Christmas 2020 – Merry Christmas – May Hope, Peace, Joy and Love be yours!

Fred came to live with me November 2015. My daughter, was visiting from Edmonton. It was her often Fall visit to Mother. Checking up on me, she found me still thinking, walking and alive.

We hadn’t celebrated Thanksgiving together so we decided to make a turkey dinner with all the trimmings for just the two of us. We’d combine a late Thanksgiving and an early Christmas.

We decorated my apartment for Christmas. I’ve not put up a real Christmas tree for years. I had a little fake guy who was already decorated. I’d bring it up from storage put it on my coffee table in the corner. I’d string red lights around the about 12-inch-high fake guy, plug the lights in, voila – done!  

That is, until Christmas 2015 we decided for old time sake to buy a Norfolk Pine to decorate. Off we went to Home Depot.  We picked out this full, green, alive Norfolk. We put him in a grocery cart and wheeled him to the cashier. He was about 4 feet tall. Good, when we got him to my car, we flipped up the back seat in my Honda Fit. He rode home safe and sound.

We carted him up the elevator and into my apartment, all the time admiring his beauty. We found the perfect spot for him, in front of the living room window. We decorated him with precious memorabilia, I am sure to others looked like crap but to us it brought back happy memories. We found Elvis Prestly`s Christmas CD. Just like old times, we cranked up Elvis and decorated the tree. Back then on Emerson we’d tie the Christmas tree up with string to the living room window so it wouldn’t fall over.

We fondly talked and laughed and reminisced as we decorated our Norfolk. We remembered the year when we finished decorating our Christmas tree.  W had it all secure and strung up to the window. We sat down admiring how great the decorations were spaced, how the lights were even, and how straight we had it propped up when, Georgia came around the corner. She stopped dead in her tracks and then took one running leap and pounced into the middle of the tree. Crash, over it went. I`m not sure if she thought it was a big green mouse all lit up or what? Cats can be strange creatures in their thought pattern.

When we finished decorating our newly purchased Norfolk Pine, fully decked and decorated we sat down to admire him.  Just like old times Elvis was singing, ‘I`ll be home for Christmas’. My daughter chimed up and said, “I`ve got a name for him, “Let`s call him ‘Fred’, he looks like a Fred.”  Fred it was. 

In January when I took the decorations off Fred, I moved him to the south wall to sit beside the couch. I watered him, talked to him, and misted him with warm water, but slowly his branches got dry and prickly. I`d clip them off, one by one. In March Fred looked very thin and spindly; finally, I decided Fred would have to go. I left him alone for a couple of weeks until I mustered up the courage to deliver him to the green recycle bin. I got down on my bum and pushed the pot with my feet to the door. I got a black garbage bag so I wouldn`t get potting soil on my white carpet.  All went well until I pulled one branch out of the pot, it wouldn’t budge.  I pulled, I tugged but he stood strong.  He didn’t move. I tugged again, he looked pathetic and weak but nope he wasn’t leaving the pot. Third time, no luck, fine I thought you can live if you must. I pushed the unsightly one limb Norfolk back into the living room. I placed him in front of the patio doors, watered him once a week, never to mist him again. He lived. He had no branches at the bottom. Really, he looked like a palm tree with prickly needles but he thrived, strong and healthy.

I went back to Home Depot, bought a baby Norfolk Pine and potted it at the base of Fred. I had another plant that also looked sadly pathetic.  It was an Alocasia plant with only one stem and one leaf.  I was going to throw her away but instead just for the heck of it I planted her under Fred beside Baby Norfolk.  That one stem and one leaf grew into the most beautiful deep jade green leaves with patterned white veins.

Fred and Alocasia became best friends and together with their little baby Norfolk they blossomed into a family of green delight.

Fast forward to 2020. Fred and family sit in front of my patio window, dressed for Christmas in the little wrapped Christmas gifts my son and daughter in law strung together some 30 years ago.  The little glass angel given to me by Jessica a little girl I looked after at Apple Rose Infant Toddler Care, again so many years ago, sits at the top of Fred. White lights twinkle and brighten the dull, short days of Advent.

