What kind of a man was my Father? Well, in all the time that I can remember him, I never heard a single soul say anything but good abut him. This goes for Liberals, Conservatives, Catholics, Protestants, colored people and Micmacs (Natives).
He was Baptist as were his family. He was educated at Acadia College, (one of the eldest in Canada). Passed in Law at Harvard and gave everything he had to his country. He never smoked, rank or swore, and I can truthfully say that I have never seen a more tolerant man.
Right here there should be put in the record a letter dated March 27/30, which was sent to me from Iru W. Harwick of Brooklyn, New York. This Gentleman knew my father in the seventies before he was married and gives me one good idea of what people thought of him as a man.
I can remember him saying to me, "There will be times in your life when the truth will not serve nor is it desirable in order for a peaceful, existance. But remember, a lie is nothing and you cannot make something out of nothing. Seek the truth in all times, but hurt nobody if this is possible.
Tuesday, 7 July 2015
The Mill's Story by Roland Manfred Mills
Having reached an age of three score years and ten, with an added three years and a bit, one of my daughters asked me to tell the family, in writing, some of our early history and my own experiences, especially as the last 70 years, for better or worse, have made so many changes in our way of life.
FAMILY HISTORY
According to my father's telling and the 'Calmek-Savary" history of Annapois County, Nova Scotia, my Father's people came from around Scarborough, Yorkshire, England, in the year 1775 and settled on long strips of land, close together at Granville Ferry, then called Caledonia, directly across the Annapolis River from the Ancient town of Annapolis Royal, first settled in 1604 and called Port Royal by the French.
There were four immigrants, three brothers and a sister, and the family name at that time was Milnes. The older brother and sister never married and we are descended from one of the other brothers, named John. All these brothers were Justices of the Peace, farmers, merchants and shipbuilders, and their graves can be seen in the Mill's private burying ground at Granville Ferry.
My Mother's people were named Corbitt and came from back of Boston, then New England in 1768. One of them was named Isaaiah, my Great-Great Grandfather. My Grandfather Corbitt married a Holland from the hamlet of Clements near Annapolis Royal, of an Empire Loyalist family. My Father married Bessie B. Corbitt in 1878 and there were five children, Jean, Harold, Victor, Manfred and Ruth.
My father, John Burpee Mills was born on the Mills Homestead, Granville Ferry, July 21, 1850, married my mother Bessie Brittain Corbitt in 1870, was called to the bar in 1875, appointed Queens Counsel, 1890, elected to the House of Commons in 1887 and sat there until November 1900. Married for a second time in 1896 to Agnes Rose of Ottawa. Moved to Vancouver, B.C. 1908 and was called to the bar of B.C. August 25, 1908. He died on Christmas Even in 1913 at Providence, Rhode Island whilst on the last leg of a trip around the world, starting from Vancouver on a Blue Funnel Tramps.
MILL'S CHILDREN
My sister Ruth and I were born on the 40 acre Estate my father owned on the Southern edge of the town of Anapolis Royal. My date of brith being September 26, 1888. This piece of land was very historical, and certainly is one of Canada's great beauty spots. On this farm is a hill, marked 13 on the sketch attached.This hill must have been fortified against ships on the river and according to historical records, hand a blockhouses to command the southern approaches to the town. From this hill you can see the site of the first dwellings ever to be created by white men in Canada and the site of the first mills and watershed in the New World. You can see a system of of fortifications which were fought over for over 100 years, taken and retaken time and time again. The first Church of England in Canada can be seen. The Hamlets of Clements, Alain, Grenville, Belle Isle, Mosahall, Lequille can be seen and on a Sunday you can hear most their church bells. All around can be seen the work of the French - the dykes they build, the places they ???? and the willow threes that they brought from France. Champlain drew a map of the spot, a good one, Lescarbot drew another, (copy attached). Both Champlain and Leecarbot must have stood on this hill to draw their maps. It is the only site that the Alain River can be seen in all its windings from the Lequille River to the Annapolis River or R. de Deuphin. It must have been free of bush and trees, the common Bullein or Mullon, Indian tobacco, (Verbasaun Thapsus) tells me this. This only grows on poor, sandy soil, free of trees and bush, and it abounds on this hill.
