From the secret garden with the little birch tree where we used to hang our hammock.
I made my mother an angel for Christmas four years ago. She will not remove it even in summer. We need angels all of the year, she proclaims. 
My mother of age 82 has got a tumble dryer, and she is tired and does not move easily. Nevertheless she insist on carry her wash and hang it up outdoors.
My parents spent lots and lots of hours gardening. 
We were not allowed to come down until the fencing was done.
I used to sit on that moss grown stone right and get all absorbed by the sound, smell and sight of the foaming river, while writing poems in my diary.
My mother of age 82 has got a tumble dryer, and she is tired and does not move easily. Nevertheless she insist on carry her wash and hang it up outdoors.
My parents spent lots and lots of hours gardening. My mother always had a wish of a pond for waterlilies. My dad used a chisel and crowbar to dig deep into the mountain. In between Serina was born, and the pond was made as a safe place for her to play. 
My dad told the fairytale about the castle with a thousand footsteps. I was enchanted when he started building a similar road down to the river which flows about thirty metres below the rest of our garden. 
Two summers my father spent to make this road, not waisting the soil, but carrying away buckets for mom's flowers.
My dad told the fairytale about the castle with a thousand footsteps. I was enchanted when he started building a similar road down to the river which flows about thirty metres below the rest of our garden. 
Two summers my father spent to make this road, not waisting the soil, but carrying away buckets for mom's flowers.
We were not allowed to come down until the fencing was done.
I used to sit on that moss grown stone right and get all absorbed by the sound, smell and sight of the foaming river, while writing poems in my diary.
My father must have watched from above, 'cause he fenced out the stone.. I had to find a more secure sitting place,- at least half a yard inside.
This is called "Kitten's garden", wild strawberries and white anemones are blossoming there, and it is and wild be my place of peace on earth.
Backside of "my" garden where my father has piled a mountain of stones when he made our lawn.
The upper part of "secret Garden" where my mother and I long time ago built a fire place. My father coming home from the office, was not impressed.
Backside of "my" garden where my father has piled a mountain of stones when he made our lawn.
The upper part of "secret Garden" where my mother and I long time ago built a fire place. My father coming home from the office, was not impressed.
"It will fall down next winter," he prophesied.
Mom was determined to prove him wrong, and put in a dash of concrete now and then. many a kettle of coffee is boiled here, and heaps of hot-dogs grilled.
One week ago. Gunnar is showing Mom the pics I made with my cellphone N73.
One week ago. Gunnar is showing Mom the pics I made with my cellphone N73.
5 comments:
Dear Felisol;
Oh your mom is such a darling!
What a classy lady!
And what a lovely story full of memories and pictures of your childhood.
It sounds like you surely had a good one!
I love birch trees so much,
I think that they are my favourite trees.
We have one on our front lawn and we are the only ones in the area that does.
It is so graceful looking.
I guess the former owner must of shared my love of birch trees.
It was one of the selling points of this house!
I don't know what an angle is.
Is it some kind of tool?
If it is I just bet that Mom Golden has one too!
Mom Golden is forever buying tools.
One birthday,all she wanted us to buy her was a saw!
Mom Golden loves gardens but alas, living in an apartment limits the size of her "garden". On her balcony, she has a pictureous assortment of flowers in planters and there is a lawn chair out there where Dad Golden enjoys to sit and think,
They are a on the third floor, so while he is thinking ,his eyes are scanning the neighbourhood.
I love ponds and to think that Serina had a homemade one,created with her Grampa's own strong, loving hands.
We had a pond near us where we used to catch polywogs and put them into bottles to see if they would turn into frogs.
We never quite had enough patience though so usually, for fear that they would die, we would return them to their natural environment.
The same with butterflies.
Little Pilgrim Pal has more patience as far as butterfly coccons are concerned and keeps a watchful eye on them.
In the winter we would spend many an evening, under a star lit sky skating to our hearts content on the frozen pond.
Oh! that road that your dad made,
and all the time he spent to make it!
How exciting!
There is surely gold at the end of that road for you Felisol.
The golden dreams of childhood and now your own little princess is enjoying it, eh?
Oh the sweet music that you heard in Kitten's garden!
If you listen real closely, you can probably hear it yet in your innermost heart.
I can hear it!
A Fireplace!
With cups of boiled coffee all around!
Felisol, how did you and your brother get so lucky as to have a mom and dad like that?
And then get even richer when the Lord gave you such a wonderful husband amd blessed you with a princess!
Oh hot dogs,HEAPS of them on a summer day!
How glorious this whole picture that you painted with your words is Felisol!
Love Terry
Dear Felisol
My eyes were only half opened last night when I looked at the nice pictures!
Of course I know what an angle is.
It is you and Serina and your mom!
Angel, eh?....Love Terry
Hi Felisol! I so enjoyed my visit here tonight, looking at all the nice pictures and learning more about you and your family. Sending hugs across the sea...
love in Christ,
Vicki
what beautiful family stories, memories and pictures. i love the garden and the hill-side. i used to live in a place like this in the Himalayas.
You Dad was such a talented man
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