Up in the Trees

Dear Diary, As the sun shone brightly on a glorious day, and as Karen had risen early to help her mother prepare it was decided, whether I liked it or not, that we 'go exploring' directly after breakfast.

We rode onto the street in single file, cycle helmets perched perkily on our heads, and a selection of sandwiches and fruit in the basket on the front of my tricycle, which I have christened Esmeralda. Every tricycle deserves a name, especially a brilliant lime-green tricycle. We carried a water bottle each, a wide brimmed hat providing shade for the upper part of our bodies, and a liberal coating of sun block on exposed parts.

Cycling with a casual air we skirted the industrial edge of town, taking a wide country lane where trees grew leafy and green almost forming an arch, making the expedition a pleasure. This lane was gravelled; in places pieces of broken branches made it necessary to ride carefully, and the pot holes needed avoiding. Otherwise the path enchanted us. Fresh air, blue skies, and a feeling of unadulterated freedom lightened our spirits. Karen forgot to wonder how Jake was faring at home; after all prepared food had been left in the fridge, and the football was expected to keep him fully engaged for the duration of our absence.

Niece burst into song, warbling slightly off key a rendition of "Home on the Range"; her natural exuberance at the unexpected release from household chores. Karen shot a quick glance to me, her eyebrows raised in surprise, but I felt that this expedition provided an ideal opportunity for her to come to terms with the many shocks of the past weeks. As I had some experience in singing, in the school choir more years ago than I care to remember, I could see no harm in joining in the chorus. Karen knew the tune, and hummed along. Dear Diary we were a happy little group as we explored the outdoors.

The warmth of the sun made us thirsty. We stopped where a low log sprawled parallel with the pathway, passed the sandwiches around, and drank deeply from our water bottles. Karen, crunching on a crisp apple, threw her lightweight jacket on the ground and sat, as she said, to rest her legs. My legs were tired from the journey, but I assumed part of the problem was the tricycle ramble of the other day. Perhaps it was not!

Suddenly Karen let forth a strangled noise. Niece, ever vigilant, assumed she had thrown her jacket on an ant's nest. But no! Karen pointed skywards. There in the branches of the spreading gum tree we noticed two tawny frogmouths. They did not appear to have noticed us as they perched in the shelter of low-lying branches. We were spell bound Dear Diary.

These night birds sleep during the day, but are known to nest and raise their young in areas where people live. For once Niece carried her camera. Quietly she clicked a series of photos in quick succession; a record was made for future reference. We vowed to visit this spot frequently to check whether these birds used this tree all the time, or whether this was nothing more than a quick stopover.

Karen pulled from her jacket a small sketch book and with lightning strokes, made a pencil drawing of the tree, and its situation, to enable easy identification in the future.

Dear Diary, we rode home, admittedly with a degree of pain in our thighs and calves, determining to explore more of the countryside more often. The experiment proved to be one that bound our family ties tighter.

Contagious Excitement

Dear Diary, I wonder about the sanity of this household!

Jake lounges around, his leg awkward, his tight jeans exchanged for an old pair of track pants that make him look as though he should be in practice for the marathon.

I rose late this morning; still weary from the exertion yesterday, but the excitement lingers. A relaxing warm bath with a dash of bath salts helped restore the feeling in my lower body that, I must admit, ached from unaccustomed cycling. The breakfast table looked bright; Niece had placed a lovely vase of stocks in the centre, their delightful musky perfume overpowered the aroma of toast and marmalade. There was an air of excitement that encompassed the kitchen; an air that I could not immediately place. My curiosity was soon rewarded. One thing about Niece, and I have noticed a similar reaction from Karen, which I guess does show that blood ties are strong, is the fact they can not keep their excitement to themselves. Instead of letting me settle down quietly and eat my breakfast they bustled around, making sure I didn't want another cup of coffee, and asking if I felt like another slice of toast. Dear Diary, they know full well I am a two slice toast person and one cup of coffee with breakfast, and another half an hour later. By that time I am ready to face the day.

Their excitement was contagious. Curiosity overcame me and I blurted out, "Come on, fill me in with the details! I know you two are scheming something!"

For a moment I considered the prospect of a wedding as soon as Jake's leg healed. But Jake was not in this equation. The moment the last sip of my first cup of coffee left the cup Niece and Karen enticed me outdoors to the shed, where Niece's man was messing with two ramshackle bikes. I recall Niece riding the blue one when she was a schoolgirl, but the other, a maroon model was new to me; but definitely not new to the world. Where had they acquired it? Information was forthcoming. In excited bursts of conversation the whole story emerged.

