.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkAwQaqfH3Bu035usJrfO4a7xQsBKfVCANtRvPqEvIRe6QN3QvR3lfxCwJOdq0zVxKB_oFDQow-T6XEPTRJ2Eesl1q74st6LMFAh6GlTE6IJUCLLmLyAfAzjigcSq2w7Wp-45r5Sp05LGaasShMMdt9Q7pJr7MBq-uqqDcnxIs5F-y51o4nbJTO5Fd9A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2920" data-original-width="1947" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkAwQaqfH3Bu035usJrfO4a7xQsBKfVCANtRvPqEvIRe6QN3QvR3lfxCwJOdq0zVxKB_oFDQow-T6XEPTRJ2Eesl1q74st6LMFAh6GlTE6IJUCLLmLyAfAzjigcSq2w7Wp-45r5Sp05LGaasShMMdt9Q7pJr7MBq-uqqDcnxIs5F-y51o4nbJTO5Fd9A=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br />This year I'm hoping that this great first long weekend of summer is much brighter and gentler and kicks off a season of warm days and starry nights along with enough rain to keep it all beautiful. It's a big ask I know, but the ice in the bird bath this morning has melted and the sun is bright, so I'm feeling optimistic.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQBeEfC7W1epu4kAgscYAovJbcM8UEty9GgVoYCFmZyPnZWO0QkAlzWD0_rlhYjg2ghbrb_sMSwVrqXoIWvtbAKbrztCAYcL3yTbDxH-LENjqwPoIWSkvav0t55kdsaIodxoMR3PkeSGJkKbzeE2mFgrSL-V6i9dFrA7SVca72Q4dmsQjhX9QG0alKow" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2885" data-original-width="1923" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQBeEfC7W1epu4kAgscYAovJbcM8UEty9GgVoYCFmZyPnZWO0QkAlzWD0_rlhYjg2ghbrb_sMSwVrqXoIWvtbAKbrztCAYcL3yTbDxH-LENjqwPoIWSkvav0t55kdsaIodxoMR3PkeSGJkKbzeE2mFgrSL-V6i9dFrA7SVca72Q4dmsQjhX9QG0alKow=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div></div><p></p><p>Whatever your plans are this holiday weekend, be safe out there folks, especially those of you heading out on the highways and byways on your way to open up cottages. And Please, don't drink and drive.</p><p>See ya back here on Monday.</p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p><p><br /></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-43595102735451224552023-05-15T12:44:00.002-04:002023-05-15T12:44:42.532-04:00Monday Meander - May 15, 2023<p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7s4eCv-P15U-bVQNbF9FFIeMEBCp98nfNY_EngjutNBt1v25gqJoxuo4ujljMMKRULnEQCK2IQzGORnBYumt1eFO3GtWmwz_MYiBdxZX2TwPMT7moW5XvAzAfbcaiYOfIf6VrQoTUXPZr0rWkDoNK3get3J_zSP9MWk1wIAVlZUT4HHgR1W5sl3F95Q" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1214" data-original-width="824" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7s4eCv-P15U-bVQNbF9FFIeMEBCp98nfNY_EngjutNBt1v25gqJoxuo4ujljMMKRULnEQCK2IQzGORnBYumt1eFO3GtWmwz_MYiBdxZX2TwPMT7moW5XvAzAfbcaiYOfIf6VrQoTUXPZr0rWkDoNK3get3J_zSP9MWk1wIAVlZUT4HHgR1W5sl3F95Q" width="163" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My daughter 1991</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><br /><br /></p><p>How can it be the middle of May already? I mean, seriously how did that happen? What have I been doing? What have I accomplished? A glance at my calendar for past two weeks looked like a map of some remote landscape dotted with occasional settlements. Surely that can't be the whole picture! Picture? PICTURES!! I've got pictures!</p><p></p><p>My photos told a different story. While I personally may not have accomplished much this May, that doesn't mean I have nothing to show. One of the many things that I learned during the pandemic is to try be aware of and celebrate the the ordinary, normal things that happen through the seasons. And that's what I see in my photos this month.</p><p><br />The unfurling of spring in the forest.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKJK-8TOVcb84cWN-wZLTjDYZu3gKo9U67OGaEeJI2YGCXfbOlEhpwLBTGqkw-iaSdqGVkl6mvxmcdz4jpftpS7KHjos8ZBNJOoqH8IxISvMLR0DNgpn_ZqXYTcNR7gj0lzTFEFq6gukhQFHLg3YgmlX2ve8otedW0ES886xE0yqT8xAQ-ceBL5sHOuA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2920" data-original-width="1947" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKJK-8TOVcb84cWN-wZLTjDYZu3gKo9U67OGaEeJI2YGCXfbOlEhpwLBTGqkw-iaSdqGVkl6mvxmcdz4jpftpS7KHjos8ZBNJOoqH8IxISvMLR0DNgpn_ZqXYTcNR7gj0lzTFEFq6gukhQFHLg3YgmlX2ve8otedW0ES886xE0yqT8xAQ-ceBL5sHOuA=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhGgVOoubYROoM4TrF-I8eyDZtFffYgq2cZvYob8BgoIqZcUcZWO9joJB5r71YiXFbl7KhEip9wL03rTsQ8SNSMxv1KNSqCQeAvXC_kkT62dwRW3Su7CdV518NPJX-yFcFGGYd8USpxVSeFUC7B8r2_1WhsLlu-O9J-fVlEX-dmhOa1eUm_j0wJuWUJkA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2767" data-original-width="2767" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhGgVOoubYROoM4TrF-I8eyDZtFffYgq2cZvYob8BgoIqZcUcZWO9joJB5r71YiXFbl7KhEip9wL03rTsQ8SNSMxv1KNSqCQeAvXC_kkT62dwRW3Su7CdV518NPJX-yFcFGGYd8USpxVSeFUC7B8r2_1WhsLlu-O9J-fVlEX-dmhOa1eUm_j0wJuWUJkA=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>The addition of pots of colour to the garden.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgheK3ijES361E-0VxF7Auob-oJUu5MKSWhLgpWytfPsVjgqBPJp6CKOJ4q88uXxCYN4xZsaGaVswy6IAs0ZJSLxkNrVSqJyxLL1-W8sVJngqUpOgSEBTg4o7Lz8alnNjv_bDcVXlQTTi3jHORUBovSTVlzK_8kajxXdPonhmlDJCMHL8gpKT8vJGiMXA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1890" data-original-width="3367" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgheK3ijES361E-0VxF7Auob-oJUu5MKSWhLgpWytfPsVjgqBPJp6CKOJ4q88uXxCYN4xZsaGaVswy6IAs0ZJSLxkNrVSqJyxLL1-W8sVJngqUpOgSEBTg4o7Lz8alnNjv_bDcVXlQTTi3jHORUBovSTVlzK_8kajxXdPonhmlDJCMHL8gpKT8vJGiMXA=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br />The annual arrival of next winter's firewood.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmoptDhbEEoo51EQSf7pBx9ru5azARLshEgpg9ng6_yK2sWqyC2NdTtRbF309Zy2jkXNrlCoGdjtFZEroZb9qD3nD0Yl_wo68Pa__lNnV8Kd7mg6t56GYWAoWtIeH9AjtBgV4fijbwDfGgKHA1b5JTNOIkyB1mnOZ0J4LGggqlqF-VAjQf3JHNWvfhgQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2920" data-original-width="1947" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmoptDhbEEoo51EQSf7pBx9ru5azARLshEgpg9ng6_yK2sWqyC2NdTtRbF309Zy2jkXNrlCoGdjtFZEroZb9qD3nD0Yl_wo68Pa__lNnV8Kd7mg6t56GYWAoWtIeH9AjtBgV4fijbwDfGgKHA1b5JTNOIkyB1mnOZ0J4LGggqlqF-VAjQf3JHNWvfhgQ=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><p></p><p>Progress on a bathroom reno.<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgVnGhQzobPkxIknYNsRwJ83XgRA8RJtnLTB1X713EDcwPYVP2ad-4Hs3EEJodAejqDgSPQ5mQ0ZPTMJKnNIbVcLgXczDrJLR8mWWEuDRdqOo0Ow-Ep2x9MQU6G-bmxdeJaWyG3l5Xci1pblWWhqRA1Oc8ATB-NsVkWNuyLlyZ4jSDX0gqPDsv5o9Lqkw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1960" data-original-width="2940" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgVnGhQzobPkxIknYNsRwJ83XgRA8RJtnLTB1X713EDcwPYVP2ad-4Hs3EEJodAejqDgSPQ5mQ0ZPTMJKnNIbVcLgXczDrJLR8mWWEuDRdqOo0Ow-Ep2x9MQU6G-bmxdeJaWyG3l5Xci1pblWWhqRA1Oc8ATB-NsVkWNuyLlyZ4jSDX0gqPDsv5o9Lqkw=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Finding great sticks.<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXp-H5t7iu_seEX-hXe9dAAraPlApyUrZSz2ARagL-LMICKHZlXmt249dCrm8H6D0XBtMldZ6_7H1sweQGyEodPuKpH4GxicCYBXQeHXC6-D4pEBrTnvdn4b9Jf3ageEdcFYXeY7LrgpnfcKPZ_daJwFiHX4pyJ3oAwQp_UYHCJ-KWDZ06DvTEMD1eEw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2337" data-original-width="1558" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXp-H5t7iu_seEX-hXe9dAAraPlApyUrZSz2ARagL-LMICKHZlXmt249dCrm8H6D0XBtMldZ6_7H1sweQGyEodPuKpH4GxicCYBXQeHXC6-D4pEBrTnvdn4b9Jf3ageEdcFYXeY7LrgpnfcKPZ_daJwFiHX4pyJ3oAwQp_UYHCJ-KWDZ06DvTEMD1eEw=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br />Walks in the forest.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHbX2ZPQsuYJm_voujPjOLvGwi9TqjAkwM4nEewaJuvHSxZFrKEFGvF6TSaCQJ9xzr5QBZiYgvtVpbbqrVotM49FkpdV1O8YfNbZDxsrs8a-r6lltI_aEgn-FOCgN9_AChunVkTVS9VunyTyaw-gpGZYQYsbyLrctQh1EYarbauy8cOPI58Sw1nol1jA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2632" data-original-width="1755" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHbX2ZPQsuYJm_voujPjOLvGwi9TqjAkwM4nEewaJuvHSxZFrKEFGvF6TSaCQJ9xzr5QBZiYgvtVpbbqrVotM49FkpdV1O8YfNbZDxsrs8a-r6lltI_aEgn-FOCgN9_AChunVkTVS9VunyTyaw-gpGZYQYsbyLrctQh1EYarbauy8cOPI58Sw1nol1jA=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Have a wonderfully ordinary week!</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p><p><br /></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-28878409592477282862023-05-12T09:06:00.000-04:002023-05-12T09:06:09.230-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - May 12, 2023<p> It's a "Thereabouts" day and as Mother's Day weekend sits on the doorstep, I've dusted off a piece I wrote some six years ago about my Mom and our visits to the bookmobile. </p><p>The time is the late 1950's and it's a Bookmobile Day Friday...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgv5_wu6YtWpuCDVABNMd8nToK4jbyqc42EN-FYZZ12SF_pGYGcxk7-TnCduj0-gDRbcz4zx4894oXZFf7AhRMTLI60EL9qgiPfKB5dxHC9wy0pUX_nMz48sOx6TukIo8DaF66G65o2E1s92PQ_hPb9SMKfUEzFIf6F7_nFoaCeNHQYG9KZcdd47rukw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="227" data-original-width="490" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgv5_wu6YtWpuCDVABNMd8nToK4jbyqc42EN-FYZZ12SF_pGYGcxk7-TnCduj0-gDRbcz4zx4894oXZFf7AhRMTLI60EL9qgiPfKB5dxHC9wy0pUX_nMz48sOx6TukIo8DaF66G65o2E1s92PQ_hPb9SMKfUEzFIf6F7_nFoaCeNHQYG9KZcdd47rukw=w400-h185" width="400" /></a></div><br />Mom and I walked hand-in-hand down to the end of our short street where the big two-toned green bus parked for an hour a few mornings a month from 10:30 to 11:30. Sometimes we arrived in time to watch this behemoth lumber and creak into place, but most of the time it was there already, with the stairs pulled out waiting for us. In warm weather, the driver lounged outside on the grass smoking a cigarette, but when he saw us coming, he jumped to his feet and with a big smile lifted me up into the library on wheels. Those steps were just too big for my four-year-old legs. Mom always thanked him, and the librarian who greeted us, always smiled.