When they strew to us...

I'm sitting here, working on an assignment with one eye, watching an episode of  Downton Abbey with another and listening to Anthony, my youngest son. Anthony is regaling me with stories of Saki, a writer, and of his research on Wikipedia of what-happens-next in Downton Abbey. He well knows that I like to be aware of endings before I watch movies or series or before I continue reading my book. 


Alexander sends me a link to an article on why the study of Latin is important.

Greg emails me pictures of Frank Lloyd Wright's house.


Nick shares his pizza dough recipe.


And I remember the picture book "Clive eats Alligators". Just as the author ( Alison Lester) hooks us with stories of who will do what, so my sons hook me into new interests, passing or otherwise, with their strewing.


Yes, strewing.


For just as we strew to our children so they, too, strew to us.


When they were little it was a passion for Lego, for war games, for cars and motorbikes, for Biggles.


And now it is a passion for literature, for music, for movies, for life.


We strew their paths with interesting items. 


And they strew our lives with interest and love.