Hundreds of prominent men from all over Canada, the U.S. and U.K. have stood there in my precense. H.T. Cambie of Ottawa and Vancouver was there in 1891. Cambie Street, in Vancouver is named after him. Captain Joshua Slocum who was born in Wilmot within 10 miles of the spot, on the Bay of Fundy shore was there with Father and myself in 1899. He had just finished a voyage around the world alone in the "Spray". As I remember this, he was a very tall and powerful man with whiskers on the end of his chin. He looked like the cartoon of U.S. Uncle Sam, or the Saturday Evening Pot's Mr Tutt, the lawyer of Tutt & Tutt.
From this hill I have seen a dozen ships built of local materials, some of them in my Grandfather Mills' shipyard, launched, and manned by local men and boys, and these boys made a name for themselves all over the world.
FAMILY HISTORY
According to my father's telling and the 'Calmek-Savary" history of Annapois County, Nova Scotia, my Father's people came from around Scarborough, Yorkshire, England, in the year 1775 and settled on long strips of land, close together at Granville Ferry, then called Caledonia, directly across the Annapolis River from the Ancient town of Annapolis Royal, first settled in 1604 and called Port Royal by the French.
There were four immigrants, three brothers and a sister, and the family name at that time was Milnes. The older brother and sister never married and we are descended from one of the other brothers, named John. All these brothers were Justices of the Peace, farmers, merchants and shipbuilders, and their graves can be seen in the Mill's private burying ground at Granville Ferry.
My Mother's people were named Corbitt and came from back of Boston, then New England in 1768. One of them was named Isaaiah, my Great-Great Grandfather. My Grandfather Corbitt married a Holland from the hamlet of Clements near Annapolis Royal, of an Empire Loyalist family. My Father married Bessie B. Corbitt in 1878 and there were five children, Jean, Harold, Victor, Manfred and Ruth.
My father, John Burpee Mills was born on the Mills Homestead, Granville Ferry, July 21, 1850, married my mother Bessie Brittain Corbitt in 1870, was called to the bar in 1875, appointed Queens Counsel, 1890, elected to the House of Commons in 1887 and sat there until November 1900. Married for a second time in 1896 to Agnes Rose of Ottawa. Moved to Vancouver, B.C. 1908 and was called to the bar of B.C. August 25, 1908. He died on Christmas Even in 1913 at Providence, Rhode Island whilst on the last leg of a trip around the world, starting from Vancouver on a Blue Funnel Tramps.
MILL'S CHILDREN
My sister Ruth and I were born on the 40 acre Estate my father owned on the Southern edge of the town of Anapolis Royal. My date of brith being September 26, 1888. This piece of land was very historical, and certainly is one of Canada's great beauty spots. On this farm is a hill, marked 13 on the sketch attached.This hill must have been fortified against ships on the river and according to historical records, hand a blockhouses to command the southern approaches to the town. From this hill you can see the site of the first dwellings ever to be created by white men in Canada and the site of the first mills and watershed in the New World. You can see a system of of fortifications which were fought over for over 100 years, taken and retaken time and time again. The first Church of England in Canada can be seen. The Hamlets of Clements, Alain, Grenville, Belle Isle, Mosahall, Lequille can be seen and on a Sunday you can hear most their church bells. All around can be seen the work of the French - the dykes they build, the places they ???? and the willow threes that they brought from France. Champlain drew a map of the spot, a good one, Lescarbot drew another, (copy attached). Both Champlain and Leecarbot must have stood on this hill to draw their maps. It is the only site that the Alain River can be seen in all its windings from the Lequille River to the Annapolis River or R. de Deuphin. It must have been free of bush and trees, the common Bullein or Mullon, Indian tobacco, (Verbasaun Thapsus) tells me this. This only grows on poor, sandy soil, free of trees and bush, and it abounds on this hill.
Hundreds of prominent men from all over Canada, the U.S. and U.K. have stood there in my precense. H.T. Cambie of Ottawa and Vancouver was there in 1891. Cambie Street, in Vancouver is named after him. Captain Joshua Slocum who was born in Wilmot within 10 miles of the spot, on the Bay of Fundy shore was there with Father and myself in 1899. He had just finished a voyage around the world alone in the "Spray". As I remember this, he was a very tall and powerful man with whiskers on the end of his chin. He looked like the cartoon of U.S. Uncle Sam, or the Saturday Evening Pot's Mr Tutt, the lawyer of Tutt & Tutt.
From this hill I have seen a dozen ships built of local materials, some of them in my Grandfather Mills' shipyard, launched, and manned by local men and boys, and these boys made a name for themselves all over the world.
Tuesday, 17 February 2015
Thirty Years of Canadian Life: The Mills Story by Roland Manfred Mills
1883 to 1913 - Nova Scotia to British Columbia
Part of the life story of Roland Manfred Mills. Born September 26th, 1883, at Annapolis Royal, Nova Scotia.
