Museum Visit

 We went to Woolaroc Museum and Nature Preserve last month.

Bird Lady

I didn't notice she was carrying a papoose on her back.

Jerry standing under huge elephant head

Steer trophy

We spent a nice Saturday afternoon in the Museum and looking at the wildlife.

I'm learning the history of my new home in Oklahoma.

Continuing On with Our Story

It was his beautiful smile and gentle energy that drew me like a moth to a flame. I couldn't understand why someone I didn't even know had this effect on me. 

The first time I saw him we were lining up to embark. His hair was long, too long in my opinion. But as he looked around our eyes met; I noticed a sweetness, a gentleness, an unassuming nature to this tall, dark stranger. 

It's amazing what you can read in a glance, a quick glimpse of someone's aura. 

I forgot all about him as my friend and I made our way through the embarkation process to finally board the ship. 

At last! Our ship had been delayed almost half a day and we were anxious to get to the Panama Canal.

This was a southern Caribbean cruise with ports of call: Half Moon Cay in the Bahamas, Aruba, Curaco, partial Panama transit, Costa Rica. 

And now here we were, I whirling around the dance floor with joyful abandon and he watching me from the sidelines. My heart gave a little jolt as our eyes met yet again. Strange. 

I ignored it and went on dancing.

It didn't take long for us to become acquainted. Wherever I was: at the pool, eating a meal, or relaxing on a beach chair in the sun, there he was, his beautiful smile and gentle aura pulling me in, filling me up with the most delicious feelings. I had no idea that one day we would be married.

Sunset at Riverside Park, Tulsa, Oklahoma

Continuing on with Our Story:

Oklahoma, the home of my Soulmate. And I living in Montreal, Canada at the time of the Cruise. Yes, I took the plunge, made the move and am now residing in Tulsa, Oklahoma, USA.

How did that happen? Why would I sell my home, leave my family, change countries? 

Simple. I was following my heart.

I wasn't looking for a partner, a husband, a Soulmate. And that's when it happens. When you're not looking. I was simply enjoying a winter holiday. 

I had gone with a friend, someone who preferred cruising as her way of travelling. We spent time in the Spa, spoiling ourselves with aromatherapy massages and pedicures. I spent a fortune on skin care products with a flick of a credit card. So carefree and fun! 

Shore excursions had me exploring new territory with passion and zest. I melted into a beach day, my body loving the soft buoyancy of tropical water as I swam and floated, luxuriating in the freedom and warmth.  

Evening on the ship. I could hear Motown music pulsing through the air, beckoning, enticing me to come on into the nightclub and dance. Blue flickering lights gave the club an eerie yet exotic glow and without a second thought I dragged my friend onto the dance floor. 

I had to move, to sway to the incredible sound produced by these talented young musicians. Letting loose on the dance floor filled my heart with joy, with careless abandon; I was letting go, moving to the rhythm of the night and having more fun than I'd had in ages.

And that's when he first saw me. That "joie de vivre" aura surrounding me as I whirled around, sparked an attraction that grew stronger with each day on the Ship.

Our Story

"Oh What a Cruise! Late December back in '63, what a very special time for me...." 

Ok, it was mid-March, 2019. Spent 10 wonderful days on a Southern Caribbean cruise; drank in the softness of a warm ocean breeze, sweet trade winds caressing my skin and hair. Coconut oil and frangipani scenting the air. It was absolutely divine to sit out all day under a warm Caribbean sun, soaking up heat like a healing balm.

It was heaven! I felt alive! If only for a few days. Snow and ice and the harshness of winter left far behind.

I met some interesting people on this trip; some from far away, others closer to home. It was good to let loose and relax for awhile, to share stories and dance the night away.

One evening looking up at the stars from the ship's deck a fellow traveller nudges my elbow drawing my attention to the moon. Clear, bright and straight up above. Simply beautiful. 

The same moon just a little fuller, suddenly appears at the wing tip, as if guiding me safely home.

I met my Soulmate on this cruise - the fellow traveller who caught my attention and drew me in. And not just to look at the moon. 

My Website

I have an author website!

