Diane Stringam Tolley's Blog: On the Border, page 12

On Being Vain

Ready to work.
If you look closely, you'll note the absence of glasses.
And the presence of the band-aid.     Before I get Started: 1. My new boyfriend had a medical condition I wasn’t aware of.
           2. The world refused to coalesce into remotely recognizable shapes when I wasn’t wearing my glasses.

           3. I was vain.

There. I think I’ve covered all of the bases.

Would you care to try to convene these statements into a story?

I’m almost sure it would be better than mine.

Fine . . .

My new boyfriend was ‘working’ for my Dad.

Which meant that he spent a lot of time on the ranch, following me around, and occasionally did some actual work.

On this bright summer afternoon, we had been assigned the arduous task of moving the milk cow from her pasture on the east side of the buildings to the more convenient pasture on the west side.

We were on foot.

He was heeling.

I was heading.

Which meant that I was in the front to get in the way if said cow decided to turn in the wrong direction.

He was behind in case she suddenly felt that she couldn’t bear to leave her former pasture.

I should probably mention here that I always wore glasses. There’s nothing more embarrassing than discovering after a lengthy, one-sided conversation, that the person you are talking to is actually the neighbour’s mule.

I will say only that he was a good listener.

Back to my story . . .

On this bright and sunny afternoon, I had removed my glasses because I was trying to improve my tan lines. Large, white, goggle-shaped circles on one’s face weren’t conducive to beauty.

Oh, I also had a band-aid on my nose for the same reason.

Let's not talk about this any more . . .

At first all went well.

Then, they didn’t.

I ran ahead to stand as a human shield when the cow crossed over the entrance to the ranch buildings.

Once I was in position, I turned to ascertain progress.

The cow had turned and was heading back to familiar ground.

Boyfriend had disappeared.

Whaaaat?

I quickly ran up the road, got around the retreating animal and turned her back in the right direction.

Then spent the next twenty minutes sweating, hollering and cursing.

Oh yes. I cursed. For the whole story, read here. It’s not a pretty tale, but we’ll wait till you get back . . .

Finally, I had the stupid, perverse, ornery, cantankerous, belligerent, of-questionable-heritage, stupid (I repeat the word, deliberately) animal where she needed to go.

Daddy picked me up for the short ride to the ranch buildings.

And that’s when I remarked that my boyfriend, he of the dubious intelligence, had abandoned me.

Had just disappeared.

Dad frowned.

He turned into the drive to the ranch.

Then stopped.

Shoved the truck into reverse.

And, tires squealing, sped back along the main road.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Your boyfriend,” Dad said, coming to a skidding stop.

“Oh.”

And there he was. My boyfriend. Lying in the ditch.

How had I missed that?

Oh, right. Glasses.

Turns out that he had a medical condition that caused him, at times, to faint.

Who knew?

Fortunately, he had simply slid down into the soft, thick grass that lined the ditch and slept peacefully in the warm sun until we discovered him.

Dad got him up and we helped him make his woozy way to the truck.

By the time we reached the ranch buildings, he was well on his way back to normalcy.

After we had gotten him seated on the couch and supplied with drinks and eats, Dad turned to me. “Glasses,” he said simply.

 I nodded sheepishly and went to fetch them.

I learned something from this:

         1. When acquiring a new boyfriend, always ascertain possible health concerns.

         2.  Don’t ever try to outguess your optician.

         3. Don’t be vain.       You learned it here.

A Monday Groaner

My surgeon loves canoeing,He does it all he can,He says it helps him with the stressAs surgeries, he plans.
I find his language peppered,With ‘canoeist’ words and terms,We’ve all come to expect it,As he juggles knives and germs.
But now I’m having worries,At the choice he’s offer-ing,I wonder if the time has passed,For changing everything.
Cause he gave me the option,(I would call it a monition!)Do I want the gas or paddle…It’s an ether/oar condition!
Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So  Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?

Next week's a time for deep reflection,And mirrors! (If there's no objection!)
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)...
Canoes (June 26) Today!Mirrors (July 3)Teddy Bears (July 10)Emojis (July 17)Cousins (July 24)Avocados (July 31)Moonshine (August 7)Roses (August 14)Sea Monsters (August 21)At the Beauty Parlour/Parlor (August 28)

Sister's Dolly

See? Adorable!How come my sister had one?!

