Thursday, September 4, 2014

Seventeen Flowers

On our walk the other day we counted 17 different kinds of wildflowers. Some would call them weeds, but not me. Did you know that a stand of Goldenrod smells like a pot of honey?

Here are some photos with Uncle Ken and Marilyn:




Last day - tomorrow morning we make the trip back home. I have mixed feelings: on one hand I'd like to stay here forever; on the other hand, getting up at 6:30 or 7:00 to walk the dogs is getting old. I'd love a proper sleep-in!

It seems so long ago that we were back home and rushing about. We feel like we've actually had a summer too.


Yesterday was a gorgeous day - our second last full day here. We read and relaxed all day. Brenda and Bill came over around 2:30 for a swim, and before you knew it the time had come to go our separate ways to make supper. It is supposed to be even nicer today - the plan is much the same as yesterday's except today we'll do a joint supper with Brenda and Bill.


I stopped reading the book that I had been reading (I won't say which one in case it is one of your favourites!). It was horribly written, so choppy and repetitive. It was tedious. I didn't feel that I was improving myself. I've switched over to Carol Shields' "Larry's Party". The first paragraph told me that I'd made the 'write' decision. I think it is better to read 'how to do it' rather than 'what not to do'!

I've hardly written anything these past weeks – lazy I guess. I installed a writing prompt app the other day - today it inspired me to write something about mornings when I worked. My Aunt Kristine has suggested some ideas for getting past this block and I plan to try them. She has also been helping me with improving one of the stories that is underway and has given me some fantastic feedback. She's so positive and encouraging. I do have one piece of fluff that I want to proof a few more times before I post it. Who knew that writing would be come a hobby for me, but if I think about it, writing a blog post almost every day for close to four years set me on the path!

The Queen Anne’s lace that was in full bloom when we got here is now shrivelled up…


For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home. ~Stephanie Perkins