It took years for me to get going with this. I tried creating a site using various different free sites, build-your-own, etc. but really couldn't manage the techy stuff.

So I went with a designer.

Here it is: wendywillowauthor.com


Those of you who follow me on FB, have already seen it.

Have a great weekend. Will post from my website blog soon.

She Just Did It!

Granddaughter Kaitlin, my eldest grandchild,  climbed Mount Olympus in Greece. This was back in May when the school year was finished and before starting her summer job.

Kaitlin is 22 and following her dreams.

She didn't ask anyone's permission.
She didn't chat or post about it.
She didn't journal or meditate on it.
She didn't check her horoscope or even the weather report.

She let go of all fears, worries, or doubts swirling around in her mind.

She Just Did It.

Alone.

Left her travelling companions to lounge about the hostel, or swim or visit with others or whatever they had planned for the day.

I am so proud of this young lady and the woman she is becoming.

p.s. or disclaimer or whatever: yes I stole those words ("she didn't ask....."). I used a fragment of a larger poem that I'd seen on the net, only I changed it to suit me and added a few bits.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

I stumbled across this photo shoot one morning as I was walking the beach (in Naples, Florida last month). From far away, all I could see was a Christmas tree growing out of the sand.

Eeks, Christmas already?  But it's summer! Hot, hot, hot. Bathing suit weather. Flip-flops and sunscreen. I had to remember that it was winter back home. And winter here in Florida - just different climates.

As I got closer I realized it was a photo shoot. Not a school play or party or something. I really didn't have a clue when I first spotted that tree so close to the water's edge.
Now it was clear that this family was making a personalized greeting card.  How sweet. Christmas on the beach.
I wasn't sure how they felt about me taking a pic so I waited a bit to see if anybody looked my way.
Nobody paid me any heed. The photographer was busy calling out instructions to the little boy and the mother was watching closely while jostling a toddler on her hip.

Fifth Avenue in downtown Naples. Everything was beautifully decorated. Here's Frosty waiting for snow (ha ha, that won't happen)

Santa must be hot in that outfit! It was about 85F or 29C that evening

Palm trees aglow all up and down the streets. They sure look strange to my eyes.  But oh so nice!

 

A Visit to the Cemetery

It was mid-October and we were on our way to the Halloween Store.  Nine-year-old Grandson was looking for a specific costume and Mom said it was OK for us to buy it. 

We were greeted by a green monster towering over the store entrance. Spider webs coated the walls, sinister clowns popped out from dark corners, and it seemed that every aisle held rows of face paint, glitter and freaky masks, just in case you hadn't noticed them earlier. 

There were rather ghoulish hands dripping fake blood, horrible witch masks covered in warts and frightening looking mummies, bandages coming undone. I'm glad the grands are old enough to know it's all for show; most of it was rather distasteful to my eyes.

We did not find the longed for costume (don't ask me which one, it's from a TV show or something). Eleven-going-on-twelve-year-old Granddaughter told me she would make her own costume and it was to be a surprise! No hints!

On our way home, Granddaughter asked if we could visit the cemetery, where her great-grandparents were buried.  As it was a mild and pleasant day and I was in no hurry to get the children back home, I agreed. Besides, they'd been asking for ages and it never seemed to be the right time, or it was too cold, rainy, snowy, whatever...

I parked the car close to the spot and we walked among the headstones towards my parents grave. The children were entranced. I don't think they'd ever been in a cemetery before. It was all new to them and different than whatever they'd seen on TV.  This was real.

Nathan commented on the abundance of flowers embellishing certain graves and how others looked so barren. Jasmine was interested in reading the info on the stones. 

"Oh my goodness, this person died way way before my Mom was born!  Maybe even you, Grandma and you're old!"  I had to laugh. 

I let them explore and eventually we came to my parents grave. They had been cremated and their ashes buried together (way back in 1998). 

"Where are the flowers?" Nathan looked at me curiously. 

"Um, well, I haven't been here in quite a long time."  Actually it had been years. 

"Can I take some from this grave (he pointed to one nearby) and give it to Great Grandma and Grandpa?"  

