Our Turf

Sometimes I scrapbook because I want to record; often it's simply because I want to cut up paper; but very occasionally it's because I wanted to be soothed. I went to a funeral on Saturday. For the Dad of one of my oldest friends. I travelled back home and we clung to each other outside the church we've known since we were little girls. He was a much loved father: one of those men who do big things, but also have a hand in the little things which often go unnoticed.

Recently, since I pulled my Guide shirt out of the wardrobe for Storytelling Sunday, I've been thinking Guiding thoughts. Take the time our Captain carefully explained that we would be taking part in a Campfire Competition..

...which would have been exciting if any of us had actually known how to get a fire going. (Or maybe that was a good thing? Who knows?). We had to learn. We had to teach ourselves how to select exactly the right patch of fresh green turf, how to carve out a square with a knife, light, cook, eat, and then put the square of grass back without leaving a mark.

And it's funny: as I sat in that church at the weekend, listening to stories about a man who loved his garden, I remembered a man who loved his daughter more, so much more that he let her cut up his lawn. He stood there and watched us keep going until we could cut the perfect sod. A Girl Guide doesn't forget a thing like that in a hurry. So this one's for you, Mr. H. With thanks.

Girl Guide clippings from a Plundered Pages pack by Julie Kirk on Etsy