Three weeks with my mother

 Very full, these past three weeks. I flew to England, rode on by train to Cardiff and shared my mother's life there for a few days, including a walk around Bute Park and a hospital visit for her eye treatment. My sister's house was the usual haven of relaxation where the chickens entertained us and Mel cooked us one of his excellent suppers. At Mum's house I watched TV, one show being a documentary about Prince Charles' organic garden and home grown (reed bed) sewage treatment facility, the next an account of how a classroom of lazy 9 year old boys in Harlow were inspired by a charismatic visiting teacher (Gareth Malone) to write their own play. I liked that. I also liked my solitary ramble across an unfarmed field between Whitchurch hospital and the River Taff. I'd never seen so many blackberry bushes in one place, and it felt like open country.

Then followed my long journey with my mother, via London, to Canada. We stopped at Hampton Hill en route, getting a welcome not only from Emma and family, but also from the pub staff at the Roebuck, who know us now. We slept in the room that overlooks the bus route and spent a happy day with young Alexander, picking up twigs, leaves and beechnuts in Bushy Park, deer in the grass and green parrots in the trees. We made mobiles and crowns from the gatherings which Alex' granddad Chris admired on Skype.

During the first of Mum's two weeks in Canada we took in a Musée des Civilisations exhibition and the Hubble telescope film after meeting my German speaking friends on a wet day, then spent a morning walking the Waterfall Trail in the Gatineau Hills. In the evening we sat on the front row at an NACO symphony concert featuring a Mozart Concerto for Two Pianos, the grand pianos on stage tessellating, so that the soloists Shai Wosner and Benjamin Hochman could keep an eye on one another. We tried to imagine Mozart playing it with his sister.

The parks, the grounds of Rideau Hall in particular, and outdoor markets have been spectacular under the sunny skies. Mum and I also got to see cranberries being harvested from the Vallée des Canneberges in Venosta on the Maniwaki road, thanks to my friends who drove us. Elva offfered us supper at her house that evening and how well we slept that night, having sat by her log fire and seen the Milky Way above her drive! Another thrill for Mum was to have chickadees feed from her hand beside Mud Lake one day.

On the Tuesday of Mum's second week here Faith flew in to join us who had been at an Indexer's conference in the Netherlands. Another trip to the Musée des Civilisations with Faith and Elva, lunching at the Green Papaya across the road and seeing another 3D Imax show afterwards, this one about Arabia. My sister, having been plunged into Dutch, Welsh, English, Canadian, Thai and Saudi Arabian environments in rapid succession, was suffering from cultural overload, so we had a quiet day in the parks next, before setting off on our two-day "ladies road trip" with three of my friends via Perth to Westport and back, staying at Rothwell's Stone Cottage. (Albums on Facebook.) The rest of the Thanksgiving weekend we spent at home, walking in the woods by Meech Lake on Sunday. Monday for me was entirely taken up with our Thanksgiving supper; I enjoyed both the preparation and the company, eight of us round the table.

Before Faith accompanied Mum back to Wales we did a sunny circuit of Parliament Hill to visit the stray cats, sharing a picnic under the pavilion, walking back through town.

I wish every 91 year old were as fit and able to enjoy things as my mother. She complains of her age but her voice was warm with appreciation of her trip when we spoke on the phone Wednesday morning, and now, in Britain, she's about to observe a second autumn, the leaves over there only just beginning to change.