<p></p><p>Inside, both walls were lined with books floor to ceiling and the narrow hallway between them was paved with beige linoleum. A long thin bank of fluorescent lights that ran down the centre of the bus emitted a comfortable hum. In the summer, it was hot and airless, so we never stayed very long, but in winter the bookmobile was a cozy refuge from bitter winds, due in no small part to the engine running for the full hour.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxTiIru5QshQwyUIJmj_nggx3aksO9pJ8mJG4a6TyRgf3KrKuvUW_OoZiP_EMu7wz37bui7efYHia8oYC2lMvQdkwHLfOhKgmnXsGZJfxrTnc_3Px4pei_UmUJRX6pJ2RERzMPxfwxLWfU5gk1BEa6BihUab3QtHFUob9cUMGY3TeONgtmp2iQhH6Vlw" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="125" data-original-width="122" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxTiIru5QshQwyUIJmj_nggx3aksO9pJ8mJG4a6TyRgf3KrKuvUW_OoZiP_EMu7wz37bui7efYHia8oYC2lMvQdkwHLfOhKgmnXsGZJfxrTnc_3Px4pei_UmUJRX6pJ2RERzMPxfwxLWfU5gk1BEa6BihUab3QtHFUob9cUMGY3TeONgtmp2iQhH6Vlw" width="234" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p>About half way down on the driver’s side was a two-foot square window. This was where the children’s books could be found. A small kid-sized wooden table with two chairs sat under the window and nestled between two low vertical shelves that displayed the entire children’s collection, perhaps some twenty books in all. Most of the time I had this special space all to myself -- it seemed not many children got taken to the bookmobile by their mom.</p><p>My favourite books were Lois Lenski’s stories about Mr. Small – Cowboy Small, Policeman Small, Papa Small, The Little Sailboat, and The Little Train, to name a few. My all time favourite book was “Curious George”. George and I had something in common too. We were both very curious and that occasionally got us into trouble.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghnGjL8W1yLEpE3PCcjwb9z52OoNMSeTdsunY4iOXju4EFphiee2_6aJj-MWpkGvzBOCKdFroEX_WlhdLe85XreO0zmVHKTlgbrLCkfFmLIbsN0SMoRSA9wDy8aXB6KRMp3EUKP74SlpVl7R_j8mCsyYQzJIxJAo7K2Z01Q3_u9vDdDWYHQLNtWkNYDA" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="251" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghnGjL8W1yLEpE3PCcjwb9z52OoNMSeTdsunY4iOXju4EFphiee2_6aJj-MWpkGvzBOCKdFroEX_WlhdLe85XreO0zmVHKTlgbrLCkfFmLIbsN0SMoRSA9wDy8aXB6KRMp3EUKP74SlpVl7R_j8mCsyYQzJIxJAo7K2Z01Q3_u9vDdDWYHQLNtWkNYDA=w241-h320" width="241" /></a></div><p><br /></p><br /><br /><p></p><p><br />One day, Mom handed me Ludwig Bemelmans’ “Madeline”, even though I really didn’t think a story about pretty little girls in Paris, France was anything I would like. As the story goes, Madeline is taken ill and has to go to the hospital. I had just had such an experience, so Madeline and I had something in common. My mom was very clever!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWtozPHIc5osRFPtoZjwXSfBs3dIUXKDxi5t9xi9GoeoSiPYU2bgi3O395CRIMPxgecTzZiIlnwtH4UkRunDho7y0MI_PncWl94USKaDe__JWawsSHhSOLJr0UJ49WJ6GJDJ3A8rqQEP02AFcxnK6fhXAWChi4-aennep0EJ4oSD4O6ePID2dycCTMJQ" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="771" data-original-width="463" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWtozPHIc5osRFPtoZjwXSfBs3dIUXKDxi5t9xi9GoeoSiPYU2bgi3O395CRIMPxgecTzZiIlnwtH4UkRunDho7y0MI_PncWl94USKaDe__JWawsSHhSOLJr0UJ49WJ6GJDJ3A8rqQEP02AFcxnK6fhXAWChi4-aennep0EJ4oSD4O6ePID2dycCTMJQ=w240-h400" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Sometimes I just liked to watch Mom find her books. She scanned the shelves carefully, often with her right forefinger tracing along the bottom of the book spines until she found something of interest, at which point she pulled out the book to read the inside flap. Then one of two things happened – she either put the book back or she went on to read the first page. If then a smile crept across her face, she closed the book with a satisfactory snap and added it to her book bag.<p></p><p><br /><br /></p><p>We presented our finds to the smiling librarian who great purpose, thumped the due date stamp on the slip in the back of the book and filed the borrower's card in a wooden box. Then out the door we went - with a little help from the driver - and back up the street, walking hand-in-hand. After a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches, we spent the afternoon curled up together on the living sofa reading our books. </p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2-4Ls7w90xDEZbrVbAyH4jBeZ2LWXb4JIMRdHCGtK9DXp3qWEANNIKzhDGpV8FcDnn2i-UohoKTrO-n4yP4w0mj5ooBCNI__RZhet9sr1uWHvAUe3JZyg0QAgJW783-VC3-leOJTnJG3APSzoDyMuneFAMvO4bVtm6vRI2CSZMhbZFVQE12zyDNXd7A" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2-4Ls7w90xDEZbrVbAyH4jBeZ2LWXb4JIMRdHCGtK9DXp3qWEANNIKzhDGpV8FcDnn2i-UohoKTrO-n4yP4w0mj5ooBCNI__RZhet9sr1uWHvAUe3JZyg0QAgJW783-VC3-leOJTnJG3APSzoDyMuneFAMvO4bVtm6vRI2CSZMhbZFVQE12zyDNXd7A=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and I, 1958</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">So many memories,<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">So many stories,<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">So much love.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiyIi9P3X1HcKuMfZCp0o9jdF-bS3XAu9uSTN5vxllkRp09t9UM9HMHscKZXIE2y5SXa2tT3lghrzz14GhQD3f8BFT2Ne38l0HidTTJEoyR3qNqUF08pCfAF4a57Aa9wmZr9oKAjNRrLGMgDn2pKMGMIP40rMUestHeJj5mEWfcn72QA56vdhzXR0B5_g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1980" data-original-width="1530" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiyIi9P3X1HcKuMfZCp0o9jdF-bS3XAu9uSTN5vxllkRp09t9UM9HMHscKZXIE2y5SXa2tT3lghrzz14GhQD3f8BFT2Ne38l0HidTTJEoyR3qNqUF08pCfAF4a57Aa9wmZr9oKAjNRrLGMgDn2pKMGMIP40rMUestHeJj5mEWfcn72QA56vdhzXR0B5_g=w493-h640" width="493" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">To all who mother life -<br />hoping, fearing, dreaming,<br />laughing, crying, rejoicing,<br />nurturing, protecting, loving...</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Happy Mother's Day!</i></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>©2023 April Hoeller</i></span></p><div><br /></div>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-45743634650289186692023-05-08T12:41:00.000-04:002023-05-08T12:41:27.829-04:00Monday Meander - May 8, 2023<p> After a weekend full of pomp, pageantry, and tradition all on display in a coronation, a horserace, and a hockey game, I'm ready for some simple joys.</p><p>Here are mine from the last 48 hours:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZWmGGL1ZjnL9EX4zQVZnDYS7zwEXyFBRJBO3TOX1fxJhuJAoNr5G91FQGTD_DhVqPwEwxg1r2RvEq-CLVAOGdxd9eC9FJEpMeOe4cqiGH6Jn7S1GLxg5ija0vrLilv9tFKQl_B2MMwQuNFbvi3dKOUnTfKFRb76Esj6TQqnafbnajy9HnuIh-SQue3A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3092" data-original-width="1796" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZWmGGL1ZjnL9EX4zQVZnDYS7zwEXyFBRJBO3TOX1fxJhuJAoNr5G91FQGTD_DhVqPwEwxg1r2RvEq-CLVAOGdxd9eC9FJEpMeOe4cqiGH6Jn7S1GLxg5ija0vrLilv9tFKQl_B2MMwQuNFbvi3dKOUnTfKFRb76Esj6TQqnafbnajy9HnuIh-SQue3A=w371-h640" width="371" /></a></div><p></p><p>An English crumpet (or two!) topped with butter and local honey along with a mug of Earl Grey tea. Perfect accompaniment to my early morning viewing of the coronation.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjP9mLOqmBz7jjZv55DSMCYHj1AkRVLa3FIbiYWM5H6uxQxZC4f9lGbFQUgGFYUUcl_PyVkdgMBneMOkSE_WwxQI5X5yIxGL4Vzgh3YOr1XbOfG9VnKOI-5R_DJa8OMup1ouez21SICrHKKzMh0hKrPX0MKEeMUQhJI31e72yIqs0wkllarSHuZ8bE64Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2879" data-original-width="1919" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjP9mLOqmBz7jjZv55DSMCYHj1AkRVLa3FIbiYWM5H6uxQxZC4f9lGbFQUgGFYUUcl_PyVkdgMBneMOkSE_WwxQI5X5yIxGL4Vzgh3YOr1XbOfG9VnKOI-5R_DJa8OMup1ouez21SICrHKKzMh0hKrPX0MKEeMUQhJI31e72yIqs0wkllarSHuZ8bE64Q=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br />Later in the morning a survey of our garden revealed a bounty of simple joys all highlighted by so very welcome sunshine and warmth.<br /><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi89pbXpye8SEqrIEKa3Zz9plm5Hxsx_NAFvXK18Z3qSBHrmP4mWqrtvkn2MfJ8KHHX1y08VaIUnfzrZ4F5x89BnECvXpl492JDgx3M7BPH__QllqCJFoS5CO2I3BOHIiWLnIN54aTCKUPxOUqrnQDebOkWbkRYV7z1IY4EgYz38M81-eKjvU__SaMhPQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1737" data-original-width="1737" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi89pbXpye8SEqrIEKa3Zz9plm5Hxsx_NAFvXK18Z3qSBHrmP4mWqrtvkn2MfJ8KHHX1y08VaIUnfzrZ4F5x89BnECvXpl492JDgx3M7BPH__QllqCJFoS5CO2I3BOHIiWLnIN54aTCKUPxOUqrnQDebOkWbkRYV7z1IY4EgYz38M81-eKjvU__SaMhPQ=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik4FxtPB_6h3E-oPNgzDwYN7IfNJr2ysT7HpBWvz5LtGz91vOrmqV4PldlHlP8ySBlokbyokF4I87da5GyD2s0_bSIHT8mkDfYRiUCLAvI4RzU8erWWb6LlFfP23joneOANd6Vi6q9oVP238SKbzpCyFMSwRxMqKUZ3ON2xODEYFOXd1eQ8fISG8GEnQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2644" data-original-width="1763" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik4FxtPB_6h3E-oPNgzDwYN7IfNJr2ysT7HpBWvz5LtGz91vOrmqV4PldlHlP8ySBlokbyokF4I87da5GyD2s0_bSIHT8mkDfYRiUCLAvI4RzU8erWWb6LlFfP23joneOANd6Vi6q9oVP238SKbzpCyFMSwRxMqKUZ3ON2xODEYFOXd1eQ8fISG8GEnQ=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgW_YTENTKjpH5z10Byt8-ST67wx1urioGSNpgFm-MupyiSBH1Z8G9Ep0__tkhkXmHnpiKsBL5KLHn1LKCkMw4fh9jMfYQ7H132JYADunR83ptVliTVvjooK2r9b3A369pmHH5gInMIBNsyMksOxYivXmMeEt2dmb_60KYIEd5y2ps-DGUmY-5GpdKb5A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2885" data-original-width="1923" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgW_YTENTKjpH5z10Byt8-ST67wx1urioGSNpgFm-MupyiSBH1Z8G9Ep0__tkhkXmHnpiKsBL5KLHn1LKCkMw4fh9jMfYQ7H132JYADunR83ptVliTVvjooK2r9b3A369pmHH5gInMIBNsyMksOxYivXmMeEt2dmb_60KYIEd5y2ps-DGUmY-5GpdKb5A=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Sunday came with unwelcome rain. Can we not have more than one day of sunshine? Such grumbling evaporated to the tune of "Rain, Rain go away. Come again another day" sung out with gusto by my little ones as they splashed in the puddles...