After I retired last night to fall into bed exhausted, [well almost exhausted ... I must be truthful Dear Diary], Niece and Karen had sneaked my tricycle out again, and taken it for a quick ride around the yard. They were entranced! I wondered if it was the colour? After all, no one had ever seen a lime-green tricycle before. In fact, neither had seen an adult tricycle before. They came indoors and over a quiet wine made plans. Niece's man, Phil, remembered the bike in the shed, reckoned he could repair it with no trouble; phoned a mate of his whom he knew housed an ancient bike in his back shed, coerced him into selling it for a few dollars, and this morning set about bringing them both into a suitable riding state. Karen and Hester were going for a ride the following afternoon ... not far, but far enough that they need take a lunch. The highlight, Dear Diary, was their invitation for me to accompany them.

I hope Phil manages to fix those bikes today, and find new tyres for them. I did notice the tyres were perished. Tomorrow the girls go for a ride!

A Day in the Country

Dear Diary, It must be partly due to my maturity, but all the excitement of the past week has caught up with me.

I did put in an appearance at breakfast; no one else had surfaced. I guess everyone is recuperating. The sun shone from a brilliant blue sky; a gentle breeze ruffled the trees and the air was warm, perhaps a hint of a change tomorrow?

Not wishing to moulder away in my room I packed a light lunch; cheese and pickle sandwiches, a bottle of water and a slice of the cake that Niece had, inadvertently I wonder, left in a cake tin on the table. Surely she must have known that Cake Fairies love such donations! There is plenty left for the invalid! The cake turned out wonderfully ... a banana cake with lemon flavoured icing. I did taste a tiny slice, mainly to check that it was suitable for a picnic lunch. It was. The slice in my little lunch box is larger than I would have taken had it been cut on a plate, but then again what I intend undertaking today requires sustained energy.

I happened to read a notice in the corner shop advertising a new activity in town. Dear Diary, it sounds fun, and one that is new to my experience. I have a purchase to make before the adventure begins; I intend buying a tricycle. These bikes are not for small children, but stable cycles for those among us who wish to keep up cycling even though our balance might not be as good as it was when we were fifty. The Sports Shop has a range of tricycles, and one, a cheery lime green with brakes and a light, and a basket attached to the handlebars will suit my requirements exactly.

I did have a practice ride Dear Diary; found myself wobbling a little, but soon regained full balance, and off I went, lunch and water in the basket. There were nine others outside the meeting spot. As we all were novices at this new sport, and as we all hadn't ridden a bicycle for more years than we cared to remember, we chose a relatively short run. The nearest town has a delightful back road, seldom used by heavy traffic, with delightful scenery to occupy our senses. We rode sedately; the morning warmed and the breeze ruffled our hair. Dear Diary, after five kilometres my legs began to feel like jelly, a half-set jelly. Joan, a newcomer to our area, rode alongside me, and we engaged in conversation. She too confessed to jelly-like legs. We stopped for a break alongside a rustic cattle yard.

I ate my cake and the team leader produced a flask of tea, hidden in the depths of a huge knapsack carried on his back ... tea and cake revived me. After half an hour we proclaimed we were fit enough to continue; it was only another two or three kilometres.

Dear Diary, this tricycle journey may be the beginning of a new activity, and one where I have already met some lovely new friends.

The day was successful; we, The Cyclists, have decided to make these trips bi-monthly; all voting the day one of the best. Dear Diary, I will confess that my reception upon reaching home was less successful, but I did some swift talking and after Niece did a turn around the block on the tricycle, my attack of silliness was declared 'tops'!

Square Dancing

Dear Diary, I should have popped you into my handbag to keep up to date with the action.

The Square dancing was an experience; one which left me gasping with exertion. It did cross my mind that dancing so energetically could be more worthwhile than going to the gym, or aerobics. Not that I indulge in either! Shopping is strenuous enough.

Many people of diverse ages gathered in the hall. The regulars were easily picked out; the girls wore swirling skirts, and the guys all wore a bright coloured waistcoat. I hadn't realised there was a uniform for such an occasion. In spite of not wearing the correct dress I had a fabulous time. And the supper Dear Diary! Sandwiches, savouries and home made cakes; one in particular a three-layered sponge filled with strawberries and cream was irresistible. [I had two pieces Dear Diary ... what an admission!]