And why couldn’t I?!

Life wasn’t fair!!!

Maybe I should explain . . .For my first Christmas, my big sister got a doll.

Well, to be honest, so did I.

But hers was amazing.

Dressed in a gorgeous pink satin dress with tiny white socks and adorable little shoes, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She had Auburn hair, like my sister and a cute little face with eyes that opened and shut.

AND SHE COULD WALK!!!

No word of a lie. If you held onto her hands, she could walk!

She was perfect.

Now, I must admit that I recognized none of this when the doll first appeared in our household.

My recognition of her perfection happened a few years later.

When I discovered this treasure sitting in lonely glory on my sister’s bed.

Did I mention lonely?

Now there’s something I should probably point out here: there were two things I could not stand to see when I was little.

1.      A naked doll. (Just imagine how cold they must be!)

2.      A lonely doll. (Oh, the poor thing!)

Okay, yes, I had issues, but I was nothing if not sympathetic. A lonely doll was just asking to be played with. Even if one had been told – many times – to LEAVE MY DOLL ALONE IT'S JUST TO LOOK AT!!!

Pfff. That was just silly. Why would anyone have a toy they didn't play with?!I scoped out the neighbourhood, than scooped the treasure off the bed and proceeded to walk her all over.

Do you know how many baby steps it was from one side of my sister’s room to the other?

A lot.

We played happily for some time.

Or at least until discovered by my sister.

Usually said discovery was in the form of: “Mom! Diane’s got my doll again!”

Whereupon (good word) I would answer from somewhere under the bed: “Do not!”

This went on for months.

Until I discovered that one could actually buy horse models.

Of every colour and breed.

And in all different sizes.

After that, my sister’s little beauty remained in lonely glory on the bed.

And the sisterly conversation in her room changed to: “Mom! Diane’s got her horses all over my floor again!”

And me, again from under the bed: “Do not!”

Sigh.

Diane Stringam Tolley at 10:47:00 AM

Mostly Magic

He looked at me. “So? What’s your wish?”

I scrunched up my face into my most impressive I’m-thinking-about-it form and . . . thought about it. So many options. So much to choose from. I opened my mouth, expecting something of import to emerge. What came out was, “Ummmm . . .”

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Not the brightest bulb in the chandelier.

He sighed heavily and started tapping on the palm of one hand with a . . . Rats! I knew what it was, but the word ducked around the corner before I could bring it forward. I finally settled for calling it a wand. He tapped on one hand with a wand. “C’mon, lady. Make a wish. I really don’t have all day!”

I blinked and gulped and nodded. Maybe I could try . . . or . . . no . . . what I really wanted . . . Suddenly a brilliant suggestion presented itself. “Could I have a combination? A mixture?” I whispered hopefully.

He shrugged. “Please keep in mind I’m not a wizard,” he said. He scratched his ear and glanced toward the window.

Not a wizard? But I thought . . . I looked toward the window, too. The streetlights had come on and were casting pools of gold on a black street; shining bravely in a dark and moonless night. It appeared that a wind was starting to kick up. I could see bits of litter being blown around. I shivered and turned back.

He was watching me. “Well . . .?”

I took a deep breath. “I’ll have a Double Magic Burger with everything on it except the cheese. And a side order of Onion O’s and . . .” I again glanced outside “. . . a Wizard-size mug of chocolate.”

He dropped the spurtle (I finally remembered the name of it!) he had been fiddling with to the counter and punched some buttons in the cash register. “Fine. You’re order number 16.” He took the ten from me, efficiently made change and then nodded and looked past me.

I stuffed my change into my purse and quickly shuffled to one side.“Welcome to Magic Burger,” he said to the person in line behind me. “What's your wish?”

That Season of the Year

Buffalo cocoons. Ready to hatch...It is buffalo season.

I know this may come as a surprise to you. Certainly it did to our granddaughter.

Maybe I should explain . . .

We were driving to Banff, Alberta. It was time for our annual week at the Banff Rocky Mountain Resort. The place that has been our summer home for nearly 30 years. 

That year, it was our eldest granddaughter’s turn to spend the week with Grandma and Grandpa, a privilege hotly contested amongst several of the grandchildren. Okay . . . well . . . amongst two of them.

The drive was perfect. Slightly cloudy but not raining or stormy. So the sun wasn’t a problem, but neither were the road surfaces.