<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNQIzw8a5oKSqecVqmSMv90a4jIXKVRpvRMJtvI_MLrGRcvJvywyBdo1pa0XEK16HFMhM4OcNJ3Gs-Z-t4_qwK7nPLsMo1vxXBiTjFxcLJO3P1AMStRVLOHLFj00tt2uQPYbVLaOtPR_7xl5zShXtEudJWdqV0yaQWUHl_r5sHm8V2eAOQMT-wKtv0aA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="893" data-original-width="1339" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNQIzw8a5oKSqecVqmSMv90a4jIXKVRpvRMJtvI_MLrGRcvJvywyBdo1pa0XEK16HFMhM4OcNJ3Gs-Z-t4_qwK7nPLsMo1vxXBiTjFxcLJO3P1AMStRVLOHLFj00tt2uQPYbVLaOtPR_7xl5zShXtEudJWdqV0yaQWUHl_r5sHm8V2eAOQMT-wKtv0aA=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">...and a box of sidewalk chalk just waiting for an artist's hand.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq15hZqGDdS_dI_nq2nOEyM4RFdO7k5Scg3jNxyNBV96lIHnLKOQQIJuV8eIE_-5qFbtfclcFWPvcsSfQ6FsRbY1MWPg10-moPRFZPxXZZAiX5jOWPiBMjn-6Afpjclk7qjG7FCe535aX7UJtTc7nt2XKNg6qA4C_KLGlQ2Y6hbF2sQdAhHN8xpDyHqg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1550" data-original-width="1550" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq15hZqGDdS_dI_nq2nOEyM4RFdO7k5Scg3jNxyNBV96lIHnLKOQQIJuV8eIE_-5qFbtfclcFWPvcsSfQ6FsRbY1MWPg10-moPRFZPxXZZAiX5jOWPiBMjn-6Afpjclk7qjG7FCe535aX7UJtTc7nt2XKNg6qA4C_KLGlQ2Y6hbF2sQdAhHN8xpDyHqg=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />Wishing you simple joys this week. </span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>©2023 April Hoeller</i></span></div></div></div>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-82999409498978219942023-05-04T10:32:00.001-04:002023-05-04T11:10:06.448-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - May 4, 2023<p> Some Personal Thoughts on the Coronation</p><p>I had the privilege earlier this week of being with a group of international women enjoying time, conversation together and sharing a meal along with a few laughs. The most engaging conversation I had with a few of the women was about the coronation of Charles III. Typical of what a number of news agencies have been reporting, our views were mixed with no extreme positives or negatives, just a jumble of thoughts and feelings either side of neutral.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6cMViQL1v9yyzGJjX2Q6Ob7UjMLKlfZGzVntcFecv8_jgejJoO0mK3LHX2CpQblxbGF_L2afwiLFSthHIYbWqisSmALAKxXdAHLUyYRf_kxRjh3yrJi1O4A1mIt-IZom0Z9W26NQ_LiMB6P6Zg2nTIHOYM_r1qo3CmltX0QLkYsyzEXgV4GQUlOd5VQ" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2211" data-original-width="1464" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6cMViQL1v9yyzGJjX2Q6Ob7UjMLKlfZGzVntcFecv8_jgejJoO0mK3LHX2CpQblxbGF_L2afwiLFSthHIYbWqisSmALAKxXdAHLUyYRf_kxRjh3yrJi1O4A1mIt-IZom0Z9W26NQ_LiMB6P6Zg2nTIHOYM_r1qo3CmltX0QLkYsyzEXgV4GQUlOd5VQ=w265-h400" width="265" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> The New Yorker© cover speaks volumes!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />And what is my view? It's an important historic event and I'll be tuning in early (5:00am here) Saturday morning. Though this will be the second coronation in my lifetime, I was just shy of two months old when Queen Elizabeth was crowned, so this will be the first one I'll be able to watch as it happens. That's exciting! Also, it could well be the only one I see if Charles shares his mother's longevity and persistence and his reign outlasts me.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgvQCeLVZ3KbVZq0RgSQYO55unNgWnkIlF2Z-eZlu6E7CyUGaYvlgBFeyiycnK5CEf1G4k-tP98hC3fqFgNAwphm4vqNJm_XNXhmW2OiOCmipN1X05HFUqOFHbVnujQsIDOo40hcLtRGcWxEKyMM-YdGtJ2fDJOeoGg1L4QQaHoKtRy31TW_AVNjkRvA" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="329" data-original-width="245" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgvQCeLVZ3KbVZq0RgSQYO55unNgWnkIlF2Z-eZlu6E7CyUGaYvlgBFeyiycnK5CEf1G4k-tP98hC3fqFgNAwphm4vqNJm_XNXhmW2OiOCmipN1X05HFUqOFHbVnujQsIDOo40hcLtRGcWxEKyMM-YdGtJ2fDJOeoGg1L4QQaHoKtRy31TW_AVNjkRvA=w298-h400" width="298" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Then there is the question of the future of the monarchy as a viable, relevant institution. It's a fair question in the 21st century. There are fifteen constitutional monarchies in the British Commonwealth of Nations, of which my home and native land, <a href="https://www.canada.ca/en/canadian-heritage/services/crown-canada/about.html" target="_blank">Canada </a>is one. Perhaps the reign of Charles III is the opportune time for reflection, evaluation, and decision on whether we choose to become a republic. Such an undertaking can be no swift kick to the curb but will require much care and consideration. In the meantime, I have no reservation or objection to pledging my allegiance to the monarch. It is my duty and obligation as a Canadian. <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>However, I do have doubts and reservations about the person about to be crowned King. Charles does not warm my heart. He does not inspire my confidence, and the Queen Consort even less so. I'd be very happy and even relieved to have my reservations proved unfounded, and that is my best hope. </p><p>May King Charles live up to his late mother's wise words:</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"When life seems hard, the courageous do not lie down and accept defeat;<br />instead, they are all the more determined to struggle for a better future."</span><br /></p><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">September 8, 2022 Queen Elizabeth II</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">God Save the King!<br /><br /></span></p><p>p.s. Though I may nosh on tea and crumpets while I watch the coronation in my jammies on Saturday morning, I assure any and all that I will neither be making nor eating a <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/radio/thecurrent/king-charles-coronation-quiche-1.6828235" target="_blank">Coronation Quiche</a>! A quiche with fava beans?! Are you kidding me?<br /><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-19102336257423914142023-05-01T08:31:00.001-04:002023-05-01T08:31:14.784-04:00Monday Meander - May 1, 2023<p>The Discard Pile</p><p>Yesterday's deluge of rain and cool temperatures allowed the drudgery of a prolonged bathroom reno to rise to the top of the chore list. Specifically, the task required a cleanout of the medicine cabinet and double vanity. It felt daunting, even a bit scary. Who knew what long forgotten nasties lay within?</p><p>I am happy to report that I did not find any oozing disgusting abominations, just old, expired, useless stuff and much smaller number of keepers. The discovery of an over-the-counter (OTC) medication with an expiry date of November 1996 did elicit a chuckling snort as I flung it into the "Pharmacy" box. </p><p>The real challenge turns out to be how to dispose of the discards in an environmentally responsible manner. OTC meds and prescription drugs can be dropped off at the pharmacy. For the record the were NO leftover prescriptions! But what do I do with all the other stuff - bottles and jars, tubes and cans of lotions and potions? Can the contents be disposed of without harming water, soil, or septic systems? Can the containers be recycled? </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_DFN8MmYmGbmZIT79RyPqM35CYlt3E8QPLtWoZlxzR8DfFGaDkf6jbW3oJVcbKc7S0bNP1dWe1NRMi3ljltDVW91wBVRLE3__zswZYFjUZxs2lVciPMpnpjVGLt_eI0iyBDpVe5TFQzgJNU90hEm8_U6C6E_gPoeAcs16Ih63C3Agvxata5-iHLyIJA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1144" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_DFN8MmYmGbmZIT79RyPqM35CYlt3E8QPLtWoZlxzR8DfFGaDkf6jbW3oJVcbKc7S0bNP1dWe1NRMi3ljltDVW91wBVRLE3__zswZYFjUZxs2lVciPMpnpjVGLt_eI0iyBDpVe5TFQzgJNU90hEm8_U6C6E_gPoeAcs16Ih63C3Agvxata5-iHLyIJA=w358-h400" width="358" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOb61fdnouq6ZWszA6FHoUVVY9O-uFuwRK9gODAxhq49iackJ6p_9Lfu3-MNRgZj8zaJUjjdpfzNPi8PBs1XDz2y658dvc7gANL27J0UTNshwOKBOycf2iIFgJ0QMfmLYesRMtbfowfpAHuKxTWwtju2LSgG99DbVqE4vx9HADL3acbq0-y5EYHQxYoQ" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="136" data-original-width="168" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOb61fdnouq6ZWszA6FHoUVVY9O-uFuwRK9gODAxhq49iackJ6p_9Lfu3-MNRgZj8zaJUjjdpfzNPi8PBs1XDz2y658dvc7gANL27J0UTNshwOKBOycf2iIFgJ0QMfmLYesRMtbfowfpAHuKxTWwtju2LSgG99DbVqE4vx9HADL3acbq0-y5EYHQxYoQ" width="296" /></a></div></div><p></p><p><br /><br />A quick perusal of the internet, (and I do mean quick - no time allowed to get trapped in a rabbit hole or ten!), and I had my answer. The best thing that can be done is to empty the contents into the garbage can then clean out tubes and jars and puncture the cans then put them in the recycling bin. I could do that except that any product residue must be thoroughly cleaned out of the containers and that gunk is bad news for my septic system. So, I can't compost the contents and I can't flush them and sadly then, it's the landfill for way too much of this stuff.