A CAPE COD MEDITATION

I grew up near the beach surrounded by the ocean on Long Island. My first boyfriend loved to surf, and we would go to the beach all the time. Lots of times the weather was dreadful because that kind of weather usually gives birth to larger waves. I remember sitting on the beach with my girlfriends, wrapped up in a blanket while the damp sea breeze caused havoc with my hair. I sat watching my boyfriend, chilled to the bone but in love. Yesterday at the beach it was that kind of afternoon, and as I sat watching the waves I thought about Phil and the lovely memories. I have lots of memories associated with the beach and I find I continue to make new ones to add to my ocean collection. Like yesterday with the girls, content to know that they were finding joy at the shore also.

At home when I am not at the beach in the summer, I have stacks of books about the Cape on my coffee table. Next to all my books I have a large glass jar with a collection of shells. The girls and I have collected shells from all over, and they are such magnificent works of art. I have my Joan Anderson collection of books "A Walk On the Beach", "A Weekend to Change Your Life", "An Unfinished Marriage", and "My Own Cape Cod" by Gladys Taber. I took the girls to the Cape yesterday. They had a friend with them and they grabbed some buckets and went to find clams and crawly things like when they were little. The beach seems to bring out the children in all of us...riding waves, making sand castles and daydreaming.

Yesterday was one of those days that are overcast and very damp, with a sea breeze that made an otherwise hot day pleasant. We arrived at the shore when other people were beginning to leave, so we had the beach to ourselves. Sitting by the ocean, listening to the waves, and the seagulls cleared my mind and made room for summer daydreams. If I could give a gift to anyone out of all the gifts I could find..I would give them the gift of the ocean because it feeds our soul. Come sit a while and listen to the sounds and watch the waves and clear your mind, to make way for your daydreams.

The Beach

The Beach, originally uploaded by bluebirdsandteapots.

Happy Valley Flower Market

Happy Valley Flower Market, originally uploaded by bluebirdsandteapots.

Happy Valley, Hong Kong

Walking to Happy Valley Hong Kong every morning was a magical time. It was several miles from Tai Tam to Happy Valley and the walk was more than a thrill. I very often would listen to my cd player while I walked and listen to my favorite Canto-Pop music. Canto-Pop sounded so romantic to me and seemed to fit perfectly with that chapter. It was all the sights and sounds that you entertained during the walk that made it so special. Once down the long winding hills you were greeted by the little oasis of a town. Happy Valley held a personality different from the rest of Hong Kong Island. I would visit the bakery and buy a delicious almond roll and then head over to the flower market. Behind all the main streets lie the marketplace. Smiling vendors sold vegetables, meat, fish and other goods. My favorite spot was the flower market. Fresh flowers were displayed from New Zealand, Japan, Singapore and many other exotic places. The flowers were truly amazing. I would buy individual flowers and gather them in a bunch and the flower lady would wrap them for me. Then I would go home full of inspiration and creative energy and display them in special Chinese vases to paint. I love New England, but I wish I could walk to Happy Valley just the same.

Every morning I would walk passed hundreds of morning glories that covered part of the mountain by Tai Tam Reservoir. Paddle boats were in the distance and the mountain road was so steep you had to be careful as you walked briskly down what I called "Killer Hill." There are many killer hills in Hong Kong. Just as I turned the corner I would walk passed the Cricket Club and watch all the British ladies in matching outfits playing tennis, then onto the view overlooking many buildings. Happy Valley was indeed one of the happiest little communities I knew. Not too many ex-pats would be there, just the locals and they were a delight. The racetrack is there also, and at night people flock to watch the horses. There is a wonderful tea house and so many shops that carry all kinds of wonderful things there. That is where I bought my schitzu Twinkles one Sunday morning.

When we had our first encounter with a Typhoon the supermarket had lines that led all the way out the door. I had gone in to buy a few things. I took one look at those lines and headed for the Taxi line. I got a taxi right away and said "Happy Valley", and he scooted me there so quickly. I got out of the taxi and was stuck at how calm all the locals were. A Typhoon watch number signifying quite a substantial storm was posted. Yet you would have never guessed that it was anything but a typical day in Happy Valley. I walked into the market bought my goods and paid for it without a line. By the time I got back to where we were living, I peeked into our market and the lines were getting worse. I was so grateful for learning about wonderful Happy Valley and what it meant to understand the local culture, instead of remaining only with the other ex-pats.