Eeks! I was horrified, but calmly replied "No, that's not very nice. We don't do that."

"But they have lots and lots of flowers!" Couldn't argue with a child's logic, but it just didn't seem right.

"Tell you what, we'll look in the woods over there and pick one for your great grandparents."

So off we went in search of a wildflower or two. 

We happened to pass some metal plaques lying flat in the ground. Some were so old the writing had worn off; others marked the final resting place of soldiers, who had fought overseas.

"Oh, can I step on those?"

"NO!  Sorry Nate, but that's not a respectable thing to do."

"Well, why not? They're dead."  Hmmm. How on earth to explain to a little boy.

"Let's just find some flowers."

Anxious to get back on track, I hurried them along. We found some pretty blue flowers growing amongst the dead leaves and milkweed pods and were on our way back when little Nate noticed that some people had made arrangements of stones on their loved ones graves. 

"Can we take some of these stones for Great Grandpa and Grandma?"

"No, we can't do that!  It's almost like stealing." Well, it wasn't really, but I couldn't think of anything else to say and I'd grown tired of the "it's not nice" refrain.
He nodded his head, but I could see he wasn't completely convinced.

"I'm sure we can find a stone or two and perhaps next time we come out here we'll bring a candle and whatever you think Great Grandpa and Grandma would like."
"A soccer ball? I think Great Grandpa might want to play soccer. And Great Grandma might want a garden."
"Oh, I think the flowers will cover the garden part, but very kind of you, Nathan."

Finally we were back at the grave. Jasmine arranged the wildflowers solemnly on the headstone. Nathan pulled out the smooth rock he had found in the dirt and carefully wiped it clean on the adjacent headstone before I could stop him.
He then placed it respectfully on his Great Grandparents grave. 

I didn't say a word - at this point I'd given up.

But I'll bet my parents, being down-to-earth and practical in their lifetime, must have been rolling over with laughter just about now.

Buddha Holding Up The Earth...

...is the name of this Qi Gong pose. 

Standing at the shore as the sun slips towards the horizon and waves lick at my toes evokes within a sense of peace. 

Immersed in the power of sea and sky, I had no idea that my good friend Connie was taking my pic. Thank you Connie!

Naples, Florida. I'm here for a couple of weeks vacation. A time to escape the beginnings of winter back home in Canada. Friends come to stay for a few days and we have fun.

We visited the Botanical Gardens, shopped, ate the freshest seafood you can imagine and swam in the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. I saw a small pod of dolphins one morning as I was sitting in the sand on my beach towel.

I jumped up in excitement and for a better view. Fins surfaced and dove, surfaced and dove, rhythmic in nature, perfect in synchronicity.  I watched in fascination and willed them closer to shore.

Well, it certainly wasn't me; must have been something (food?) that drew them closer. A little more, a little more, and in a flash I was in the water, swimming out to the sandbar where I could stand up and watch.  I was hoping I'd end up in their midst. These playful creatures only live for joy, so it seems.

They came close - about 10 feet I think. They did not circle around me as I'd hoped, but glided away towards a group of about 12 swimmers who were at the far end of the sandbar, shouting and pointing.

I have lots to tell when I get home.
Happy Thanksgiving to my American neighbours.
Hope wherever you are in your part of the world, it's not too cold and wet; November can be a damp month.

June

Mid-July already and this post was supposed to be for June. 

I was walking over my front lawn a few weeks ago and noticed wild strawberries growing in the grass. 

Brought back memories of childhood, of pinching sweet berries between our young fingers and stuffing them into our mouths. Returning home later in the day, hands and faces stained red. 

I wondered if the birds or chipmunks would feast on these. It's a busy, happy time of year, as we are blessed with an abundance of seeds, acorns, berries everywhere we look.

I love summer!

Enjoy the season. Enjoy the warmth and sunshine, the gentle rains and long days. Enjoy the many gifts nature brings to your doorstep. 

  

Only in Montreal...

.....do we have an ice storm one week and spring/summer weather the next! Finally my crocuses are blooming! Daffodils are not far behind.

Only in Montreal......
do we hear 3 different languages spoken in the same 5 - 10 minute conversation.

