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bouquets

There are aphids on my roses. Death will rain down upon them, horrible green things feasting on the buds. Not to mention the scale on the oleander and the slugs munching the basil and hostas. Oh yes nature is red in tooth and claw. The fight is never-ending.

My handyman John was here today for the first time in ages, and many were the jobs awaiting him. It took us most of the day, including a trip to the Merchants of Green Coffee for beans. My fence is power-washed, the difficult lights in the kitchen and the doorbell are working again, the birds have birdseed, and the lovely portraits of my father and uncle, taken in 1930 with them both in sailor suits, are up, measured and with proper hooks rather than a random nail, which is how I put up pictures. We tried to figure out my air conditioning, which does not work until it does; John has no answers either, so we’ll just wait and see if it decides to turn on. Now John has gone, and the internet is wobbly. I wish he lived next door. I am sure he’s glad he does not.

Sunday was a joyful day – first I had a singing lesson, and oh, I am enjoying raising my voice in song, though I am sure, once again, that my teacher’s neighbours are not. Then it was the 60th birthday of dear friend and stunning actress Kate Trotter, and the 30th of her daughter Kathleen, who may be known to some of you as the fitness columnist for the “Globe.” I’ve known Kathleen since babyhood, and now she’s a gorgeous six foot tall triathlete. I brought them a big bunch of my roses in a hand-crafted vase. There were lots of other exotic bouquets there, but not many, I’ll bet, handpicked from the garden just before the event.

Kate has an amazing group of friends, gathered to eat and drink in the garden of her partner’s house in Rosedale. I ran into an actor I had a desperate crush on in 1974, an actor I had a brief fling with in 1979, the director who awarded me “Best actress and best human siren” in 1969 (I played an ambulance, among other things), the director who hired me and Lani in 1977 to play bank tellers for a film about unionizing banks, my only film work, shot at 6 a.m. in a little bank somewhere in Vancouver – at that hour of the day, I had no idea where. Old friend and wonderful actress Clare Coulter. The founder of Tarragon Theatre Bill Glassco’s beautiful daughter Bryony. I told her I think of her father every day, when I look at the Quebecois wall hanging he gave us. There was marvellous food, drink and music. A perfect celebration of two magnificent women, who came through a great deal to get where they are today.

And now on this magnificent late afternoon, time to get ready for work.

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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