Now, I should explain that our route takes us invariably through farm country. Some of the richest in Alberta. Long stretches of rolling hills heavy with nearly-ripe grains. Swaths of luxurious green, newly-mown hay, drying in the late summer sun until it’s ready for baling.

Fields of cocoons.

Cocoons?

And finally, we’re to the point of our story . . .

In many of these fields, there were dozens—even hundreds—of buffalo cocoons. Great cylindrical shapes of uniform size, some covered in plastic or mesh, and all simply sitting there in the fields, waiting to hatch.

Yeah, my granddaughter didn’t believe her grandfather, either.

And he described the day of hatching to her so well. When the long-dormant cocoons burst apart and fully-grown buffalo appear. 

“It is quite a sight.  The great, shaggy beasts, hungry from their developmental slumber move off in a herd, grazing, Running in the sun. Happy to be alive . . .”

I’m quoting her grandfather, of course.

Our 14-year-old granddaughter stared at him, skeptically. Obviously she wasn’t about to swallow her grandfather’s ‘this-is-how-things-happen’ story whole like the rest of her siblings and cousins.

Skepticism turned vocal. “Grampa, that’s not right. That isn’t how buffalo are made!”

Her grandfather looked at her in the rear-view mirror. “It totally is! The mother buffalo weaves her cocoons out of grasses, then tenderly inserts a seed into each one. You should have paid attention in Biology class.”

She gave him a disgusted look. “I did.”Oops. They’re on to us . . .

Newly-hatched. Isn't he magnificent?!

