Violets

Violets
Violets flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

Violets always remind me of my mother in law Morag. They used to grow all over her garden in Bearsden and her gardener would weed them out. Morag used to save clumps of them from his grasp and give them to me to plant in our garden. I don’t know if the ones we have in our garden nowadays come from those plants or not, but whenever I see them I think of her. They grow in cracks and crevices – hard to notice, yet beautiful when I bend down to look close. I rarely weed them out because they are so pretty.

Violets
Violets flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

As I sat down to write this post I started to think about other ways that Morag reminds me of a violet. The woman I have known for over 20 years is a very quiet person, quite unassuming – but firm in her opinions – tenacious. A shrinking violet? Maybe, but one should never underestimate the power of quiet faith.

Violets
Violets flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

Posted in Flowers, Garden, Photos, Scotland | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Antonine Wall: Bearsden Bath House

I’ve driven past the Roman Baths in Bearsden so many times, but yesterday was the first time I’d ever stopped near it. So yesterday, when we went to visit N’s mum in her care home on Roman Rd, we wandered over the road so I could see it. It’s a really odd experience seeing archeological remains in such an urban setting. Viewed from the car park of the care home it’s hard to even notice it with the flats behind grabbing one’s line of sight:

Roman Baths
Roman Baths flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

We crossed the road, but the sun was not in the best place to take a picture, and all I had was my phone:

96/365 Roman Baths
96/365 Roman Baths flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

And side on it looks even less impressive.

Roman Baths
Roman Baths flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

I’ll try to get some better photos next time.

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Silent Sunday

Heron
Heron flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

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Honesty

I’ve been thinking about mum a lot this weekend  – maybe because it was Mothering Sunday yesterday – although as my mother’s daughter I know better than to call it Mother’s Day and be confused about what the day was meant to be about. I might not be religious, but thanks to my pedantic parents I will never confuse a religious festival with a Hallmark Holiday. However, I realised over the weekend that I don’t know what church I was baptised in, because we moved a few times before I was old enough to know where I lived. And now, of course, it’s too late to find out because I can’t ask mum any more, even if I wanted to.

But as I was pottering around the garden, and thinking how much it needs tidied up now spring is finally here, I noticed that the honesty was starting to flower.

Honesty
Honesty flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

My granny, her mum, always had honesty growing in her garden, and the plants in my garden are grown from plants that were once in her flower beds, then in mum’s. I love them – both for reminding me of my mum, and my granny, and because when the two shades are together they make up the colours of the Suffragettes.

Honesty
Honesty flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

As time passes, and I start to remember the parts of mum I loved rather than the dotty old lady she turned into, sometimes I think I miss her more, and not less. I’m not feeling maudlin though, as I write this, just noticing the many tones of love that grief has.

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Starry Night

Today is Vincent van Gogh’s birthday, and the Daily Create asks us to create art appropriate for a birthday card. I began with a sunflower I’d drawn

sunflower
sunflower flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

And ran it through a Lunapic Van Gogh filter

Van Gogh Sunflower
Van Gogh Sunflower flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

Then I went back to Lunapic and used the Starry filter

Starry Starry Sunflower
Starry Starry Sunflower flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

Then I thought I’d like to add some visuals, so I added  the Sparkles Effect

Some days I remix with others, and other days I riff off my own remixes. While I was doing all of this I was also listening to this

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Silent Sunday

83/365 Two Swans a swimming
83/365 Two Swans a swimming flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

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Boundaries

Yesterday’s Daily Create was about boundaries, and I was thinking about what my response would be as I was walking up to a Uni meeting yesterday morning.

First, as I got off the bus and started walking up the path, I stopped to take this picture. It’s not obvious from here, but the road to the left goes up the hill to the university, while the path straight ahead goes through Kelvingrove park – and once you start along the path through the park you cannot get through to the Uni until the far end of the park – a high metal fence creates an unpassable boundary between gown and town.

Path up from Dumbarton Rd to Glasgow Uni
Path up from Dumbarton Rd to Glasgow Uni flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

Then, as I reached the entrance to the Main Building I discovered that it was shut, instead of standing open as it usually did. It was no problem to walk a few feet to an open archway, but again I noticed that this usually open space was locked down.

South Front Door, Main Building, Glasgow University
South Front Door, Main Building, Glasgow University flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

Although I was not expecting it to be closed, I wasn’t surprised as I’d been emailed earlier to alert me to the extra security due to the student occupation outside the library. Despite the torrential rain, these tents have been there for a few days now. I felt for them a couple of minutes after I took this photo as the heavens opened again and I was drenched by the time I got to my next meeting.

87/365 Student Occupation
87/365 Student Occupation flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

So very many different boundaries – both physical and moral, represented in these three pictures.

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I love …

Inspired by today’s Daily Create based on Kim Douillard’s blog post.