Ox Team, horse and buggy to auto and airplane.
Candles, oil lamps to electric light.
The old oaken bucket to running water.
Chic sales to indoor plumbing.
Magic lanterns to moving pictures.
Bustles to falsies.
Talking machines, wireless etc, etc...
The C.P.R. and opening up of the West.
THIRTY YEARS OF WONDERS.
Part of the life story of Roland Manfred Mills. Born September 26th, 1883, at Annapolis Royal, Nova Scotia.
Ox Team, horse and buggy to auto and airplane.
Candles, oil lamps to electric light.
The old oaken bucket to running water.
Chic sales to indoor plumbing.
Magic lanterns to moving pictures.
Bustles to falsies.
Talking machines, wireless etc, etc...
The C.P.R. and opening up of the West.
THIRTY YEARS OF WONDERS.
Wednesday, 2 July 2014
2nd Floor, Hospice
Diary: Feb 20, 2014 (Thursday)
Dad took enormous pride in his work a concrete reinforcing steel detail estimator. "I detailed the rebar for the theatre at Douglas College in New Westminster," Dad proclaimed proudly from his hospital bed.
A few minutes later Dad was telling one of the nurses how boring it his form in at the hospice. It was hard for Dad. Away's the 'do it yourselfer', this business of dying had really thrown a monkey wrench into things. Exasperated Dad proclaimed in exasperation: "The only thing that works is my bloody watch!"
Dad enjoyed talking about his family history. For my part, I enjoyed listening. In part listened hoping to find answers to explain my childhood and our family dynamics.
Dad had a great love for his mom Hazel Grantham. In her single days, Hazel's thought school in the little town of Unity, Saskatchewan. Today Unity is still a small Canadian town with a population of not quite 2,400 people. Located at the junction of Highways 14 and 21 and of of the CNR and CPR main rail lines.
Dad had a great love for his mom, Hazel (Letts) Grantham.
Hazel was born September 4, 1899 in Hastings, Ontario to Howard and Charlotte Letts.
Hazel taught school in a Unity, Saskatchewan. Unity was a small town, even back then. By 1908 the advent of the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway saw Unity grow from a small settlement into a bustling town of some 600 by the 1920s.
Upon one occassion when Dad was less than prompt coming when called, his mom, Hazel gave him a quick swat on the backside the admonishment: "You man, when I call you, you come in right away!' Dad smiled fondly recalling that.
Hazel was a big fan of the CBC radio show Bert Pearl and the Happy Gang. The show was on every day at 10 o'clock. They played live music. I was a housewife program, before the time of the Son's of the Pioneers.
Hazel was a big fan of the The Happy Gang, a CBC radio production that ran at 10 a.m. daily. It was what Dad termed a 'housewife' program. The show ran from 1937 to 1959. Bert Pearl led the band.
The Happy Gang
Hazel was living in Wilkie, Saskatchewan when she married Jim Grantham.
Upon one occassion when Dad was less than prompt coming when called, his mom, Hazel gave him a quick swat on the backside the admonishment: "You man, when I call you, you come in right away!' Dad smiled fondly recalling that.
Hazel was a big fan of the CBC radio show Bert Pearl and the Happy Gang. The show was on every day at 10 o'clock. They played live music. I was a housewife program, before the time of the Son's of the Pioneers.
Hazel was a big fan of the The Happy Gang, a CBC radio production that ran at 10 a.m. daily. It was what Dad termed a 'housewife' program. The show ran from 1937 to 1959. Bert Pearl led the band.
The Happy GangHazel was living in Wilkie, Saskatchewan when she married Jim Grantham.
The town of Wilkie was established in 1907, it was named after the town banker, Daniel R. Wilkie of the Imperial Bank of Canada. A small town then, a small town now with a population of less than 1,000.
Jim Grantham served in World War I. He signed up with the 9th Canadian Mounted Rifles in Saskatoon. He trained at Camp Sewell in Manitoba. There is a photo of 1,000 odd tents that they lived in before they were shipped off. The post card from when Jim shipped out read simply: "Good bye," from Jim G.
Jim had a horse of there named Ginger that he just loved. A sergeant took her over. The horse bucked the Sergeant off and Jim G. had a huge laugh. Jim was riding Ginger when he was shot through the left leg by shrapnel. Ginger was killed.
Dad noted that Jim (Grantham) and Vern (Watt) were picking shrapnel out of their legs for years after the war.
