fill in the details

I wrote yesterday in “monsters and fairies” about stories that parents tell to their children about events that happen in the children’s lives before they are really old enough to form personal memories. Those stories can take on a life of their own and become formative parts of the child’s story.

There are other personal stories that parents tell their children, of course, including ones they recall about their own childhoods. And then there’s a step further back along the chain to the stories that our parents were told about their early childhoods by their own parents.
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monsters & fairies

There are stories that parents tell their impressionable children that remain with them for their whole lives. I’m not sure why I’m feeling nostalgic, but I’ve been remembering two such stories, one from my mother and one from my father.

Both are set in the dim and distant past, when we lived in Scotland.
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more or less the same

It’s that time of year. The time when everything seems to be growing and all the trees and shrubs are coming into flower.

It’s all very well to walk round gasping at the inexpressible beauty of it all and taking photos to post on social media, but it’s very frustrating not to have any idea of what type of blossom any of it is.

I think I might be right in identifying blackthorn due to its utter exuberance.
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summertime blues

Last week I complained that with all the different days that people celebrate, every day has to do multiple duty, meaning that each week has far more than seven days.

But it’s not just the days that fly by apace.
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day after day

Friday was World Sleep Day and Red Nose Day. Yesterday was the Vernal Equinox, the beginning of spring, International Happiness Day and Persian New Year. Today is Census Day and International Day of Forests.

That’s eight days in just 72 hours and doesn’t come close to naming all the high days and holy days that other people celebrate. It’s really no wonder I am exhausted.
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