Reflections

They say a week is a long time in politics. I say a week can be a long time in anything. This time last week I was enjoying being warm and dry after a walk in heavy rain; my Aunt Nessa was still alive; I was scraping up some work and had tickets to the theatre on Thursday and to a literary event on Friday.

Obviously I should not have chosen for my aunt to die, and I should have liked to go to both the theatre and the literary event, but it was nice to be in the bosom of my family for twenty-four hours; to lean against the work surface in the kitchen at Cousin’s and chew the fat; tell stories; marvel at Fido’s successful campaign to make himself persona grata in the kitchen and small sitting room; cuddle Westie Boy; and hear Mother’s voice in the local accents.

After the funeral we adjourned to the adjoining café. It is called Reflections. It is the first time I have been to a crematorium with a café on site. What a good idea. No hiatus between service and story swapping; no getting lost trying to follow directions in unfamiliar territory; and surprisingly good coffee. Knowing I should not be home until late, I broke my no coffee after midday rule, and I am glad that I did.

I think I may have said before that talking in my family is a competitive sport. Aunt Nessa’s wasn’t the last funeral of the day, but we were the last out of the café. It had to be. At least ten of us present were blood relatives. There were six first cousins for starters. Or rather nine. But six of us are first cousins with each other, then the other three with each other as well as being first cousins once removed with uncle Bill, and second cousins with the six first cousins, if you follow, and I shall quite understand if you don’t.
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Weekly Photo Challenge: Reflections

I have posted quite a number of photos of reflections here in the past, most, like this one, taken when I have been at das Boot. Swans, fenders, boats have all featured. But I have chosen this one because it is the trees and the branches that are reflected; nothing boaty; nothing waterfowl. I like that.

Marina Reflection

Marina Reflection

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A Day in the East With Birds and Mother

I have managed a few fairly unsatisfactory shots of ducks and geese, but my top bird moments today have been sans camera. There are house martins swooping and diving through the air in front of me, but I am not even going to try to photograph them.
Today has involved a certain amount of driving around, and it was this morning, on my way to see Mother, that I had my most exciting sighting; an owl in the trees by the roadside. I have had a quick look in the bird book I keep on board, and I am pretty confident that it was a Little Owl. I think it was the roundness of its head that made me slow on an already slow back road and take a second look. Athene, I thought, as I drove on to through the pretty village of Reach where one day I am going to stop and visit the pub, goddess of wisdom. Then I had a thought that owls are sometimes said to be harbingers of death. That probably is true if you are a mouse, but it also says something about where my mind is now regarding Mother.
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