Journal Jottings On A Saturday Morning

I've always been a journal keeper. I've always

tried to write about how I'm experiencing life,

and my feelings and thoughts.

SUE MONK KIDD

It's usually a bit of a moment when I finish one journal and begin a crisp new volume. Such a moment happened this past week. The above notebook with the gold lettering and the pretty house and garden painting on its cover marks my 170th journal. It's hard to believe. And yes, I have every volume -- at this season of life they have become resourceful research material for stories and memoir pieces I'm working on.

I started journaling in the early 1980s when I was under the deep sway of influence from my beloved mentor Lucy Maud Montgomery. I loved her stories about Anne and Emily, and when I learned that her earlier journals were of an age when they could be made available to the public, I eagerly sought them out. At the time, the library had Volumes I and II, then I had to wait over the years for the rest to be published. I loved reading her journals, and if Ms. Montgomery had been such a committed journal keeper, then I knew I wanted to be one too. And, I've been pretty much dedicated to writing journals ever since.

My ever increasing collection is a motley crew of size and shape and colour. The old volumes are shelved in the deepest, highest part of the closet. Into these lovely notebooks, I poured all sorts of things and realized, in looking back at them, that I tended to open most entries with the date (of course) and a bit of the weather and sometimes (often) what time of day I was writing. How often it was in the wee hours of the night or morning that I'd be writing. And, for some reason, the weather seemed necessary to mark my journey in some way -- was it winter, summer, rainy, hot, dry, gloomy? Weather, we know, can affect our moods but I decided a long time that I would try as much as possible to live above the weather, not under it. And over time I'd come to appreciate every season in its every mood, whether clement (pleasantly dry and mild) or inclement (severely harsh weather that is wet and cold).  

Oh yes, we were talking about journaling, not the weather. My journals were, and continue to be a bit of diary -- said weather reports, marking events like birthdays and special events. They are also a tiny bit of venting, although I tend not to vent much in my journals, I don't want a paper copy of, em, my 'insane' moments. I do write about the things I read in books or hear from people I follow online, noting many a quotation for future reference and inspiration.

Plus, I'm often jotting verses from the Bible that offer a life boat of comfort and encouragement in difficult, or inclement, seasons. Not to mention bits of poetry that strike my fancy and thrill my soul with such beautiful ways of expressing something. And, there are those striking aha moments when I see something that changed how I view myself or the world around me -- a lot of musing and wondering and sorting out my feelings and thoughts. Writing it out helps me to clarify what I'm thinking about, what I agree or disagree with, and what I really desire underneath all the fluffy superficial surfaces.

Journals, for me, are places where I turn to when I can't say what's in my heart to anyone else. There are some things we all carry that are too deep or personal to share. Ofttimes we don't have the language to share it, even if we wanted to. So we make stabs at it in our writing. And hope that those poured out bits of prayers and yearnings make sense to the God who, we are told, cares about the tiniest details of our lives and longs for us to share them with Him.

Then there are those things I jot in that I don't want to forget at all. The ALIVE moments that make a day perfect in the end, even though it was less so overall. You know those glorious moments, when your heart zings with joy as you stand and watch a rainbow form after a summer shower. As you sit in the garden where the air is sweet with perfume and the birds chatter companionably at the feeders and our neighbourly Orange Kitty wanders in for a friendly visit and a quiet snooze in the garden. Where you are just glad, glad to be alive.

Journal writing is a
voyage to the interior.
CHRISTINA BALDWIN

When I started this post, in looking for something to share with you today, I opened my previous Van Gogh 'Branch of an Almond Tree' journal and decided to snoop for a few things that I thought might be interesting fodder to share. Sorry, there aren't any big secrets in my journals, not anymore. But it's still a place where I explore what I read and how I connect to books and articles I've read, and I usually have a pile of quotations that speak to me posted in large script, or squished in the margin alongside a related comment. At least that way, if I or someone else ever reads it in the future, there will be some famous writers' quotes to provide some relief in amongst the ramblings of an ordinary unknown woman.

Here is one: The very first thing I pick out from my browsing is that very special quote attributed to French mathematician, physicist, and writer Blaise Pascal. I seem to be writing it in every current journal:

"In difficult times

carry something beautiful

in your heart."