I was in the changing room after my Aquafit class this afternoon. It was a fun class as usual. This time the instructor had us kicking our legs and thrusting arms to the rhythm of some old Country and Western songs which propelled me back to my high school days. Now some of these songs were just fine, but we thought ourselves too "cool" to actually enjoy this kind of music. The Beatles ruled back then. Plain and simple.

 Opening my locker I hauled my gym bag out and groped around for the container of body lotion, but came up with my water bottle instead. Might as well sit for a minute and re-hydrate. No rush. I'm retired. I closed my eyes for a minute and drank deeply. Hairdryers droned and I could hear water flowing from the showers a little further away. Locker doors banged cheerfully. Conversation flowed around me.

A change of rhythm, different intonation, foreign syllables, had me sitting up short. Who was speaking Arabic? I opened my eyes, but the two Middle Eastern ladies were changing at another set of lockers.  I listened for a minute or two enjoying the rhythm of their voices, the pattern of their speech, secretly hoping I could decipher what they were saying (as if).

Then one of them switched over to English. They were talking about aches and pains. Oh. Rather boring. I tuned out and went on with the necessary business of putting my clothes on.

About 30 seconds later, these same two ladies switched over to French. Well, it's not unusual for people to do that here. Start a conversation in French and then continue in English, or the other way around. Or one person speaks English and the other answers in French.

We hear so many languages spoken on the streets of Montreal it shouldn't be surprising, but it struck me as funny to hear 3 different languages in one short conversation.

I wonder if the ladies involved noticed.

Icy April

Seriously Mother Nature?

Icy front walk at this time of year! And no, my gardening buddies, that's not a real geranium - it's fake.  I needed a pop of colour to brighten up our looooong winter. Ice was dripping from the table yesterday, which would have made for a more dramatic pic, but I couldn't step outdoors. Freezing rain was harsh and the porch slippery.

Can you guess why there is a path of ice from the rocks guarding my deck to the tree? The answer is not very pretty - septic field. For those not experienced in a septic system, the water runs frequently (showers, toilet flushing, faucets) which warms the earth above, melting the snow, which then freezes. 

Rock garden looks funny with a layer of ice on top. If you look closely,  you can see a splat of green that belongs to a hardy boxwood. It's sitting at the foot of the shepherd's crook (which I hang my hummingbird feeder on in summertime), bringing a bit of hope to the cold landscape.
My poor crocuses are frozon in their beds. It was too icy for me to go outside and take a pic. But I'm sure you can visualize a crocus popsicle! Purple to be accurate. :-)

Excerpt from "Walking the path of the cabinet maker"

April this year has been cold and windy - very disappointing, and today is no exception. I thought it was high time to put in the effort and clean up some of my files. Delete the old ones and take a stab at reorganizing the rest.  

I came across this article I'd written while learning the art of cabinet-making back in 2001. 

Strangely enough a lot of the soul-searching I had entered into back then is still in the works today. Maybe another time I'll post my thoughts on that subject.

The woodworking classes were small and cozy. Four women to be precise and nobody was interested in competing. It was a supportive group and I was glad to be part of it. We were there to learn and enjoy our apprenticeship.  

The teachers were patient.  Not once was I made to feel inferior, stupid or incompetent as I stumbled along using incorrect measurements or the wrong tools (I'll bet they chuckled behind our backs).  But whatever they privately thought about their first all female cabinet-making class, they kept to themselves.  

The atmosphere was thick with concentration as we jean and boot-clad ladies focused on sorting through the maze of hand tools, new vocabulary (mortise and tenon joining technique, kerf, mitre box WTH?) trying to figure out which tiny line represented the 1/32nd mark on a measuring tape or how to use a hand saw and keep the cutting line straight. 

It was noisy and busy with the ring of hammers on nails, woodchips flying about (duck!), sawdust covering the floor, our aprons and even our hair, when out of the blue I looked up to see our teacher, Gary stepping out of a back room, tea-tray in his hands.

Tea! 

What a treat! In the midst of chaos we were to stop and have tea.

