Today we visited The Fitzroy Gardens in honour of my Aunty.
Here are the boys walking through the 'pond', which has been drained due to the drought.
The conservatory has a very tropical vibe going on.
Here are the boys walking through the 'pond', which has been drained due to the drought.
The conservatory has a very tropical vibe going on.
This was the first time the boys ever saw a plane sky-writing.
Message from above?
The Tudor Village is a miniature town in the centre of the gardens. We thought it was hysterical that the inhabitants of the village were hiding in their houses from the GIGANTIC pigeons coo-ing and strutting through the streets.
I remember being taken to The Gardens by my Aunty to see the Tudor Village and the Fairy Tree. My Aunty was someone who made life magical for children. She spoke of fairies and goblins and drew you into her make believe world. Her garden had many secret fairy statues and houses. She told me only those with pure hearts could see the messages left by the fairies in the garden.
She valued imagination greatly. At her house we had tea in 'Princess Cups' (Pink Johnson's Ware) and slept in the 'Princess Bedroom'. Before going to bed she would tell us all about the Sandman who would come to sprinkle sleepy-dust in our eyes each night so we would have good dreams. Instead of saying 'Goodbye' when we left, we said 'Ooh-la-la' in our frenchy-est accents, we'd still be yelling it out the windows of Mum's veedub as we turned the corner at the end of her street.
She passed through the veil in her sleep two years ago, after spending the day with her new twin baby Grandchildren. My heart breaks at the loss for these wee'uns of a Magical (Fairy) Grandmother who will never take them to the end of the garden in their slippers to look for fairy-circles on the lawn or doors in the folds of a tree-trunk.
I think of her whenever I talk about fairies or ghosts or smell the perfume White Linen.
She valued imagination greatly. At her house we had tea in 'Princess Cups' (Pink Johnson's Ware) and slept in the 'Princess Bedroom'. Before going to bed she would tell us all about the Sandman who would come to sprinkle sleepy-dust in our eyes each night so we would have good dreams. Instead of saying 'Goodbye' when we left, we said 'Ooh-la-la' in our frenchy-est accents, we'd still be yelling it out the windows of Mum's veedub as we turned the corner at the end of her street.
She passed through the veil in her sleep two years ago, after spending the day with her new twin baby Grandchildren. My heart breaks at the loss for these wee'uns of a Magical (Fairy) Grandmother who will never take them to the end of the garden in their slippers to look for fairy-circles on the lawn or doors in the folds of a tree-trunk.
I think of her whenever I talk about fairies or ghosts or smell the perfume White Linen.
2 comments:
she sounds like a wonderful aunty with a real connection to children. A very sadly timed passing indeed, but it sounds like you can pass on all her ideas well.
on another matter...I want to know what the plane wrote in the sky!
Oh what a lovely lady and a beautiful post to honour her. xxxx
Post a Comment