A maple leaf weekend

Best wishes to my Canadian family and friends for Canada Day!

There are many species of maple trees.  This leaf is one of my favourite pictures ever; it was taken on a dull overcast day with drizzling rain.  It glowed as if there was a light shining through from underneath.

Front and back on a much sunnier day.

 Another drizzly day.

Many lovely Canadians we met apologised for the rain.....sorry it's raining, it will spoil your holiday.....to which we replied, as we had come from a dry climate we were quite enjoying the rain!

There will also be some Canadian cooking happening later, Butter Tart Bars......oh, I do like butter tarts......can't buy them here, so if we want them we have to make them.  Which is probably just as well, because if I could pop out to a cafe or shop and buy a butter tart any time I wished I could become a quite large person.

There is an excellent cafe not far from where we have always stayed in Toronto and over the years we have had many coffees there.  Last year's trip was no exception; one day shortly after arriving we went for a little walk and ended up at the cafe.  While we were ordering our coffees - beans are roasted on the premises - we noticed that the display of baked goods under the dome on the counter included butter tarts, so in the interest of scientific research I tried one.  Well......it was the best, bar none, that I have ever eaten.  It wasn't the last one I ate either......Kevin, being The Date Connoisseur of the Universe, tried the date squares and also agreed that his was the nicest date square he had eaten.  It wasn't his last one, either.

In other news, my foot is still attached.  The boot is still on day and night (yes, even in bed).

Nothing is happening in the sewing room.  Tumblers are still being joined by hand.  Using a sewing machine pedal with one's left foot isn't difficult, but much cutting needs to be done.....which means standing, which means pain with unevenly aligned hips at present......

Never mind.  This, too, shall pass. 

"Naming the child.

It becomes an all-important matter to the parents, what name they shall give to the newly-born child, and as this is a matter which may also concern the latter at some future day, it becomes an object of solicitude, until a suitable name is settled on.  The custom in Scotland is to name the first son after the father's father, and the first daughter after the mother's mother; the second son after the father, the second daughter after the mother, and succeeding children after other near relations.  This perpetuates family names, and if they are persons whose names are regarded as worthy of perpetuation, it may be considered a good custom to follow."

Had I been named after my mother's mother, my name would have been Edith.  No middle name, just Edith.  However, my middle name - Grace - came from a cousin of my mother's who died as a teenager; her name was Dorothy Grace.  At least my parents didn't call me Jennifer Dorothy, which is a bit of a mouthful.

Enjoy your days!