As I walked on Stubbs Road to get to the narrow steep hill that led to Happy Valley I would pass this scene every morning. One day I stood for several hours painting this postcard size watercolor. I love washlines, and from Stubbs Road you could see the tops of the buildings in the distance. Just beyond this building you could see the balcony of the Catholic Chinese School. Beautiful little girls all wearing white sailor dresses would be walking back and forth carrying numerous books in their backpacks. High above the school building a tall tower holding a large bell could be seen. I only wish I carried my camera back then. This watercolor is one of my favorite paintings, because it brings to life the sights, smells and lovely feeling that I had the entire time I lived in Hong Kong. My soul is painted with the Chinese influences, and my perspective has been altered to take what is simple and cherish it's beauty. The song playing is called "How could I stop thinking about you"...how could I stop thinking about lovely Hong Kong?

RAIN RAIN GO AWAY!

RAIN RAIN GO AWAY!, originally uploaded by bluebirdsandteapots.

Dear Suze,

I hope the rain is gone. Yesterday we finally had blue skies. I captured this one for you! Congratulations on your new job.

Blessings,

Karen

My Grandmother always taught me to look for the blue in the sky.

Pieces of Blue in the Sky, originally uploaded by bluebirdsandteapots.

Grandma

My Grandmother always taught me to look for the blue in the sky. She lived to be 89 years old and I believe her attitude kept her alive and healthy for a very long time. Her birthday is soon, and she is on my mind even more than usual. Grandma was a very important influence in my life. She made me feel that I was a friend and yet could muster up sound advice when she thought I might get hurt in life. Growing up my mother worked and my grandmother looked after me. She would tell me these wild stories to get me to behave. The above photo on the right is my favorite photo of my grandmother. The photo above on the left is of me and my baby sister, Lynne at my mother's home in South Hampton. My Grandmother is in the background making gravy. My sister, Susan was behind the camera taking the photo.

Grandma could bake a cake that was so tall that when you tried to cut a slice it would tumble beyond the plate. She would say, "Just put in an extra egg and it will make your cake raise higher." I have tried that trick for years, but it never works for me. I have used her other bits of advice and they do work. For instance, she would say "Now if you are going out shopping with the girls, set the table first. This way when Ned comes home from work and you are not there yet, he knows that you have something planned for dinner." Another great bit of wisdom, she would say, "Now if you are in the kitchen and maybe you just came home a little late or you just don't know what do make for dinner. Well, while you are thinking about this put a little butter and onion in the pan and start it on a slow flame. This way your husband thinks his dinner is on the way." You know I have tried those tricks many times and they work. Ned just loves to think that I am thinking about, planning and executing dinner. She would also tell me if I was having a bad day that women of her day would go and buy themselves a new hat. "Now, never-mind abou that bad day, God has a plan. Go buy yourself a new hat and you'll feel better." She was right buying a little "somethin somethin" is important for women. I also tried to take possession of her pot roast pot after she passed, thinking that I could make gravy just as delicious and dark brown. No such luck, it was the love that she put into her cooking that made it so divine.

When my grandfather passed away at the funeral I told my grandmother that I would come and live with her. I was getting engaged and I knew that it would only be for a year. I thought that year would help her to adjust to my grandfather being gone. It was great, and the day of my wedding I left from her home. Later she blessed my life when my husband and I were getting divorced. I went to live with her again, and it was great fun. I used to come home from dates and sit on the edge her bed and tell her all about it. One thing about Grandma if you got up in the middle of the night or if you came home late she was always happy to have a cup of tea and a chat. Our lives kept meeting at important chapters and our relationship grew into something great. When she met Ned, my husband of nineteen years, she leaned over and whispered "He's a keeper." The photo here is the day she first met Ned and whispered that bit of advice. Ned loved her and she loved him and we went to see her often. He loved that in her late 80's she could talk sports or politics and she was always bright and entertaining. You could never go to my grandmother's house and not eat something. Ned loves to eat, so he got extra points. Now mind you she was pretty fussy...she didn't like allot of people. But if you ate a piece of her cake or agreed to stay for supper, well that might get you on her good side.

Just before Grandma passed away Ned and I were going to take little Sarah, who was just two years old to visit her in Long Island. We were driving from Princeton, New Jersey and it was summer, which meant summertime traffic. Now we all have driven in traffic, but I am talking eight hours in the car traffic. All the New Jersey people are off to the Jersey shore, and all the New Yorkers are off to the Hamptons...which means traffic. Ned had to fly to South America later in the day and we had just planned a short trip to my grandmother's house, have a nice lunch and then I could drop Ned off at the JFK on the way home to New Jersey. Well, unfortunately, it took us hours in the summer bumper to bumper delays. By the time we got there we only had time for lunch and a short visit. Grandma made a delicious chicken dinner and one of her famous sky-scraper cakes. We visited for a bit, and Sarah stole the show for attention. Then we had to get to the airport, and so we had to leave. I could see that look in Grandma's eyes like "Can't you stay just a little bit longer?" Ned put Sarah in the car and I started to walk outside and Grandma was about to follow to wave goodbye. As I held the screen door for her and gave her one more hug, she grabbed my hand. "Karen, you are probably the best friend I have ever had, do you know that?" I repled "Oh Gram, I love you." As we drove out the driveway I had this eerie feeling I would never see her again. I was right, she passed away shortly after that...I never saw her again.

