The flowers are bursting through the cold dark ground, giving us light and colour.
I grew up with an intense Love for those miniature sky blue/pink flowers, those sweet sweet Forget-Me-Nots. My Great Grandmother brought some over to the property they established alongside the Gatineau River, all those years ago, from Germany. Now, each Spring, the entire few acres are covered in blue and pink tipped grass. The vases over-flowed with those little touches of pretty. And now, when I see them peeking through I ‘forget not’ the times we all shared together, on that property by the river, sipping coffee and talking life over those precious vases of colour. And now, I cherish the little Delft vase my GrandMother gave to me, and today, it sits on my kitchen table, filled with different shades of blue and pink…
There are so many ways to find beauty in life. Tradition has it’s ways of reminding us. What a legacy that lived before me! If only I could travel back in time to ask some of my ancestors questions, I wonder what their voices sounded like, what type of accents they had… Besides German, I am certain there were loads of Scottish accents, and I wonder when they stopped speaking Gallic up there in the northern lands by the sea. My heritage is certainly a mix-up, wouldn’t it be so interesting to snap your fingers, and glimpse into the past. For now, we have relics and photos and I get to use my imagination to no end. My Grandfather started up a family tree book and I remember one of his relatives was in search of gold, up in Northern Canada, back in the days of the uncivilized, no electricity and little information about wild animals, not much law… He must have had a fierce determination to get up there, following his big dreams. Maybe part of his essence seeped into me and gives me the determination to keep following mine. I wonder if there were other singers in my family, besides my dear sweet Mama who LOVES to sing along to The Beatles, Boney M, and me. My Grandmother sang some show tunes, once upon a time, for fun, but I wonder if there was an antique piano being played somewhere with a voice soaring above it, for all to hear. I wonder where that magic of music that flows inside of me started? Was he a he? Was she a she?? Well, I may never know how, when, who or where, but I am a million times thankful. Even on my darkest days, where it seems that no gigs are coming in, and no ears hear my songs, I have faith that the flow is forever steady and present.
So, today, I thank you for your flowers and the music… Two of my favourite things.