I was reading my daughter’s blog ( Susansmusings) the other day where she mentioned about my writing long, wonderful letters to my family that lived in some far off place like, well…… This was many years ago, she was just a child. She mentioned that they (the letters) were like blogging. No Internet then. How long ago that seems! Everyone use to say how they enjoyed my letters! I sure don’t know what happened. Now, I have great difficulty even coming up with something to write about. So I am going to write a letter to my sister, Aleta and see if I will drift into that old familiar state of mind where I can write about anything and make it interesting – sort of that is! Now you continue to read, cause it is for all of you to enjoy, that is I hope it will be enjoyable.
Dear Aleta;
Not much is happening here. So not a lot for me to talk about.
I sure wish that you could be here with me. I also wish you could have been here to help me celebrate my birthday yesterday! Now, John, and me are both the same age. How about that!
It sure is pretty here! We are now entering the drabness (is that spelled right?) of the ending of Autumn, but I still find beauty all about.
Looking out the window beside me, I see several tall pine trees, splendid in their coats of green, against a background of fallen leaves. The leaves are laying among green bushes and ferns. The only thing to improve this picture, would be a covering of snow, but then we would probably be packing up to get the heck out of town, as you know, we are allergic to the color white.
You should see these leaves! They are so big! They must be a foot across! Just look here at them! They look like maple to me, but then I am no expert and my memory of the tree leaves of my childhood is very iffy! (That is to a word! (iffy) I remember when Sue made it up!
I see a couple of old, long dead tree stumps, looking black against the brown of the leaves. The fog of the early morning is still creeping about, it brings a eerie feel to the scene.
Rain continues to come and go here, I can’t trust the weather man as he has been wrong to many times!
And so we wait for the morrow.
In response to the “letter” to ME. Patti, dear sweet sister, it made me cry. I really miss you. I remember your kitchen in Chula Vista. Squeezed in there trying to cook. I was great fun. Of course the kids were half grown by then. Love ya Sister dear. Aleta