I am so thankful for all the wisdom and funny sayings that she gave to me, and for all the times I spent listening to her recount stories of when she was young. I always cherished her, perhaps it was because she helped to raise me, and because every Sunday we had dinner at her house all growing up and because our lives intersected at the important chapters. The day of her funeral I was in the bathtub crying my eyes out and I heard a little voice say "Don't cry you are going to hurt the baby". I thought I was crazy but the voice did sound just like Grandma's. At the funeral I told my mother I think I may be pregnant. My mother said "Are you late, did you take a pregnancy test?" "No, but I think Grandma whispered it Mom", I said. Well low and behold I found out a few weeks later that I was pregnant with my daughter, Ashley. Perhaps it was a coincidence, perhaps it was my imagination. But I will tell you, every now and then I'll be in my kitchen and I will hear "put a little butter in that pan with some onion." I know that she is with me, I feel her glorious spirit all the time. I love that word glorouis...it was my Grandmother's favorite word. The name of the song playing in the background is "Once Upon A Time". Once upon a time when I was four, my Grandma would take me for a vanilla ice cream cone and she would ask the man to put chocolate sprinkles on top, and it tasted better than any ice cream I have ever tasted because she bought it for me. Sorry Gram, I just remembered her saying "Do not say she, she is the cat's mother". tee hee

Dragon Boat Races in Hong Kong

Dragon Boat Races in Hong Kong, originally uploaded by bluebirdsandteapots.

I created this mosaic for my mother's birthday card. She is turning Eighty-One next week. We love to remember Hong Kong. We absolutely bore everyone to tears with our stories. When we see someone Chinese we have to tell them that we lived in Hong Kong for five years. Oh well, I guess it is how we keep lovely memories alive for us. Thank God we have each other...we never get tired of remembering.

This day was magical. We wanted to see the dragon boat races and we were told that if we went to the Aberdeen Marina club, we could watch it from there. The Aberdeen Marina Club was a magnificent country club that had five restaurants, two pools, a bowling alley, spa, gym, ice skating rink, outdoor playground equipped with (I kid you not) a life size blow up pirate ship. The Chinese in Hong Kong redefined the word "Fancy" for me. All of the ex-pats with the bank had a choice of belonging to this club or the American Club. We had a membership to the Aberdeen club because of all the wonderful things that they had for the girls. Their in-door playroom was over the top with every toy, car, ballroom, and a life-size dollhouse equipped with a kitchen. The Chinese in Hong Kong adore children so they made everything amazing!!! There is so much wealth there that when Sarah went to the pre-school in our complex, rolls royces would drop off some of the Chinese children driven by chauffeurs. Sarah grew up thinking that she was a princess, that notion only just wore off recently. She loves it there and plans on returning someday. She has a good friend at college who still lives there; they both attended the same International school.

When we got to the Aberdeen Marina that day, we decided to go on the patio to see where the races would begin. The harbor is unreal with its beautiful yachts lined up at the docks. The patio overlooks that magnificent scene shown in so many movies with the large Jumbo restaurant in the middle of the water. You have to take a boat to and from the Restaurant. We were so disappointed when they told us that we could never see the race from there. The yachts were being loaded with families all toting hampers filled with delightful goodies prepared at the club. We were fortunate enough to be there, but what would I do? I had Sarah who was about seven and Ashley was five, looking at me with their oh so big little kid eyes? I knew that we would think of something. We sat had lunch and then I glanced over at the sampans. Sampans are these amazing boats that look like bumper cars with all the tires around the trim. The driver, usually a Chinese grandma, steers the boat from the back with this huge stick control. We started to see all the fancy yachts begin to go towards the area where the races were to begin. I said, let's go and we walked over to the the sampan dock. I chatted with one of the boat people, and she grinned and said, "Yes, yes" she would take us. Most days you will be able to hire a sampan but not on the days that are sacred to the Chinese in Hong Kong. Now I had a special ticket...a Grandma "Yo Grandma" and two little girls cute as a button. During the entire five years living there, my mother was treated as royalty by the local Chinese. The Chinese culture is so full of warmth and respect. They adore the elders and they adore the children. These two tickets will get you preferential treatment in Hong Kong at all times. I could not imagine why no one else had thought of this, all the sampans were out with their own families watching the festivities except for this one. We got into the sampan and you would have thought I had just given the girls Disneyland. My mother was thrilled, she loves adventure.