A Little Feather-Brained

She was supposed to be raking leaves.But you know how an assigned job can beforgotten. An assigned worker…sidetracked.It happens to me. Once…Never mind.Chicken Little Feathers (of theMerrywoods Feathers) was supposed to be working.
C. Little, as she preferred to becalled, had been asked to rake the leaves in the front yard.Now admittedly, the front yard couldonly be considered enormous, taking in, as it did, most of the Hinderley forest.
But C. Little, full of energy and goodintentions started in with a will.A full hour later, with severalenormous piles of well-raked leaves behind her and several thousand more ahead,she decided to take a well-deserved break.
Any of us would have done it.She flopped down into one of her heapsof crunchy, brightly-coloured leaves.For a few seconds, she lay therehappily, totally relaxed.A small breeze sprang up, cooling herslightly over-heated self.
But this breeze, unbeknownst to her,also twirled cheerfully around the giant tree just over her head.An oak tree.With dozens of baby oaks—AKA:acorns—nestled snugly against their stalwart parent.Well most of them were snug.
One or two, not so much.You can probably guess what happenednext.One of them lost its grip and droppedstraight down (Not far from the tree!) onto the head of the little would-begardener thirty feet below.
Now I know there are often pithycomparisons made between mighty oaks and their tiny, little acorns.And acorns are comparativelytiny.But drop one from thirty feet ontoyour head and see how you feel.Am I right?
C. Little gasped and straightened, onewing over the rapidly-swelling bruise on her little head. She looked up intothe tree and came to the only conclusion possible. A piece of the sky, hadsomehow become detached and fallen.
That sky barely glimpsed between thethick branches of the towering oak. Okay, yes, there are other conclusions.Each of which would have been vastly superior to the one jumped to.But we’re talking about a little,feather-headed chicken.
C. Little leaped to her feet andscreamed.Loud enough for one of her nearbyfriends, Goosy Loosy (don’t look at me. I didn’t name these people) to hearher. She hurried over.“What is it, Lit? What’s wrong?”
“Loos! The sky is falling! The sky isfalling!” C. Little pointed in the general direction of up.Goosy Loosy tipped her feathery head,peered basically along the trajectory of the pointing feather and frowned arather goosy frown.
She then looked back at C. Little. “Idon’t see...”It was at that precise moment thesecond of the not-so-snug acorns lost its not-so-powerful hold on its parent.Hitting Miss Loosy on top of that aforementionedgoosy head.
“Gahhh!” she screamed. “It’s true!It’s true!”Okay, say what you will about panic.It has been known to motivate people to do amazing things.Most of them bad.“We must go and warn the king!” C.Little screamed.
“The entire kingdom is at risk!” sheadded.Just like that, the two of them wereoff.I won’t bore you with the details oftheir encounters with several other members of the feather-headed variety that ‘peopled’the forest.
Suffice it to say their hysteria wascontagious and leave it there.Soon there was a panicky, but determinedgroup of would-be saviours on their way to warn the king of the imminent dangerto/probable destruction of, his kingdom.
Partway there, they stumbled upon arather shifty, conniving fellow by the name of Loxy. First name Foxy.Who, quite notably (and unlike theothers) wasn’t panicking.“Wooah, Ladies and gentlemen,” hesaid. “What seems to be the problem?”
Now, normally, when one has a mobsituation, the individuals in it have ceased to think as individuals.This was far from a normal situation.But part of it, notably the not-thinking-for-themselvespart, was still very much in effect.
Moving on…“You might not have noticed it yet,”C. Little started out…“BUT THE SKY IS FALLING!” The rest ofthe group chimed in.Mr. Loxy looked up at the cloudless,blue sky, then back to them. “Seriously?”
Several feathered heads nodded.He raised a rather foxy eyebrow.“Huh!”“We’re on our way to warn the king!”C. Little said importantly.“I bow to your selflessness andindustry,” Mr. Loxy said. Again he looked at the sky.
“It’s funny how serene everythinglooks,” he added. “You’d never know there was a problem.”“Hah! Remember the Titanic! And howserene everything appeared in the early minutes after striking the iceberg!”Everyone turned to look at Miss Loosy.
“Say what?” Mr. Loxy said. “Ti-…”Goosy Loosy’s eyes shifted away. Thenback. “…-tanic. It was a ship. That…you know what? Never mind.”Mr. Loxy stared. “Ahem. Back to ourdiscussion. You’re on your way to warn the king?”
C. Little nodded. “Yes. It’s our civicduty.”“It’s a long way to the palace fromhere,” Mr. Loxy said. “Look. Why don’t you come to my apartment and just postthings on Forestbook. Everyone will get the message.”
He went on, “And of course they will believe it. And share it millions of times. The king is sure to hear.”“Oooh! That sounds so much easier,”Ducky Lucky said. He held out one of his little, duck feet.
“All this walking ismaking my arches fall,” he added tearfully. Everyone looked and nodded. Indeedthose arches had fallen.The feather-headed group thought Mr. Loxymade sense (see above vis-à-vis mob mentality) and followed him toward hisapartment/lair.
It will probably not come as asurprise to learn that Mr. Loxy, contrary to what he said and what the othersbelieved, had absolutely no intention of helping them out.Admit it. Are any of you surprisedhere?
In fact, he was more concerned withwhat was going into his stomach than what may be falling outof the sky.I’m sure you’ve guessed that none ofthe good-hearted but woefully-ignorant citizens emerged from Mr. Loxy’s lair.
There are several lessons here.1.                Whenthe world around you is panicking, don’t.2.                Seekcredible sources.3.                Noteveryone has your best interests at heart.4.                Troublesbring out the good/bad in people.5.                Beone of the good..
Today’s post is a word challenge! Each month one of us chooses a number between 12 and 50 and the rest craft a post using that number of words one or multiple times.
This month’s number is: 39It was chosen by Karen of Baking in a Tornado!

Now go and see what my friends have created!Baking In ATornadoMessymimi’sMeanderings

 

Tuckered Out Puckering

In honour of National Kissing Day:

My sleep was deep and long, you knowA perfect sleep, it’s true.And when I woke I couldn’t helpBut feel as fresh as dew.
My heart, it sang. So full of joy,It threatened it’d explode,And all that happiness. A streamWhich from my soul just flowed!
The person, there, beside me,Well, I woke them with my kiss,Said, “I’m so glad that I’m alive!Isn’t this just bliss?”
Apparently all that cheerfulness,In future, I’ll contain,Or I’ll never be allowed to rideOn that airline again!
Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So  Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?

Canoes are fun. Canoes are cool,Next week Canoes, right here, will rule!
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)...
Kissing (June 19) Today!Canoes (June 26)Mirrors (July 3)Teddy Bears (July 10)Emojis (July 17)Cousins (July 24)Avocados (July 31)Moonshine (August 7)Roses (August 14)Sea Monsters (August 21)At the Beauty Parlour/Parlor (August 28)

Gelatoooooh!

