Flowers a'Bloom

It's beginning to warm up. You can see every one's spirit take one of those big, all encompassing (cat) stretches. It's been a long Winter, but Spring is beginning to bloom -finally

The Canada Blooms trade show was like an enormous green house in downtown Toronto. Complete with every shade of tulip; there was also authentic bird sounds and small water features.

It was a nice place to spend a Saturday afternoon. It had me looking forward to the season ahead.

I don't think I would have gone to enjoy this man-made ambiance if I were not covering it for a magazine I work part-time for. I know, shame! My story was on sustainable bird houses.

I know, sustainable bird houses? Well I guess if we're going to be serious about this green living thing the birds have to pitch in too.

ha. I crack myself up.

A ticket to fly

Yes, it's true. I'm sitting in Media Law class and I'm not listening.

It's been really hard to focus lately. My airline tickets to India with a 3 month stop over in Europe have been purchased.

My nest egg is gone, but I don't care. I'll be flying far away on Sept 21. This day will approach a lot faster than I think it will. It's always like that. Blink* 6 months have blown by.

I've already had my first dream about this trip.

Garage Sale Fever - of sorts

I'm desperate to feel weightless when I make this move back out West. When I look around at everything I own I know that this is going to be difficult.

I've never wanted to consider myself a materialistic person, but I think I might be. I feel safe with a few possessions surrounding me.

Recently the boyfriend of a friend lost everything in a fire. Thankfully he safely escaped with the clothes on his back.

This happened a few weeks ago, but has been on my mind quite a bit since.

I've begun my process of material exfoliation by loading the big furniture onto online classified websites : craigslist & kijiji.

I've forced myself to reflect on what's important out of all the crap that I seem to have acquired over the past 4 years.

If Jessica reads this ... there are a few things I would like to donate to the A.D fund if he would like.

Tea and biscuits

With a walker in tow she greeted us at the door of her one room apartment.

The retirement home's activities coordinator entered ahead of me to make the necessary introductions. "Isobel this is Robyn." She said in a clear, heightened tone.

Isobel looked up from her tiny frame, "So, this must be Robyn," she said with a smile.

We settled into her sitting room. Her apartment was just about as big as she was, but large windows framed every room with natural light. This room was peaceful. On every well dusted surface there was a photo of a loved one. Including her wedding picture with the one she's loved for over 70 years and continues to love even though he's passed on.

Today was the fourth anniversary of his death. Isobel was happy to have visitors.

I organized my equipment and she sat back with professional ease. It was like she'd done this a thousand times before.

My first question: "In your early twenties what did you think dating would be like, what did you expect love to be?"

She answered with clarity and grace. There were moments when she brought me, the interviewer, back on the topic. I always tend to stray.

After an hour we wrapped up and she asked if I would stay for tea.

I stood and helped her prepare our mini feast of Mint Girl Guide Cookies, Peek Freans, Digestives and Earl Grey tea. She had to have the settings just so and made fun of herself for not having a proper sugar bowl. "I don't often entertain, you see."

Her walker assisting with every step, Isobel showed me to the artwork that she's created over the years. It's all proudly displayed on her walls. Every paint stroke to these vibrant country scenes was so precise.

But, the time got on and it was getting closer to her dinner hour, which she attends with all of the other residents. Like any gracious hostess she showed me to the door as I prepared to leave. Her walker stood between us, but I bent over it and opened my arms and embraced my new 96-year-old friend.

I hope I'm welcome for another 'cuppa' someday soon.

Just listen in

In our final year we have to opt for either a radio or television documentary course. I opted for radio. There's just something timeless and non-invasive about it. It's more about the story you want to tell than your flashy camera angles or constant pressure to white balance every time you move the tri-pod.

My radio documentary is slowly coming along. It's due in a few weeks, but I know that time will slip through my fingers.

The story is shaping up to be about the evolution of dating in Toronto. Specifically comparing a date in the 30's and 40's to a date of today. This idea of course was inspired by my own Grandma's stories.

I just received word from a contact that one of my key interviews is set for tomorrow. I'm to show up at a local retirement home in the city and to ask for Isabelle. She's a 95-year-old Torontonian. She was married for 70 years until her husband's passing, but my contact says that's she's as sharp as a tack and most definitely a character.

So, I'll go for tea tomorrow and just let the conversation flow.

It's just kind of funny... my Grandma's name is Isabel too. Strange.

Chasing footsteps

My beautiful Grandma has always had a special way to kiss her grandchildren. She always holds our arms tightly and stretches up to reach a cheek and then smooches us the way a woodpecker taps the trunk of a tree, but she's a lot gentler. And she always smells like celery. I don't really know why, but I love this.

While I've been on this earth her life has always seemed content. There's always been time for a chat, a hug or a kiss.

A good friend of hers once described my Grandma as a collector: not of stamps, not of books, not of trains, but a collector of friends. I think that this was brilliantly put and very true.

My beautiful, friend collecting Grandma hasn't always smooched like a hinterland bird or smelled of calorie free vegetables. No, she once wore high heels, worked for Eaton's at Yonge & College, lived in a business girl's apartment on St. Claire West and stayed out in the Summer sununtil her skin was almond brown. In those days my beautiful Grandma was a young woman, living every day in this great city, just as I am today.

Today she's always dreaming, fondly remembering those war time days when she met, 'Young Ted' (my Grandfather). She says that those were great years that she'll never forget.

Young Ted was from somewhere my citified Grandma knew only as a speck on the Canadian map. He was out from his home town on the North West Coast, stationed outside of Toronto in basic training when they met at her Uncle's home. Her Uncle was a family friend of Young Ted's and they decided to bring them together. Little did they know that he and his wife would bring their niece and Ted together for more than 60 years.

Once the swooning for the other had begun my beautiful Grandma knew she had to entertain this young, handsome man in this big bad city of hers. So, she took him to a good ol' hockey game at the famous Maple Leaf Gardens.

She couldn't afford much, but she was able to find them two seats way up high. She was excited and I'm left to only imagine the nervous chatter between them.



Above is a story that my family has heard multiple times; sometimes multiple times in an evening. But her stories are something I can never get enough of. They'll stay with me for the rest of my life.

But for all of my beautiful Grandma's stories there's a mysterious side to her that has always existed. Maybe this mystery is a story that has never been told, whether forgotten or purposefully forgotten.

One thing that could never be a mystery is just how much our whole family adores her and how much love she has to give.

Happy 86th Birthday Grandma!

I love you.

It's all moving so quickly

Five more weeks are left. Five weeks of deadlines, forgotten meals, social gatherings and friendly chats with instructors and peers in the hallways.

Over four years ago I dreamed of coming here and now I'm preparing to leave.

I've set my sights on the North West Coast of British Columbia. I grew up in this region. It's raw nature is apart of me.

Although I haven't secured any work out there, I do know that I'll find something. The funny thing is, is that one of my best friends and my boyfriend have both found work there. Having them both out there for the five month period I'll be living there probably means more to me than either of them will ever know.

I like to think that I was a major factor in them applying to jobs up North, but it's pretty clear that career broadening opportunities are everywhere up there.

The Torontonian attitude that there is nothing outside of the smog is frustrating me. There are too many city kids out there. Returning to rural life excites me, but the thought of rural, coastal life ignites something more. I mean how could it not.