A lovely Chinese grandma steered our little sampan right passed all the boats and the cheering locals as well. As we drove passed all the excitement, the girls could practically touch the race boats. All the yachts were told to stay back, but we had our local escort with a grin so wide...we all laughed so hard. To think that we were given this special treatment, even though we didn't have a yacht that was yarr, and a fancy food hamper. (I loved when Grace Kelly said that the yacht she had with Bing Crosby was "yarr" in the Philadelphia Story) We were being treated as if we were locals and that gave us special privilege to be allowed into the inner dragon boat community. To give us a real treat she drove us back again, so we could see the dragon boat races wiz by. So there we were riding so close to the sacred boats just before the lead would hit the drum to signal the beginning of a race. She laughed, without a common language in words she understood in spirit how we as guillos were honoring her people by the sheer joy in our faces...and in appreciation, she gave us the most amazing memories to keep forever.

I hope my mom loves her card. I am going to fill it with some memorabilia from that magical chapter of our lives. I only wish I could have it play this music, which is called Dragon Song and it sounds just like the music that was piped in to the wonderful Chinese restaurant there..a place my mother and I enjoyed so much. The waiters treated us as if we were royalty. The food was to die for, and the view at night when the harbor and Jumbo restaurant was lit up, it was completely and utterly magical.

So much magic, so many lovely memories. I hope I haven't bored you, I have a habit of going on streams of dialog when anyone makes me think about beautiful Hong Kong.

Summer Reading

Once upon a time summer reading meant a dreaded list of undesirable books you were required to read for school. Titles of which would never have crossed your mind to select otherwise. Today summer reading to me means lovely English novels, travel memoirs, mysteries and a historical non-fiction diary about living in China. These reads will be accompanied by tall glasses of lemonade on the deck, picnic lunches at the beach, and late night snacks in my favorite chair.

Summer reading, is there any time as conducive to enjoying a new book as in the summer? I had the good fortune to discover Bella Tuscany by Frances Mayes author of Under the Tuscan Sun. Not only do I adore her first book, but also I keep the movie by the same name, nearby and watch it often. Her Bella Tuscany reads with the same wit and fine description of the sweet life in Italy. As I read it I can hear Diane Lane’s voice in my head narrating lines as she did in her role in Under The Tuscan Sun. I must warn you though do not read this book on an empty stomach. Her description of meals, wine and food preparation make your mouth water.

I just poured a bowl of Italian vegetable soup that I made from scratch today. I tore a huge slice off the loaf of homemade bread and poured a glass of red wine. I was inspired to bake bread earlier in the day when I read,

“stepping inside the Forno, I’m suddenly surrounded by the warm aromas of just-baked-bread.”

I immediately went into the kitchen, whipped out my bread-maker and started the process of baking bread, so that the sweet aroma could serenade me as I sat comfy reading Bella Tuscany. Allbeit I am sure that the Cortona bakers do not use convenient bread machines. I am almost sure that the aroma is identical.

A few more chapters’ hungry I went back into the kitchen and made a huge pot of Italian soup. So now with dinner already prepared thanks to Frances Mayes inspiration, I can steal away eat this early dinner and pretend I am in Tuscany. The name of the song playing is called "Once Upon A Time"...we are never to old to hear those delightful words, or create our own storybook life by being inspired by other muses in this wonderful world.

Soon the “Hi Mom” crowd will return from school, work and summer waitressing and I will have to leave my glorious summer read that takes me all the way to Tuscany. Ahhhh but tonight I will sneak away when all sleeps and have my dessert with my travel memoir. Does anyone have a recipe for tiramisu?

The Fatima Shrine

The Fatima Shrine, originally uploaded by bluebirdsandteapots.

The Fatima Shrine

I walked onto the grounds of The Fatima Shrine holding my new camera and with my old trusty automatic in my pocket. Still unsure of which setting and lens to use on my new camera, my old friend the automatic comes in handy. At first glance, the gardens were magnificent. I could smell the freshly cut grass on this balmy overcast day. There were a few blue bits in the sky, but hardly enough to promise a nice day. Tall poles holding speakers played music to set the mood for worship. The scene so totally inspired me that my burdens already began to feel light.

