No flowers, no leaves, no birds, NOVEMBER.
After Christmas I start grimly singing my dubious favorite winter jingle. The lyrics by Gilles Vigneault in 1964 say it all:
"Mon pays, ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver"
(My country isn't a country, it's winter.)
photo courtesy of Gerry Walker
As you well know from the theme of this blogspot, I prefer to escape winter and hang out where it's warm and sunny for those early months of the year. Life's expectations called me back from denial and I have spent the past three weeks facing the realities of being Canadian. What perfect timing!
The newest grandson smiled and laughed for me.
The almost 4 years old granddaughter took us skiing. (Wasn't it just yesterday we were teaching her Daddy to ski?)
Canada's sweethearts won gold in Ice Dancing for the very first time. A long over-due affirmation for the talent and hard work of previous deserving athletes.
I really wanted the red jersey, but at $149.00, I gave it a pass.
At another time, in a land far away, I would have missed these joys. Thank you, Canada, my home and native land, for these special gifts
3 comments:
Mum, nice pictures, and the entry before hand is a neat contrast. THis is such a treat, pictures and stories in one.
Love you,
Thank you for visiting!!! You can't come often enough!
Love Chrissy
Awesome pics!! The sun never stops shining over here in Malaysia.
Your little grandson is such a little cutie.
I remember my grandpa teaching me how to ski when I was little tiny tyke.
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