</p><p><br /><br /></p><p>Going forward I will be making purchasing and usage adjustments. It would be helpful if manufacturers printed disposal instructions for both the product and the containers on the packaging AND the containers. I will refuse all those free samples of trial packs. I no longer wear makeup - take me as I am folks! - and because fragrance has become such a migraine hair trigger, I won't be buying that anymore and neither will the man of the house. Together we have already switched to a biodegradable sunscreen. It's the least we can do.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghJs-VOpVkGolf49reNcKVXtN9IwDa2sk3Yn330nc9gin2QYIVMhez0OS6I4uOJ5uz2q2up_MuFmJrQtH9hLbxVdfJa8eNwlAwskRr-7SY1NwyUO1krQsId3BW24_kLlVMaP8kpJo1tKB9LnUWnC6KZy2CnrY7NuFkfhNUo_ptFDp4wAsza5MCJgEm4Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="4096" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghJs-VOpVkGolf49reNcKVXtN9IwDa2sk3Yn330nc9gin2QYIVMhez0OS6I4uOJ5uz2q2up_MuFmJrQtH9hLbxVdfJa8eNwlAwskRr-7SY1NwyUO1krQsId3BW24_kLlVMaP8kpJo1tKB9LnUWnC6KZy2CnrY7NuFkfhNUo_ptFDp4wAsza5MCJgEm4Q=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-14443491403891568512023-04-27T11:12:00.000-04:002023-04-27T11:12:16.208-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - April 27, 2023<p>I was having a glum day yesterday, for no particular reason that I could latch on to, although the lack of sunshine and warmth may have been the culprit. The days have begun with early morning sun, then clouds by noon, overcast by 2pm with snow showers, rain showers, drizzle and wind, ending with clearing skies after 8pm with a temperature struggling to to reach 8°C. This has been the weather story EVERY day for over a week. Totally uninspiring!</p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgj9vWJ3OpCrIkefSa1FEzAHs55ALeMHruVbdvXjfHpvqM_PF8UiX6xeQoTsBOuxr_hYM1AePoqCOec_EsAGagRxqNxknwI7Dzg4X5w9jUIgpI1iQuit2EHN3JMgUej80bnsyVjBtTpUsB5RT7PaAMR47wTJy0LvFVO5LnrsdN2QoKbDMhP1CSq5-HbBw" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1616" data-original-width="2425" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgj9vWJ3OpCrIkefSa1FEzAHs55ALeMHruVbdvXjfHpvqM_PF8UiX6xeQoTsBOuxr_hYM1AePoqCOec_EsAGagRxqNxknwI7Dzg4X5w9jUIgpI1iQuit2EHN3JMgUej80bnsyVjBtTpUsB5RT7PaAMR47wTJy0LvFVO5LnrsdN2QoKbDMhP1CSq5-HbBw=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">image credit: pixabay</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />To combat the gloom, I sat down at the computer and began clicking away. I read a few articles and didn't learn much to cheer me. I went on to look at bathroom faucets in support of an ongoing bathroom reno. What a chore! A grueling trek through stuff I never needed or wanted as I struggle to find the right key words. Hours later, I had managed to store a few options on a wish list. As I was reviewing the list of new and old items my eyes locked on something from over a year ago, a fine glass bottle of fountain pen ink. And guess what? The price had dropped by 30%. </p><p>The package arrived first thing this morning. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVqotNAnvqFz4Jx7CEl6d3K0tujMkzFkojlcX1ibSE-Z9w8iHTu8xHtG7U7etVe-eOmheIaj5UsPVQA8GyB7Gl2xcMoi1FSogeRAcirAUktkgXpyTNZ981BCsvi5aKsi3Mqc-ZX-RyQ6YnrsITrN4IR5LER6Mw_ePQpglJGymfrW0WyVakCXKxDuUOGQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1773" data-original-width="1773" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVqotNAnvqFz4Jx7CEl6d3K0tujMkzFkojlcX1ibSE-Z9w8iHTu8xHtG7U7etVe-eOmheIaj5UsPVQA8GyB7Gl2xcMoi1FSogeRAcirAUktkgXpyTNZ981BCsvi5aKsi3Mqc-ZX-RyQ6YnrsITrN4IR5LER6Mw_ePQpglJGymfrW0WyVakCXKxDuUOGQ=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><br />Cheerful and bright with the promise of spring. A test write showed that the ink runs well and does not bleed into the paper. What bliss! Apparently it doesn't take much to lift my spirits. Oh and the sun is shining this morning too. <p></p><p>Racing Green, here we go!</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>©2023 April Hoeller</i></span></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-79060895082174576002023-04-24T11:57:00.001-04:002023-04-24T12:00:51.388-04:00Monday Meander - April 24, 2023<p> Oh, the PlacesYou'll Go, Grammy!</p><p>When the grandbabies arrived in my life, I imagined introducing them to all my favourite places and things that I enjoy doing. I imagined the fun and even the educational value of such adventures, opening their minds and eyes to this amazing world. </p><p>And so it was that a few weeks ago we met up with little ones and their parents at the Royal Ontario Museum (the ROM) for their very first visit to the home of dinosaurs, fossils, mummies, and so much more. I was giddy with anticipation, keen to show them the wonders. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMUsbjLKf9vRn-UQ1kL73sU0UpmCUjXdsy10fr08H9XgUPioFXhJUNNR27BEasXPjRwfg2vU21OLwnuQV6onji3cDZ-OiPgQdD5XvWIxC8JAAxyFP7IC6UxvA_nCrymaT0F8q0K4GREYyealP5tduXiLzaDUHbszioNyC45Peykj2WAkU_wFf6Fd-N2Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="5959" data-original-width="3966" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMUsbjLKf9vRn-UQ1kL73sU0UpmCUjXdsy10fr08H9XgUPioFXhJUNNR27BEasXPjRwfg2vU21OLwnuQV6onji3cDZ-OiPgQdD5XvWIxC8JAAxyFP7IC6UxvA_nCrymaT0F8q0K4GREYyealP5tduXiLzaDUHbszioNyC45Peykj2WAkU_wFf6Fd-N2Q=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br />Of course I'd forgotten all about what happens when one goes out in the company of a four-year-old and a nearly two-year-old. I'd forgotten how futile adult plans can be. But was I disappointed? Not one bit! In fact those two little ones led this old fossil on a journey of joy and wonder that was way more fun than anything I had planned or even imagined.<p></p><p>The WOW of dinosaurs!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiW-eBffr8V2JlAIF3c2-oo2lbP1g9tYbKgZ6T1fK_8MXrdUsBEU0ruzp6NTV-z3SMyEsXfVz4sfpdl4b9CI6duovqYUTPKCMBWgQcblZ5Wiek62BL8OXWLY24SL7ajCXNpAh6cMFnDzTBgSb6NWS5zhH_8MPcxDH2K0qjtLYEwRT1iijWYO7c0W9E6Gg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="1899" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiW-eBffr8V2JlAIF3c2-oo2lbP1g9tYbKgZ6T1fK_8MXrdUsBEU0ruzp6NTV-z3SMyEsXfVz4sfpdl4b9CI6duovqYUTPKCMBWgQcblZ5Wiek62BL8OXWLY24SL7ajCXNpAh6cMFnDzTBgSb6NWS5zhH_8MPcxDH2K0qjtLYEwRT1iijWYO7c0W9E6Gg=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br />The finger tip connection to the land before time.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqxDsj1a_dGMKt6aJg5ATvz7w36BsSrDmjMcZ40lP3CphBjt53R0Y72IYtyYsV97G01CFbw_fJ5tHss-pg6IiPVPKLODaxC0-ETas2590WwpPDn5g1a2_ITPt1n6lbP7MRJQECljYzpEJUxZAnRrOgPKxCdocummtYLiHHS2E1eOkptdJS6lGz_OP0rg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2301" data-original-width="1534" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqxDsj1a_dGMKt6aJg5ATvz7w36BsSrDmjMcZ40lP3CphBjt53R0Y72IYtyYsV97G01CFbw_fJ5tHss-pg6IiPVPKLODaxC0-ETas2590WwpPDn5g1a2_ITPt1n6lbP7MRJQECljYzpEJUxZAnRrOgPKxCdocummtYLiHHS2E1eOkptdJS6lGz_OP0rg=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br />The littles and I were a bit overwhelmed by it all - so much, so big, and so small too - so out of this world and yet not. We'll go back again.<p></p><p>The grandkids have also transported me to magical places in my own house. When they come to visit, I know that I'll be doing things I did not plan. I know I'll be going places I did not anticipate. Take yesterday for example.</p><p>I was invited into an artist's world of her creative process.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijPQr_reHphnTHgAQvR76mckdl0q6uYPM1QUq9Q9CsHWftBASnnuxx3y7arEDZdwSHWu6BkA8gRCpE--5AM6Y_AlzHsHcNFeu4BZEP5JRBk_j19FbTKJgCEt1dHp0CihJeyJZ63QDourjYb7sST1GuYwoKKg1s1GfGTcnCGeJKJJr2YTB0Ski8cvQOSA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2914" data-original-width="1943" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijPQr_reHphnTHgAQvR76mckdl0q6uYPM1QUq9Q9CsHWftBASnnuxx3y7arEDZdwSHWu6BkA8gRCpE--5AM6Y_AlzHsHcNFeu4BZEP5JRBk_j19FbTKJgCEt1dHp0CihJeyJZ63QDourjYb7sST1GuYwoKKg1s1GfGTcnCGeJKJJr2YTB0Ski8cvQOSA=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-kUQpauyWdbA908lOuWxYvj7fAMzURYbo7elFKskocA97Gutn4PfRw8eCM_Qo52FIb3DZIsMaQFNIAdQp6oW5lA3zZleNzOgmLlNv__eb-Kl_U_W9vEr4LaTlqR7yz4gFL-Rd0p5eQIP0PAokovQ01GxQAESHBCZGHTC0ed4KUWIDAjhll14fkcQF7g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2920" data-original-width="1947" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-kUQpauyWdbA908lOuWxYvj7fAMzURYbo7elFKskocA97Gutn4PfRw8eCM_Qo52FIb3DZIsMaQFNIAdQp6oW5lA3zZleNzOgmLlNv__eb-Kl_U_W9vEr4LaTlqR7yz4gFL-Rd0p5eQIP0PAokovQ01GxQAESHBCZGHTC0ed4KUWIDAjhll14fkcQF7g=w428-h640" width="428" /></a></div><p></p><p>I watched a horse farm manager keep things organized and heard her stories of the horses.