Ivy Jean Gunn is officially sixmonths old. Today.Living in a house with Sally makesthat a remarkable statement.I think I’ll say it again…Ivy Jean Gunn is six months old.She is adorable.She has soft, curly, almost whitehair.Baby blue eyes.A red little bow of a mouth.A tiny nose.And a soft little, hugable tummy.She is, in a word, perfect.To say that little girl has wrappedevery member of our household around her little, baby fingers would be a vastunderstatement.But the most smitten has to be herfather.The former crusty marine, MajorPeter Gunn.Okay, I really don’t know what hewas like as a major. I only know him as the man who took on Sally.And won.That probably says everything.Back to Ivy Jean.And Sally.Because it is Ivy Jean’s six-monthaversary,Sally decided she needed to take her little sister to the park for Gelato. Because in the words of Sally, “It was time toget her education going.”Whatever that means…A side note here: A Gelato cart has moved into the park across the streetfor the summer. They serve the real kind. With a paddle, not a scoop. Ahem…Sally dressed Ivy Jean in somethingabsorbent. Because…gelato.Coated the baby liberally in sunscreen. And bundled her into her stroller.Then she, Ivy Jean and Mort startedout.You have to know they really onlyhad to cross the street.Really.The rest of us were watching fromthe front window.I’m not sure, but I think Dad hadthe front door open a crack for a quick get-away.Just in case.The park was bustling with walkers,runners, picnic-ers...and at least one group playing soccer.Rather typical of a Saturday in sucha place in the summer time.I saw Scary Gary and his brothersitting on the ground between the cart and the tree line a short distance away,both enjoying a cup of deliciousness. They waved to Sally and Mort as theyapproached.A pair of friskydogs were running loose—something that didn’t happen often in ourpet-conscious neighbourhood—on the near side of the park, close to the street. Tailswagging happily, they appeared to be sniffing everyone enthusiastically. Buthadn’t yet found their absent owner if the obvious lack of consternation/signsof discipline were any indication.Sally, Mort and The Princess madetheir way across the grass toward the gelato cart. The adults in their smallgroup (I use this term loosely) were having an animated discussion, probably vis-à-visthe sweet, creamy possibilities ahead.And then it happened.Now, if you saw this in a movie,you’d applaud the director, the choreographer and all the extras.In real life, it’s hard to know whatto do other than stare in disbelief…Sally and Mort were approaching thegelato wagon from the hitch end.A group of children stood aroundthe wide window choosing their treats to Sally and Mort’s left.Other people stood at random aroundthe park doing ‘park’ stuff. (see above) Scary Gary and his brother wereopposite Sally and Mort in the shade of the trees that edged the park.The road curved gently behind them.Sally and Mort, I mean.A soccer ball suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, headed straight toward Sally’s head. In classic ‘Sally’ fashion, she reacted, hitting it with her head and sending it into the street.The two loose dogs immediately started after it.A loud honking and thescreech of tires jerked everyone’s head around.A car, moving at an excessive rateof speed considering it was navigating a quiet, busy neighbourhood, swerved toavoid the two dogs, jumped the curb and was suddenly barreling down on Sally, Mort and IvyJean.Not to mention the gelato cart.From the corner of my eye, I sawDad charge out the front door.Sally grabbed both Mort and the strollerand, with super-human (I am not making this up) strength, leaped sideways dumpingboth her husband and her niece into the arms of Dad. Ummm…where did he comefrom?But Sally didn’t stop there.Nope.She charged toward the cart, movingjust ahead of the car bumper by this point.She managed to scrape the entiregroup of children off to one side.I saw the gelato owner leap wildlyfrom his own window just as the car careened (don’t you love that word?) intothe cart, sending it with a massive jolt toward the trees.I heard Sally scream at SG and hisbrother from atop her dogpile of shocked-but-alive children as the car rolledpast her.The two boys reacted swiftly, asdid everyone else in the vicinity.The car stopped about then.But the cart, having taken on a velocityof its own, continued on toward the trees.The last any of us saw of it was whenit was fondly enfolded into the green embrace of several dozen trees.Of course, things didn’t end there.We could hear the poor thing as itcontinued down the slope just inside the tree line. The sudden silence as itfinally found the ravine—the same one in which Sally and Mort had sosignificantly lost their tree just a few months ago.And the loud crash as it finallyended its little sojourn somewhere at the bottom.There was a shocked silence for aquarter of a second.Then the screams as parentsfrantically began to hunt for their offspring—many of whom were still in Sally’sarms.Everyone was safe. Largely due toSally’s quick thinking and quicker reflexes.But I doubt whether Mom and Dadwill ever let Ivy Jean out again.Well, until she’s…you know…forty.There followed a lot of tearful thankingand congratulating.Which will most likely result inanother parade in Sally’s honour.Sigh.
Use Your Words is a writing challenge!Each month, our intrepid leader, Karen of Baking in a Tornado, receives words from each of us.Which she then distributes amongst the group.None of us knows who will get our words OR what they will do to with them.This month, my words: dogs~ absorbent ~ possibilities~ gelato ~ sigh ~ friskyCame to me from Jenniy at Climaxed the Blog.Thank you, my friend!
Care to read more?Here are the other contestants!BakingIn ATornado Climaxed 