Even if my own life is relatively calm and pleasant, there is just so much rumbling of nasty business going on around the world. We could be sucked into believing that that is all that is going on, so I do make it a practice to carry something beautiful in my heart wherever I go. Those little gems I've jotted in my journals and so very often found on Facebook pages of friends and acquaintances are reminders to keep looking for glimpses of heaven's hope, joy and beauty in those million unexpected places.

Here's another jotting: I'd been reading Louise Penny's novel Bury Your Dead --the tale of a man found dead in the basement of the Historical and Literary Library located in French Quebec. And, of course, the well known Quebec motto pops up in the story: 'Je me souviens' which means 'I remember'.  When I saw that written out, I realized, aha, that's where the word souvenir must come from -- a token by which we can remember or recall a place or event.

I never did become fluent in our other official language. Living in the West, some of us were snobs about learning French as a second language. It was newly available in our school but in my school girl wit, I didn't see any point in learning a second language, especially French. I knew smatterings of German (from my grandparents and aunties and uncles). I always love listening to people speaking French, but I never could get my tongue around it. Perhaps I could take up lessons from where I left off in Grade Seven, and give myself a prize for attempting it at least, perhaps a trip to Quebec. And maybe, I'd even have a chance to see where Louise Penny created her idyllic Three Pines whilst there.

"Flowers always make people better,
happier, and more helpful: they are
sunshine, food and medicine for the soul."
LUTHER BURANK

To bring a gentle close to this ramble of a post, I'm sharing the above quotation that I'd written in my journal back in May. The saying, as well as the peonies that we've been enjoying in every corner of our house these past weeks, fills my heart with grateful thoughts as the summer unfolds. During these rainy last few weeks, where it felt that true summer was never going to arrive, even in the midst of inclement goings on, flowers bloomed and birds had families and kitties came to visit. Slices of homemade lemon pie were shared with friends, and stems of roses from Peace Rose offered to delighted neighbours. Life blossomed even on grey, gloomy days. Life was good. Life is good. and I'm so very, very grateful.

Heart blessings on you all.

On that note, I'm wishing you a beautiful day.

Hugs,

Brenda

xox 

June's Joyful Moments

"Then followed that beautiful season... Summer....

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape

Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood."

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

There's a joy on the breeze this morning that makes my heart feel alive with possibility. As I consider what to share here today, my mind goes in a few directions. I could talk about gardens and gardening in this wonderful season of the year. I could talk about the books I've been reading or the handful of books I hope to read this summer. I might want to show you pics of the new living room drapes I recently bought on a whim. I could show you brand new photos of Peace Rose who survived another winter in our garage -- when we brought her outside she set several buds as soon as she felt the warm sun on her branches.

I'll let my thoughts ramble as though on a walk through a woodsy copse or meadow and allow myself to stop at whatever catches my eye along the way. With such serendipity, we never knows where it ends up but we hope it's in a good place and that you'll be glad you stopped for a little visit.

* * *

Something new... When you arrived, you'll have noticed another new blog header. Think I'll leave this one in place all summer -- really love the colours of those wonderful geraniums. Saw them at the greenhouse a couple of weeks ago.

Outside my window... 'Tis a glorious morning here. After a few days of much needed soaking rains -- it was cold too -- the blue skies and sunshine returned. It's so lovely to gaze through the window and not see the grey haze from northern wildfires (they are in hand, I believe) but to once again see that summer blue with great puffs of clouds sailing by. The garden is taking shape after a slow start to Spring earlier on. Every year I'm gob smacked -- startled, stunned, astonished -- at how the garden that appeared forlorn, dead, and dull for so long suddenly bursts into green. Perennials waste no time in growing tall and lush. Life pulses from deep within the still-cold soil and shoots determinedly poke through in search of warmth and light. I think that's what surprises me every Spring - it's bare, brown, lifeless and then suddenly it's green and leafy. It makes me breathless with happiness. I find myself going to the front door and opening it often just to stare out at the bewitching greenery.  

