Wee Gifts

Early one morning, I looked out the kitchen window and saw a tiny, flickering light through the Snow-laden Trees.

As I focused, wondering, more winking lights began to glow...all in a straight line.

As the Dawn progressed, the origin of the tiny lights became clear.  My neighbour lights candles, every morning, along the sill of her window. 


During these long Winter nights, ushering in the Dawn by lighting candles seems so appropriate to me.  I have taken to lighting candles along my kitchen window every morning; a sort of Good Morning, to my neighbour, if you will.


Candles warm my soul.  They emit only a small, flickering Fire, with very little warmth...but it is Light. 


That Light shines strong; the objects surrounding candlelight glow soft and welcoming.


One can almost be excused for thinking the weather outside is not so extremely cold, after all, with the candles cheerful light.


Candles are synonymous with Christmas, to me and many others. Cathedral or a small home or a cave...it makes no matter...candlelight gives cheer, for a very small price.


And they are the first thing I think of, during a power outage.  The lights from the candles create long shadows, emphasizing the silence which occurs when appliances and electronics shut down. What might be eerie becomes cordial and gracious.


It is during power outages when I think of pioneers who lived by candlelight. Those candles were made by hand, each one infused with the loving energy of the person who made them. Someone who made good candles, ones which did not sputter and cough, would be well in demand, I would think.


You see, my homemade candles never seem to work well.  I admire the handicraft of those who have the patience and the creativity to make their own candles, which burn smoothly and without smoke.


On the Coast, I had many places from which to choose candles. I have not found them here as yet.  But the other day, perusing a shelf in a store that had little choice for candles, I voiced my concern to a lady standing close to me.


And she said...I make candles. I sell them here and there...

I smiled, knowing once more my wants were being answered by the Universe. This happens more and more these days, where my desires are quickly filled.


After we exchanged telephone numbers, and I wandered deeper into the store, I mused upon how I am no longer surprised when my needs are almost instantly met. A mere thought, a tiny desire is all it takes, it seems.


And sometimes...sometimes I just receive a gift, when I don't even know I want or need it.  


Such as the candlelight shining through the Trees, on a deeply cold and dark Winter's morning.


Merry Christmas and a Wonderful Joyous New Year to you all!

Seductive Sun

This morning, the thermometer dipped to -35C. During the course of my life, I have never experienced temperatures this cold.

There is no Wind.  The Land  is still, shatteringly beautiful, and very silent. I haven't seen a Bird or a Squirrel for days.

The deep blue of the Sky against the differing shades of white Snow is an artist's dream. Sometimes, it looks to me as if the very Air is blue.


Surfaces feel fragile, as I walk around the ploughed areas of our property.  It feels as if I am walking on an enormous field of shattered shards of glass...the frozen Snow sticks to my boots and will build up, if I don't shake my foot.

The silence is punctuated, at times, by branches that crack sharply in the cold. There is Wind in the forecast, and I pray for the Standing Beings...with temperatures this cold, there will be breakage, with the subsequent power outages, and a Wind Chill temperature I don't want to think about.


As I crunch upon the packed Snow and Ice on the ploughed driveway, I watch the dogs. Their playfulness, when Snow first arrived, weeks ago, has been dampened by the cold.  The pads of their feet have not hardened, and they walk gingerly, fearful of the pain that occurs. They look at me with puzzlement in their eyes. The Sun is out, ...they tell me...Yet it is still so very cold!

It is only a few minutes before one dog, then another, begins to limp, begins to hold his feet off the packed Snow. They are learning to do their business quickly, these days!

After I insist the dogs go inside, ignoring their abject countenances, I continue on my walk.  I cannot go far as yet, but the fields of Snow are close to being frozen enough where they will hold my weight. Snowshoes once more come to mind.

I find the most difficult part of the deep cold is the sunny weather that goes along with it. The dogs are not alone.  The Sun beckons, reaching his long arms through the Window, with the pretence of warmth. I want to go outside; every cell in my body will not believe it is really this cold, with Sun pulling at me.


And yet, it is.  Even with proper clothing...layers of it...there is a limit to the amount of time even I can be outside. But I suppose I will challenge the cold over and over again...it is just too bright and cheerful...and seductive...to be ignored.

