|Our beloved "Aunt Maude", actually my great-great aunt,|
making her way through Watsontown, PA on a winter's morn.
As the story goes, Joshua's mother was smitten with the name Heron early on, but advice from a well-meaning relative put the kibosh on that faster than the long-legged bird can spear an unsuspecting fish. Yes, Josh has thanked me more than once for tossing that avian moniker back into the pool. Heron Sinanan. Hmmm; I think not.
But Maude; now there's a fine name! As in Harold and Maude, a true classic. Or my grandmother's aunt, Maude Wolfe, a soft-spoken, never-married, dear-heart of a woman who lived to see triple digits in an era when heart disease commonly claimed lives decades earlier. And then there's our own sweet Maude of Autumn Morning, born November 1, 2000, the last of nine puppies born to Abby and Oscar. All three Maude's embody the full
grace of the classic name. Don't you agree?
|Content beyond measure after a meal and a long woods walk,|
Maude settles in for a mid-morning nap, Bowen Island, 2012.