"To sit in the shade on a fine day and look
upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment."
JANE AUSTEN

The other evening I stood for a few moments on the back deck as the sun was ready to set around 10:00 pm. The air was heavy with the wild fragrance of the deep purple-red lilac bush over the fence in our neighbour's yard. The scent wafted on the breeze coming from the west-north-west. Oh my. I was only outside a couple of minutes, but in that time it created a moment I wished I could bottle up or at least write a line of poetry. To save it for a rainy snowy day to remember that exact moment when my heart wanted to burst out with the lilacs. Alive with joy and hope and calmness of mind. In that moment it seemed impossible that the world could be so out of order and so many folks in distress when there are moments so perfectly sublime and peaceful and all right.

I am Summer, come to lure you away from your computer...
come dance on my fresh grass, dig your toes into my beaches.
ORIANA GREEN @ NATURESPIRITS

'Raindrops on Roses'

"There is a calmness to a life lived
in gratitude, a quiet joy."
RALPH BLUM

On the window sill... Plucked this rose from the rain the other day and tried to get a decent picture showing off the raindrops on its petals -- but the rainy day made for poor lighting. Because Peace Rose winters over in our garage, it always has a good start to the growing season in the Springtime. It doesn't die back and have to start from the ground up like the rest of our poor roses in the garden. So it can start greening up and setting those treasured buds as soon as it warms up.

Last week we were startled to see the first bloom open. What a joyful quickening in the heart. I sent home a couple of stems with Mom (it's her rose after all) when she was here last week. And, last night I clipped a blossom for my neighbour down the street.

"Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass
under the trees on a summer's day, listening to the
murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across
the blue sky, is by no means waste of time."
JOHN LUBBOCK
"Recreation," The Use of Life, 1894

Cultivating moments of restfulness... On her Twitter page, Joy Clarkson (daughter of author Sally Clarkson) recently shared a few thoughts about cultivating moments of restfulness in the midst of life's busyness, chaos, worry. She offered three ideas that help cultivate such moments: 1) write someone a handwritten note; 2) do something you loved to do as a child; 3) walk away your worries - at least twenty minutes. She recommended choosing one and reporting back.

I am always up for cultivating a little restfulness in my day and did two: 1) I wrote out a card and note to a nephew and his wife who just had a baby girl. How happy a moment thinking about that little one joining our family. To write something out by hand really arrests the hurriedness. You have to stop to find paper and pen, to think about what you will say, and then write it out, forming each letter and word with care. It takes a lot longer to write by hand than to type something. I've heard that writing it by hand uses a different part of the brain than typing it out. Makes for a good exercise all around as well as providing a calm moment in the midst.

2) As a girl, I used to love going with my mom to the greenhouses in spring. It was always an outing filled with happy anticipation. We'd come home with the trunk brimming with floral possibilities. This past Sunday afternoon Rick and I drove out to one of the countryside greenhouses. It truly was restful to meander up and down the aisles, savouring the colours, shapes, and scents. Deciding what to choose. We came home -- trunk full -- with trays of purple and pink asters, scented stock, pink begonias, white begonias, bronze marigolds, purple painted tongue, two pots of gazania daisies for the deck, and three new 'Blizzard' mock orange bushes for the revamped area in the backyard.

Summertime reading... In the summertime, many of us like books and stories that are easy to read, easy to pick up or put away when something else catches our eye on the beach, under the shady tree or sitting on cool porch. Children's stories -- favourites from our own childhood might fit the bill.

A post popped into my inbox the other day from Literary Ladies Guide. They gave their list of 10 classic children's books written by women that people should read before they die. I thought maybe it would be great fun to chase down some of my girlhood favourites. The Literary Ladies kindly reminded us that it's never too late to read the books we missed in our childhoods -- there are a few on the list I have never read. And it's never amiss to reread old favourites for the child that's in all of us. They include a secondary list with a dozen titles. I've given you the book titles and authors below. You can also get all the other lovely info they share about the books HERE.