A few weeks ago, in my journal I wrote:

Fred didn’t die, instead he continued to thrive.

Five years later, he is happy with his friends.

They’re growing so big I don’t know what to do.

My living room is in their hands, they’re taking over.

What do I do?

Do I cut them back or put them outside?

They are beautiful, alive, they bring green into my life.

It looks like a nursery in here with Purple Violet and her child,

With Christmas Cactus in rosy red, not to mention Fred.

They Bless my life and Elphie girl, my service dog, she lays here at my feet.




One hundred years ago today,

Mother entered into this world of ours.

World War One about to end.

Her Mother died when she was nine,

The Great Depression soon begins.

Time, it is elusive.

Me, her first was born,

World War Two about to end.

Time, it is elusive.

She died nineteen years ago, it seems like yesterday.

Time is neither here nor there.

She lived ‘till she was eighty-one.

She danced, she laughed, she loved.

Time, it is elusive.


She, was real.

 Her beauty, her essence, her beautiful auburn hair,

Still lingers on today in warmth and presence in the air.

Happy Birthday Mum.

© RFC May 1, 2018

Happy Halloween – Happy Birthday

Boo Baby Boo

Eighteen years ago today,
Your Daddy called to say,
Some pains in Mummy’s tummy,
He thought the baby was on its way.
At the hospital,
A nurse in witch’s costume
Came in the room with play.
Now, several hours later,
In mid afternoon,
Down the tube and into the room,
Came Belly Button Boo!
Daddy cut your umbilical cord.
Mummy sat up and smiled.
Gram was happy to see you.
The doctors and nurses
All gave a cheer and said,
“Hello Little Pumpkin,”
“We’re glad you are here.”
“Happy Halloween, WHAT… A…TREAT!!”
Five days later, Mummy and Daddy and you,
Came to Grama’s house for dinner,
Mummy was singing a song.
It went like this:
“Emily Rose, Emily Rose,
Chubby little fuzzy little,
Stuffed with fluff,
Oh…Emily Rose, Emily Rose,
Chubby little fuzzy little girl”

© R.f.c.



In me a process of dance and light.

The blue embrace of gravity to keep me safe.

My brush then dips to freedom green,

More air and less rigidity.

Then yellow light comes bounding in

Where life and dance do soon begin.

A hint of brown gives groundedness.

There’s hints of red and fire within.

My body blue, I’m not sure why,

But to the left the blue turns red,

Another burst of fire.

Around the edge I feel compelled

To stroke my brush… connectedness!

Now at the end some solid lines,

Blue, strong and straight ahead.

Now as I look and make some sense,

It is about connectedness, and at this age of 64

I look and see experience.

I see the past, my life it is.

Present life today I live.

Future birth unfolds.

Process it’s called.

This work it is to understand

The BEAUTY of a life well lived.

© Jan. 3/07 Rfc



I ask myself, what is the mystery?  My answer is Life, it’s all pure mystery.  It’s how I got here, how I’ve lived all these years.  I’m seventy-four years old.  Just about three quarters of century on this earth, that’s a long time.  I started out totally dependent on my mother to nurse me and my father to provide security.  Mother always fed me but not so much the nourishment of emotional food.  Father gave me security when I was very young but that security became less and less and by the time I was fourteen – gone.  He was gone, my security was gone.   He literally drove away.  We watched the tail lights of his car go down the hill and disappear around the corner.   Emotional abuse followed.  He disowned me when I was fifteen.  I disowned him when I was a young mother in my early twenties.  What a mystery!

I had three boys and one daughter, happy years.  I had a brain tumor and a marital break-up, tough times.   I went to college, a means to an end to get back into the work force, an Interesting time.  I made a big move from small rural living to city life.  Full time employed as a single parent, a busy time.  There was growth, challenge and change.   Empty nest was an adjustment, retirement was an adjustment, kids gone, job gone, house gone but I’m still here.  It’s a mystery.