There appears to be no end in sight for the Arctic blast which covers the province; Christmas will be very white this year, especially in the Cariboo. Driving could be treacherous, I muse to myself...I will have to make sure the survival package is in the car before we head to the Coast on Christmas Day.


I look down at our home from the top of the driveway.  Small and compact, there are no drafts anywhere inside.  I am so grateful Graham managed to find a smaller home, amongst the large homes for sale at the time. I cannot imagine what a heating bill would look like here, for a large home not heated with Wood.


And with that thought, I think of the fireplace.  I think of the Big Chair and Ottoman, I think of a warming cup of Tea...with one of those delectable Tarts I made yesterday.



I think of how my legs appear to be stiffening in place. My joints cannot fight this cold, even with layers of clothing.


It is time to go in.

But only until the seductive Sun once more reaches inside the house with his long fingers, and beckons to us, with his wicked Winter grin.

Painting for Hope

This morning, I wanted to return to a time when I painted in watercolours...the Sunrise was a wash of lavenders, greys, blues and pinks...my fingers itched to put what I saw on paper.

I imagined the smooth glide of the Water and paint on a large brush, washing in the shades of greyish blues and pinky lavenders, on a smooth, unmarked sheet of paper...


I imagined how the Water I used to paint the loving message from Creator would flow directly to him...giving him my message for serenity and peace for the World in all its anguish at the present time.

This morning, while waiting for the Prime Minister to make his appearance in front of the Governor General's residence, I felt so very sad that Canada's government was in this divisive and confrontational position.
 
And at the same time, I felt the inevitability of it. Change is occurring at a rapid rate all over the World...Canada and its elected officials must change as well.  The old guard, with their outdated power hungry ways, will fall.

And so, I imagined my paint brush, filled with the pinky-lavender hue, signalling my acceptance...sending gratitude to Creator for giving me the ability to stand and watch this fearsome and chilling change...history in the making...in front of which my country stands.

As my brush sends ripples of coloured love towards the new Day light...I send my prayer for a united front...a front in which all the diverse population of Canada stands as one.

As the light washes onto my imaginary paper, I see illumination and understanding entering the picture...a faint line, as yet, but there all the same.


Far off, just outlining the hills...


I go in and hear the Governor General has allowed the prorogation or suspension of Parliament. I see and feel the shock of the media and the people surrounding them...it feels as if the Country has suddenly declared it will no longer hear the voice of the people, with Parliament closed.


It is deeply disturbing, as it is meant to be...it takes a great deal to shock me out of complacency.  It takes a great deal to wake me to what is really happening with the government of my country.


And I imagine I am not alone.  


My painting has suddenly been obscured by a deep, dark cloud...


And yet, as an ongoing student of history, I find it infinitely fascinating, at this time in my life,  to watch the eyes and body language of the politicians and spokespersons. To watch the auras and feel the energy...to really, really see.


Disinterest in government policies clouded my vision, for awhile. The scales only departed when the government's  last financial report came down...


I watch as my paint brush struggles to contain the light rimming the hills on the horizon, fighting the deep dark Cloud which threatens to overwhelm, having already obscured the loving colours of Sun's rising.


I fight and lose.  But it is only for a time...my painting can be begun anew, each Day.  Each Sunrise.

With my eyes and mind wide open to new possibilities, I will take a new sheet of paper tomorrow, and fill it with hope.


Hope for a country in limbo.

Spider's Visit

Years and years ago, my son-in-law told me a story about how a person could swallow Spiders whilst sleeping. 

I didn't think I was concerned about this phenomenon one way or the other. People either believed or not; there are endless stories for and against here, in the UK Guardian newspaper.

And I like Grandmother Spider.  I wrote about her in a former post entitled Weaver of Dreams. I know what she represents and what her message is. I only wish she wouldn't take such extreme measures to give it.


My sleep has been disturbed, these last few days. I am fighting a virus, I think...and so I went to bed early one night, remembering the old mantra of plenty of rest and fluids in battling the flu.

I fell into a feverish sleep. I swooped into a dream about Grandmother Spider...in my dream, she wore a huge, slightly malicious grin, as she spun her web around my head.

I awoke, feeling dreadful. It felt as if my braid had draped itself over my forehead, and I moved my hand to move it...but my hand encountered Spider instead.