When I was little I was raised Catholic, and I went to a wonderful school in Rockefeller Centre, New York called St. Agnes Cathedral. To me it was totally romantic, I loved Christ even then and the mass was in Latin in those days. You had to follow so closely in your missal to know what was being said in mass. I loved singing Ave’ Maria and all the traditions involved in being in church. I loved that old cathedral; with it’s stained glass windows and beautiful cathedral ceiling with huge beams hanging above. The stone floors made noise when you walked along the hard floors, and rows and rows of benches or church pews lined with prayer books, missals held special rails to kneel down and pray. I would get to school early every day so that I could go to mass before classes. The nuns wore traditional habbits and they taught all the classes. I remember Sister James Veronica and her freshly starched white, white sleeves, her tiny face showing beyond the massive white covering and black robes. Rosary beads hung alongside her garb and they would make lovely sounds as she glided down the halls of the school. I loved her and I loved the Mother Superior, who was the head of the school. Her face was angelic and it almost glowed with her spiritual grace.

Today my walk with Christianity is a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I attend a church called Grace Chapel, home of over 2500 members, a biblical based church alive in Christ. In my lifetime I have attended Catholic, Lutheran, Protestant, Non-Denominational, Episcopalian (Church of Christ), Baptist, and Charismatic churches. I am most comfortable amongst churches like Grace Chapel, but my love of worship prefers the ceremony of the Episcopalian and Catholic services. I still adore my rosary beads and I love all forms of worship in all religions. While living in Hong Kong I was blessed with a friend named Jaya who was a Hindu from India. We would get together in her home in Kowloon enjoy a meal together and she would teach me about her food and we taught each other about our worship, but spoke of one God. My friend Neaera from Sri Lanka taught me about Buddhism. We would sit in her home surrounded by furniture and objects from Sri Lanka and she would teach me about her religion, traditions and fascinating culture. The warmth of spirituality lives in anyone’s commitment to God, not matter what their path. I read the Bible daily and adore studying, just as I did as a child, anything and everything to do with our Lord. I believe that our worship path should feel comfortable, like putting on a comfortable cloak. A set of traditions and a building does not form the true setting of worship. It is simply a state of mind; we can worship amongst a congregation or alone on a beach, a bench in a beautiful garden or on our couch in our living room. The importance, I believe is in the praise, being mindful (which I learned from Neaera) and meditating often (which I learned from Jaya) and brought into remembrance by a focal point (which I learned from the Catholic church) that we be still and listen to that still small voice within.

The Fatima Shrine had been beckoning me for some time now. Driving by, yesterday I thought well today is the day I can use some extra meditation. I brought my cameras so that I could photograph the statues for a painting I am working on, and for sheer enjoyment. The walk was beautiful and the mood of the gray day against the magnificent greenery spelled serenity. Benches were everywhere, and I always associate them with meditation. They were appropriately in place on this huge land of meditation grounds. Each bench was dedicated to someone’s Beloved. There were benches made of marble and stone, new benches in wood with green wrought iron trim, and old battered wooden benches that had been there for a very long time.

At the center of the garden was a hill with stone steps to climb. At the top of the hill was a beautiful set of sculptures. Jesus on the cross and beneath Him was several figures alongside Mary, all in different poses at his feet. I quickly photographed the folds in the stone robes to use as models for my painting. I stood there for a long while in the quiet of the moment and felt so fortunate to know the meaning of being a Christian. To me the church is so romantic in it’s traditions and forms of worship.

Back down the hill, I walked down different paths that were named for different forms of worship. From the bottom of the hill I could make out a series of huge rocks each connected by a very large blue chain, like the ones they use for a ship’s anchor. I walked closer behind the hill where I could see the anchor that lay just beneath the back of the Stone Cross. As I walked passed each rock I could see that the words to Ave’ Marie were written on a plaque. Each rock held a similar plaque only the words were written in different languages. Each rock was linked together with these huge chains all connecting back to the cross. It was quite dramatic and powerful in its message. Further along there were other statues of angels giving communion to children, and the Virgin Mary standing before the children of Fatima. It was all so lovely, and such a worship just to be there.

Well, it is so lovely to embrace our devotions, no matter what we believe or what church or temple we attend. To worship is the important thing, to praise God and to thank Him for walking with us in this crazy world. I love lighting candles but my current church does not practice that tradition. So I always enjoy visiting the Catholic Church from time to time because I think that it is totally lovely and symbolic. To kneel at an Altar in front of a statue of our Lord in front of rows and rows of lit candles, listening to melodies of nuns worshipping is what is heaven inspired, I am sure.

I photographed what my eye fancied and stopped occasionally for a talk with the Lord. I lit three candles, at the grotto and said prayers, meditated and left. This is a spot I believe I will frequent often this season. I understand it is beautifully lit at Christmas as well, with wonderful Christmas music playing. Music is important in life…I think that since we all walk through life with our own script it only seems fitting that we should also have a music score, like they do in the movies. The song playing now is Ave’ Maria by a choir of Benedictine Nuns, isn’t that perfect? Why, we almost could be in that sweet little convent that Maria, from the Sound of Music was in, when she was hiding from being in love with the Captain, do you Remember?

