Friday, December 22, 2017

ROBBLOG #684 The H O L I D A Y Edition

My "friend" Hank's photo proudly takes top spot on this Holiday ROBBLOG.

I miss performing in Christmas Shows with him but who knows, a new Island Home might bring the opportunity to present Hank to local audiences. I hear Sister Mary Margaret would be interested in a new "gig" as well.
Oh feck!
We'll see what 2018 brings.
Sure can't be any more-life changing than 2017- can it?

The Holidays.
One day it seems like an eternity away and now here we are.
I love the decorations. Pretty trees, front door wreaths and lights.
Lots of lights.

Tom and I and our two mini Schnauzers- Missy and Koko, plus our (lonely) orange kitty- Dickens, are hunkered down for long winter nights...well as long as and as winterish as nights get here on The Island. One evening a few days ago, I sprang from my bed, threw open the sash in the den (slid it to the left actually as any good "Liberal" would) and there on the new fallen island snow (or in the Freezing Fog) was a palm tree with a rhody all in bud beneath it.
I did the happy dance.

"Palm Villa's Front Door."
 The letters are in green on the transom window.
As we acclimatize to our surroundings, we think of our friends and family back east in Orillia, Ontario. It's hard for them too not having us around this year. We'd sit in front of the Parlour fireplace during the Holidays to talk, laugh and swap stories. We can still do the same thing here in British Columbia in front of an almost identical fireplace.
It makes us feel at home only the friends that gather round it are all new to us.

It's a bit surreal at times but we have met so many wonderful folks here and it is making this first holiday season easier.
We don't feel lonely.
Our new friends Tina and Steve who live up the street in Stonewood Village came by for tea at "Palm Villa". We had Yorkshire Tea from Sainsbury's in London, England as well as "Noel" Tea that I bought last year in a quaint, little tea shop in the Marais in Paris. Mix in some chocolate cookies and Crispy Crunch that I made from Rice Krispies and it was a lovely afternoon of laughs and conversation.

The Holiday is different here.

One evening, we came upon two white, plastic tubs sitting on the sidewalk in front of a house close by our neighbourhood where we walk Missy and Koko. It was stuffed with clumps of yellow and pink daisies all wrapped in individual plastic sleeves. The cardboard sign said "Free and Merry Christmas!"
How nice!
I took a bunch. They are on the hunt table in our Great Room with a few branches of west coast cedar
stuck in for greenery.

Our Great Room Fireplace on the Island in Duncan BC
As we walked that evening the sound of the steam train's whistle blew from the Conservation area a few blocks away. It tooted through the damp, evening air. I remember lying in bed at my Gramma Reid's house back in the 50's and early 60's listening to the monstrous steam engines pull into the train station up the street, their whistles cutting sharply through the crisp, Christmas air. I owe many of my own Christmas Traditions to Grandma Lillian Reid and I will never forget her.
I thank her for what she gave me both in spirit and design.
At Christmas 1963 she presented me with a Santa Claus that had a billowing white beard, wearing a red felt suit and hat that is still in my collection today.
Miss you Gram...

Gramma Reid with Her Sons (L-R) Earl, Ivan and my Dad- Walter
That's Grandad Reid- Norm, next to her.
Three "early" Grandkids- Tom, Judy and me (down front right)
~Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All the Way~

This will be my last blog for now. I might get the chance to write over the holidays but I need a break. It's been a steady stream of blogs since we left Orillia, Ontario back on August 15th, driving Priscilla- our RV, across this glorious CANADA of ours that we call home.

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas. Make some new memories. Remember the old ones.
I thank you for reading my ROBBLOG.
I wish you all the best for the new year ahead.

Merry Christmas and Season's Greetings.