Winkie's Way: There's no Time Like the Present

If you've followed this blog for a while, then you have heard of my beloved Aunt Winkie.

Over the past few weeks, I've reflected on the many things I've learned from Winkie, not by any direct instruction, but simply by example and observation. I've decided to start sharing them with you.

There's no time like the present.

Winkie welcomes help in her tiny kitchen, but I keep my support to the sous-chef role: slicing, dicing, fetching, stirring. Once, as I grabbed utensils to set the table, she noticed that there were crumbs in the cutlery tray. (We all have those, right? It just never ends.) I grabbed what I needed and was ready to close the drawer when she stopped me.

The adventure begins!

Lily pads, University of Utrecht, The Netherlands
(I think I may want to have this picture framed.)

Oh, I have so much to show you and tell you!

It's been three full weeks since I blogged, and in that time, I've been to Holland, Belgium, Switzerland, France -- and even a couple of special places in Canada. But I am finally home and almost caught up on laundry, so it's time to get to work before I begin my next adventure.

In a Family Way

Union Station
There was a woman standing down near the exit sign who thought I was
trying to take her picture and kept glancing nervously at me.

No, I'm not pregnant, but I did spend the weekend doing what my family does best: eating and talking.

And I took some pictures along the way. . .

Wonderful Whirlwind Weekend

You may have noticed that Steve and I sometimes try to combine a business trip with a pleasure trip.

• In September, I tagged along on Steve's business trip to Kingston.
• In November, Steve joined me in Quebec City, then I stayed on to work.

Well, this past week, Steve had business in the Toronto area, where I happen to have family. So, Emily and I decided to meet Steve in Toronto, and we arranged to meet my Aunt Winkie for dinner, then visit my sister for the weekend.

There are no pictures of Winkie, because she detests having her picture taken. But I did snap some pictures of a few other highlights of the weekend, which we spent with my sister and brother-in-law.

Pat and Ross

On Saturday morning, I [finally] had a visit with my friend, Stephanie, whose beautiful twin girls were born last January.

Happy Mommy

One happy baby

Another baby, monkeying around.

The family dog, just waiting for her to drop the monkey.

The girls were ready for their naps, so Steve and I headed back to my sister Pat's place, where we got ready for a short road trip.

Scooter, none too happy to be excluded from the car ride.

Our destination was Palmerston, where my father, his parents, and one of his sisters are buried. Not what you would call a fun trip, but it was a pleasure to be there and to remember. I never met my grandmother, and I barely knew my grandfather, but I miss my father every day, and I have fond memories of my aunt and her great talent.

Dad loved fishing.
There were not enough days in his life to enjoy this pastime.

We planted some crocuses around the markers, just as my Aunt Winkie has done. She also planted a lilac bush. Obviously, it was not in bloom just now, but it was beautiful, just the same.

I hope lichen is not harmful for lilacs . . . 

It was chilly - snow was dancing lazily - and we were hungry, so we visited nearby Elora to warm up and grab some lunch. Elora is a popular tourist spot in Ontario (at least in the summer), with a quaint downtown.

Dressed up for the season with a uniquely eye-catching colour scheme.

After a home-cooked meal, Pat and I talked late into the evening, as we usually do. Brunch the next morning included my favourite dessert!

Tiramisu (in cake form)

Before we knew it, it was time to pack our bags and head for the train station, but not without a few hugs.

Hug

All in all, a wonderful whirlwind weekend. Now to get on with my Christmas preparations; no more excuses!

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

My sister Pat: a shyly beautiful woman

I've never been fond of the expression, "Beauty is only skin deep." It uses a definition of beauty - that it is superficial and physical only -- that I just don't buy. Also, the expression is too often used to mollify someone who feels less than beautiful herself.

I don't think anyone would really argue with me. I think we all agree that "inner beauty," characterized by generosity, acceptance, nobility, grace, humility, and kindness, far outweighs the value of external beauty of the sort that ends up on the cover of the Victoria's Secret catalogue.

Today I'm thinking about how that inner beauty can transform our perception of a loved one's physical attractiveness. Misaligned teeth or asymmetrical eyebrows take on a charm that cannot be captured in a photograph or even a painting.

By the same token, I have found myself noticing every tiny imperfection in someone whose face is demonstrably perfect according to some bland ideal of symmetry and proportion. Call it the Kim Kardashian syndrome. The woman is undeniably exquisite in form, but I have no desire to spend five minutes in her company, much less watch her show.

Yesterday evening, I dined with two beautiful women: my sister Pat and my Aunt Winkie. I have never thought of either of them as anything other than attractive. I am flattered when people say I look like one or the other. I was delighted when my cheeks began to hollow out just the way my aunt's (and my father's) had.

This time, I was determined to get a photo or two of the two of them. I know I've mentioned before that I have very few photos of Aunt Winkie. The whole family knows that she hates to have her picture taken. Indeed, I don't think we have any pictures of just her.

Well, yesterday I learned just how desperately she hates to be photographed. While Pat acquiesced to letting me photograph her in her un-maquillaged state, Winkie refused to comply. She held up a mug and a wine glass, turned her head to the side, closed her eyes (ostrich, anyone?), grimaced and said, "No, no, no!"

It didn't help that my DSLR camera is loud, that I have to move in close because I don't have a zoom lens and that I have my camera set to take several exposures in rapid succession (a cheat to compensate for my unsteady hands - one of the exposures is likely to be in better focus than the others).

I felt like a paparazzo, and I'm sure she felt like a beleaguered celebutant.

I finally gave up. The best picture I got of her shows her cheerful red sweater, and a small corner of her head showing her nose, her curling hair, her hands and her left eye squeezed shut. I wish she knew how much we would treasure a real, casual portrait of her.

Stephen convinced me of this a long time ago, so I periodically subject myself to the impersonal scrutiny of the lens. Occasionally, as a couple of weeks ago, I am surprised at what turns out.

I won't post the picture I took of Aunt Winkie. But I will share the picture I took of Penny.

Penny rarely grooms herself and resists all efforts to be groomed,
yet is nevertheless convinced of her own majesty.
I guess Penny owns all the vanity in that household.