Tuesday, August 11, 2015


Other folks may do it differently, but I do it the way that works best for me.
Some people put all their favourite photos and paintings in the living room or some place that visitors will be sure to see them.
Me, I put my favourite stuff somewhere that I will see it as often as possible.

In the bedroom, there's a small quilted tablecloth Mom made, and a set of quilted place-mats, and a framed needlepoint Aunt Reta made and gave me. I like to see all three of these every morning while I'm dressing and every time I walk into the room.

If you've been reading here for any length of time, you've already seen most of these. Probably more than once.

In the hallway between the bedroom and the office is a collection of family photos. Sometimes, seeing pictures of those who have passed away, I get heart pangs. This happens often. But I'd still rather be reminded than not. (I still miss my mother something terrible at times. You would think that this grief would be processed and no longer upsetting, but that is not the case even after 10 years. Anyway I'm sure it's normal. Right? It's not as if it keeps me awake at night or anything. It's just that the intensity of the impact — even now, occasionally — surprises me.)

An unwelcome thought is that someday, if nature takes its course, it won't just be Mom I'm missing when I see this photograph.
In the office is Mom's first palette painting; I love this one, as it really does look like poplar trees with a breeze rustling them.

And there is one of my sister Joan's early pastels, with colours that I adore. They appear a bit washed-out here, unfortunately.

And in the living room is a new one that Aunt Reta brought with her from Saskatoon. Her (and Mom's) cousin Judy is moving from her house into a condo and no longer has a place for this, and apparently neither do her children or nieces or nephews, because it came my way and I was quick to say "I'd love to have this!"

Reta's husband Carl painted it from a photograph of Grandpa Jack, my great-grandfather, who was a telephone linesman well into his seventies. I remember him as a moustached old man, always sitting and with a cane nearby. I think I was about nine when he passed away.

We still have to pick up the "thingies" required so that they lay flat, for the three flowers Joan painted for me. I've got the canvases leaning against the wall and am looking forward to getting them up; they're going to pull the room together beautifully and brighten every day.


  1. Kate, I think your display of visual wealth is beautiful. Our walls are mostly bare. We have some art displayed, Georgia O'Keefe, and a few paintings that Attila did many years ago, when he wasn't working all of the time. Your post has inspired me, I think, that when we finally move to the little house in the city, that I will pound nails into those walls and hang all our treasures where we can see them every single day.

    1. Exactly. Why hide them away? A person could also rotate them, if there are many, so as not to overdo it and create a sense of clutter. And one person's clutter is another person's treasure -- there's that, too, but I'm all for following the beat of one's own drummer as much as possible. I'll look forward to seeing those walls once you've got your stuff up!

  2. PS I find it fascinating that you look like both of your parents at the same time, two completely different people, both looking like you.

    1. Interesting that you say that. I often look at someone's parents and see both of them in that person, and can't say the person looks more like one than the other. I find it fascinating too!


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