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikt5lWSznGXoYiE62VQOirgR4TYcc4YAcJ1ZPiMGA6WuQvT8iYamaKNHX7WT4ocx0n5EszxeGWUgILEGYrps0anJmDG94CC00IW0H8ipWykYTS1bYf7dlCoU-QCZoI8xpAf-9cUmW0W0Q9ZYIvHLhNSLYmf8QCwQ6JyaP90g3KWa7PMDBXgg_HWoJwDg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2758" data-original-width="1839" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikt5lWSznGXoYiE62VQOirgR4TYcc4YAcJ1ZPiMGA6WuQvT8iYamaKNHX7WT4ocx0n5EszxeGWUgILEGYrps0anJmDG94CC00IW0H8ipWykYTS1bYf7dlCoU-QCZoI8xpAf-9cUmW0W0Q9ZYIvHLhNSLYmf8QCwQ6JyaP90g3KWa7PMDBXgg_HWoJwDg=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br />And later, I traveled to a wild life safari park to learn about how the animals all live side by side together.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFglUudx3_wgwMCXlBf0TqUmIyHaWcJwJgVrIUXSZEScHI7w0vU7kIcD8jlz8ZFBAZc3ILZRSrSWYInUHRVl5PZDJzsg3_m_yUNf9CRoQq4MOGZ2NlkUUWITQ_Wk5ka95TT1fKYHE5gq16Eoddfn9XeWfDMXD2fAjDFRySCbinp6oNaU6XIa9vMr0xjg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1695" data-original-width="2542" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFglUudx3_wgwMCXlBf0TqUmIyHaWcJwJgVrIUXSZEScHI7w0vU7kIcD8jlz8ZFBAZc3ILZRSrSWYInUHRVl5PZDJzsg3_m_yUNf9CRoQq4MOGZ2NlkUUWITQ_Wk5ka95TT1fKYHE5gq16Eoddfn9XeWfDMXD2fAjDFRySCbinp6oNaU6XIa9vMr0xjg=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Of all the places the grandkids and I could go, the best are the ones they show me.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGCmdlnQq0LjepNh6WW1KsaqOH3R2mZM6TPcV-MXCMvZN9HmNM-ZkxcEaaJRLISbkd8JbsCOCmk5U2BXTk4MxxKOEmKUttBQA_wUflj82G7CIzrtO33T7uleOehUSoWlm6U4ZIQ-I74sRgaGrNif6T9etJ_dSsXdnIEh3CVk-NcrZoH3jcr31v06cghA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1947" data-original-width="1947" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGCmdlnQq0LjepNh6WW1KsaqOH3R2mZM6TPcV-MXCMvZN9HmNM-ZkxcEaaJRLISbkd8JbsCOCmk5U2BXTk4MxxKOEmKUttBQA_wUflj82G7CIzrtO33T7uleOehUSoWlm6U4ZIQ-I74sRgaGrNif6T9etJ_dSsXdnIEh3CVk-NcrZoH3jcr31v06cghA=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller </span></i></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-32698676516689878542023-04-20T13:13:00.003-04:002023-04-20T13:19:15.368-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - April 20, 2023<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiItXXiNUt3FEmddpmQouMncgt44d9pMqi6EMhJYXMDbiq9MT3gmkZvMMO12oV-j2H8NTtvqnxpe5hPvCOFhpMb0DstKu72FNQCmEV9ZPXIHUjd1hsh0zdHU1v1MJggQWiSYmoo2UtIX4LejBJ7VyX3aKWLekgW6lQbprM_ntZtfryqo0Y_01Joxv0GXg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="204" data-original-width="588" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiItXXiNUt3FEmddpmQouMncgt44d9pMqi6EMhJYXMDbiq9MT3gmkZvMMO12oV-j2H8NTtvqnxpe5hPvCOFhpMb0DstKu72FNQCmEV9ZPXIHUjd1hsh0zdHU1v1MJggQWiSYmoo2UtIX4LejBJ7VyX3aKWLekgW6lQbprM_ntZtfryqo0Y_01Joxv0GXg=w640-h222" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>It's a big deal in my homeland. Every town, big and small has at least one hockey rink and scores of recreational and competitive teams. Larger towns and cities support multiple amateur leagues, the scouting grounds for the Olympics and the NHL. There are many hockey dreams in the land...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjNpbdt0OgSNQo4-tud28b9ycssqqfFXBkiVEA8G3anh2dU5PseZLIO68PFRTh22WIk_eRWuLU31rrHvMu-pt-BapVgS2AfRlxKYUhro-9icru_BML9rT7CyOy0K8PGU32JBP3lXQ8Baxej_OqIsbnhSFy1b6KUpYrkojaO02SHSu9eHYTZ570HNdbnQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjNpbdt0OgSNQo4-tud28b9ycssqqfFXBkiVEA8G3anh2dU5PseZLIO68PFRTh22WIk_eRWuLU31rrHvMu-pt-BapVgS2AfRlxKYUhro-9icru_BML9rT7CyOy0K8PGU32JBP3lXQ8Baxej_OqIsbnhSFy1b6KUpYrkojaO02SHSu9eHYTZ570HNdbnQ=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></div><br />Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved to play hockey. She dreamt about stick handling her way down the right wing, closing in on the net, then a quick wrist snap puts the puck in the top left corner It's all one fluid movement and she nails it every time.<p></p><p>That's the way it is with dreams...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnOpnAaeZCExxgdvs6AbxYHjGRL4WnPArDJneGgg92YXUNoCQNygQq9oy4VMptRc7grDwXBLzvWRyxPVwkgSOwBQs1rIlznIEShMGrtnxh-FiLf7Wref4M0cfokL3M3bHo80m12NcMWHJA3fGLQ1Rz0RfDw300e7eOjn54CTbcaRPf3LuHc8jsESL9MA" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="202" data-original-width="202" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnOpnAaeZCExxgdvs6AbxYHjGRL4WnPArDJneGgg92YXUNoCQNygQq9oy4VMptRc7grDwXBLzvWRyxPVwkgSOwBQs1rIlznIEShMGrtnxh-FiLf7Wref4M0cfokL3M3bHo80m12NcMWHJA3fGLQ1Rz0RfDw300e7eOjn54CTbcaRPf3LuHc8jsESL9MA" width="240" /></a></div><p><br />As it so often does, reality told a different story. It was the 1960's, the time before helmets and face shields. Little girls were not supposed to like hockey. More than that, girls were not allowed to play hockey. And no wonder - girls skates, those bright white figure skates with the sharp picks at the front, were not made for hockey.</p><p></p><p>The little girl struggled in too narrow skates, hand-me-downs from a sister who skated perfectly through turns and twists, forward and backward. Though she tried and tried again, the little girl never mastered the task, defeated by those blasted picks that dug into the ice and sent her down too hard, too often. The laughter and taunts from the sidelines didn't help.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>The best Christmas ever delivered an official hockey sweater of the Chicago Blackhawks - her favourite NHL team at the time - CCM gloves, and a Titan hockey stick. The dream lived on. Her Dad cutting up the ice with speed and wide turns, encouraged the dream.</div><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAbpMIZP9cZ2zBoOdvyEFqprk0XaLSUrc9-3fxwUdUnUNShccw7qJ2GtrrHscpsto-EmKJq2CHogzQG4dGj5Zmrqb47gfyV4aJl_FNy5dTrbzVbYueAjj9B8Jw1O0dC_LiLicnDYKx_ry_Qox7H91n_TodjD-fA7GERSczxE1_8Nt2Gnx5R7Drut0QBw" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="546" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAbpMIZP9cZ2zBoOdvyEFqprk0XaLSUrc9-3fxwUdUnUNShccw7qJ2GtrrHscpsto-EmKJq2CHogzQG4dGj5Zmrqb47gfyV4aJl_FNy5dTrbzVbYueAjj9B8Jw1O0dC_LiLicnDYKx_ry_Qox7H91n_TodjD-fA7GERSczxE1_8Nt2Gnx5R7Drut0QBw" width="240" /></a></div>The Mom tolerated the dream, taking all this hockey stuff in her stride for the most part, but she drew the line when the father suggested buying boys' tube skates. It was a bridge too far for the mother of the not so girly daughter.<p></p><p>No matter, out on the winter street, hard packed with snow, the neighbourhood boys always needed an extra player and the little girl was always dressed and ready to go in the sweater, gloves, stick, and boots. Living the dream.</p><p>The years passed and the girl grew and the boys grew and soon wanted nothing to do with the hockey girl who couldn't skate. She settled for Hockey Night in Canada to satisfy her desire, but mostly the dream fell asleep, and thirty years slipped by...</p><p>1998 - The Women broke onto the ice hockey scene at the Olympics in Nagano, Japan. That little girl's dream tucked into a grown woman, stirred and stretched. Oh to have been born in the 70's instead of the 50's. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjV7Gosxh4_-hpi0_W75zM6m7qCvypIEahKqs2hE8cCjH88B-wCO3nPYweGQkTwiN59a9d9PL_AM-BpRhEhrIf6avbBD8GvPrXcRWubLsW0O2JrcVF2EmB0FVYo8mqgYB6Ow4RYN84R2msS3Hbw5WxmrWcSwWWfSYzjMJSi-oVHlmn4BwKI_8i1z2MAtw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjV7Gosxh4_-hpi0_W75zM6m7qCvypIEahKqs2hE8cCjH88B-wCO3nPYweGQkTwiN59a9d9PL_AM-BpRhEhrIf6avbBD8GvPrXcRWubLsW0O2JrcVF2EmB0FVYo8mqgYB6Ow4RYN84R2msS3Hbw5WxmrWcSwWWfSYzjMJSi-oVHlmn4BwKI_8i1z2MAtw=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br />She immersed herself in every game, cheering and jeering, sometimes holding her breath, sometimes sagging with disappointment but throughout it all, thrilled to see other women living her dream and theirs on the ice.<p></p><p>These days, the little girl's dream continues to live on in the Olympics and the IIHF world championships. Her favourite Canadian women's teams don't always have to win gold - that the games exist, that the women are there, and that they are playing at such a high skill level is more than enough fuel to keep the dream alive in this vintage gal!</p><p>Not all dreams are meant to be realized. Many are there just to keep me reaching forward, trying new things, and new ways, encouraging possibilities and even some new ones.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIN1wYyw4_y9x8rvmFB_mq3ek3pYhQonkZjVhsp9z7U3X00-TUFSc7uqgmmfK-SxqLN9gkWzxVhk0aHG-OiZ7KCvZNR31iKIlwmqb4qwP_cCJyVU3AoXdNATMqU6_qFi-uwFiSBoxvltaIrdk3kGyQWI5dELkxJDNGLlQY2V7wqqbhmEIY9SHY6qw6xw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgIN1wYyw4_y9x8rvmFB_mq3ek3pYhQonkZjVhsp9z7U3X00-TUFSc7uqgmmfK-SxqLN9gkWzxVhk0aHG-OiZ7KCvZNR31iKIlwmqb4qwP_cCJyVU3AoXdNATMqU6_qFi-uwFiSBoxvltaIrdk3kGyQWI5dELkxJDNGLlQY2V7wqqbhmEIY9SHY6qw6xw=w400-h400" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>©2023 April Hoeller</i></span></p></div>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-43824281284870123012023-04-17T13:23:00.000-04:002023-04-17T13:23:04.405-04:00Monday Meander - April 17, 2023<p> I don't feel like it!