Believe I must.  Believe all is well. The baby was born, the young girl grows up.  The young woman marries and has children.  The middle aged woman discovers her strength.  The old woman accepts the mystery of life and believes all is well. There were mistakes, events, life, and mystery.

© Dec. 9/16  Rfc


2017 posies for Easter Sunday cross, me and my family

Love, love, love…

Me and my friend were walking

In the cold light of mourning

Tears may blind the eyes, but the soul is not deceived

In this world even winter ain’t what it seems

Here come the blue skies, here come the springtime

When the rivers run high and the tears run dry

When everything that dies shall rise

In our lives we hunger for those we cannot touch

All the thoughts unuttered and all the feelings unexpressed

Play upon our hearts like the mist upon our breath

But awoke by grief, our spirits speak

How could you believe that the life within the seed

That grew arms and reached, ad a heart that beat

And lips that smiled, and eyes that cried could ever die?

Here come the blue skies, here come the springtime

When rivers run high and the tears run dry

When everything that dies shall rise

Love, love, love is stronger than death…

By Matt Johnson “Love is Stronger Than Death”  1993



Laura Lamb is a story about me when I was a little girl. I wrote the book to and for children. My desire is for the story to promote a connection between children and nature.

Laura is a lonely little lamb as I was. We lived on 17 acres of bush land. I was an only child until I was 7. No playmates lived close by. The trees in the forest, the ferns that laced the ground, the green soft moss, they all brought me a feeling of joy and life and love.

I saw the story of Laura Lamb work its magic when I read it to a group of pre-school children. The group of about 20 children gathered around me for circle time. A little boy who I knew well was propped up on his knees at the back of the class. I watched him knowing he had attention deficit. He did not fidget, poke the other children or make noises. He sat completely focused and intent upon the pictures and the words. When I finished reading he said, “That is cute.” My heart soared.

I enjoyed writing “Laura Lamb Finds the Forest” and I hope more than many children will enjoy the story.  I hope they will sit still and listen and feel the beauty of nature.

© 2017

Please contact me to purchase book at my email –

Laura Lamb happy with ferns and tree tunk roots


Easter Monday Morning, March 30, my first child was born.

I remember that Easter well!  When I woke on Good Friday morning I looked out the window to see a gloriously sunny day.  I decided to go outside to weed the flowerbed on the south side of the house. I wore a short-sleeved blue flowered maternity smock and as I wheeled the wheel barrow up the hill from the garage I could feel the warmth of the sun on my bare arms.

My tummy was heavy with child.  I was tired when I reached the edge of the flowerbed so I sat on the wheelbarrow to rest.  It wasn’t long before I was lying out full length with my feet hanging over the end.   I remember looking up at the cloudless blue sky and listening to the birds sing.  Later as I dug in the hardened soil I noticed some daffodils pushing their way up through the ground.  I knew they would soon bloom in bursts of yellow. I felt so in sync with the world.

We lived in the country seven miles from town without any neighbors living near.  I loved the trees and quiet stillness of the country.  This was where I had always lived, up on a hill, in a house my father had built.  When I married, my husband and I renovated Mother’s basement and we lived there for the next seven years.

I remember that Easter Sunday we had gone to my husband’s brother and sister-in-law for dinner.  They’d had their first baby, twenty-nine days prior on March 1st.   Later that evening, back home, my long-time girl friend came for a visit.  We’d become best friends when we were in grade three.  She and her family were new neighbors and lived a mile down the road.  She’d come to visit me often that year, from Sept. until June as I lay in bed with rheumatic fever and unable to go to school.  Illa and I visited late that Easter Sunday night and I got to bed in the early hours of the next day, Easter Monday.  I woke with tummy pains.  I woke my husband and told him I thought I was in labor.  We timed the pains for just a short time; they were about five minutes apart.  We decided around 5 a.m. to leave for the seven-mile trip to the hospital.  We knocked on Mother’s upstairs door and told her we were on our way.

