If it’s February 2, it must be Groundhog Day. So will he or won’t he see his shadow?
The popular belief is if he sees his shadow, there are six more weeks of winter. If not, spring is around the corner. But, if you stop and think about it, spring doesn’t arrive until March 19 in 2020.
Isn’t that six weeks away?
Take a look at the calendar.
When you see it this way, it’s clear no matter how you cut it, whether “Woody” sees his shadow or not, there is a six-week span between February 2nd and the first day of spring.
Some areas celebrate with great pomp and circumstance with men in top hats and tails extracting the wee rodent from his cage.
Groundhog day dates back to 1887. You can read the origins here.
In addition, February 2nd is also Candlemas, a Christian holiday.
I’m not quite sure how the two came to be linked since they really don’t have anything in common except for the date.
Whether you celebrate the day with “Woody” and the anticipation of him seeing his shadow, or take part in a religious ceremony, enjoy your day.
Depending on where you are in the world, New Year’s celebrations are long since finished. Here, in my part of the world, they’ve just begun to welcome 2019.
In Scotland, the celebration is known as Hogmanay, and in the city of Edinburgh, the festivities are three days long! Now that’s a party.
My plans for seeing out 2018 and bringing in 2019 changed rather abruptly on Christmas eve, and I had to cancel them. Two broken ribs and a cracked one (not mine, my husband’s) have that effect on things.
Vieux-Québec will have to wait another year. I wanted to be there to see in the new year so badly because I wrote about it in It Happened on Dufferin Terrace. Seeing the Ferris wheel and all the restaurants and bistros along the Grande-Allée with their outdoor patios open and the street turned into a giant dance floor. The night culminating with the fireworks display from the Plains of Abraham.
How did I see 2019 in since our plans changed? The same as every other year – in bed and sound asleep before midnight.
The wedding photo above was on the front of the invitations I made for our 25th anniversary that we celebrated in Scotland where we renewed our vows in the church at Quarriers Village (the orphanage where my father was raised).
Mt. Zion Church in Quarriers Village
We’re headed out tonight for a meal to celebrate. Not sure where yet, but we’re both leaning towards Indian food. And the restaurant where we’ll go for that is well within walking distance of our house.
To all of you out there who are mothers, grandmothers and even great-grandmothers, I wish you all a Happy Mother’s Day.
Ruth (Neddo) Robertson May 13, 1930 – September 14, 2010
For me, I’ll be partaking in what has become a tradition since losing my mum in the fall of 2012. Now on Mother’s Day, I visit the cemetery and leave flowers at her grave.
The cemetery celebrations started the day we buried my mum’s ashes. We sent her off with a song by her favourite singer – Vince Gill, and her favourite tipple – champagne. For the last few years of her life, I spent a lot of time out home doing as I called it “mother-sitting”. She introduced me to everyone who came into the house as “This is my daughter, Melanie. She’s writing a book.” So when I was offered my contract, it seemed right that I should celebrate there with her and my dad.
Celebrating with my contract, manuscript and champagne
To all of you out there who are mothers, grandmothers and even great-grandmothers, I wish you all a Happy Mother’s Day.
Ruth (Neddo) Robertson May 13, 1930 – September 14, 2010
For me, I’ll be partaking in what has become a tradition since losing my mum in the fall of 2012. Now on Mother’s Day, I visit the cemetery and leave flowers at her grave.
The cemetery celebrations started the day we buried my mum’s ashes. We sent her off with a song by her favourite singer – Vince Gill, and her favourite tipple – champagne. For the last few years of her life, I spent a lot of time out home doing as I called it “mother-sitting”. She introduced me to everyone who came into the house as “This is my daughter, Melanie. She’s writing a book.” So when I was offered my contract, it seemed right that I should celebrate there with her and my dad.
Celebrating with my contract, manuscript and champagne
I’d share the wordpress helper monkeys stats for my blog here for 2014 but since I went most of the unable to connect to Jetpack, it hardly seems worthwhile. Besides, I have some other things I’d rather share about this past year and not the cheesy thing that Facebook puts together.
So, here we go! Fasten your seatbelts, we’re ready for takeoff!
April, Easter to be exact, my husband and I spent 10 days in beautiful, romantic Paris.
Don and me at the Arc de Triomphe“Able” and me at the TrocadéroDon at the Trocadéro
Then in September, another romantic destination was on the cards – Niagara Falls, Ontario. Okay, there are the tatty, touristy places but overall, it’s a lovely place.
Horseshoe (Canadian) falls at night
While we were here, we decided to take a horse-drawn carriage ride. We’d seem them on previous trips and have always wanted to do it…
sitting in the carriage before our ride
… so we did.
Our horse and carriage
We even did a wine tour while we were in the region and came home with at least 4 bottles of wine – including a couple icewines!
Don and me wearing our silly hats before our wine tour – photo by Grape and Wine tours
Before the year was out, we spent a week in Quebec City. It was close enough to Christmas that the decorations were in the process of being put up. In hindsight, second week of December might be a better time to visit this beautiful city so that the baubles and lights and everything are in place.
And again, we did a horse-drawn carriage ride. Our driver, Philippe, was amazing and made the ride extremely fun.
in front of the Chateau FrontenacMe at the tree with a cannon ball in its roots
No trip to Quebec City would be complete without a short drive further east to see my ‘haunted’ house which is between Quebec City and Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré.
The “haunted” house
Sadly it’s more run down since the last time I was down in this part of Canada but it’s beautiful nonetheless. And doesn’t being in a state of disrepair add to the mystery and the possibility of it being home to ghosts?
And when we weren’t gallivanting here, there and everywhere, I managed to write over 74,000 words in one of my works in progress (the first draft of the sequel to my debut novel)! While it was with my beta readers, I plotted and started another project and have some cracking ideas for even more writing projects.
So before I get all sappy and sentimental, I’ll finish this post with a little Auld Lang Syne.
SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!
Chorus.—For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll be your pint stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld, &c.
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a
weary fit,
Sin’ auld lang syne.
For auld, &c.
We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.
For auld, &c.
And there’s a hand, my trusty fere!
And gie’s a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll tak a right gude-willie waught,
For auld lang syne.
For auld, &c.
Robert Burns
What will you do to see out 2014 and see in 2015? Any traditions you take part in?
To all of you out there who are mothers, grandmothers and even great-grandmothers, I wish you all a Happy Mother’s Day.
Ruth (Neddo) Robertson May 13, 1930 – September 14, 2010
For me, I’ll be partaking in what has become a tradition since losing my mum in the fall of 2012. Now on Mother’s Day, I visit the cemetery and leave flowers at her grave.
The cemetery celebrations started the day we buried my mum’s ashes. We sent her off with a song by her favourite singer – Vince Gill, and her favourite tipple – champagne. For the last few years of her life, I spent a lot of time out home doing as I called it “mother-sitting”. She introduced me to everyone who came into the house as “This is my daughter, Melanie. She’s writing a book.” So when I was offered my contract, it seemed right that I should celebrate there with her and my dad.
Celebrating with my contract, manuscript and champagne
My Scottish roots and writing by Melanie Robertson-King
