What remains

sunny, warm, temps 26

We're in Toronto. Had a fun day today. Checked in to the InterContinental, Front Street. McArthur, my Canadian publisher, has very generously put us on the Club floor, which means a private lounge with breakfasts, afternoon tea, cocktails, DVD's, newspapers etc. It's like a British Airways lounge (by which I now measure every aspect of my life).

Then, as Michael cringed and tried to teleport himself somewhere else, I asked if there were any suites available. Can you believe it, there was! So they upgraded us to a suite.

Then we hopped out and caught an early showing of the new Indiana Jones film nearby. I love matinees! Always feel like such luxury. We got buckets of popcorn and diet cokes and sat in the near empty cinema. Heaven.

Loved the movie - but the bar isn't very high for Harrison Ford. Anything he's in is fine with me. My favorite Indiana Jones was the previous one, with Sean Connery. We own the DVD and I watch it every 6 months or so. I can practically mouth the lines. What fun. As you see, we run a vigorously intellectual household.

Just got out of a shower. Had dirt wedged under my fingernails. It's been a while since I had the earth smeared on my hands - and it felt good. We were in the village of Elora for the past two days. Visiting Cousin Marjorie.

Elora was one of the principle inspirations for Three Pines. In fact, Gabri is loosely based on a man named Steven in Elora, and Cousin Marjorie inspired both Ruth and one of the Three Graces from the second book. She has two very close friends and they did almost everything together. If you saw one there was a pretty good chance another was close. Like a pack. Marjorie, Margo and Kay. All over 80. The Three Graces.

This trip, though, was quite different. Margo has sold her lovely old stone home in the centre of the village and moved into a brand new seniors residence. Kay has left Elora for Toronto to be closer to family. And Wednesday when we arrived at Marjorie's from Montreal, for the first time ever she wasn't at the door waiting.

The inside door was open and we opened the screen door and called. No answer. Called again. This time we heard a shuffling.

It was Marjorie. With a smile, but looking weary. Then it came out. She'd only the day before returned from a week in the hospital. We were horrified. That we didn't know and that now this suddenly frail older woman had two guests. We immediately asked the obvious.

What was wrong? What happened? Afraid of the answer.

Atrial fibrillation. I could see Michael relax. He knew what it meant, and while it wasn't brilliant news it wasn't the disaster it might have been.

A lot of people have it. It's when the heart speeds up, and won't slow down. It can be extremely serious, if not treated. But Marjorie came home from the hospital with lots of drugs.

Still, this once energetic woman who zoomed all over the world, helped organize the local book sale, played bridge, gardened and has countless friends was suddenly weak and exhausted.

We sat with her and asked questions. Michael looked at her drugs, and took her pulse-rate. But I couldn't shake the feeling we shouldn't be there. We would be a burden when all she wanted to do was rest.

I made dinner. (No, not peanut butter sandwiches - I surprised even myself by producing chicken breasts with fresh tarragon and elderflower and newly cut asparagus.) Michael made a salad - we washed up and all went to bed early.

The next morning we made breakfast then Marjorie asked me to put in her vegetable garden. She could have given me the winning lottery ticket. I was relieved and thrilled. We could actually do something useful. So under Marjorie's stern, percise and exacting eye in went the lettuce, basil, parsley, red onions, zucchini, squash, scarlet runner beans and another sort of bean. Then I weeded for 2 hours while Marjorie napped on the sofa and Michael, bless him, called her doctor and talked to him, doctor to doctor.

As I weeded I realized how sad I was. That the vacations to see Marjorie had clearly changed. She who always met us and had a gourmet meal prepared and had planned dinner parties and trips to the theatre and restaurants, was human after all. And needed our help.

Of course, there's every reason to believe once the medication is adjusted and she gets some rest, she'll be fine. Perhaps better than ever.