 

What We Did This Spring...Final Chapter

Day 20 (of the trip):We ended our holiday in our favourite city of Istanbul!Years ago, Husby did his doctoral thesis on Suleiman the Magnificent with a lot of emphasis on Istanbul, itself. He gets very emotional when we are here!We left the ship and went to the hotel we stayed at the last time we were here. The HHK.Sadly, it's not been kept up.Still, we were comfortable and knew our way around from there...




But with the most amazing view (sorry my camera doesn't do 'night') of the Golden Horn. And, just past the Galata Bridge, the Bosporus!


It is just a block or two from the Sulemanye Mosque, so we dumped our stuff and headed out!



Day 21: Topkapi Palace. The home of the Sultans of Istanbul for centuries!What do I remember most? A sink in every room. These people loved washing! And YOW! This place was huge!



Then, dinner at The Orient Express Diner (Yes, THE Orient Express used to terminate here!) with our wonderful friends, Sarah and Simon!

Day 22: The Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia Mosque
The Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia are on opposite sides of a great square.
The call to Prayer is sung taking turns. A wondrous experience!




We ended the day with a harbour cruise and then dinner with our dear, dear friends from our sailing all of whom were both headed home in the morning. Best meal of the trip!


Day 22: The Grand Bazaar! Words simply can't describe the greatest market I've ever seen. Over 4000 shops!



Then a visit to the temple of the Whirling Dervishes. An amazing and very spiritual experience!



Day 23: Walked 14 km to the Dolmabahce Palace (the 'new' palace of the Istanbul Sultans). Yes, I was fairly amazed as well! Sadly, one cannot take pictures inside. But I got a few...outside.



Accepted footwear when touring inside!
Feed me NOW!
Then, because it was our last night, I had to go through the Egyptian Spice Market one more time. (You have to know it wasn't far from our hotel and we went there nearly every day, en route to somewhere else!)



And our final dinner in Istanbul--at the restaurant next door...

Husby. Contemplating leaving the next day...
Day 24: Home. A grueling 27-hour spectacle that, interestingly, started in Istanbul at 4:00 AM, went through Paris, then Montreal, crossed nine time zones, and landed finally in Edmonton at 10:00 PM ON THE SAME DAY! 
We had a wonderful time! We do wish all of you could have joined us. I hope these pictures gave you a hint of the spectacular trip it was.Thank you for sharing it with us!

What We Did This Spring...Part Three

 Yow! This was a long trip!

Back on the ship and out to sea from Athens...Day Seven: Mikanos. One of my favourite spots on Earth!



Day Eight: Our 47th Anniversary! Sailed into Patmos, then walked up to the Cave to St. John (Which didn't allow pictures. Sigh.)


Day Nine! Chios, our last stop in Greece: With four of our awesome fellow passengers, we rented a cab and drove up to the Monastery of Mea Moni.


Day 10: On to Turkey. Dikili. It was the first time stopping there for our ship and they were just in the early stages of setting up tours. So we walked around the village. Lovely harbour walkway!




Day 11: Bozcaada, Turkey: Explored the town. And the windmills. Have I mentioned I love windmills?




Day 12: We were supposed to navigate the Dardanelles during the day, so we could watch. But bad weather was bearing down on us, so our crew decided to take us through in the night while we slept. Sigh. The next day, we were still at sea... So a few more pictures of the ship.
The nets that I love so much!


Day 13: Woke up to this:
Our Sailing was done. Istanbul awaited exploration. Tomorrow...