Wedding fever...

I wonder what it is about weddings that brings about such delicious excitement as we have seen in the weeks preceding the marriage of Prince William and Kate Middleton. I watched with a certain delight myself and oohed and ahhed over the dress and a gazillion other little details. I have enjoyed reading the many blog posts dedicated to the Royal wedding.

Pure coincidence saw me move the box containing my own wedding dress and mementos from my own wedding in 1990 from my old home to my new one just this week. My marriage ended in 2003 and I am not really sure why I am keeping my dress. In the slim hopes perhaps that it may eventually become a treasured possession of one of my children or grandchildren? My dress is NOT an exquisite gown from a bridal shop. (Oh how I longed to have one of those) We got married on the cheap my ex and I. My dress was homemade of the cheapest fabrics I could find. (I did choose a nice lace with a scalloped edge, an extravagance whose cost I did not share with my skinflint husband to be.) I look at it now and think how tizzy and 'un-me' it is. I guess I wanted to be a princess for a day just like most little girls grow up imagining they will be on that one special day. I can't share a photograph of my 'tizzy' dress here as I don't have one on my computer.

The bridal charms pictured here are some of the many that were placed on my arm on my wedding day. Interesting to note some of the horseshoes are upside down to 'keep the luck from falling out'. My bridesmaids wore pink so all the pink fitted in nicely. The little bride and groom mice were lovingly handmade by a friend of the family, one of my much loved 'adopted' aunties. (no relation at all)

The beautiful wedding photo at the top of this post is a relation of my partners.It was taken in the 1920s. How beautiful the dress and veil are. I'm a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to wedding dresses. I love the beautiful vintage frocks from past eras. The 1950s were another era of stunning, feminine gowns.In fact I think I love the 1950s best.

I saved flowers from my wedding cake and although the 'baby's breath' have yellowed with age I'm still glad to have them. I hope the joyfulness of  the Royal wedding this week has brought sunshine to your shadows. It has mine and many memories of the time I was a princess too, just for one special day.
Helen

Anzac Day...

 **I took this image from google images and hope the rightful owner will forgive me using it for this blog post. The site it came from did not give credit for the photograph. If the owner of the photograph should wish it removed please email me and I will do so immediately.

On this beautiful Anzac Day morning I'd like to share this wonderful poem I found online.

Not a Hero

The ANZAC Day march was over - the old Digger had done his best.
His body ached from marching - it was time to sit and rest.
He made his way to a park bench and sat with lowered head.
A young boy passing saw him - approached and politely said,
"Please sir do you mind if I ask you what the medals you wear are for?
Did you get them for being a hero, when fighting in a war?"

Startled, the old Digger moved over and beckoned the boy to sit.
Eagerly the lad accepted - he had not expected this!
"First of all I was not a hero," said the old Digger in solemn tone,
"But I served with many heroes, the ones that never came home.
So when you talk of heroes, it's important to understand,
The greatest of all heroes gave their lives defending this land.

"The medals are worn in their honour, as a symbol of respect.
All diggers wear them on ANZAC Day - it shows they don't forget."
The old digger then climbed to his feet and asked the boy to stand.
Carefully he removed the medals and placed them in his hand.
He told him he could keep them - to treasure throughout his life,
A legacy of a kind - left behind - paid for in sacrifice.

Overwhelmed the young boy was speechless - he couldn’t find words to say.
It was there the old Digger left him - going quietly on his way.
In the distance the young boy glimpsed him - saw him turn and wave goodbye.
Saddened he sat alone on the bench - tears welled in his eyes.
He never again saw him ever - but still remembers with pride,
When the old Digger told him of Heroes and a young boy sat and cried.

Clyde Hamilton

I found this poem here along with many other wonderful pieces of Anzac Day themed poems.

I hope you will go along and read some of them. They are truly a wonderful reminder of what Anzac Day is all about.

LEST WE FORGET

wishing you sunshine in your shadows

Helen