She was always in motion, always on the move, always with something on the go. It was like this, ever since I can remember.

For a number of summers we spent weekends at a small ramshackle cottage in the Rouge Valley.  A fellow cottager in the valley built a couple rafts for navigating the river: one was small, light, and fast – the sports car of rafts – the other was larger, but very slow.  Affectionately dubbed “The Old Lady Raft”, it became my mom’s outdoor sketching studio most mornings.  Outfitted with a couple jars of water – one for the brushes, one for drinking – a chair, a drawing block, a big hat, and my mom was good to go.  Once she found a place in the river that had an intriguing view, we tied the raft to a tree trunk by a long rope and it just floated on the same spot in the current.  We took turns checking in every hour or so in case the artist needed to be hauled back in for a washroom break.

Hanging now in the kitchen, one watercolour is from these summers in the Rouge. It shows grasses and wild flowers all tumbled together as if just gathered from the field.  Looking at it, the golden light of those days glows in the yellow petals of the buttercups, and the grasses seem to wave in a light breeze that also holds the call of the cedar waxwing and the red-wing blackbird.

A friend of my mom’s, Jean Brown, asked me to read this recollection, one of my favourite stories about my mom:
“Jean was my friend for 60 years. We met in Caracas, Venezuela in 1954 taking Spanish lessons at the Centro Venezuela Americano.  Her name was Jean and so is mine. We both came from Toronto and became fast friends from our first day of meeting.
One of my favourite memories was when 3 Canadian ships came into the port of la Guaira and the Canadian colony (about 200 at that time) was asked to entertain them by the Canadian Ambassador.  Jean and I decided to take in 6 N.C.O’s.  We made spaghetti sauce, salad and garlic bread.  What a feast!  The doorbell kept ringing and I think we ended up with 16 or more sailors.  I was a bit nervous about having enough food but Jean just kept adding more water to the sauce!  I still use that recipe to this day and so do my children.  We refer to it as ‘the spaghetti that fed the Canadian navy’.
Jean was Godmother to my son, Greg Brown, who will miss her very much, as will I.  She will always remain in my heart.”

Kay Kritzwiser – also known as “K.K.” – a close friend who passed away in 2005, wrote in one of my mom’s flower cards and dated it:
Wednesday, December 24^th, 2003.
“J.J. dear one – and that includes all the other dear ones – This card is part of the loot I brought home last night from that lovely dinner party – I use the term “lovely’” because in this case it is a word to express my “lovely and loving” mood as I recapture that beautiful evening.”

 K.K. finishes the note with: “But J.J. Jeannie – I’m so proud of you, how you have become a woman of quiet – and authentic – distinction. Thank you sincerely from my loving heart – Kay (Kathleen Mullan) Kritzwiser!!!”

 

 – shared by Anne on the occasion of “A Tribute to Jean”
 July 22nd, 2014 – Lakeside Terrace, Bill Boyle Artport, Harbourfront Centre