Pear Blossoms in the Spring


I remember Erion Road in the spring. Pear trees lined the road covered in snow-white blossoms leading the way home. When the wind blew, the blossoms dropped like confetti and the air was filled perfume.

So much has changed since this picture was taken. It was a different time. The road is still there but where there was once an orchid there is now a subdivision. My parents, grandparents, and all of my aunts and uncles were still alive. Only a few remain.

I lived a sheltered life, a simple life. A time before the loss of love and loved ones. Before boyfriends and adventures, marriage and children, mental illness and divorce. So many memories both wonderful and sad.

I wish I could travel down this road again and visit my old life just for a day. Savour time with my family, walk through rows of grapes, and follow the creek as it cut through the gully.  Lay in the hayfield and daydream.

My memories allow me to travel back in time to my life on the farm. To days of simple pleasures and the beauty of nature. A tree-lined road in springtime and blossoms. Beautiful, fragrant blossoms.

A Room with a View – Writing 101 Day Two

So many rooms, so many choices. If I could go to any room with a view, which room would I pick?

I have a room in mind. It’s an old room, painted an ugly green, in desperate need of a fresh coat, preferably a different colour. This room is a dining room, with two windows overlooking a yard.

I imagine sitting at the old wooden table looking out of the window. There is another house that sits diagonally across the yard, and if I look closely I can see an elderly woman working at her kitchen sink. To the right of the kitchen is a closed-in porch where an elderly man snoozes in his wicker rocker.

Mom with my Nephew

The Room with a View

Directly across from the windows, a short path leads up an incline to big, red barn doors. An old pickup stands in front. Between the barn and the back of the house is a two-door garage with a cherry tree to the left and another cherry tree behind it.

I take in everything I can from this ordinary view. Of all the possible rooms in the world with breath-taking vistas and this is the one I chose.

I turn my attention to the room and it’s occupants, a middle-aged man and woman. They sit at the other end of the table across from each other, eating in companionable silence. I watch them, they are unaware that I am studying them. I haven’t seen them in ten years, and here I am.

There are some people you can go a long time without seeing and then pick up right where you left off. There wasn’t judgement or criticism, just big hugs, and kisses. The room is filled with excitement and joy. The prodigal returns.

My parents are so happy to see me. We are crying and smiling, as we all talk at the same time. We sit at the table, in the room with a view. This is the home I grew up in, the house I couldn’t wait to leave.

My parents want to know about everything that has happened in the past ten years. I tell them about my kids and how they’ve grown up. When I tell them how independent my first-born is, my dad laughs and says, “she’s a firecracker, I knew it!”

It’s important for me to tell my dad how my son reminds me of him. If they met they would enjoy each others company and a love of history.

My mom grew up in the country and loves horses, a passion she shares with my youngest daughter.

We talk for hours and hours. I can’t get enough.

My time is almost up, so we hug each other, and whisper I love you fervently. I want to stay, but I can’t, it’s impossible.Making this trip would mean traveling back in time.

You see, my room with a view is only a memory. The farm is gone, my parents are gone, and the two elderly people, my grandparents, are gone.

So, if I could choose any room? That’s the room I would choose, the dining room painted an ugly green, but the view is extraordinary.