At the hospital after completing the admission forms and to my chagrin, I was taken in a wheel chair to the labor room on the third floor where my husband was asked to leave.  Shortly after the nurse had prepped me the doctor walked through the door.  He walked over to my bed, put his hand on my knee and said, “Now, we are going to put into practice what we have been working on over the past nine months.”  “I want you to take a few deep breaths and relax.”  The hypnosis we had been practicing took immediate effect.  When I took my second breath I felt as if I rose above my body and was looking down at myself.

My doctor was roughly sixty years old, not a big man but on the short side with a stocky build. He appeared strong and assured.  He spoke with a heavy German accent and was obviously ahead of his time to be practicing hypnosis.  He’d been my paternal grand-parent’s physician.  At each of my prenatal visits Dr. would teach me how to relax and listen to his voice.  He would relax my whole body starting at my feet and ending at my head, telling me to tighten and relax each part of my body.  He would say things like, “imagine you are going for a walk on the beach and you can feel the warm breeze blowing through your hair”, or “you are walking in warm sand and you feel it squishing up between your toes”.  I did, I felt it.  I trusted him explicitly.

Now in the labor room I listened to his voice and his direction and relaxed completely. He stayed with me for the next four hours and then we moved into the delivery room.  I was not given any medication. Dr. adjusted the mirror above me on the delivery table and said, “There, now, can you see.” “I want you to be able to see your baby being born”.  Not long after he said, “Now, it is time to start pushing the baby out.”  “I want you to listen carefully and do exactly as I tell you”.  “That is good,… now push down very, very, very gently…, good,…now again…, slowly now…, perfect…, another little push…, good…, maybe three more pushes and the baby will be out, good,… perfect…, I can see the head, it is crowning, can you see it?”   “Oh” he said… “I can see the hair it is the same color as yours, it’s gold.” “Now one more push!”… “GREAT,… GOOD,… LOOK,… IT IS A BOY!!”  I said, “Are you sure it is a boy?” and he said “Yes, I have seen boys before.”  We all laughed.

Easter Monday morning my firstborn baby boy was born at 10:10 a.m.  He was slightly underweight at only six pounds. They placed him in the incubator beside me and I am certain I saw a smile on his face and I most definitely had a smile on mine. I looked out the case room window and saw the Easter Bunny hop across the grass.  I was so happy.  I can honestly say I felt no pain, only some mild discomfort. I saw and remembered crystal clear the entire birth.   I give the credit of a painless and perfect birthing to the professional practice of hypnosis by my doctor and my ability to relax and listen to him.

My firstborn Son is bright, beautiful and like pure gold.  Each year as Easter comes around and as I witness daffodils birthing through the ground I know that they TOO will be bright, beautiful and like pure gold bringing with them Spring happiness.

copyright 2017

THE MEANING & SYMBOLISM OF narcissus / daffodil
Symbolizing rebirth and new beginnings, the daffodil is virtually synonymous with spring. The March BIRTH FLOWER a gift of daffodils is said to ensure happiness.




My Cleo dog came to live with me in 1998. She was described to me as a back-yard Poodle, two and a half years old, apricot in colour and weighed eleven pounds. Her tail had not been clipped and was long and fluffy. They said, “She is quite beautiful”. She’d been given to them by a working couple who lived in Parksville. The working couple would tether Angel on their clothes line when they went to work. The couple had heard about Pacific Assistance Dog Society from a friend and thought Angel (her name at the time but was later changed by P.A.D.S. to Cleo). Cleo tested to be intelligent and fearless, both characteristics needed to be trained as a working dog.

I’d been diagnosed with a benign brain tumour (acoustic neuroma) in 1981 and I had undergone a fifteen-and-a-half-hour micro surgery. The tumour was successfully removed but I was left with some residual effects: I was deaf in my left ear; I had a badly bruised facial nerve and a damaged vestibular nerve. I’d often feel tippy when I walked; I had short term memory loss and couldn’t sequence information the way I did before the surgery; my left eye was a little wonky and my smile was crocked, I was embarrassed when food would pop out of my mouth because of the weak muscles in my mouth; I could hear sound but it was flat and I had no idea what direction it was coming from, word discrimination was blurred. The two years after my surgery were long and difficult for both me and our family, in fact it was traumatic. My more than twenty-year marriage ended. I was determined to make the best possible recovery; I returned to college to upgrade my education so I could re-enter the work force after being an at-home mum for the past twenty-two years.