I am so glad I stopped to spend time with the Lord and to add an extra dose of worship to an otherwise dreary day. It is so nice to realize how He walks with us through life, I just think that He has given me so many blessings that I need to give him the gift of worship. I just want to thank Him in my own way, like those nuns singing can do with their lovely voices. Some days just being mindful is enough…noticing Him in the things around me. I had arrived at The Fatima Shrine toting two cameras a few burdens and anything but a mindful mood. Leaving the grounds, my burdens were left at the foot of the cross, where they belong, my cameras were full of wonderful images (which I hoped were in focus), my heart felt full and my attention was no longer on me, but on my beautiful Savior.

"May we walk along the right paths, for I know how delightful they really are." Psalm 119:35

Are We There Yet?

Okay, Okay so nobody told me I would have to be a driving instructor when I was driving my daughters around and they were fighting in the back seat, or just asking me "are we there yet." Actually I thought that I had hung up all my hats recently, with empty nest just around the corner. Here in New England you can drive at sixteen. Now I do hope no one sixteen is reading this...but how this State can assume someone who is at the most confused age should be put behind the wheel is beyond me. When I was a girl, we were eighteen I believe, so at least we had already taken the SAT's. No, here we give them a license to drive, so that when they are worried about test scores, which college to attend, and what they are going to do with the rest of their lives, we give them a license to be on the road. In addition, introduce a cell phone, loud music and the "What If" principle and you have written a prescription for "fender bender." Personally, I think Canada has the right idea. When we lived there they had a wonderful five year graduated licensing system in place, so it is a bit like training wheels. Teens are allowed to drive only on certain roads, at certain times, and as they prove themselves with good driving records are allowed to go to the next level of driving privileges over a period of five years.

Well, now after I thought I had successfully accomplished teaching my daughter Sarah to drive, submitting the insurance claim, visiting all the colleges, going through the waiting for school acceptances, submitting another insurance claim, moving my daughter to college, the cycle begins again. My daughter, Ashley is learning to drive. Now Ashley is enrolled in driver's education just like my daughter Sarah was, but here's the twist. The driving lessons are spread out over a six-month period, but we, as parents, are supposed to be responsible for most of their driving hours. Did anyone tell the State that teenage daughters do not listen to their mothers about anything? No less, when you say STOPPPPPPPPPPPPP...and they don't, because they are sixteen.

Sixteen is that magical age when they believe that their once upon a time star, idol, mother knows best, mom, put a band aid on my cut, good old mom is an idiot. So they think, until they have their own children, when I guess we become smart again. I think that's how it works, but anyway...here I am again in that chapter of having a sixteen year old daughter and teaching her to drive. Hmmmmmmmm, I have been driving since 1968, I have driven in Long Island, New York City, New Jersey, Hong Kong, Toronto and New England. But, I am not and never will be qualified to teach anyone to drive. I can drive on the right-hand side of the road, and the left-hand side of the road, but I do not like being a passenger on any side of the road with a sixteen year old behind the wheel. 


I am thinking about starting a company that leases out cars designed with two steering wheels and two sets of brakes. Since we all as parents, have to live through the difficult task of teaching teens to drive, we should be given special "student driver" cars equipped with at least a second brake. I think it would be a very successful enterprise. Driving on the highway with a teen with only a learners permit, who is clueless to the "what ifs" and is determined to get as close to the car in front of them as possible, at 65 mph, because some car is behind them, can age a mother. I believe that if we could lease a car for the six months we need to teach these tykes to drive, we would have less accidents, better drivers, less stress, and certainly better parent health. At lease we should get one of those big light-up signs to put on top of our cars that say STUDENT DRIVER...instead of listening to other cars beep at the student driver because they are driving the speed limit. Which only causes them to drive faster and try to get closer to the car in front of them because there is a car behind them..... yikes. 



The other idea I have thought about is why don't they come out with automobiles with great big rubber tires, (like bumper cars) around them for new drivers. This way as they were getting the hang of driving and learning all the "what ifs", we would all be allot safer. After all, when we taught them to ride a bike didn't we start with tricycle and then we gave them training wheels on the two wheelers. When we took the training wheels off, didn't we run alongside the bike as they were attempting to balance? Don't try this with a new teen driver or you could end up in the hospital. Not only would putting them in a marked bumper-car style vehicle be safer, we could spot them coming down the road, or behind us or in the rearview mirror. Wouldn't that be nice? Now we just give them a license and wave goodbye. It's scary to be on the road here, you see a very nice expensive SUV driving along and eeeeeeeeeeeek, it's a teenager. Or you feel assured you are safe on the highway driving 65 mph and you look over to the next lane and you see a brand new Mercedes with a teen behind the wheel on her cell phone, putting on makeup and drinking a coke. Am I the only one that thinks this is nuts, or am I becoming one of those old crotchety women who think "when I was your age you young whipper snapper."