We looked at one another with huge smiles as we shed our aprons and wiped grubby hands on jeans. Gary was already pouring the tea into delicate bone china cups as we gathered round, chatting excitedly as if we'd never had a cup of tea before.

Hmm, he must have a wife somewhere, judging by the pattern of pink roses on the china, I thought to myself. 

Accepting a steaming cup of brew with a splat of milk, I took a sip, closed my eyes and relaxed into the moment. Ahhhhh, it was nice to stop for a bit of a break. 

“Does anybody have a spoon?” 

My eyes flew open.

I looked over at Aggie, searching desperately among the tea things.  

“A spoon?!” The teachers looked up in horror!  

“Naw – just use a piece of wood (that was Chris, teacher #2).  

Ewwww, I thought. 

What a picture we must have made: four dust covered, work-boot clad females sipping our English tea from fine bone china cups decorated with delicate pink roses yet having to stir in milk and sugar with a rough, splintery stick.  

Yup, definitely cozy.

Imbolc

Imbolc is a festival of fire and light. It falls midway between winter solstice and spring equinox, and marks the successful passing of winter and the beginning of agricultural spring.
The light continues to grow stronger and the days grow warmer.

And this morning I could feel a lightness in the air, a moist warmth with the promise of Spring. A loud, rhythmic drumming caught my attention and I knew woodpeckers were beginning their mating ritual. Chickadees usual "chick-a-dee-dee-dee" was interspersed  with "fee-bee" a sign that their mating rituals had begun as well.

Are these mouse trails in the snow? Mouse highways?

First bloom on my African violet. My mother always kept African violets on a table under an east facing window in our dining room.  "Oh, my African violets are waking up! Spring must be on its way!" 
Her smile of pure joy gave me an appreciation of the changing seasons, of looking for hope in the middle of a deep, dark winter. Yes, mounds of snow still covered the ground, cold and icy winds still tore at our clothes as we walked to school in the mornings, but with a bit more sunlight every day, we knew the worst was behind us.

Beginning to Lighten

I heard a chickadee call as the sky began to lighten this morning. We've just come out of a deep freeze here in the eastern part of Canada and this was a welcome gift from Mother Nature.

It had been so cold my garage doors were frozen shut, there was ice build-up in the corners of my north-facing windows, even though I keep my home warm. My oil furnace was working continuously, heating the house (for which I am grateful - what did natives in this country do before central heating? I can't imagine!)  drying out the air and making my hair fly-away and clothing full of static.

Stepping outside I was met with the sting of a brutal arctic wind on my face, and even with a scarf covering mouth and nose, breathing was very difficult. Some days I stayed indoors, chopping vegetables to pop into a nourishing broth. Soup making always brings on a feeling of comfort, of a warm kitchen, mothers or grandmothers in aprons, gentle hugs, steamy windows, neighbours popping in, tea and cookies, friendship and lively conversation.

But today the air is warmer, almost spring-like in contrast. As the sky lightens there is a surge of new energy, of hope that the worst is over - at least for now. Winter still has it's polar bear arms wrapped fiercely around us, but we can wiggle out and play in the snow.

I have a full day planned with a breakfast club gathering, a stop into the florist for fertilizer and potting soil (my indoor plants are looking at me pleadingly), a few other errands and then a good long afternoon walk in the sunshine.

How is it in your part of the world?

January 1, 2018 - Supermoon

The biggest Supermoon of 2018 rose at sunset today January 1st and will set at sunrise tomorrow morning - January 2nd. It will be the largest and brightest full moon of 2018.

This Wolf Moon was named by the Early Native American tribes because it was at this time of year packs of animals would howl outside their camps.

This second full moon in a Supermoon trilogy started with the Cold Moon on December 3, 2017.

The third Supermoon will be on January 31st, and since that's the second full moon in the month, it's called a Blue Moon.
Go figure.

All I know is it's freezing outside this evening, but that didn't stop me from bundling up, slipping on warm boots and heading out to gaze at that huge, golden orb hanging low in the eastern sky.  It was breathtaking!