But it was a wake-up. And it was a feeling I suddenly recognized. From visits to my grandmother many, many years ago, as she aged. And to my mother, who went from striding ahead of us even in our adulthood, to falling behind until we needed to walk very slowly and pretend we weren't so as not to upset her.

Roles naturally change. But we don't have to like it. We do need to accept it, though.

And it felt good to get dirt on my knees and see the earth under my nails, and have a few hours to reflect on what really matters.

Michael came out and watered the new vegetable garden and as I watched him I remembered a prayer he told me about. One someone told him when he thought he'd die from sorrow when his first wife died.

Thank you God for everything you've given me,
Everything you've taken away,
And everything that remains.


This too I've learned in the garden.

Be well, please. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Peonies

sunny, stinking hot, humid, temps 31

Dear lord, we're meeeelting. What a country. From minus 30 to plus thirty in not that many weeks.

Heard great news from Lise at home who reports that we almost certainly won't miss the peonies. They're about to burst open, but the show lasts about 2 weeks and we'll be home at about this time next week. Do you know peonies? They make my knees go weak.

I think I'm a bit of a flower whore (or is it john?) Show me a well turned ankle and an overwhelming perfume and I'm smitten. I think peonies (originally from Japan I believe) are about the most perfect flower. All sorts of colours, though ours tend to be classic pink. Very full, bigger than a large man's fist. And fragrant? I sometimes stand in the centre of our formal english garden (as opposed to the wild pond garden) and feel the tears. Especially on a day like today. Hardly any breeze so the aroma stays in the garden, and with the heat and humidity the flowers radiate sweetness.

To add to their beauty, they only last 2 weeks. Inevitably there is what a good friend calls a 'peony rain' which drums down so hard it flattens the flowers, which need to be staked anyway since their heads are so heavy with flower.

And - to add further to their beauty - peony bushes are extraordinarily long-lived in Quebec. It's not unusual to see an old farmhouse abandonned and neglected, but a peony still blooming. It is the optomist, the hopeful flower - that knows when to bloom and when to rest. In our garden the first full bloom of our roses comes at the same time as the peonies. Michael and I sit in our chairs, with florid pink lemonades, and wonder how we got so lucky.

I remember when Still Life first came out and we had to go to Toronto for BookExpo - to sign the advance copies. I cried as we left, filled with sorrow that we'd miss this most blessed week in the garden, but filled with amazement and gratitude it was for that reason - so see and sign my first book. As it turned out the peony held on - and now the blooms are increasingly gorgeous, and long-lived.

We're off for my 4th bookexpo tomorrow (the event is over the weekend in Toronto) - but there are no tears. I know the flowers will be there - and if not, they'll be back next year.

This I know, and this I trust.

I really have learned so much in that garden.

Had more good news - Teresa heard from Spain today and it seems we've sold the books there, for translation. Indeed, there seems to be an auction, so that's nice.

Had breakfast with Susan this morning - she's going to spend part of her holidays in the guest house this summer.

And had a lovely invitation from the village of Georgeville, not far from where we live, to come and do an event when the next book comes out. I actually get nice inviations like that two or three times a week and I'm always grateful and try to fit them into the schedule, though some are quite far away and more difficult.

The reason I'm specifically mentioning this invitation is that she did something both smart and kind. In the invitation she mentioned they could make my event a fundraiser for their village library. And I realized how much I prefer to do fundraisers rather than straight events.

I say this in case any of you would like me to visit - I think there's a better chance of my fitting your event in if you could make it a fundraiser for anything that's important to your community. It could be the library, the local no-kill shelter, literacy, a family in need of extra money because of an emergency, Habitat for Humanity. Whatecver you decide. I wish I was of the stature that would bring in significant amounts of money, but every little bit helps.

Anyway, something to consider.

We're leaving early tomorrow for the 6 hour drive into Ontario. Going first to the village of Elora to visit Cousin Marjorie. (one of a few older women who inspired Ruth). Will try to blog from there, but I know Marjorie doesn't have internet. Might sneak away to a cafe.