Lucy Maud, Sand in the Sky, and Gift Some Time

Shirley, I and staff are extra busy this weekend preparing to open our restaurant for Mother’s Day! Tomorrow, May 13, open from 11:30-4:00 with a special Mother’s Day menu. 

The reservation portion of our dining room is all booked, but we are open for walk-ins if you were wondering. No need to call for reservations. 

We look forward officially opening for the season on May 18, 2018.

Today is the Women’s Institute’s 45th annual Roadside Cleanup. Islanders from tip to tip are out in droves cleaning up litter from the ditches of our beautiful province. It takes a special person to take the time to clean up a mess that they didn’t make, and I am grateful for all of the folks who do just that, now and any time of year.

It is Mother's Day weekend. 

When I think of Mothers this weekend, I think of those who have lost children or those children who have lost their Mom's. Sounds kind of sad, but that is what came to my mind when sitting down to write. For those of you who are reading this and are in this situation, my prayer is for you. 

I enjoyed this beautiful little film, Sand in the Sky about a child and his dream. I thought it was a perfect time to share it. I hope you enjoy it. 

If you are one for poetry, Island authour Lucy Maud Montgomery wrote the following. 

The Mother

Here I lean over you, small son, sleeping
Warm in my arms,
And I con to my heart all your dew-fresh charms,
As you lie close, close in my hungry hold...
Your hair like a miser's dream of gold,
And the white rose of your face far fairer,
Finer, and rarer

Than all the flowers in the young year's keeping;
Over lips half parted your low breath creeping
Is sweeter than violets in April grasses;
Though your eyes are fast shut I can see their blue,
Splendid and soft as starshine in heaven,
With all the joyance and wisdom given
From the many souls who have stanchly striven
Through the dead years to be strong and true.
 
Those fine little feet in my worn hands holden...
Where will they tread?
Valleys of shadow or heights dawn-red?
And those silken fingers, O, wee, white son,
What valorous deeds shall by them be done
In the future that yet so distant is seeming
To my fond dreaming?
What words all so musical and golden
With starry truth and poesy olden
 
Shall those lips speak in the years on-coming?
O, child of mine, with waxen brow,
Surely your words of that dim to-morrow
Rapture and power and grace must borrow
From the poignant love and holy sorrow
Of the heart that shrines and cradles you now!
 
Some bitter day you will love another,
To her will bear
Love-gifts and woo her... then must I share
You and your tenderness! Now you are mine
From your feet to your hair so golden and fine,
And your crumpled finger-tips... mine completely,
Wholly and sweetly;
Mine with kisses deep to smother,
No one so near to you now as your mother!
Others may hear your words of beauty,
But your precious silence is mine alone;
Here in my arms I have enrolled you,
Away from the grasping world I fold you,
Flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone!

Shirley and I wish everyone a wonderful weekend and a great week ahead. 

Whether it is for Mothers or friends, the best gift you can give to others may be your time. Hope you find some to give. 

With love from Prince Edward Island, 

Sincerely,

Bruce