TOP TEN

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (1868)

Black Beauty by Anne Sewell (1877)

Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery (1905)

A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett (1905)

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett (1911)

Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder (1932)

The Yearling by Margorie Kinnan Rawlings (1938)

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith (1943)

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle (1962)

Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh (1964)

ANOTHER DOZEN

National Velvet by Enid Bagnold

Mary Poppins by P.L. Travers

Hans Brinker by Mary Mapes Dodge

The Borrowers by Mary Norton

Tuck Everlasting by Natalia Babbitt

My Friend Flicka by Mary O'Hara

Pippi Longstocking by Astrid Lindgren

Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin

Emily of New Moon series by L.M. Montgomery

Pollyanna by Eleanor Porter

The 101 Dalmatians by Dotie Smith

The Rescuers series by Margery Sharp

They asked to hear from readers if we saw any glaring omissions in their lists. I immediately thought of Heidi by Johanna Spyri and The Railway Children by Edith Nesbit. Any other books you think should be on their lists (remembering it's women authors they are highlighting)?

A heritage question... a special blogging friend Susan @ Writing Straight From The Heart always has interesting photos and things to think about. She usually ends her posts with a question for her readers, and I have come to eagerly anticipate these questions. The other day, Susan shared how she found a festively dressed Polish doll at the thrift store. She snapped it up as it reminded her of her mother's Polish heritage. Her question that day was, Do you have objects in your home or apartment that reflect your ethnicity?

I had to think a minute about it because, upon reflection, I don't have anything on display in my house that represents my heritage. I have Polish/German roots from my dad's side, and German/Russian roots from my mother's side. Our ethnicity was never really emphasized by either side of my family when I was growing up. My grandparents and dad came to Canada from Poland when he was little (just before WWII) and the family strived to fit into Canadian society. They didn't bring over much in the way of cultural costume or traditions.

But there is one thing. The kinds of foods we cook to this day in our kitchens gives a clue of our heritage. As a girl visiting my grandmothers or aunties, I remember eating the delicious tortes and kuchens, poppy seed cake, cabbage rolls with rice and beef, sauerkraut, dill pickles, beef stew and dumplings with fresh dill, sour cream and dill dressing on lettuce, to name a few.

When my dad's family had a huge reunion years ago, a family recipe book was created as a commemorative keepsake. Every family shared their family favourites, which included many old recipes that reminded us all of our German/Polish heritage. So yes, Susan, I do have something in my home that represents my heritage -- my cookbook with its many family recipes reminiscent of the flavours from the 'old country'.

"Twilight drops her curtain down

and pins it with a star."

L.M. MONTGOMERY

Around the house... new curtains. A fellow Twitterer mentioned she'd purchased new curtains (Waverly) for her living room. I saw her photo and was smitten. I went online to see if I could find something similar for my own living/dining room. I've only had lace at the windows for years. Which I loved, but the walls always seemed a touch bare. It didn't take long to find something I really liked. No matter what else I looked at, I came back to that first set that caught my eye.

I hit 'Order' and two days later they I was putting them up. I didn't have the right rods so I just temporarily* pinned them in place and was pleased with the look. Waverley provided a quality product for a most reasonable price. The pattern "Imperial Dress, Antique" and colours fit the room perfectly. I love how the sunlight makes them appear luminescent and sunset-like in the room. It'll feel cozy in winter especially. They gives the room a touch of formality yet because the fabric is 100% cotton they will be easy to maintain -- no dry cleaning needed. Talk about a spur of the moment purchase. One I don't regret for a moment.

*About it being temporary, well, you know how that goes sometimes. What's meant to be temporary ends up being the way it is, forever. Haha...I'll see how long it takes for me to get new rods up. Or not. 

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay.com

"Summer afternoon—summer afternoon;

to me those have always been the two most beautiful words

in the English language."

HENRY JAMES

* * *

After all that, I think it's time we break for cake and lemonade. I'll meet you in the garden. On that note, I'm wishing you glimpses of heaven in unexpected places -- June is bursting out all over the place. Happy day -- let's enjoy!

Hugs,

Brenda

xox 

Spring At Last With A Wee Visit to Pashley Manor Gardens

Tulips in the garden 2019

Hark, I hear a robin calling!

List, the wind is from the south!

And the orchard-bloom is falling

Sweet as kisses on the mouth.