Wish I could have taken a pic, but honestly, I don't take moon pics well (as I mentioned a couple of posts back). But that's fine.  This one from the Farmer's Almanac was perfect!

I hope you have an opportunity to step outdoors and catch a glimpse as she weaves through winter clouds, or embrace her full, clear, magnificent face as she lights up the sky and earth below in a celebration of a brand new year.

Happy New Year Everyone!

December 21st - Winter Solstice

Winter begins her walk

Early December

I walk the land every morning.
It's in my bones.
I rise early each day, well before sunrise.

This pattern too must be in my bones. A time of the ancestors when out of necessity, work had to be done first. Lanterns lit, water pumped, a fire started in a hearth, porridge bubbling in a cauldron or flour turned into loaves for the day's consumption.

My modern self throws on a housecoat and slips down the stairs in darkness, not wanting to face the glare of electric light. It's too harsh this early.
Entering the kitchen, I surrender and with a flick of a switch turn on the overhead pot lights. These new lights are on a dimmer, turned down to a softness -  just enough so I can see to start my coffee maker.
I pull a carton of milk out of the fridge (no milking of cows in this day and age) and splash a good amount into my cup.

Coffee in hand I step out onto my back deck. Yes, it's December here in Canada and cold, but that doesn't bother me. I'm warm from my cozy bed, warm in my plush housecoat, winter boots on my feet. Not long ago it was flip-flops. October this year was unseasonably warm and I was ecstatic to be able to slip into flip-flops and feel the strange contrast of autumn leaves crunching underfoot.

Deep breaths of fresh air - oh how I love to inhale the freshness of a new day.

This December morning Mother Moon lights up the entire back yard. She is beautiful as she shines out between the branches of Lady, a glorious beech tree standing tall and proud in the west side of my yard.

Trees are beautiful at this time of year - their bare branches reach up to the heavens, revealing that which is usually hidden by their greenery. Our trees are old in this part of the land; a forest once-upon-a-time, they remain rooted deep in the earth, watching us humans go about the business of our everyday lives.

I've lived in this home since 1996 when I moved in with my soon-to-be husband. As some of you know, I moved out for 3 years, now back again.
I look around my property and inhale the familiar, the homes and neighbours, an occasional light in the window of another early riser.

I'm not the same person as I was a few years back. Certainly not the star-struck in-love woman in my 40's back in 1996. Life changes us, as it's meant to.

My blog is still up, yet I leave it behind for long periods of time.  I miss it. I miss the energy, the good feelings blogging evokes when I visit your blogs. I miss peeking into gardens around the world, being invited to share in the lives of ordinary people. My blogging friends are generous "come sit a spell, pull up a chair and warm yourself by the fire, coffee's on, tea's hot and ready for you, I've just made a batch of gingerbread cookies!" All virtual of course, but the thoughts, the intentions give me a warm feeling, a feeling of connection no matter who or where in the world we all live.

I'm not the same person I was when I entered the world of blogging. Back then I was hurt and scared; husband was sick with an illness that would eventually take him. Blogging was a way to save my sanity, a way of reaching out to others who may be with me on this frightening journey.

It came as a surprise that people actually responded to my cries, my venting and grieving, I did not know what to expect. I drew strength and comfort from my fellow bloggers, their own struggles, their joys, and virtual hugs, their normal everyday activities.

I did not know what blogging was all about.
Was I good enough to actually post something?
Would anybody read my stories?

Along the way I met many, many kind and courageous people. People who blogged whether their writings were good or not. People whose pics were phenomenal, their writing superb, and I felt myself measuring up to those standards and coming up short.  Maybe I shouldn't post. I wasn't good enough. So many others were so much better.

And then it came to me one day that I was blogging for me. That I was making friends anyway, whether my posts were "publish-perfect" or just ordinary.  Blogging was about the normal ups and downs of everyday life.  The important part was reaching out and connecting.

Gazing into the face of Mother Moon, her benevolent glow warming my heart and cold hands, I feel a ripple of happiness, of contentment at this unexpected gift.