Jim saw service in France at Vimy Ridge and Dieppe. At one point Jim was injured, he was sent back to squad upon recovery. Jim was in charge of the pack horses for the machine gun squad.
Jim's unit sent him for amo on one particular occassion, when he came back he discovered the German's had made a direct hit. There was nothing left but those springs in the memobrabilla box.
Jim Grantham served in World War I. He signed up with the 9th Canadian Mounted Rifles in Saskatoon. He trained at Camp Sewell in Manitoba. There is a photo of 1,000 odd tents that they lived in before they were shipped off. The post card from when Jim shipped out read simply: "Good bye," from Jim G.
Jim had a horse of there named Ginger that he just loved. A sergeant took her over. The horse bucked the Sergeant off and Jim G. had a huge laugh. Jim was riding Ginger when he was shot through the left leg by shrapnel. Ginger was killed.
Dad noted that Jim (Grantham) and Vern (Watt) were picking shrapnel out of their legs for years after the war.
Jim saw service in France at Vimy Ridge and Dieppe. At one point Jim was injured, he was sent back to squad upon recovery. Jim was in charge of the pack horses for the machine gun squad.
Jim's unit sent him for amo on one particular occassion, when he came back he discovered the German's had made a direct hit. There was nothing left but those springs in the memobrabilla box.
Wedding certificate in stuff at Dad's place. Jim and Hazel married in Saskatoon. Nellie Pinder and Joy Letts (sister) maid of honor. James Grantham's best man was Charlie Smith. Charlie Smith's brother was a shop foreman in North Battleford.
On the prairies, Dad says every town has their own grain elevator.
Hazel's parents, Howard and Lottie Letts moved to the Okanagan and bought and orchard. Hazel and Jim loaded up their 1928 Chrysler and with all four kids drove out the join them.
Jim worked as a fireman for the CPR, stoking the engines. Through his employer Jim had a railway pass. Using that pass, Jim and Hazel would take the CPR's S.S. Sicamous from Vernon to Penticton.
Dad chuckled remembering. On the trip up, the car full loaded, a customs agent had compelled Jim Grantham to unpack everything for inspecting at the Douglas Boarder Crossing. Dad laughed, Pop had a fiery temper upon occasion. Ironically, Hazel who was holding Ronny at the time was sitting on a carton of cigarettes.
A 1928 Chrysler
Dad chuckled remembering. On the trip up, the car full loaded, a customs agent had compelled Jim Grantham to unpack everything for inspecting at the Douglas Boarder Crossing. Dad laughed, Pop had a fiery temper upon occasion. Ironically, Hazel who was holding Ronny at the time was sitting on a carton of cigarettes.
A 1928 Chrysler
CPR's S.S. Sicamous
One of the first records Dad bought was a Teddy King record he bought when he was boarding with the Craigen's in Vancouver.
Dad was a fan of the Clint Eastwood movies: "Make by day! I liked his dry sense of humour."
The RN Kelly knew Dr. Lesley Yelland.
Dad used to take Trudy, our fire red, cocker spaniels down to the railway yard. Trudy was nuts about pheasant hunting.
Jim would marry again, this time to Lena Grantham in Berford, Ontario.
Dad mused, " in the war of 1812, the American's came across in Plainsville.
Dad told me of a bug from Japan called parasella. It took 5 years to eradicate with chemicals like DDT.
Did I know Dad asked, that the Alaska Highway took only 8 months to build?
The best man at Dad's wedding was a Sherman Finniss. Dad used to chum around with Sherman when he was 16. His Dad was a mechanic. Jennifer, Randy's exwife, her mom was good friends with Sherman's wife.
Jennifer liked biking down ski slopes, racing on grouse mountain on mountain bikes.
In 1921, pre Dad, his family was living in Vancouver. At that time Ted started school at Noquay School in Vancouver. One of the oldest schools in Vancouver, it was situated on the corner of Slocan and Kingsway. Back then, names of the streets were cast in the sidewalk. Dad's family lived there for 1 or 2 years while his Dad tried his hand at raising chickens on a piece of land they rented.
Norquay School
Iron Gate: 75
Hospice door: 111
Courtyard out: 9688
Back in 6336
Lobby door (to exit) 2365
Room 203A
Staff Doctor: Dr. O'Brien
Cost: $31.52 per day
Open Road Richmond Collision in Langley City
Repair work completed Feb 11/14
2004 Hyundai Accent 70,000 km
License plate: BWH 417
Malignant, non-small cell, adenocarcinoma tumor, 5 cm mass in right lobe lower quadrant.
