Wednesday, March 25, 2009


Due to changes in the climate and thus the migratory paths of birds we have been blessed by the return of one of Nature's most ethereal creatures...the swan.

This regal bird is said to have mystical powers and inspired many a legend down through the centuries. Such is the ancient myth of the mute swan. Never sharing as much as a whisper throughout its life, the moment just before it dies it sings a beautiful song.

From that has derived the term swansong, referring to a final work or accomplishment or theatrical performance...

And so I give to you Miss Maddie's swansong...

I can only hope that you have enjoyed visiting here as much as I have in writing tales for your perusal. Rest assured I will continue to visit and comment and you may reach me at anytime with an email. Let it be said that I have decided to pursue some other creative pleasures, the garden beckons and indulging in other avenues of fulfillment. I desire to share these creative ventures soon at Forever Heartsong.

May you enjoy a blessed Spring, giving way to the beauty of Summer...Shall you partake of the blooming of flowers, the essence of raindrops and the bounties that Nature shall bring...Godspeed my friends...I hope to return when Autumn has begun to spread her crimson blanket and once again we shall gather 'round the hearth...

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


click to see how cute they are!

'If wealth is defined by the animals we love,
Then we indeed are rich beyond all measure.'


* Pics of family and friends beloved pets.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Raven Hair and Emerald Eyes

For some of us March 17th is not just a day to wear a little of the green, buy a pot of shamrocks or dance a jig...

To me it is an opportunity to pay homage to my Irish ancestry. Pattison, Purdy, Rodgers... names deep in the roots of the Emerald Isle are abundant on my maternal side.

Some arrived early in this continent's history dating from the 1600's. Settling across the land, adapting their farming skills and spreading rich heritage as they went.

A group seeking refuge from the devastating disaster known as the Irish Potato Famine arrived later. From 1845 to 1852 over a million souls perished in their homeland and a million more emigrated to far off lands. Many poor and diseased, died at sea. So terrible were the horrors aboard ship they were referred to as the coffin ships.

Grosse-Ile at the mouth of the St. Lawrence is the final resting place of over 6,000 Irish people.The Celtic Cross erected in their memory reads "... to the sacred memory of thousands of Irish who, in order to preserve their faith, suffered famine and exile and victims of typhus, ended their sorrowful pilgrimage here comforted and strengthened by Canadian priests. Those who sow in tears reap in joy."

One such young lass who made the journey with her parents was still a babe in arms. Raven haired and emerald green eyes she was born December 25, 1845 in Cork County, Ireland.

Much to the pleasure of the young man seated beside her, Joseph took Mary Flynn to be his wife in 1869.

The picture shown is all that remains of Mary Flynn, except for the blood that flows through my veins...

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

A Cinderella Story

While recently transcribing a journal, I was captivated by the names whose presence graced its pages and accompanying papers. Leather bound with delicate aged papers in beautiful script complete with reminiscing entries of the writer's everyday happenings.

Having done extensive research of the family names I coveted each and every paragraph.

Amongst the papers was a collection of birth, marriage and death announcements gathered by the author revealing the lives of those he endeared.

One such young woman was his niece Cinderella. Apparently not an uncommon name at the time (she was born in September 1869) it may have been inspired by her mother's love of the fairytale or the release of the play very popular during that era.

Alas as life would have it she did find her prince charming Edward to whom she wed and bore a son. She did not however live happily ever after for at the early age of 26 she was taken from this earth. Cinderella was buried in a little churchyard atop the escarpment overlooking her kingdom below...