Wouldn't this make a nice pic? Framed by bare-naked tree branches if I stand right here. If I walk a little to the side, she's lost behind the tree trunk. Quickly I run back in the house, pop my cold coffee into the microwave and grab my phone.
Not a great pic but it works for today.

Pocketing my phone I step off the deck into the pre-dawn stillness. I drink in the quiet, the lull before the beginning of a brand-new day.
The anticipation.
I like to be up early enough to witness the soft glow in the Eastern sky as a new day is born.
It's like magic.

Night is fading. The clear strong light of Mother Moon shines on, even as she slips further towards the horizon. Stars as well are not giving up yet. They hold on to their brightness in a clear, cold sky.

With the passing of years, I've become stronger.  A little more confident in who I am. Blogging, I've learned, is an expression of who we are. Competition is not necessary, nor is it wanted (to me anyway). Some will like my blog and others won't.
As simple as that.

Happy Mother's Day!

My daffodil garden. South side of the house where it receives full sunshine. When the tree leaves fill out, there will be too much shade for any sun-loving flowers to survive, so this will remain my Spring Garden.

Happy Spring!

Happy Mother's Day!

Circles - Part I

I have a feeling that Life travels in circles. We set out on an journey only to find ourselves back at the beginning.

I had a hairdresser for years. She left the Salon and I found someone else. He was good, but after a while I got tired of that particular hairstyle. I asked him to change, but he wasn't very receptive.

So I looked around.  Asked my friends for referrals and found nobody. My hair grew long and even though it was rather unkempt (well, not really - just more fly-away and a bit straggly) I kind of liked having long locks once again.  It made me feel like a teenager.

Hmmm. Something wrong here. We can't go back in life. Some of my grands are teenagers and I certainly would not want to be back there, with all their issues and social pressures.

Then one day, I happened to be shopping in the neighbourhood and noticed a new Salon. Peeking in the windows it looked busy and cool!
Maybe I should just go for it!
Maybe somebody totally brand-new would give me a fantastic up-to-date stylish hairstyle.
I pulled open the door and popped inside. It was noisy!  But just beneath the drone of blowdryers I heard a bubbly giggle that sounded suspiciously like Tina - my old hairdresser.

Couldn't be, could it? Yes!
"Does Tina have time for a cut?"
The receptionist left for a few moments then beckoned me to follow her.
"Tina!" We hugged and pecked cheeks and I sank down into the Salon chair, sighing with relief. I'd come home.
Full Circle again.
It felt good to be back in her lively and fun-loving energy. We chatted away as if there hadn't been a time lapse of 5 years or so - we'd known each other for a long time. In fact, she was the one who got me into horseback riding about 15 year ago. I left a short time later - could not conquer my fear of horses.

"I want Layers! Pat doesn't give me Layers! Can we do that?"
"Of course!"

So she cut Layers, but kept the length because I wanted to feel extra-young.  It felt good!

For about a day or two.  But when I went to wash my hair and blow it dry, the Layers wouldn't do what I wanted. And they were dry from too much processing, or maybe it was age. Everything seems to dry up as we age (or at least I feel like a dried up old prune some days!).

For the next several weeks, I alternately ignored my misbehaving Layers, wrestled with them or pretended they were just fine. And bit by bit I felt silly with my long hair - it really didn't suit me and the Layers gave me a "ball" of a head while the long part was just strings against my shoulders. Yuk.

What do I do?  Should I give Tina another chance? Or throw in the towel and go back to Pat?
Now I know why he never gave me Layers, even when I asked (and I forget what reason he told me, probably because I didn't want to listen). Ha!

Tina? Or Pat?
I had to admit that I'd received more compliments on my hair when it was short and I really didn't like this Layer/Stringy hair - but maybe I could have short/Layer hair?

Round in circles in my mind, but in the end I went back to Pat. He explained once again why Layers were not for me - hair texture changes with age and the style needs to reflect that change. What's particularly important is to cut the damaged ends more often, not less. Oh and whatever else he said, I've forgotten as I just nodded and smiled and couldn't wait to see my new short hair.

"Short," I said, "just below my ears."
And that's what I got.
Full Circle - again!

I'm on the far left.  Hair was a couple of inches shorter than this.