My husband has the lovely excuse that he has to go to work, and by the time he arrives home it is close to dark. He occasionally takes my daughter out to drive over the weekend. But I am convinced Dad's are missing that "What If" principle that plagues all mothers. The are much better at this, I think. Now I have taken my older daughter to skid school after her second fender-bender, and it was great. The school is run by race car drivers and their sole purpose is to teach people how to handle your car under high-speed, avoiding accidents and of course skidding conditions. It was terrific, they did emphasize the fact that tailgating is always wrong and demonstrated the results of bad judgement. They also showed how backing up is forbidden if you want to avoid accidents. My daughter learned a great deal, and so did I. The only problem is that you can only attend classes after you have your license. I wish they would make this part of the curriculum in Driver's Education. 


“Watch the treeeeeeeeeeeeee, Ashley". That is all I said in that motherly tender screech you mutter when you don't want to fill out another insurance claim. Ashley said that if I weren’t yelling at her she would not have swerved. I think it was more about the fact that someone was coming down the road the other way and she feared she didn't have enough room. She's at that oh you know "Oh Ma Gawd I have to drive fast Mother there is someone behind me" stage. Not conducive for having a cup of coffee in the passenger seat, let me tell you. Now my nerves are frayed again, and I have only just begun. I see that I have not improved one bit since teaching Sarah to drive. Obviously the countless times I said and continue to say "don't drive too close to the car in front of you", never helped because her two accidents could have been avoided had she not tailgated. Six long months and I will be helping another daughter to drive. I wish we lived in the countryside instead of such a densely populated area. Rush hour is horrific and the streets here are so narrow barely one car can pass, no less two.

Well, I have to go and pick my daughter up at school for her to beg to drive home. I hope to see you tomorrow. When they were both little and we would go for a car ride, they would say "Are we there yet, Are we there yet, are we there yet?" Now they are older and I find myself in the car with them behind the wheel, And me, with clinched fists on the arm rail, and feet planted to the floor pretending to have an imaginary brake on the passenger side. With Daughter #2 behind the wheel and saying to myself..."Are we there yet, Are we there yet, Are we there yet, Are we, watch out for that treeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

The song for this post is Are We There Yet.

The Gardens of Hong Kong

, originally uploaded by bluebirdsandteapots.

As I reflect, I can still feel the thrill within my soul at the memory of the sights I once was privileged to enjoy. The gardens in Hong Kong Park were so romantic. Brides posed next to small white bridges with the sounds of a waterfall cascading down. Ponds were filled with large gold fish and the largest lily pods I have ever seen. Pairs of black swans floated nearby on a pond surrounded by beautiful foliage which hosted numerous butterflies. Such an amazing place,

MONET'S FAERIES

In 1998 our family moved to Oakville, Ontario Canada. We lived in a lovely community filled with pretty homes, friendly neighbors and an enchanting elementary school for my children to attend. Back then the Internet was still in it’s’ infancy stages, so any school reports were typically still completed in the local library.

One day my daughter Sarah had to do a school project that required her to spend several hours in the nearby library. The library was housed in a Recreation Center. The complex had an ice skating rink, where the local figure skating champion frequented, thrilling all the aspiring skaters. They also had a very large swimming pool and a snack stand. It was a wonderful place to have to spend a Saturday afternoon. Sarah was nine and Ashley was seven so the three of us went together. When we arrived Sarah’s schoolmates were all sitting at a large table. The assignment was for them to work as a group to complete the research for a school assignment. I left her to do her work and Ashley and I found our favorite place amongst the picture books. While Ashley collected piles of books for us to take home, I wandered around the library. Libraries are my favorite place in the entire world. I love to research and for me to create a reason to open up numerous books and to collect facts is a joy.

As I walked down one aisle I noticed a very large book called the Encyclopedia of Fairies. I happen to adore fairies so I took it off the shelf and carried it over to a nearby table where Ashley sat. The book was so large that when I opened it up it hit the table with a thud. I started to browse through and found wonderful words that only pertain to fairies and such. Fascinated, I took a notebook and began to copy down some words that sounded delicious to me. I kept the book near the pile of books that Ashley was intending to borrow. At this point Ashley had met a little friend and they were busy sitting on puffy pillows looking through stacks of picture books.

I got up and walked over to another section of the library that housed the art books. They had the most incredible selection of books on Monet. Monet is one of my favorite artists and I had recently attended an exhibit at the Canadian Art Museum in Toronto with my dear friend, Sharon. I took several of the books on Monet over to the table and went into that wonderful state of creativity. I started to write and write and write with the clear distinction that the muse called inspiration was busy at work.