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvJr4X5PEUTsQh97mjt4LuibVenrxfXupUmFQ73UcQzJmDceBhN8_7MnD7fdHVZxscved_hMuMdB1jyvQMKJNQeSdBwYg9xed1u3uYkJbiNEl0vrqOi0gTp6cUEibFT9At2WXsSFw7nPsaqOz91QToHudPbAcNeq3rwVtA2uIPF9dfR2L8otoBlEckmg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="625" height="533" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvJr4X5PEUTsQh97mjt4LuibVenrxfXupUmFQ73UcQzJmDceBhN8_7MnD7fdHVZxscved_hMuMdB1jyvQMKJNQeSdBwYg9xed1u3uYkJbiNEl0vrqOi0gTp6cUEibFT9At2WXsSFw7nPsaqOz91QToHudPbAcNeq3rwVtA2uIPF9dfR2L8otoBlEckmg=w640-h533" width="640" /></a></div><br />My wagon seems stuck at the top of the hill this Monday. I got up with enough bounce but now that I'm sitting here, I don't feel like accomplishing anything today. That's okay, I guess. There is nothing pressing on my agenda, no must-do's banging on the door. And yet, this lack of motivation is irritating! Why is that?<p></p><p>Why can't I have a pleasant do-nothing day, a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QwxTXGSLWQ" target="_blank">"59th Street Bridge Song"</a> kind of day?</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLb2F8AbvghmA8Vs49z60_0vT94ecTCozm-bX5LlS64bJPOy2bPf5TyTr3m4GIH6Jg_bZMz2n0QxqJvNUnV-VYBfOqhViAq-gDCQRcumReKjWr9KPDO-7MraEPFjGnJH4a_NllGIc0z6v-PBm3gVLQ46cV4y-VFLSdWVcoffunumVHBJZV8MmuWyHTDw" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="2667" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLb2F8AbvghmA8Vs49z60_0vT94ecTCozm-bX5LlS64bJPOy2bPf5TyTr3m4GIH6Jg_bZMz2n0QxqJvNUnV-VYBfOqhViAq-gDCQRcumReKjWr9KPDO-7MraEPFjGnJH4a_NllGIc0z6v-PBm3gVLQ46cV4y-VFLSdWVcoffunumVHBJZV8MmuWyHTDw=w267-h400" width="267" /></a><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />Slow down, you move too fast<br /></i><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">You got to make the morning last<br /></i><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Just kicking down the cobblestones<br /></i><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Looking for fun and feeling groovy<br /></i><i style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy</i></p><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i>Hello lamppost, what'cha knowing<br />I've come to watch your flowers growin'<br />Ain't you got no rhymes for me?<br />Doo-ait-n-doo-doo, feeling groovy<br />Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy</i></span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i>I got no deeds to do, no promises to keep<br />I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep<br />Let the morningtime drop all its petals on me<br />Life, I love you, all is groovy</i></span></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: center;"><i>(Paul Simon, 1966)</i></div></blockquote><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With that great tune and lyrics, I feel better already! I'm not making any commitment to do anything today except traipse around humming and feelin' groovy. And that's okay! </span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Cheers!</span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidMgbwmnyMu6Jj1teWAWQmLY_98QSrjmCDFALGV6yxpWCIYfvMcqxHA-l2DKwkDIyth9Cvguzxx9xmAl5h3sG_qo_QlJMggj6t1zwtcypDectDZxSXDx3eePJMAnQedEIUdv_UukOY-RBuTZSMAG8bIf9XeCdkZdWeYTYW46Hpy5jdZ9a_8Sbmf-Tkgw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1960" data-original-width="2940" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidMgbwmnyMu6Jj1teWAWQmLY_98QSrjmCDFALGV6yxpWCIYfvMcqxHA-l2DKwkDIyth9Cvguzxx9xmAl5h3sG_qo_QlJMggj6t1zwtcypDectDZxSXDx3eePJMAnQedEIUdv_UukOY-RBuTZSMAG8bIf9XeCdkZdWeYTYW46Hpy5jdZ9a_8Sbmf-Tkgw=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>©2023 April Hoeller</i></span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-39196614073061408592023-04-13T12:03:00.000-04:002023-04-13T12:03:15.393-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - April 13, 2023<p>Late Breaking News...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7liLuYkyVQkCDcCVncRqNxDqXqJ0n8z-JGVHwxIGUoEXaORN98n-VyVroSJt3Al8AjxhNWSZcq3pHTPlUnVd99GzcXwH6YSIuVnsdym7_Sd7MLup_B7gf0LKwZUyFwTpLCjhbbc5kdUx7REWrEXn7eyBw4Mls-EFYAL5upwoRlS0yOLs3p3nRswOFAQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1454" data-original-width="1454" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7liLuYkyVQkCDcCVncRqNxDqXqJ0n8z-JGVHwxIGUoEXaORN98n-VyVroSJt3Al8AjxhNWSZcq3pHTPlUnVd99GzcXwH6YSIuVnsdym7_Sd7MLup_B7gf0LKwZUyFwTpLCjhbbc5kdUx7REWrEXn7eyBw4Mls-EFYAL5upwoRlS0yOLs3p3nRswOFAQ=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>A somewhat remarkable thing happened to me nine days ago. I woke up on the morning of April 4 in a brand new decade of my life! While that on its own is not unique - I have crossed into several new decades already - what is new is that this one comes with a leading 7. A whole seventy (70!) years have slid by since my arrival in the world on April 4, 1953.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzJsFrkg1BitMdNsS-POkmMNbBbRs5JG_SWV5ov2NP4gx0GAfOVBNtAoRtgu6dKJCHXqnG9BeJOz4GEqwsrrKApnkKoSTrxSOLdVMkQtMKOn3d7F8x8b16dYgkufW47pM88ZHQPACc6qTqtMH_1U1Pj-8A-jcdtisFYNW71D83Sk7r_wnU_9nNxJKszw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3388" data-original-width="2708" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzJsFrkg1BitMdNsS-POkmMNbBbRs5JG_SWV5ov2NP4gx0GAfOVBNtAoRtgu6dKJCHXqnG9BeJOz4GEqwsrrKApnkKoSTrxSOLdVMkQtMKOn3d7F8x8b16dYgkufW47pM88ZHQPACc6qTqtMH_1U1Pj-8A-jcdtisFYNW71D83Sk7r_wnU_9nNxJKszw=w320-h400" width="320" /></a></div><br />I don't find this news alarming or disheartening nor wildly spectacular but it is a little bewildering. Seventy years sounds like an awfully long time yet feels like something far less, not a feeling that I can put a number on, as in it only feels like twenty-five, or forty, or..., but a puzzling sum of years that is way less than seventy. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0R5Sc1Sz9gRfE8aM_ydiV3uh3kopcJH2OAdX_2dRbjFurUzyJJ7y8Hgu537mS9FkbHc3nGA3MlmSGsrirf5-WzzvWQzN0TdxHgYJLz_pmvyFxRel4Z_aHRfnrDVhDazgDW3uQmt89kgVNH8S98MhV8wy_827mjBzxS1-3tXn8MdWel9jxIp8PsAZTwA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2490" data-original-width="1660" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0R5Sc1Sz9gRfE8aM_ydiV3uh3kopcJH2OAdX_2dRbjFurUzyJJ7y8Hgu537mS9FkbHc3nGA3MlmSGsrirf5-WzzvWQzN0TdxHgYJLz_pmvyFxRel4Z_aHRfnrDVhDazgDW3uQmt89kgVNH8S98MhV8wy_827mjBzxS1-3tXn8MdWel9jxIp8PsAZTwA=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br />If I spend too much time ruminating about this incongruent relationship between actual and perceived years of life, it turns into an accounting exercise of things accomplished which then very quickly dredges up the unaccomplished, the failures and screw-ups, disappointments and regrets. All of which amounts to a useless waste of time and energy!<p></p><p>I am 70 years old! I've made mistakes along the way, I've missed some opportunities, and I'm sure that I have offended more than a few people (sorry about that, really). My body doesn't work as well nor as long as it used to. It fails me more often than I care to admit, as does my short term memory. If I let all of that get to me, then I become a grumbling old hag and I haven't got time for that wind bag! </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQlPu35LIlrEZ-YugDz9oRM-BPXqaOo5rL-yC5RIaZQV_B_OdhnPzT6Y8RjFv4L6DTc5qQOyUQw_idYTi4mfqQZJOklSf5uvVEIPDGOKf4fkr2L14oDKGy_jT_n4KmURL2ptSfLX2LBzd14Wg_dcZHLAHXYBaMLFrR11KVozget9255qepGa14eRefgg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1960" data-original-width="2940" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQlPu35LIlrEZ-YugDz9oRM-BPXqaOo5rL-yC5RIaZQV_B_OdhnPzT6Y8RjFv4L6DTc5qQOyUQw_idYTi4mfqQZJOklSf5uvVEIPDGOKf4fkr2L14oDKGy_jT_n4KmURL2ptSfLX2LBzd14Wg_dcZHLAHXYBaMLFrR11KVozget9255qepGa14eRefgg=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">At the top of Mont Royal, Montreal April 4, 2023</span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>I am seventy years old. I am learning to be gentle with the world around me, others and myself. All of which are a work in progress with self-gentleness the most difficult and most neglected. I have a massage therapist and an athletic therapist who together keep me going strong. I have more to celebrate than regret, more to look forward to than moan about. Life is good.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXDTXg1ZHOx53fDVDjYgtIXx7tskNHQRW4rMdSZJKx2qc6TTcbDkzDo6gjtCoOwfxA4iQvQIycnAi86kRk72FKW3gUXilbcTn6ssTEaWrG7h1Q6LWaf9u6mxi35r-7CGqYNPnOleOZOO4-qHQX9JY39cGMkR_s9sbqio5Bm-uk7ChbiW1saCED5JRHGg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2698" data-original-width="1799" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXDTXg1ZHOx53fDVDjYgtIXx7tskNHQRW4rMdSZJKx2qc6TTcbDkzDo6gjtCoOwfxA4iQvQIycnAi86kRk72FKW3gUXilbcTn6ssTEaWrG7h1Q6LWaf9u6mxi35r-7CGqYNPnOleOZOO4-qHQX9JY39cGMkR_s9sbqio5Bm-uk7ChbiW1saCED5JRHGg=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-37203097843368701722023-03-31T13:49:00.000-04:002023-03-31T13:49:53.931-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - March 31, 2023<p>It's an "or Thereabouts" Friday</p><p>I may be a day late posting, but honestly who's counting?! The best news about today is that it is the last day of March - YAY! The weather gods are celebrating with wind, ice pellets, rain, and general gloom.