Shortly after supper, which fell in the second-third of the evening, Jake had an accident. He was promenading with Karen when he slipped, on what we later found out was a small piece of ham dropped from those delicious ham, cream cheese and pineapple sandwiches. There was no warning. One moment he was moving on the floor, and the next he was sitting on the floor with a surprised look on his face. I smothered my mirth ... well it was funny! There was Jake in his skin-tight jeans, a T-shirt with a silly slogan across his chest, his hair dishevelled from the exertion, sitting on the floor with his feet towards the sky. His look of surprise changed to one of agony as he tried to stand up. His foot gave out. For one moment it appeared he had broken a leg. There was a rush of dancers to help him to his feet, and half-held him up to take him to one of the hard wooden seats scattered around the edge of the hall. Jake grimaced, rolled up his jeans with the greatest of difficulty, to expose a leg rapidly beginning to swell.

I think it was the shock of it all that made me call out, "Is there a doctor in the house?" When everyone stared at me I knew I had made a boo-boo. Dear Diary, why does my tongue run away with me in times like this? There was one advantage ... a few laughed, lightening the mood. However, it became obvious that Jake did need medical treatment.

Niece and her man, aided by Karen, and supervised by myself, helped Jake into the car before hurrying to the local medical centre. After X-rays, and a long wait, it emerged that Jake had not broken a bone. Thank goodness Dear Diary. He did have serious bruising and had pulled a muscle, which will heal if he doesn't use that leg too much.

We are all home again. Karen is fussing over Jake, Niece is baking a cake to help build him up, and I ... I am staying in my room recovering from a huge night out.

A Peace Pact

Dear Diary, All is well! As Niece walked down the path she heard the sound of chatter and laughter. It was with a light heart that she bounced into the lounge, guessing that the crisis was over. Karen rushed to her mother, hugged her, apologised profusely, and announced she would be honoured to wear the wedding dress.

Surreptitious signs were made which Niece accepted and taking the hint hugged Karen and said she would be proud to have her daughter wearing her wedding dress. The part that astounded me, Dear Diary, was the small addition to that statement; Niece in offering to help Karen in any way Karen wished, made it plain that she would have to be asked. Before my eyes the relationship, precarious a few hours ago, made significant steps towards consolidation. I was proud of them both. Dear Diary, I couldn't help the small tear that came to my eyes; this was a beautiful moment.

What happened next was unbelievable had I not been a witness. Niece suggested a small drink to mark the occasion. Dear Diary, it is still morning! Karen offered to get them, and when Niece said the sherry was in the corner of the china cabinet I noticed a look cross Karen's face. Sherry is so old hat to the young of today; but commonsense prevailed. She smiled, poured the drinks, and we toasted each other to a successful day.

It was a day of surprises. Later Karen and Jake, after a whispering session on the couch, announced we were all welcome to go to the Square dancing with them after the evening meal. Another unknown side of Karen and Jake was emerging. Neither Niece nor I had any idea these young folks were interested in Square dancing, which can be difficult to learn, but fun once the steps are mastered. So Dear Diary, later we are off to the local hall and will dosados and promenade until we drop from exhaustion. I hate to contemplate how many years since I Square danced!

Manipulation?

Dear Diary, With a little gentle persuasion, and a suggestion that Karen didn't mean what she said, slowly Niece calmed. Dimly I recalled the wedding dress in question; it had been the talk of the town with its designer appeal. I enquired as to the exact whereabouts of the said wedding dress. Niece smiled, reminiscing about how wonderful her wedding had been with aunts, uncles, great aunts and uncles, cousins and friends who had gathered to join in the happy occasion. Dear Diary I felt I had achieved something; even it was only a settled Niece.

Later in the morning Niece had regained enough composure to bring the wedding dress out of its wrappings. It was as glorious as I remembered ... Chantilly lace and satin in a classic, never to date style, with a tiny coronet that set the dress of exactly with its circle of pearls and artificial flowers. Apart from one tiny stain the dress was as good as new.

An idea glimmered in my mind. I suggested Niece do her grocery shopping ... I had other plans.

Niece shut the door not as quietly as normal, and safe in the knowledge that it was safe to come into the kitchen, and have breakfast, though by now the meal should have been called brunch, Karen and Jake, sheepishly, padded in and proceeded to cook toast. I could have cooked them bacon and eggs, except that such an action could have been taken as manipulation. Dear Diary, I did have manipulation on my mind; subtle manipulation. So subtle that Karen would not realise the path along which I was heading.

Once Karen and Jake had eaten we washed up. Karen hadn't asked where her mother was, and I never volunteered, though I did murmur something about this might be just the right time to have a little chat. Immediately Karen visibly closed; her eyes became far away as if she was silently saying that she wasn't interested in what I might say. Too bad! Jake, sensing a serious situation was developing headed out into the garden. He had plans, he said, of tidying the garden. That was an excuse! Niece kept a wonderful garden, and apart from a small patch near the shed, the garden resembled an entry in the Chelsea Flower Show.