Mets to right adrenal gland. L-4 and Diffuse mets to brain.
Sunday, 2 February 2014
I'm Sorry I Couldn't Get To You
I'm so sorry I couldn't get to you... The words of this song resonates deep within me when I think of my Dad and the days and months leading up to his passing.
I couldn't open his eyes to see me. He died never seeing me for who I am and that hurts. It is terrible feels of loss that a person I loved died without over knowing me.
This song gives words to my hurt. The stinging rejection by my own father. What did my Dad see when he looked at me? My childhood best friend told me she was shocked when my mother approached her and made a comment to the effect that she was surprised that I had done so well, that she had always worried that I would be a burden on society. She was surprised that I had gone on to have a family, managed to keep a job etc...
For me, my parents were the monsters under my bed and in my closet. During the darkest hours of my life, they were the monsters that scurried about doing dark deeds. My mother seeking out the supervisor that was bullying me at work. I wasn't the only employee she bullied, many others fled or quit. Maggie happily bragged about her confab with my Mom to a good friend of mine Julie who was horrified, "Who does that?" Julie had exclaimed. Mine, the monster under my bed.
My mother was beautiful. I'm not sure she ever knew that. When I look back at the early photos my Dad took of my Mom in 1959 and 1960 I see a beautiful young woman. With tousled short heart, high cheek bones, brown eyes and red lips in sweater sets and skirts she was beautiful.
Were they both angry that I wasn't the slim, dark eye, natural beauty she was?
I've read that some parents project onto their children the parts of themselves they loath most. Was that the case? Or did they vent their hostility for each other onto me?
I kept giving up on him, but when it is your Dad you always hope that sooner or later they'll come round and realize who you really are and say those magical words: I love you. As I say them to him now, he does not say them back. One day as I kissed Dad on his forehead and said those heart wrenching three words: I love you...
As I turned to slip from his room in the hospice he said it back. A sweet, spontaneous, "I love you."
Maybe he didn't know it was me. Maybe it was just a spontaneous, give a love, get a love. I hope it was mine.
If only you could have seen me. When I felt so small and over my head, when I rose to the challenge of single parenthood you acted the role of an adversary. Instead of having my back, you were on it. Why couldn't you have just have loved me?
Say something.....
Say something....
I'm sorry I couldn't get to you
I'm sorry I couldn't make you love me.
I always loved you, that's what made it hurt so wicked bad.
A child loves her father
Flaws and all
At least, this child did
I forgive you
The pain oozes out of me now like a river
Carving a new path in a scarred landscape
Rushing on
The words are the vehicle for my river
Love me, love me not
May God make you whole again
If in the here after you come to visit me again
Let the Old Spice Lime cologne scent let me know you are there
I love you Dad, I wish you peace and restoration.
Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'll be the one, if you want me to
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you
[Verse 1]
And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all
And I will stumble and fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl
[Chorus 2]
Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you
[Verse 2]
And I will swallow my pride
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye
[Chorus 3]
Say something, I'm giving up on you
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
And anywhere, I would have followed you
Oh... say something, I'm giving up on you
[Outro]
Say something, I'm giving up on you
Say something...
I couldn't open his eyes to see me. He died never seeing me for who I am and that hurts. It is terrible feels of loss that a person I loved died without over knowing me.
This song gives words to my hurt. The stinging rejection by my own father. What did my Dad see when he looked at me? My childhood best friend told me she was shocked when my mother approached her and made a comment to the effect that she was surprised that I had done so well, that she had always worried that I would be a burden on society. She was surprised that I had gone on to have a family, managed to keep a job etc...
For me, my parents were the monsters under my bed and in my closet. During the darkest hours of my life, they were the monsters that scurried about doing dark deeds. My mother seeking out the supervisor that was bullying me at work. I wasn't the only employee she bullied, many others fled or quit. Maggie happily bragged about her confab with my Mom to a good friend of mine Julie who was horrified, "Who does that?" Julie had exclaimed. Mine, the monster under my bed.
My mother was beautiful. I'm not sure she ever knew that. When I look back at the early photos my Dad took of my Mom in 1959 and 1960 I see a beautiful young woman. With tousled short heart, high cheek bones, brown eyes and red lips in sweater sets and skirts she was beautiful.
Were they both angry that I wasn't the slim, dark eye, natural beauty she was?
I've read that some parents project onto their children the parts of themselves they loath most. Was that the case? Or did they vent their hostility for each other onto me?
