(Pointillism is a technique of painting in which small, distinct dots of pure colour are applied in patterns to form an image. Georges Seurat developed the technique in 1886, branching from Impressionism.)
There has been a suggestion that my blogs are too wordy, so here’s another approach. Please imagine these small, distinct dots of pure colour as forming an image of a weekend that was happy but more Dali than Seurat.
Friday: Dairy Queen –
- to DQ to celebrate the Bowen grandchildren’s report cards. Our oldest grand-daughter believes there’s no glory that cannot be burnished by a trip to DQ; nor is there a sorrow a Blizzard cannot heal. On Friday we celebrated two girls with good report cards; one girl who was wearing her first ever hair extension, a remnant of a dance performance earlier that afternoon and one boy who simply wanted ice cream with cookie dough.
Later: A showing at our Central Library of a documentary about Kazakhstan that’s hard to watch but important to see. We come home with a deeper understanding of the Buddhist teaching ‘be grateful for a fortunate birth.’
Saturday: First day of spring.
Snow everywhere still, but also puddles – a promising start to a prairie spring. Ted and I cook for movie producer friends who lived across the street from us for almost 30 years, and other dear friends who we’ve known for almost as long. Because our movie producer friend is a serious cook, we plan our menu around two Muscovy ducks we’ve purchased from an organic farmer. Ted and I both have thoughts on cooking Muscovy ducks for the first time. After 41 years of marriage, we have learned the art of compromise. Our younger son and his girlfriend, Ellen, join us. Although she’s from Northern Saskatchewan, this is the first time Ellen has eaten duck. Last week, we were with Ellen when she saw her first opera; this week we were at the table when she ate her first duck. She was enthusiastic about both. Alfred Kazin wrote an autobiography titled “A Lifetime Burning in Every Moment”. That’s Ellen.
Sunday – church in the morning – in our Sunday School class, we read “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”, draw butterflies and discuss the Wonders of God’s world. Every child goes home with a bag of wheat to grow for Easter. Theology for 4 year olds is pretty straightforward.
n in the afternoon, the Bowens all come over to plant their Easter wheat – the first time for Lexi, who was born on July 29th – her dad’s birthday. Then back to Church because our oldest grand-daughter is the thurifer for Evensong. The thurifer swings the incense. I love Evensong. As the Dean of our Cathedral says, Evensong is about the individual worshipper and God. Something good to carry into the week.
Between the
cracks:
I read and judged the Youth Write contest for CBC – Grades 7 – 12 – some impressive writing, also real sadness in too many of the pieces Our grandson in Grade 11 and I talked about high school yesterday afternoon. He’s a very involved kid and a level-headed one but he says he recoils when someone tells him these are the best years of his life. I told him that life after high school is a piece of cake. I also quoted that profound anonymous observation that nobody gets over high school.