Generational Continuity

For all my complaining yesterday about gloom and Mondays and tornado sirens, Tuesday came along and made amends for the dour day we had yesterday.

It’s beautiful out there. We started with a cold morning and a thick frost but by lunchtime, the temperature had climbed up to 50 degrees, the sun was shining and the first crocuses were blooming in my garden.

There’s something definite about seeing the first flower of spring bloom. It’s just like the first snowfall of winter- you know it’s welcoming you into the season and there will be much more to come. The daffodils will follow the crocuses and the tulips won’t be far behind and, from then on, it’ll be flower after flower as spring unfolds and gives way to summer.

If you haven’t noticed, I’m huge on the changing of the seasons. I find it fantastic how there are four such different parts of the year. When the season change approaches, I grow impatient. The only exception to this is spring moving into summer. I’d be much more content if late spring just stuck around and went straight into autumn. I’m not a creature of summer. It’s not a season of beaches and swimming pools to me, of family cookouts and long days. To me, it’s a season of mosquitoes, humidity and searing heat.

It’s funny. When I read that, I realize that I sound just like my mother. Except her negativity is towards winter, not summer. She’d take searing heat, humidity and mosquitoes any day over snow and ice, cold and wind. I find that slightly fascinating. We’re very much alike but also different.

It’s actually funny how we grow up and become more like our parents than we ever imagined. It’s something we fight in our younger days. As teenagers when we have vicious fights with our parents, we swear we’ll NEVER be like them.

Then, as time passes, life happens and we realize that not only are we more like them than we’d like to admit but, also, we’re pretty proud of that fact.

There are times when I’m not always happy that I’m like my dad in some ways. Sometimes, it’s not necessarily a good thing. While we inherit the good qualities of my parents, we also inherit the bad. I think the trick is knowing that and being aware of when you’re channeling your mum and dad and NOT in a good way.

It’s definitely a generational thing. I can see my grandparents in both of my parents. My mum acts quite a lot like her mum some days and that’s just plain amusing. It’s funny to see her get snippy when I suggest it even though she knows I’m right. My dad acts like his mother a lot too but he doesn’t always have quite the same humour about it.

Either way, it’s refreshing to know that into each generation, a little bit of the generation before exists. I like that notion. It’s like a chance to improve on what’s already good and work on the stuff that needs to be improved. We can fight it but there will always be a little bit of our parents and ancestors in us.

It’s actually a lot like I said the other day in my blog about my dogs. They’ve been raised in suburbia and spoiled rotten and yet their instincts to hunt, disappear down rabbit holes and try to capture prey in just part of them. From the dachshunds that were bred to hunt, generations later, my girls still have that need in them even though they were never taught or even raised in an environment that cultivated that.

For me, it just means I have to block a lot of holes such as underneath the tool shed and the propane tank. I also have to deal with a lot of holes being dug in the garden. As spring moves in with full force, I intend to use those holes to plant trees in my garden. It’s nice of the girls to help even if that wasn’t their intention. I can’t change their nature just like I can’t pretend I’m not a product of both my parents.

Although neither of them is terribly fond of snow so I’m not sure where that came from.

That must be all me. Maybe that will be what gets passed to the next generation. Who knows?

Happy first day of March and Have a great Wednesday!

Eventful Spring Days....

It was another Spring-like day today. The first crocuses in my garden are blooming, one purple, one white, one yellow. I planted a ton of them because i love to see them spring up out of the faded green, yellowish grass, up from the leaf-covered dirt and surprise us with their chipper-colours. My daffodils will follow and then I can truly say Spring is here.

While I love winter, I'm ready for a change. I'm ready to start thinking about my garden, being about to walk the puppies without needing a coat, finding ways to explore the outdoors. It's supposed to be nice all week, which should make even more flowers bloom.

This is turning into an eventful week. For one thing, there are puppies. Each day is a new adventure with them. Tonight, it was bath night.

My experience with dogs and baths is that, generally, they don't like them. Then they get angry with you and either try to make you as wet as they are or they run around, rolling in the grass, trying to dry off and then proceed to let you know they are NOT happy with you.

Well, my puppies clearly hadn't had a bath yet. They cried in the sink as I washed them. Then I wrapped them in a warm towel. They cried. They ran around whimpering for some time. Then when I was done bathing them, I had to wrap them in the towel and cuddle with them. Then they followed me, crying. So I put them in their bed wrapped in an old sweater and they finally stopped crying.

Ironically, it wasn't cold. I think they just hated the bath experience rather a lot. I can't blame them. I suppose if I were a tiny puppy, someone showering me with warm water would be a little traumatizing.

Then when they were dry enough, I let them run around outside since it was a balmy spring day. Well, as soon as they got out there, my neighbour unleashed his hounds (or rat terriers, at least). They immediately barked. My puppies gave a fight and yipped back but then the neighbours on the other side of the Dog Whisperer let his dogs out and they crashed through the fence into the Dog Whisperer's yard. All of a sudden, the three dogs became six and my tiny puppies trembled while the two men laughed.

I, personally, don't think it's cute though, in their defense, they did try to scoop up their dogs. My puppies were both fascinated and terrified.

I'm not sure what we're going to do about this. I only hope that either my puppies can bark back or the neighbours stop letting the dogs out whenever they see me outside. We can only hope.

Then, of course, to top it all off, I get a call from my friend and fellow writer. My book is now for sale on Amazon. I've already sold a few copies. It's a good feeling. I can now say, "I'm a published author."

In all honesty, it hasn't sunk in. I feel like I should do something to celebrate. Then again, having two puppies is a pretty good way of celebrating. They're currently sleeping after running around like maniacs all evening. I plan on waking them up before bed, to spend that last spurt of energy before they crash for the night.

In the meantime, while they sleep, I get a chance to blog. I can check my email and look up stuff that I've been meaning to do for a while. It's a nice sort of peace.

For now, I'll take that when I can!

Happy Wednesday!

By the way, if you want to check out my book, click here: