Aunty Myrtle


On the weekend, extended family gathered to celebrate the special lady who was ‘Aunty Myrt’. She was my great aunty. Great-great aunt to my children. She never married or had children of her own, but she loved generously throughout the generations – for 93 years. This poem tickled Aunty’s fancy when I wrote it for her 90th birthday. Come with me now, and we’ll visit, The Glen.


Over the singing bridge,AMyrt
round the tight bend,
across Humphrey crossing
the road starts to wend,
as it twists and it turns
climbing higher … and then
spreads out before us
a vista;

The Glen.

Down in the dairy
before break of day,
with tea, toast and cheese
on a small metal tray.

Red dirt and gumboots,
and pottering feet,
macadamia nuts
to collect, crack and eat.

Crochet and cooking,Jacobean Lily
and sponge cake – divine!
A bottle of sweet
guava jelly – sublime.

Dress-ups and dolls,
little nooks to delight…
Sing-songs and dominoes
into the night,

and then proverbs, and poetry
stories and prayers,
in Aunty’s big bed
at the top of the stairs.

 © Kathryn Apel 2012

Bless you, Aunty. You are in so many beautiful memories.


    • Thanks, Jill. I learnt – but I don’t think I progressed much further than the bookworm bookmark. (Which is appropriate, I guess.) When I visited in July, Aunty showed me the rug she was working on then. Amazing.


  1. Pingback: One Minute Till… NOW! | Kathryn Apel

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