Jennifer Lynch's Blog - Posts Tagged "easter"
EASTER BIRD SONG
Since waking earlier and writing at 6 a.m. I have discovered the quiet of the morning is a very special time for birds. I am loving this earlier time to wake when the house is silent, and I can hear the wood pigeons. Every time I hear the sound, I think about when I slept top to tail in a single bed with my sister when I was a child. It was very uncomfortable, not because there wasn't much room but because the bed was rock hard. My Grandmother's house was on the main road so you could often hear the traffic, but there was also a long brick wall opposite her home with some very huge trees. The woodpigeons were always cooing in the tops. I remember waking early then feeling excited about opening my Easter Eggs. My Grandmother was a slightly eccentric lady, although she was reserved and quiet, she was also a little quirky! She would ask us to touch her arm muscle. She was only 4 ft. 7 inches, a tiny lady but exceedingly strong and she still rode a bicycle well into her later years. This little arm would display an incredible muscle, and if you dared to touch it, she would give you a gentle punch! She would also pretend to faint at how tall we had all grown. Grandma H would ring the doorbell, enter then lie on the doormat pretending to have fainted!
I loved her house, I am always back there at Easter as my mind revisits her beautiful garden full of plum trees with the sun shining down on our dolls tea party on her lawn. Or playing inside with her bricks or doll's house, red rooves. Carrots they called her as a child because of her red hair, but perhaps it was easier than Gladys Lilian Elizabeth! Everything was tiny, everything was neat, including the pile of socks she darned for my mother. Life was not about money, but it was about definition, strength. Although there were never many toys, my grandma's house was magical, a display of her strength and stamina where we were comforted by the fact the pigeons would always sing and later in the year, the plums were ripe for picking!.
I loved her house, I am always back there at Easter as my mind revisits her beautiful garden full of plum trees with the sun shining down on our dolls tea party on her lawn. Or playing inside with her bricks or doll's house, red rooves. Carrots they called her as a child because of her red hair, but perhaps it was easier than Gladys Lilian Elizabeth! Everything was tiny, everything was neat, including the pile of socks she darned for my mother. Life was not about money, but it was about definition, strength. Although there were never many toys, my grandma's house was magical, a display of her strength and stamina where we were comforted by the fact the pigeons would always sing and later in the year, the plums were ripe for picking!.