I love. I love to sit and knit on a winter evenings, sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, with my legs wrapped up in a Shetland wool hap.

Shetland Lace Knitting
Shetland Lace Knitting flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

I love my cats, especially the way my Lacey cat will insist I put her favourite cushion on my lap so she can climb up and sit on my lap.

310 Lap Cat
310 Lap Cat flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

I love living in Scotland, with such beautiful scenery all around me. Having Mugdock Loch so close to where we live brings me peace when I need it.

69/365 Heron
69/365 Heron flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

I love the Daily Create, for making me think every day, and this blog, for giving me space to reflect.

What do you love?

 

Posted in DailyCreate, DS106, Photos, Scotland | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

A Glasgow Banksy

Since I’ve been taking a photo each day to upload to Flickr (for each day in 2024 and every one so far in 2025) I’ve been looking at my surroundings more carefully and noticing things that I have not seen before. So when I walked up Great George Street recently for the first time in a long time I was pleased to see some street art on the wall.

78/365 Great George St Graffiti
78/365 Great George St Graffiti flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

When I used Google Lens to find out more about it I discovered that it was thought to be by a local artist called the Rebel Bear – otherwise known as the Scottish Banksy. It had only appeared in January 2025, so no wonder I’d not noticed it before.

There’s a parking sign in the other online photos though, which is not in mine. I wonder what happened to that.

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Lazy Sunday

Soup
Soup flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

Since before we were married I’ve been going over to Niall’s parents for Sunday lunch. When I first went it was very much a family event with both N’s parents, usually his nephew Ewan who would be staying for the weekend, and his sister Shona would come over after her church service finished (usually very late, so she’d have to gulp down her food down to catch up). Lunch back then was a three course meal of soup, ‘meat’ and two veg, and a pudding with ice cream (always Mackie’s, with a choice of chocolate or vanilla). Sometimes Donald would come over with girlfriend Ruth, later with girlfriend/wife Kirsty. Shona would sometimes be accompanied by husband Nick. I started knitting again to counter the boredom of after lunch coffee – sitting in overstuffed armchairs in silence while Ian snoozed. Ewan and I would sometimes get the Brio trains out and play train crashes. Those were fun games!

Trains
Trains flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

After Ian died we continued with lunch at Morag’s, gradually moving from the three course meal to something lighter – soup with cheese and oatcakes became a regular. Pudding still came out as a treat, and the ice cream was always on offer. When Morag moved from the family home in Bearsden to a new flat in Milngavie the lunches continued. When we went on holiday to the Scottish highlands and islands we’d pick up local cheese and oatcakes – smoked cheese from Mull, cheese with mustard from Arran, mini oatcakes from Stornaway.

As Morag’s memory started to become erratic Niall took to phoning at 12pm on Sunday to check that she had everything needed for lunch, and we’d drop into M&S to collect anything missing. We started picking up tins of ‘nice’ soup to have in the cupboard just in case, and I’d keep a spare pack of coffee in my Sunday bag as that was often forgotten.

Then I started making soup – every Saturday I’d throw together whichever veg needed used – often broccoli or cauliflower stalks and leaves – into a big pot and blitz it with a handful of stilton. M&S mini submarine rolls were perfect to accompany this – and Morag always mentioned how tasty they looked. I bought a ‘picnic basket’ to transport everything, and invested in a robust soup flask.

357 Sunday Lunch
357 Sunday Lunch flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

I also started making a pudding – maybe apple and bramble crumble, with fruit from the garden – or a chocolate, ginger and pear sponge. These were adaptations of puddings my mum had made and dad had loved. We bought Mackie’s ice cream and left it in Morag’s freezer, noticing that it would sometimes go down during the week as well when we were not there.

300 Chocolate upside down cakes
300 Chocolate upside down cakes flickr photo by NomadWarMachine shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license

During lockdown Shona set up a Zoom meeting for 2pm on a Sunday. We’d all join from wherever we were, and both Morag and her elder sister Lesley would join from their separate homes. This tradition continued once lockdown was over, and we’d join the meeting from Morag’s flat after lunch.  We’d usually join whenever we were on holiday, showing off the view from whichever lodge or house were were staying in.

A couple of weeks ago Morag was admitted to hospital with pneumonia, and it became apparent that she was not going to be able to go home to her flat. Today, for the first Sunday in a long, long time, the whole day is my own. It’s currently 11.45, and previously I’d be thinking about heating up the soup, checking my knitting was in my Sunday bag, and getting ready to travel over for lunch (in fact, my computer has just pinged to reminder me). As things are put in motion for Morag to move into a home (and these bureaucratic wheels move very, very slowly), today there is no need to leave home for lunch, and I have not made soup. (I have, however, made some rhubarb crumble for lunch). Today I can knit if I like, or wander out into the garden – the time is my own.

I cannot express how relieved I am that there is not a family Zoom at 2pm!

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