I kept giving up on him, but when it is your Dad you always hope that sooner or later they'll come round and realize who you really are and say those magical words: I love you. As I say them to him now, he does not say them back. One day as I kissed Dad on his forehead and said those heart wrenching three words: I love you...
As I turned to slip from his room in the hospice he said it back. A sweet, spontaneous, "I love you."
Maybe he didn't know it was me. Maybe it was just a spontaneous, give a love, get a love. I hope it was mine.
If only you could have seen me. When I felt so small and over my head, when I rose to the challenge of single parenthood you acted the role of an adversary. Instead of having my back, you were on it. Why couldn't you have just have loved me?
Say something.....
Say something....
I'm sorry I couldn't get to you
I'm sorry I couldn't make you love me.
I always loved you, that's what made it hurt so wicked bad.
A child loves her father
Flaws and all
At least, this child did
I forgive you
The pain oozes out of me now like a river
Carving a new path in a scarred landscape
Rushing on
The words are the vehicle for my river
Love me, love me not
May God make you whole again
If in the here after you come to visit me again
Let the Old Spice Lime cologne scent let me know you are there
I love you Dad, I wish you peace and restoration.
Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'll be the one, if you want me to
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you
[Verse 1]
And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all
And I will stumble and fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl
[Chorus 2]
Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you
[Verse 2]
And I will swallow my pride
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye
[Chorus 3]
Say something, I'm giving up on you
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
And anywhere, I would have followed you
Oh... say something, I'm giving up on you
[Outro]
Say something, I'm giving up on you
Say something...
Friday, 24 January 2014
Trudy
Trudy could have walked straight off the pages of J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan. She was to us kids the epitome of a nana dog, at least to me. While nana was portrayed as a Saint Bernard, Trudy was a fire red cockier spaniel with liquid chocolate eyes and a penchant for following us me every where. This was back in the days when dogs had the roam of the neighbourhood.
Trudy was quite fond of hunting rodents in fields of hay outside our house. Sometimes, I helped flipping over old piles of woods while Trudy sniffed excitedly, hoping I'd flush out a mouse or perhaps a rat. It is probably a good thing we were never successful in this game as I'd have been horrified if Trudy had snared a mouse.
When Trudy did capture something, it had to be rescued. Such was the case of the mole, that sightless had probably stumbled blindly into Trudy's path. Trudy was victorious, at last to catch something. Slapping her dog dish down on top of it to protect it, I deprived her of her bounty.
I was a committed animal lover and that included moles. Trudy readily forgave me.
When I was traipsing about the hay fields that towered over my head, Trudy was more often than not right behind me snort and snuffling in the long grass hunting insects and rodents while I amused myself hunting grasshoppers and lady bugs. I loved to catch a lady bug and then as a magnanimous gesture sing the song: "Lady bug, lady bug, fly away home. Your house is on fire and your children alone." It distressed me to no end to think of her poor babies alone. Every lady bug was presumed to be a mother with children alone.
Trudy was a slightly squashed dog, Mom attributed this to her being run over by a car at some point in her life. Whatever happened, nothing held Trudy back. Trudy was with us until she was 16 years of age, the same age I was.
When I was 5 exploring the fields, Trudy would have been in the prime of her life.
Trudy was quite fond of hunting rodents in fields of hay outside our house. Sometimes, I helped flipping over old piles of woods while Trudy sniffed excitedly, hoping I'd flush out a mouse or perhaps a rat. It is probably a good thing we were never successful in this game as I'd have been horrified if Trudy had snared a mouse.
When Trudy did capture something, it had to be rescued. Such was the case of the mole, that sightless had probably stumbled blindly into Trudy's path. Trudy was victorious, at last to catch something. Slapping her dog dish down on top of it to protect it, I deprived her of her bounty.
I was a committed animal lover and that included moles. Trudy readily forgave me.
When I was traipsing about the hay fields that towered over my head, Trudy was more often than not right behind me snort and snuffling in the long grass hunting insects and rodents while I amused myself hunting grasshoppers and lady bugs. I loved to catch a lady bug and then as a magnanimous gesture sing the song: "Lady bug, lady bug, fly away home. Your house is on fire and your children alone." It distressed me to no end to think of her poor babies alone. Every lady bug was presumed to be a mother with children alone.
Trudy was a slightly squashed dog, Mom attributed this to her being run over by a car at some point in her life. Whatever happened, nothing held Trudy back. Trudy was with us until she was 16 years of age, the same age I was.
When I was 5 exploring the fields, Trudy would have been in the prime of her life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)