"Jake," I said. "I wish to speak to you both; in the lounge if you don't mind."

They looked at each other. I had spoken forcefully. They could see there was no escape.

Settled in the lounge I casually fingered Niece's wedding dress, which at this stage was carefully folded into a white bundle.

"Karen, have a feel of this fabric", I said.

In a spell of belligerency Karen scowled. I reminded her of the old adage my Mother had instilled in my childhood brain, 'Screw up your face and you will get wrinkles.' It worked. Karen didn't want to have wedding photos taken with wrinkles in her face!

With a little more persuasion she reached forward to touch the satin. I watched her face as the cool smoothness of the wedding dress captured her attention.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Just your Mother's wedding dress," I replied. "You called it an old rag, I was told."

Karen had the grace to blush as she mumbled that she hadn't meant what she said. She hadn't expected Niece to take over her wedding. A fair statement I thought, and told her so.

"Karen, would you like to look at this dress? You don't have to wear it, but don't you think you should actually see what is on offer? And think of how much money you will save if you like it, and of course if it fits you. Your mother was very dainty at your age."

At this stage I looked coy, hoping Karen would take the implication on board that her mother may have been smaller than she at the same age. Throughout my life I deduced that no-one likes the implication that their mother was better than them, be it size or looks.

Begrudgingly Karen revealed the wedding dress. She gasped!

"Aunt Alice!" she cried. "This is a gorgeous dress!"

I nodded, smiling smugly, and asked if perhaps she would like to try it on for size. Not that she was expected to wear it of course.

Five minutes late, after I had shooed Jake from the room [after all Dear Diary the prospective groom should not the his bride-to-be in her wedding dress until the big day], Karen entered the lounge. She looked beautiful Dear Diary, and it was clear her mind was made up.

Around the Table

Dear Diary; The coach arrived on time; Niece met me at the bus station. She looked ill; with worry I presumed. Few words were spoken on the journey home; a meal was ready; we ate all sitting quietly with absolutely no conversation. Surely if a row had erupted someone would be speaking!

Tentatively I inquired how everyone was, only to be met with stony stares around the table. Did they ask how I enjoyed my holiday with Anne? No! Not a squeak! At one stage I attempted joviality and started to regale them with the highlights. Not an eye blinked in interest. I gave up Dear Diary ... I seriously wonder why I bothered to come back!

This morning a hush still hovered around the house. I am not one to indulge in the sulks, which is what Niece, her man who did have the sense to get himself out of the way early ... wise man; Karen and Jake didn't appear for breakfast, but I could hear them talking loudly [arguing?] in their room As Niece and I sat at the table, which incidentally was grubby; most unlike Niece who normally is a stickler for hygiene, and amazed I watched tears trickle down her cheeks. She was upset!

Previous thoughts of 'Hollywooding' in the household flew out the window. Obviously circumstances had altered in my absence. There I was enjoying the seaside, catching up with an old friend, and all the time mayhem may have been happening at home. Poor Niece! Poor Karen and Jake. My calming influence is sorely needed to bring some sense of reasonableness to the whole affair. My sympathy, for the moment, rests with Niece. I hate to see folk distressed, especially when that distress is brought on by their own actions.

Within seconds I hugged Niece, whispering that all would come out in the wash, which for some strange reason sent her into another fit of tears. Comforting her as best I could I determined to find out exactly what had occurred in my absence.

"Hester?" I enquired, " what went so sadly wrong? When I departed you were all so happy to have met and had so much to catch up on. What happened dear?"

Sniffing with tears that were slowly abating, Niece filled me in the some of the details, though as the story unfolded I resolved to have a conversation with Karen and Jake. Two sides of this story may be different.

"Aunt Alice," Niece began. "I truly wasn't trying to take over the wedding arrangements. I didn't know I was a mother, and suddenly not only am I a mother, but also the prospective mother of the bride. It is so exciting! When I suggested to Karen she might like to wear my wedding dress, and veil, which you may recall are stored safely in the top of the wardrobe, and last time I looked, were in pristine condition. Karen was horrified Aunt! I couldn't believe how nasty she was. She snorted, and said she wanted a modern wedding, and not wear some old outdated rag."

At this stage the tears streamed again. I waited. There was nothing I could do.

Gradually she regained her composure, and looking sadly at me, asked what she should do.

Dear Diary, one must tread very carefully on what could be extremely dangerous ground. I made a pot of tea, put two more slices of toast in the toaster and sat her down. Food was what was required! Talking could wait.