Daily Prompt: Fragrance

Lilacs.jpg

At the back door

beside the stoop

an old lilac bush grew

Spring fragrance

Memories of Grandma

Forever remembered

I’ve Got Spurs…

Yippie yay
There’ll be no weddin’ bells for today

‘Cause I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
Jingle, jangle
As I go ridin’ merrily along
Jingle, jangle
And they sing, “Oh, ain’t you glad you’re single?”
Jingle, jangle
And that song ain’t so very far from wrong
Jingle, jangle

Oh, Lillie Belle
Oh, Lillie Belle
Oh, Lillie Belle
Oh, Lillie Belle
Though I may have done some foolin’
This is why I never fell

‘Cause I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
Jingle, jangle
As I go ridin’ merrily along
Jingle, jangle
And they sing, “Oh, ain’t you glad you’re single?”
Jingle, jangle
And that song ain’t so very far from wrong
Jingle, jangle

(instrumental break)

Oh, I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
As I go ridin’ merrily along
As I go ridin’ merrily along
And they sing, “Oh, ain’t you glad you’re single?”
And they sing, “Oh, ain’t you glad you’re single?”
And that song ain’t so very far from wrong
And that song ain’t so very far from wrong

Oh, Lillie Belle
Oh, Lillie Belle
Though I may have done some foolin’
This is why I never fell
Why I never fell

‘Cause I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
As I go ridin’ merrily along
As I go ridin’ merrily along
And they sing, “Oh, ain’t you glad you’re single?”
And they sing, “Oh, ain’t you glad you’re single?”
And that song ain’t so very far from wrong
And that song ain’t so very far from wrong

 

As soon as I saw today’s word prompt this song came to mind.

When I was a child in the 60s, my father would sing the chorus of this song out of the blue along with other songs like ‘Put Your Hand in the Hand’ and ‘The Day the Music Died.’

He loved to sing, although when he sang along with the radio his timing was always off. He sang with gusto and if you were in earshot he was oblivious and completely unselfconscious. I admired that about him.

He also loved to sing in church. He put his heart and soul into it, singing at the top of his lungs. Trying to out-sing everyone else. He had passion.

My father worried that we would forget him when he was gone. An idea that seems ludicrous to me as he was always larger than life. Oh, how I loved him.

It’s amazing how some things fade from memory after a loved one dies and time passes. But if I live to be 100 I will never forget the sound of his singing. I can hear him singing as clear as if it was yesterday.

I picked up his love for singing, and when I catch myself singing snippets of this song or that I think of him. Lately, I catch myself singing the chorus of ‘I’ve got Spurs.’ Why I’m singing it I don’t know. It pops in my mind and comes out my mouth.

I will never hear my father sing again except for in my heart where I can hear him sing anytime.

I’ve got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle. As I go riding merrily along. And they sing, “Oh, aint you glad you’re single?”

Pear Blossoms in the Spring

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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.