Longing

Mum and I talked about Dad today as we took the net curtains down for washing and I cleaned the inside of the windows.  This was a job he always did every spring.  My puny arms were unable to stretch the wire enough to put one of the curtains back up, which Dad still had the strength to do a year ago even at the age of 89 as he then was.  As time goes on and we tackle jobs around the house bit by bit, I realise just how much he did to keep everything running smoothly and what a great team he and Mum were together.  When we talk, our memories of Dad are always positive ones.  I know Mum longs for him to be beside her once more, even though she is doing so well adapting to life without him.

Free at last from being shut away in windowless studios all day, I'm noticing the light around me and especially enjoying and appreciating the morning sunshine.  I like the way it lit up this pink camellia in the garden at breakfast time today.  In the Victorian era the language of flowers was extremely important as a way of expressing feelings which, under the strict social etiquette of those times, could not be spoken.  The meaning of a pink camellia is "longing".