~ L.M. MONTGOMERY, FROM THE POEM SPRING SONG

The joy of Spring is upon us here in northerly Alberta. At last. Until a few days ago, we had biting winds and near freezing temperatures overnight. But there seems a shift the last day or two and so we celebrate. Hubbs and I have been working out in the yard. He's been making a brick step off our newly built deck that goes down into the lawn. And I've been oiling our teak deck furniture. The morning has been mild and the air astir with birdsong, the odd bee buzzing by. And, now the May Day trees have burst out in full bloom with their sweet, sweet fragrance. Oh my! The trees are finally greening out in earnest. And the tulips above opened this week. Love that peony hue of purple -- it's so vibrant. It would make a lovely shade of lipstick, don't you think? Or maybe a sheath dress with a billowy jacket over top?

***

You undoubtedly noticed a change when you arrived here today. Yes, it's still me. I've just created a new blog header. Have been considering a different look for a while now. As much as I loved and still do the old one, I feel ready to play with something new. And I do love those tulips. Since they are seasonal, they might not work in the middle of October, so you might come one day and see it's changed again before I settle on what I'm completely at home with.

***

Over recent months, as I've mentioned in previous posts, I've been beavering away at putting together digital-to-print photo albums of our 2016 England holiday. It turns out I needed time and distance to be able to look through the over two thousand pictures and select some favourites of the trip. (At first they were all my favourites). I must admit, looking at them makes me homesick. I want to go back and see it all again. Take it in more slowly. And certainly with better diary notes, the way Susan Branch does. Next time.

How we looked forward to waking up every morning knowing an adventure was waiting for us. We'd booked a six-day garden tour with Flora Garden Tours and during those six days we visited twelve gardens, usually two a day. Some were large and stately, others were smaller and more romantic, all were so delightfully English. It was hard to pick a favourite -- we loved, loved Hever Castle and Sissinghurst, but after our morning at Pashley Manor Gardens, Rick and I both felt it edged to the top for us. There was something about this garden that really captivated us.

Since I'm already sorting pictures for the album, I decided to share a few with you here, take you on a little walkabout. We all know that photos never really do the thing justice, but still they give us an idea. And they help us to remember. I hope you enjoy.

Our first glimpse as we drove up the rail fence-lined driveway (no doubt to keep sheep in and/or straying tourists out) to find ourselves in front of this Tudor manor house -- built around 1550 -- with old roses climbing the timber front façade.

Isn't that tree gorgeous!

Pashley Manor Gardens are situated in the English countryside on the border of Sussex and Kent, and they are family owned and maintained. There are 500-year-old oak trees over which to marvel, and there is a delightful mix of herbaceous borders, walled gardens, cozy nooks, a pool garden, enchanting woodsy paths and tranquil vistas overlooking the ponds and lawns where ducks sit sunning themselves. Sheep safely graze in the meadows just beyond the fence. The terrace (No. 3 on the map) provided a picture perfect spot for lunch (I had a yummy quiche, salad, and sparkling elderberry juice), and there was a lovely gift shop to browse in at the end of the visit.

Here is an aerial view of the gardens. I don't know about you, but I like floor plans. I like having an idea of the layout and where plants/trees/ponds/statues sit in relationship to each other. The birds-eye view also gives a glimpse of the size of the park and gardens. It sits on 11 acres and yet there is an intimacy from the way it is all put together.. 

This longed eared fellow was the first to greet us when we arrived. Only keen observers would see him nestled in the tall grasses, ears up and alert to intruders, just the way his real life chums would be standing guard. He was a first of various other statuary and sculptures exhibited in prominent spots throughout the gardens. Just one of the many details that added to the charm of the place.

Here's a close up of the old timber frame Tudor house. While I was taking a snap of that lovely diamond patterned window, you'll notice it had taken snaps of me in my red coat. That front door was massive, and I assume, heavy. Even though it would have been built to keep out the cold and lurking enemies, I found it interesting to notice that the door frame had designs carved into it to add beauty. That old iron door knocker? I wanted to try it out, but thought better not.

Insert: I loved the signage we saw whilst in England -- And don't you love that word 'whilst'? It's so poetic and we saw it used everywhere. Here in Canada we just say 'while'. Not nearly as romantic. But the British really are poetic, and kindly, even as they warn folks to be careful or to drive slowly.