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXiUjsGx-9oNnS5xhe61sqHbciBJ7r80g13mXV9qZ5q5O2Jfhj8WdCOtmgUlk3y7XoCQmvocSREdlDWbIeQpG0uy2hiSNfmdxs_6hmA4j2Kgk00e2r1FTFZkss2niY2HtQaQA7v7a3VE7zfbErHxCC6dP50iF804nBBQ4BXkq1ozBhRMLFCgpE3wjivQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1904" data-original-width="2855" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXiUjsGx-9oNnS5xhe61sqHbciBJ7r80g13mXV9qZ5q5O2Jfhj8WdCOtmgUlk3y7XoCQmvocSREdlDWbIeQpG0uy2hiSNfmdxs_6hmA4j2Kgk00e2r1FTFZkss2niY2HtQaQA7v7a3VE7zfbErHxCC6dP50iF804nBBQ4BXkq1ozBhRMLFCgpE3wjivQ=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br />Few winters just slump out of the room without a protest or three against spring's arrival in the land. There is usually some push back even after a rumble or two of thunder attempts to break winter's back (according my Dad's weather lore) and the great thawing of the land has begun. No worries - my snow ruler fell over this week, no longer supported by piles of snow, the tulips have pushed up a full 10cm, and the robins have returned. I know the great day star will soon get back to work on the spring's thawing and blooming So be it.<p></p><p>There's lots to do in the coming week...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiNSks0wdp6_IRzIxT9zpxhXnw-l8VBcK-iVYVPvw8B857MwlxqQnJa-FU3c6nSJs2ptnBZC8bqztDkJiAbHjApXv3Ot7cAaMDCLfhdr2Q_GWKMTmFWFMOHHHArKiq9WTOET7VisL_Gz1MiybSnoAzLMhFn1T3UR67CWSYwXFiIDiWAVXZcE3vWYvwshA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1362" data-original-width="2042" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiNSks0wdp6_IRzIxT9zpxhXnw-l8VBcK-iVYVPvw8B857MwlxqQnJa-FU3c6nSJs2ptnBZC8bqztDkJiAbHjApXv3Ot7cAaMDCLfhdr2Q_GWKMTmFWFMOHHHArKiq9WTOET7VisL_Gz1MiybSnoAzLMhFn1T3UR67CWSYwXFiIDiWAVXZcE3vWYvwshA=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br />The Easter bunny is thumping about the apparent lack of preparation for his upcoming festival. While he's forgotten that the sugar cookies have already been baked and are tucked safely away in the freezer, there are still hot cross buns to make, paska (Easter bread - just think butter, eggs, honey, yeast, and flour), and those cookies will have to be thawed and decorated too! Then there's cleaning and decorating to too. <p></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5hhNkWtgXCPrW8RI4__zTfMFTZINDOISUyodygAeGoztKEfh6tvwFfAIkjp_TKJKNRaEinPkX068-bfgXsbHADll2g1oWdCochtRXMMykYtODkEhsXlHgj1WcmKK8xjHC7rcmIJuP0kpPxdGPcE_elE3xHarvoKe8pWtsdyPbkVfae8N_VdTq02292Q" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2145" data-original-width="3630" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5hhNkWtgXCPrW8RI4__zTfMFTZINDOISUyodygAeGoztKEfh6tvwFfAIkjp_TKJKNRaEinPkX068-bfgXsbHADll2g1oWdCochtRXMMykYtODkEhsXlHgj1WcmKK8xjHC7rcmIJuP0kpPxdGPcE_elE3xHarvoKe8pWtsdyPbkVfae8N_VdTq02292Q=w640-h378" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Easter 2020</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjvAG_hj3N7tgP36jFYVZ858G32FSn_-VEJNJ_wMxww3Y8YQkPObCVEa1GaD9tKev580-jloIqe8nIzNHFmpinrMNgN2lFl_FMFkSIroFMxHXdRe-CsUVrJMFIZ1y8fpjEbkXAG6Z6PYNlcriFYyWhc93IDFYNqe3ROPjygWno2YtMTO_S01_h6zllxJw" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2984" data-original-width="5312" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjvAG_hj3N7tgP36jFYVZ858G32FSn_-VEJNJ_wMxww3Y8YQkPObCVEa1GaD9tKev580-jloIqe8nIzNHFmpinrMNgN2lFl_FMFkSIroFMxHXdRe-CsUVrJMFIZ1y8fpjEbkXAG6Z6PYNlcriFYyWhc93IDFYNqe3ROPjygWno2YtMTO_S01_h6zllxJw=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><br />The most difficult of all this preparation is ignoring the cries for redemption coming from the jelly<br /> beans and chocolate eggs hidden away, well away this year, from the eyes, ears and fingers of the baker/decorator and her husband. It is very hard for the old folks in this house to resist freeing the captive confections and then devouring them. Nasty people! 😉<br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Good thing the old Easter eggs, hollowed out and painted emblems of Easters' past, are safe, though they remain oh-so-fragile.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJuIYDyBoxewhaGdVcrBkyh1NpvygUKLqJyXdPhHOBtQ0SN7Lmb3pB0cRblpFWmsaq6WqmEawxTCZNja-8GtR7qE3wWeXXwbYbyHez0etkCo3j_JHklTdVpG0P25Hg3PauJSDlepYNmEhsJa_P2YpkaDZZTw1GR0b6I4WoP4uUCRrrLtvxHQfo5Rc8wQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2918" data-original-width="3910" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJuIYDyBoxewhaGdVcrBkyh1NpvygUKLqJyXdPhHOBtQ0SN7Lmb3pB0cRblpFWmsaq6WqmEawxTCZNja-8GtR7qE3wWeXXwbYbyHez0etkCo3j_JHklTdVpG0P25Hg3PauJSDlepYNmEhsJa_P2YpkaDZZTw1GR0b6I4WoP4uUCRrrLtvxHQfo5Rc8wQ=w400-h299" width="400" /></a></div><br />I'd best get to work. Take care.<p></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p><p><br /></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-20233259706480850612023-03-23T12:58:00.002-04:002023-03-23T15:58:24.365-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - March 23, 2023<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxUiGMzX901gjkHccCqk3wLLvp2q4VgZqTPKLU-Lkgr6_NzwClh-4rPkE3DFM_iaMt4D30tl4ypN0UKJkRgNMfFhpzMjsCMdwlYilw6IHHPpAVjSmcnkTNJalVQ5bdBjie2Ue9laREi9rldsUrQDxf5eziRYGwAP5fi17FvCZMk6gPMZkjI2euNgfnYQ" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1418" data-original-width="1892" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxUiGMzX901gjkHccCqk3wLLvp2q4VgZqTPKLU-Lkgr6_NzwClh-4rPkE3DFM_iaMt4D30tl4ypN0UKJkRgNMfFhpzMjsCMdwlYilw6IHHPpAVjSmcnkTNJalVQ5bdBjie2Ue9laREi9rldsUrQDxf5eziRYGwAP5fi17FvCZMk6gPMZkjI2euNgfnYQ" width="320" /></a></div></div><p><br /><br /></p><p><br />Most mornings I wake up with a tune playing in my head. It might be an orchestral piece but most often it is a song and barring any upheavals during the day, this music sets the tone for my day. This morning as I walked from bed to bathroom, I did so to the tune of the Banana Boat song bubbling around in my brain.Here's the song made famous by Harry Belafonte in 1956 - have a listen:<br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYYkJ0kwNss">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYYkJ0kwNss</a></div><p></p><p><br /><br />It was a regular occurrence in my childhood home for either one of my parents to suddenly break into song and this tune popping into my head this morning took me back to any Saturday morning in that living room. My sisters and I are sitting around quietly doing our own things, my mother in the kitchen clearing away breakfast dishes when Dad ambles into the living room without any apparent purpose, stops then BELLOWS, "Day-O! Day-ay-ay-o!" </p><p>We all knew the song so well, that once we recovered from the surprise, we jumped to our feet singing along, "Daylight come and me wan' go home..." and forming up a conga line dance behind my Dad, a turn of two around the living room before moving through the hall to the kitchen, through the dining room and back to the living room. Such great fun!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyC6xmbgDMN8A84YRBojCSNCywNcCJvXEgZYgjRGFJf9jW_dN0PN1KceH7dVLMNPUMKiorOBkk9nZM3PqOnDg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">A happy welcome to Puerto Limon, Costa Rica, Feb. 21, 2023</span></div><p></p><p>Singing was an integral part of all family gatherings. A lull in the conversation, especially if the subject matter had become controversial or solemn, provided the perfect opportunity for someone one in the clan to break into song, or even just begin humming one. That's all it took. We all joined in, some introducing a little harmony, some inventing new words to throw us off and evoke uproarious laughter. Such great fun. Such joyous memories on this rainy day. </p><p>I'm off to do a few more calypso turns around the kitchen, then on with my day. Cheers!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUk7J3Krtv6wB_GtpsoMVogIdiHXFz8W3S7Hz93f0VJrY_UCJ3xb3CMBAfzCZipkecywL-yaEJy-X09XtcHZlT-G-bNR1a7MUmhi8G6No15VE3TXPRWAMQY6pgMFBuADJMufquIzw51IUUl2S2hElLKOBtyC2CdR3kFY3cOR_IarHwSETY8Zq9IMRdEw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2724" data-original-width="1816" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUk7J3Krtv6wB_GtpsoMVogIdiHXFz8W3S7Hz93f0VJrY_UCJ3xb3CMBAfzCZipkecywL-yaEJy-X09XtcHZlT-G-bNR1a7MUmhi8G6No15VE3TXPRWAMQY6pgMFBuADJMufquIzw51IUUl2S2hElLKOBtyC2CdR3kFY3cOR_IarHwSETY8Zq9IMRdEw=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>©2023 April Hoeller</i></span></p><p> </p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-30460181685693048162023-03-20T12:35:00.000-04:002023-03-20T12:35:12.815-04:00Monday Meander - March 20, 2023<p>Wait for it... </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMh2J9iiDDJF1tkUc8HPmXwfU4A1E44mEJ82PZBIizDNoBUQRXd5kqdeDyDzhVRsV8v8EZG6BE8E3BEmUW5MBuwEnWReoN7xXGZUFIgRyAqTHVA1SItFzQGRf2xm9dDpPlnREZZh1KthCth-jKlz_xQdb0_veH1EhCMfIiGAAinxkQrHiVcAY7sFr2tA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1870" data-original-width="2805" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMh2J9iiDDJF1tkUc8HPmXwfU4A1E44mEJ82PZBIizDNoBUQRXd5kqdeDyDzhVRsV8v8EZG6BE8E3BEmUW5MBuwEnWReoN7xXGZUFIgRyAqTHVA1SItFzQGRf2xm9dDpPlnREZZh1KthCth-jKlz_xQdb0_veH1EhCMfIiGAAinxkQrHiVcAY7sFr2tA=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">As calls to dinner begin this evening Lady Spring will slip in. With a simple tick, or perhaps it will be a tock at 17:24 EDT, she will sigh into her place along great wheel of the year. And just like that, her symphony will begin.