An employment counsellor, Leslie, from the Deaf and Hard of Hearing Association who was profoundly deaf was working with me to help me re-enter the work place. In one of our sessions she told me about her professionally trained hearing dog and as she talked about her dog I felt an overwhelming desire to have one too. She said they were very expensive. I didn’t have much money but I did have a house and I said, “I will sell my house if I have to”. Leslie contacted P.A.D.S. and had them send me an application form. I was told there would be a very long wait but to my surprise within a few months I got a phone call from them saying they had a dog for me. They told me her ten-month training had been sponsored and paid for by a party who lived in North Vancouver and the only cost to me would be for her kennel, leash and her insignia P.A.D.S. Jacket. Thankfully, I was then full-time employed as an Early Childhood Educator Arrangements were made for me to be off work for a week so the trainer from P.A.D.S. could come and train ME to work with the dog.

I watched from my dining room window as the trainer and Cleo walked down our long driveway. I couldn’t believe my eyes…she was beautiful. As I watched her walking down the driveway with proud, quick, assured steps, her long tail swooped up over her back I wondered how she could be so beautiful and smart at the same time. The trainer introduced us and said she would leave us to get acquainted with one another and would return in the morning for a boot-camp day of hard work. Upon return she said, “Cleo looks different…so relaxed and happy, I think she has really bonded with you.”

When the boot camp training week was over I asked Terry a very difficult question. I said, “I cannot imagine how I will deal with her death when that happens?” She said, “You will deal with that when it happens”. It was difficult. When it happened I went to bed and covered my head for days.

Cleo was my best friend, helper and restorer of life for twelve loving years. December 26, 2001 my good friend, Gaye picked us up and drove us to the Vet and then to the doggy crematorium. I had Cleo wrapped in her favourite blanket. My son Bruce brought the blanket back for me as a gift from Mexico and Cleo would, when she could, would snuggle into it. When the needle went into her leg I held her on her back close to my heart. She didn’t flinch. We looked deep into each other eyes. Her eyes told me she trusted me and my eyes told her I loved her. I will always miss her, and remember her in gratitude and love.





A snowdrop I see2017-snow-drops

After long winter’s end

With petals of three

And green dots inside.

I’m reminded of life

And the whiteness of Christ.

If I listen in silence

My strength shall renew.

I’ll mount up wings

Like an eagle and fly,

Protected and Blessed!

Then the daffodils bloom

With a bugle inside,

My silence is broken

I’ll shout out and cry

Please show me and know me

It’s not time to die.

R.f.c May 9, 2007

Here I am March 2, 2017, ten years have passed by, oh my!  Please not to worry I am not wanting to die, not now nor then when I wrote “snowdrop”.  The pen just took me there. I share this  with you hoping a practice of silence will take you on the wings of an eagle to heights of flight.  With love.




A moment in time

Floral scent, candle glow

Glistening stones to hold

Hope and happiness fading

Feel the stones, smell the flowers.

Be forever filled with beauty love and grace.

Beautiful, Beautiful Bottle.

Rfc 2003


I wrote this so called poem and designed a purple bottle with stones and scent for my daughter when she was at a very low point in her life. She was extremely depressed and troubled and I was extremely concerned. I felt powerless and I believe she felt hopeless.

Now 15 years later, today February 23, 2017 she is working full time in management, parenting her teenage daughter, motivated to eat and sleep; she is homemaking and loving her husband of nearly 20 years.  She talks to me, her mother, on the average of once a week.  Hope, patience, love and choosing life bit by bit, the blackness has become blue light. Not sure why I wrote blue light instead of bright light but blue seems right, for today.

Rfc 2017

With hope of giving hope to others -you- I share this at: