Weekly Stories

November 1st Pumpkins

I remember those days of toddler scribbles and asking as kindly as I could…”And…what have we here?” Nora would reply with an exasperated “duh”, “It’s a llama, Mom! Look at the neck!” And I thought those days were over. Except now they are happening at Halloween. Last night I asked for pictures (they’re out with their friend bubbles) and Nora texted me a pic of her wearing her green sweater and our son texted me a blurry headshot of him wearing his sunglasses. For the life of me…I had to timidly ask again, “And…what have we here?” How could I…

Barcelona on my street

Little gramma in pink sweats next door taking pictures of the bright red leaves. We wave and smile at each other, I don’t speak Chinese, but I planted garlic and ate the figs off my tree so I won some points with her there. Millennial gal with a furrowed brow is crossing the street. She’s all dressed in grey but her bright orange socks tell me she hasn’t given up on the day. I am still sitting in my car finishing off George Ezra’s Barcelona and singing along. I don’t care, dog walking man, if you can hear me. Cuz…

Grenade

Bruno Mars croons to me over the radio as I crawl through rush hour traffic to get home to make supper. “I’d catch a grenade for ya…” To which I reply, “Just taking out the garbage would be nice” “Throw my hand on a blade for ya” “How about starting the potatoes?” “I’d jump in front of a train for ya” “Something tells me these are false promises, Bruno.” “Take a bullet right through my brain” “I’d much prefer a foot rub” The SUV dude beside me catches me conversing with my radio martyr and I give him a goofy…

Renzullos

I decided to pop into Renzullo’s food market for the first time a couple of weeks ago, it’s just north of 1st Ave, near our new place. Often there are little old Italian fellows walking up to the door with their tweed caps pulled tightly over their ears. Nonnas gather around the outdoor tables for a cup of coffee and a gossip session, resting their bikes against the brick. This is always a good sign of authenticity and a good price. It’s a sweet little family owned corner store packed with imported goods from Italy, a panino deli, and a…

Eggs in the Basket

Last fall I handed the kids a bag of daffodils and said, “surprise me”. Now the hearty buttery blooms are coming up and I am delighted by the children’s choices. Who planted these ones by the chopping block? Who chose to dig them in so far down the driveway? I never thought they’d grow in this shade. Yes, there’s a line of them on top of the chicken coop! I am alone at the Bowen house. The kids are with their other parents and my Fellow is quarantining himself in Vancouver and taking on extra work shifts at the firehall….

Better Half

In the golden hour, we decide to go for a walk with the kids along Wall Street and catch the industrial view of the Vancouver harbour. The teens have loped ahead with their long legs and their passionate conversation about…hm…music I suspect. Today I was introduced to Tame…llama…or Gentle Impala…Friendly Iguana? Careful Alpaca. The cherry blossoms are now in full wedding gown bloom and the magnolias are popping, giving the red lipsticked camellias company (sloppy drunk on their own beauty, sprawling across front lawns). Pert iris leaves poke out of the ground and heather’s shoulders are pink. A young bulldog…

sprout

I step over Dyson, the vacuum repair owner’s big golden retriever, and fill out the warrantee for the little AirStream I have bought for the new suite. Dyson raises one eyebrow, as if to say, “watch the tail” and I pat her on the head, reassuringly. I have a very tidy young Englishman moving in and I know he will want a “Hoover”. He’s going to be a dream of a tenant. I can tell already. His button up shirt was so crisp and he had all his paperwork laid out in a clean plastic folder before I even asked…

Won’t die of a thousand fakes

After I pay my bill and wave off a second cup of coffee, Gord starts to sing, “scared” and I am immediately thrown back in my booth to listen. How I love the timber of his voice, I think this and swirl the remains of my cup while examining the simple sign of the restaurant: timber. The tragically hip: cool boy lyrics that I was never quite cool enough to understand. Reminds me of the boys I dated when I bought this tape, back when a person bought tapes: Tofino camping, tangled ringlets that smelled of sea weed, tobacco leaf…

reunion

I pull the garlic and finally, I have a bulb that fills my palm. We’ve had a hard time growing anything larger than a hazelnut. I text my husband a warning before I send him the picture of the bounty, “This could make you horny…” I want to get a soil tester for the fall, we should be doing better with our root plants. So much I want to do and get and try and learn and and and…home-owning. You know the feeling, I’m sure. I pull a bushel of weeds and feed them to the hens. They have been…

Seville Day 9-11 of a family travels Spain: a dancer, a parasol and a tile floor

Walking through Triana a trio of leggy teenaged girls leapt out from a convenience store, all wearing matching light blue school uniforms. The tallest girl with her hazel eyes and caramel hair jumped right in front of Scott, likely on a dare, and made a goofy face at him and yelled out playfully, “Hello! English!” The other girls howled with laughter and then they were off, crossing a traffic circle, munching their chocolate wafers. Triana is a neighbourhood of Seville that used to be its own little town, separated by the Guadalquivir river. it’s basically where the inquisition castle was,…

Lucia Frangione