I wonder if Monet saw a Fairy or two when he painted in the early morning dew. This thought set a research project in the works. I busied myself with looking for just the right language to create a poem about my beloved Monet and his quest to perhaps put the lovely creatures in his paintings or at least befriend them.

We left with stacks of books, a completed school project and one joyful research project for me underway. When the girls were fast asleep that evening I was thrilled that I had this wonderful agenda. I went into the kitchen piled my research books in a stack and created and created into the wee hours of the morning. When I was done I was so pleased at the result. The poem sat in my art room with the promise of illustration for quite some weeks. Until that is when it was time for Canada Blooms. Canada Blooms is this amazing garden and flower show that they hold every year in Toronto. Now even though I am American and we profess to grow everything bigger and better. I must confess that Canada truly has the most spectacular gardens I have ever seen. Our quest for the perfectly large beautiful Christmas tree to grace Rockefeller Center in New York City would be an easy find in Canada. I think the one on my lawn in Oakville would have been perfectly magnificent on its podium overlooking the skaters in Rockefeller Center. The trees are enormous and anything grows in that soil. Trust me, my garden could have been featured in some wonderful gardening magazine and I can’t grow anything in America. Even I who do not consider myself a gardener, created a fantastic garden in Ontario.

Well, my friend and neighbor Sharon invited me to attend. We admired all the wonderful exhibits and displays and wanted to see some demonstrations. Many of the booths were hosted by television stars of local gardening shows. It was great fun. Sharon and I noticed a lecture beginning on Herbs. We sat down and waited for the guest speaker to begin. Marilyn Edmison-Driedger of The Herbal Touch came to the podium and taught us all about herbs and then started to talk of fairies. She held a jar of Faerie Dust in her hand and spoke of it as if it were as real as mashed potatoes. She had the most believable and enchanting way of speaking of fairies. She told us about her booth and also of her Faerie Festival held at the Herbal Touch in Osterville every July. Well, that caught my attention. I was so taken with her wares at the booth, and her persona that I went home completely enchanted with plans to bring my girls to her festival in July.

When I arrived home I was inspired. That evening when everyone slept I fully illustrated Monet’s Fairies. I created a special journal for Marilyn. The next day I sent the parcel with a note to her shop in Osterville, Ontario. You can imagine the thrill when Marilyn wrote back and asked permission to use my book at the upcoming festival.

Sarah, Ashley and their little friend Joann came with me to the Faerie Festival at The Herbal Touch. I have never before attended something more elegant and more charming. Marilyn’s garden is amazing and goes on for miles…everything is bigger in Canada! She had flower beds and herbs, wild flowers and the quaintest little shop in the world. The shop had books, gardening paraphernalia, art and lots and lots of the sweetest gifts and fairyland treasures. When we arrived, Marilyn greeted all the guests by giving them wings and skirts of tutu to wear. The garden was set up with amazing statues and baubles. Marilyn had been known to plant chairs with flower pots on the local gardening TV show. There were little green sandwiches on platters hosted by little girls wearing fairy costumes. There was lavender pink lemonade and tussles with magnificent flower nosegays everywhere the eye could see. In the center of the garden stood a May Pole with beautiful ribbons cascading down. Music played and Marilyn escorted all of us to dance around the pole. Nearby there was a tent where all the little girls and the big girls would make their own garland crown made of fresh flowers and ribbons for their hair? In another section of her gardens was a tent made of scarves and transparent fabric in lovely pastel colors. A flutist could be heard beckoning us to enter. Inside sat a storyteller telling the audience of little ones in their fairy costumes and garland, about the legends and folklore of fairies. To my pleasant surprise she was also reading my poem. We left that day with beautiful treasure keepsakes and wonderful memories to cherish.

I thought about the poem and how my love of Monet, gardens and words led me to this wonderful magical day. That is what magic is, it is following a path within one’s imagination and arriving on the other side. The beautiful result of allowing oneself to believe in the unknown sparks a destination that has no boundaries. Then when we manifest around us what we found within our imagination, our garden blooms with beauty. We are able to create as if by some magical wand and share its’ treasures with those around us. The secret of course is giving the fruit of one’s muse away which sets in motion the circle of inspiration. Like the fairy dust from a magical wand the fruit of one’s creativity sprinkles food for others around them. There is a land of kindred spirits who believe in the possibility of fairies because we create amazing things that are not of this world. They are born out of a wonderful place within and graced with gifts of talent that we cannot quite explain. The only sure thing is that once we enter that amazing journey we are in a pure state of joy.