Now, I'm going to cheat a little here and show you four photos from the souvenir guide. They capture the house and gardens at their best lighting and in peak season. I wanted you to see that too. And then the rest will be my own pics.

The Tudor Front

'Lovely Girl' Lilies in pots & 'Gloire de Dijon' Roses on the walls

Photo from souvenir guide

A view of the Georgian addition to Pashley Manor

Photo from souvenir guide

The Tudor part of the house is in front when you arrive. When you come around the side to the back, that's when you see there's a Georgian addition to the house. It would have been added sometime in the 1700s. I think that's what I find fascinating about the British people. Here in Canada people tend to tear things down if they want to build something new, but in England in many cases, people recognize the value of the old even when desiring something modern and updated. So we saw lots of melding of the old and the 'new' buildings whilst (wink) visiting.

Two bits of history I found interesting. The original house at Pashley was probably a hunting lodge owned by Sir Geoffrey Boleyn, Lord Mayor of London in 1457 and great-grandfather of Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII's fated wife. (We saw her birthplace when we visited Hever Castle.)

And, in the twentieth century, the house was a temporary home for soldiers from Canada and Poland before, during, and after World War II. At that time, the gardens fell into considerable disrepair, and it took years and lots of hard work by the owners to bring them to the award-winning standards we enjoyed the day we visited.

Sculpture 'Lazy Days' by Kate Denton

Located in The Elizabethan Garden (map area No. 4)
'Amber Queen' & 'Just Joey' Roses

Photo from souvenir guide

'Mr. Bennet's Daughter' by Philip Jackson
Located in the Hot Gardens (map area No. 4)

Photo from souvenir guide

Don't you love this potting bench arrangement of potted plants? I'm so taken with that amazing red geranium. Not sure now, but I think this was part of the gift shop -- they had lovely plants for sale. If I lived in England, I would have been filling the van with plants to take home with me.

This was one of my favourite spots. That expanse of green lawn created such a marvelous backdrop for those mottled pink roses in front. On the left side of the map, below No. 2, the above garden looks toward the island, you barely see the bridge in the photo. We walked over that bridge onto a lovely path through the trees and shady areas to the Anne Boleyn sculpture.

"Gardening is the art that uses flowers and plants as paint
and the soil and sky as canvas."
ELIZABETH MURRAY

"The lesson I have thoroughly learnt,
and wish to pass on to others, is to
know the enduring happiness that the
love of a garden gives."

~ GERTRUDE JEKYLL

Won’t you come into the garden?

I would like my roses to see you.
~ RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN

Rosa 'Just Joey' -- love the colour!

If it were me naming them, I'd call them 'Orange Crush'.

"Gardens are the result of a collaboration
between art and nature."
~ PENELOPE HOBHOUSE

I fell in love with this delightful sculpture. I no longer remember where she posed in the garden, and perhaps she now lives in someone else's garden as the pieces on exhibit were also for sale. Regardless, I love her for her sense of peace and tranquility, maybe also for her meditative or pensive mood. She makes me think of the last stanza from Wordsworth's daffodil poem:

"For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils."

Sitting in a garden as lovely as this one would surely work the same magic as Wordsworth's couch, don't you think? And no wonder this woman in the photo below lets the breezes play with the sleeves of her gown. She seems quite free in her stance.

"A garden is to be enjoyed, and should
satisfy the mind and not only the eye of the beholder.
Sounds such as a rustle of bamboo and the dripping of water,
scents and sensations such as grass or gravel or
stone underfoot, appeal to the emotions and play
a part in the total impression."
~ PENELOPE HOBHOUSE

"In garden arrangement,

as in all other kinds of decorative work,
one has not only to acquire a knowledge of what to do, but also
to gain some wisdom in perceiving what it is well to let alone."
~ GERTRUDE JEKYLL

And, so we come to the end of our little tour. This last photos is one of the beautiful new gift shop -- we had so much fun poking around in there. Sorry I didn't take a photo of the inside (what was I thinking), you would have loved it. I bought the sweetest milk jug there.

* * *

On that note, I'm wishing you
a pleasant day and a beautiful weekend.

Hugs,

Brenda

xox