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The opening notes consist of erratic percussion work as snow melt sends water droplets into the eaves troughs. Then a steady trickle builds along the roof line moving toward the entry of the downspouts with a distinctive gurgle and rattle. Soon this glorious water music is accompanied by an avian chorus, filling the air with tweets, chirps and trills as winged creatures great and small swoop and swirl in the warm sun.<br /><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx9QCCoTwr3fo1UrwCKXZTs6s2egLgp5zfAx48r_bi3oEuLwY_BRT2fZ71LwJBuCeeugmA4KCsHRC7iXEnf1w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br />It will be a long percussion introduction this year. There's a lot of snow to melt! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggTwOxKTLDS6GuLlV7lYf6Xc8aQRJqcFPyU5KMsFEGlKIdNCiKSXrnc8TbHbpKNeer7za4zk9gLFcTNG64i9wH8-21gb0wSLwrtcJnDGagt_leS8XPJTCoaSv_3lGV5f-4XOP-hdby6oi5mjxqZ3V-OriLIcXeTdMMopcUcqqFdRiFI2TAqvhTA5E1OA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1779" data-original-width="2669" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggTwOxKTLDS6GuLlV7lYf6Xc8aQRJqcFPyU5KMsFEGlKIdNCiKSXrnc8TbHbpKNeer7za4zk9gLFcTNG64i9wH8-21gb0wSLwrtcJnDGagt_leS8XPJTCoaSv_3lGV5f-4XOP-hdby6oi5mjxqZ3V-OriLIcXeTdMMopcUcqqFdRiFI2TAqvhTA5E1OA=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMISTtXYa9OP31s_MpeuSix1znASHJM6lvTdP-3wj46-03HhHqBdM80Ndnv2OVmLC8IwNzVwZOk_TBNubyNGadbCcX1_EPDEUTjatDUEEpo-KrhWDZHeraa2LNQy0-tpBOHHmShPoMrV6om2v78cxQpM1FHenRozUctoWGoHR7vr0xxE5Fg7EW_3ulKA" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2807" data-original-width="1871" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjMISTtXYa9OP31s_MpeuSix1znASHJM6lvTdP-3wj46-03HhHqBdM80Ndnv2OVmLC8IwNzVwZOk_TBNubyNGadbCcX1_EPDEUTjatDUEEpo-KrhWDZHeraa2LNQy0-tpBOHHmShPoMrV6om2v78cxQpM1FHenRozUctoWGoHR7vr0xxE5Fg7EW_3ulKA=w214-h320" width="214" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>A whole whackload along the roadside and 19cm (7.5 inches) on the ground outside my door. But that is quite an improvement over the 49cm that was on the ground just 16 days ago.</div></div><p></p><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My favourite part of the Spring symphony is unheard heartbeat that pulsates underneath it all - a throbbing, that rises and falls, rolls and flows beneath the still winter wrapped ground, aching for emergence. This morning, amidst the debris of winter, the first signs of this beating heart are visible.<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3q9soRWFZePhYAF2bMdPVRQQvjh4tmULSYeRjA8dVh2B3AqPc2ovlhw6XXkR_CHBUpmA8FnRty3N1VMnFEm0_exCGO4J0ypUXHwL8EHeP_C3Jg1fsBBaaY_SnkG4ams9yG0y3aGY60-bN4RvOaQ2IHSE95kufmeFIjxqy3t5AJuNZ3drdDes1-gCBjw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1652" data-original-width="1652" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3q9soRWFZePhYAF2bMdPVRQQvjh4tmULSYeRjA8dVh2B3AqPc2ovlhw6XXkR_CHBUpmA8FnRty3N1VMnFEm0_exCGO4J0ypUXHwL8EHeP_C3Jg1fsBBaaY_SnkG4ams9yG0y3aGY60-bN4RvOaQ2IHSE95kufmeFIjxqy3t5AJuNZ3drdDes1-gCBjw=w640-h640" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjF5N0w0k-_MxBFOJe6qymiNa-BJTEDk__-nP8VTG6ufYwsOZ4InTZSA8T9clWn7CV-oFprzKinITWg5JA6EvtGkXXoe9pbkauBIdc2PiBw_T2pK-w7L7BC1yZI1-nwxpa-WzzrVyO0vhYjClgPQY5x3LaPbDBem-5do229IKorawmyfjrKNqrgzDHGqg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1292" data-original-width="1938" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjF5N0w0k-_MxBFOJe6qymiNa-BJTEDk__-nP8VTG6ufYwsOZ4InTZSA8T9clWn7CV-oFprzKinITWg5JA6EvtGkXXoe9pbkauBIdc2PiBw_T2pK-w7L7BC1yZI1-nwxpa-WzzrVyO0vhYjClgPQY5x3LaPbDBem-5do229IKorawmyfjrKNqrgzDHGqg=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><blockquote> "Spring drew on... and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night and left each morning brighter traces of her steps." — Charlotte Bronte</blockquote><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">Tis a grand day!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Take a deep breath.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Smile.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Mother Earth is stirring.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Just below the horizon her greening has begun.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></div><p></p></div>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360342764276923619.post-22145585284317022872023-03-16T09:03:00.001-04:002023-03-16T09:03:30.793-04:00Thursday, or Thereabouts - March 16, 2023<p>The day after and the day before - the soothsayer and the saint</p><p>Julius Caesar made an error in judgment on March 15 in 44 B.C. Scoffing at a soothsayer's warning about the Ides of March, he went to the Roman Senate where he was stabbed to death by 60 conspirators. Helped in large part by Shakespeare's telling of the story, March 15 comes around each year with the warning: </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2qKpGfeDN2gae1CN6Y70yTGL3FeQfB2ByEV9lXsw_JQ7OuB8HdoFqbg5SzbnD6BT0NLK_lR7Yuhnutbvql_OgaULhhNr_eFc9aQO2SNICUp66G5aAR7kzbCmjn_yluYqT2SGH4bkMdX8I5lPw656v6lEfECg2kZpCc4Lrj7Kx1pn6JkyoQXrdaS3gyA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="485" data-original-width="644" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2qKpGfeDN2gae1CN6Y70yTGL3FeQfB2ByEV9lXsw_JQ7OuB8HdoFqbg5SzbnD6BT0NLK_lR7Yuhnutbvql_OgaULhhNr_eFc9aQO2SNICUp66G5aAR7kzbCmjn_yluYqT2SGH4bkMdX8I5lPw656v6lEfECg2kZpCc4Lrj7Kx1pn6JkyoQXrdaS3gyA" width="319" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJUM06lyiAj-rnUPbgVlq7ZUabhdpo8NsQ_qdxaJTpEABMdmvzrnRJdqt9_tnw5QTtwE4P-hOXwB1B2fwz-tgnI3-bnp_HUQVBTA1k-xQdCW6qQBPcVh51XZ6Bc8A8V67HLcLbUC47npoan5ECKgHbpvlwgnzMBRhQ_wp1e7d_j96gVwjfeYqwWg6qjA" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2779" data-original-width="2193" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJUM06lyiAj-rnUPbgVlq7ZUabhdpo8NsQ_qdxaJTpEABMdmvzrnRJdqt9_tnw5QTtwE4P-hOXwB1B2fwz-tgnI3-bnp_HUQVBTA1k-xQdCW6qQBPcVh51XZ6Bc8A8V67HLcLbUC47npoan5ECKgHbpvlwgnzMBRhQ_wp1e7d_j96gVwjfeYqwWg6qjA=w315-h400" width="315" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br />Well I'm still here on the day after. No stabbing pains anywhere, (which at my age is somewhat remarkable!) and I'm still in power - at my house anyway. All because I did not got to the Senate. So there! </p><p></p><p><br />I've never belonged to a senate let alone gone to a meeting of one and I'm not likely to ever be a Senator, but surely that's a moot point? I pay attention to warnings from soothsayers, saints, and those niggling bad feelings about situations and people. I do my research and proceed (or not) with caution. It's worked for me so far.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitMZGztQGsMZvwIHIRgZBjQGbZqXADB4hl2yOm16xi1qv-fWSsCpEwKhTAbzgGgcON9dX6PWO2pyfvO1jZZ1PY_MmiCJtYSj3ckyGeFC4PsXT1sGl1YXcCujnuRImxxEJ_YlGUYE-98UVIohj1LG2lz_dNw2UL-yj7dgeOcjWnQ_wcwUKr5tGtQE4EJg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="618" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEitMZGztQGsMZvwIHIRgZBjQGbZqXADB4hl2yOm16xi1qv-fWSsCpEwKhTAbzgGgcON9dX6PWO2pyfvO1jZZ1PY_MmiCJtYSj3ckyGeFC4PsXT1sGl1YXcCujnuRImxxEJ_YlGUYE-98UVIohj1LG2lz_dNw2UL-yj7dgeOcjWnQ_wcwUKr5tGtQE4EJg=w320-h311" width="320" /></a></div><p>Now, on to the next celebration to which I have no ancestral claim: St. Patrick's Day. No Irish blood as far as I know, yet I will be baking up Irish soda bread and oat cakes today to accompany a few brew friends joining us on tomorrow. </p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhuQYB_c6IKLlK725SQ7RaGIym_fq4gu6MLDsYewMoAJqRhKWSt_e3QGuNNVPG9fvHNVFqtscHa5aCJMHhMyNtgzR7opZsBPqRLHgsJy7fOaD3KEFSTjzPVU3b1ThyZ73j0sADI7R8b7Z7UmAmBe4r-B2tTGgwCWmxO4iKpqBEYCQkxgmydCc7C83SWAw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2681" data-original-width="2931" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhuQYB_c6IKLlK725SQ7RaGIym_fq4gu6MLDsYewMoAJqRhKWSt_e3QGuNNVPG9fvHNVFqtscHa5aCJMHhMyNtgzR7opZsBPqRLHgsJy7fOaD3KEFSTjzPVU3b1ThyZ73j0sADI7R8b7Z7UmAmBe4r-B2tTGgwCWmxO4iKpqBEYCQkxgmydCc7C83SWAw=w640-h586" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">A cheesy friend or two will also be on board for Friday.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJOCqvpllyy6nEOsn66qrhjDNVFDIMo0x67-ssHCnkzpnuKvs9lU0A7EtIu7WtRw9ExvdpZYx_bnRngybXZDR2jGiFpsSE7AMt_NGRKo7Y7kI8w3WBPVK4PtpM70PQO-58vEDDapfLXcMlGL2LSEDypkAzdV5-xIN35g_LuZkjSdTWD_4VpbBf1Wbjrg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2900" data-original-width="3817" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJOCqvpllyy6nEOsn66qrhjDNVFDIMo0x67-ssHCnkzpnuKvs9lU0A7EtIu7WtRw9ExvdpZYx_bnRngybXZDR2jGiFpsSE7AMt_NGRKo7Y7kI8w3WBPVK4PtpM70PQO-58vEDDapfLXcMlGL2LSEDypkAzdV5-xIN35g_LuZkjSdTWD_4VpbBf1Wbjrg=w640-h486" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div></div>Today, tomorrow, and every day...<p></p><p></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-size: medium;">May the road rise up to meet you.<br />May the wind be always at your back.<br />May the sun shine warm upon your face;<br />the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,<br />may God hold you in the palm of His hand.</span></i></blockquote><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Sláinte!</i></span></p><p><br /></p><p><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">©2023 April Hoeller</span></i></p>April Hoellerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06009538299533789189noreply@blogger.com0