Involuntarily, I swept her off.  It was very dark; I felt ill...and I felt sure I had dashed Spider to the floor, where no doubt she had scurried for cover.


Settling myself once again, feeling very hot, I left my arm out from under the covers. It was not long before I felt Spider's quick crawl up my arm, back to where she had begun her web...which happened to be somewhere in the vicinity of my head.


Irritated now, I once more swept Spider off into places unknown, into the dark. And then, I turned on the light...enough was enough.

And there was Spider, quite brazen and bold, on the coverlet, once more heading, very quickly, towards where my head had lain. The light stopped her, and she hesitated.  And then she stood up!


Well.

Here's a video of a Spider standing up.  Although my Spider wasn't as big, she looked very similar to the Lady Spider in the clip. My Spider was hairy, too.


Spider was feeling threatened. As was I, if I'd had time to think about things. It seemed to be a stand-off for a small moment in time.


(How can Graham sleep through all the commotion around him, these last few weeks? This never ceases to awe and amaze me.)


I remembered my dream...Grandmother Spider had been grinning,without humour, in that dream...this Spider showed a lack of humour, as well.

The split second stand-off over, without really thinking, I dashed Spider to the floor with my hand.  Had I taken a tissue and deposited her outside, into -8C windy weather, as I do during the normal course of events, I would not be in the predicament I'm in now.


I did not have my glasses on.  Feverish, sure I would succumb to the nausea that threatened, I searched myopically for Spider.  


She was gone. Nowhere to be seen. This Spider moved faster than any I had ever had contact with.


I have not found her.  I have vacuumed every inch, I have changed the bedding, I have dusted throughout.

My son-in-law may have been right...One thing I am positive about is Spider could easily have moved into my mouth, probably climbing out again, given her size.


Unless I had swallowed. 

There is always that to think about.

Time

Time passes so quickly these days. Have you noticed? One day melts into another, phasing quickly into weeks and months.

As I look back over the events in the past, the difficult times are easier to remember.  I wonder why this is so.  There has been much joy in my life as well and yet...


I learned more lessons from the vicious times.  The joys made me grateful and happy and I may have taken them for granted.  An eternal optimist, I felt life was supposed to be full of joy. It wasn't supposed to be full of anguish.

When travails happened, as they surely did, no matter my optimism, I became confused.  Why? What did I do to incur the wrath of the Universe?  And surely, surely...there would be no more sad moments. I was done with that.  Wasn't I?



I read somewhere most people have at least one life crisis, during their lifetime. After my first marriage broke apart and I weathered that Storm, I pledged to do and be the best I could be in my second marriage. Surely I had learned my lessons, had I not?


Time passed...one day melting into another.Two decades of days and months and years. Many joys occurred during this long period of time... these memories are where my mind lingers today. They bring a fullness to my heart and a smile to my face.


There was anguish as well. Alcoholism became a crutch, for a few years, which at the time felt like a forever sentence. The death of a daughter and the death of a marriage...one Storm of anguish melted into another. Days, months and years were spent trying to find healing, trying to find where I had gone so wrong.


Time, once again, came to the rescue. Time and excruciatingly honest, hard work on the deeply buried inner me. But time, during this period, moved so slowly.  I remember. I remember counting the minutes, the hours, sometimes.

My mind no longer lingers on this period.  I worked hard. I learned. I held nothing back, taking each part of myself and examining it minutely. And finally, I understood.

Now, I feel as if the past was all a very hazy dream. As the rest of my life...the future...is, today.  And if I dream well from here, if I take the lessons learned from the nightmares and apply them with gusto...well, then, doesn't it follow the dreamed future will be less difficult and more joyous?


During the nightmare, I dreamed of a future very similar to the one I am living now. I had Time, after all, to do so. It was a very specific plan, and I never deviated from it. Faith in an unknown future, where the World gave happiness instead of pain, became uppermost in my thoughts.


I am happy, today.  And so, it seems the days pass quickly. It is only when I obsess wildly, or am upset about a thing, that the minutes seem to crawl. Crawling minutes are alright, as well, if I learn something from them.


I find it strange.  When I want to hold on to times of happiness, they pass so quickly.  When I want to move on, when I am anxious or upset, those times go so slowly.


Living in today, however, I don't need to remember the horrors of the past. They have shaped me...and here I am. The joys I celebrated are tucked in a very accessible area of my heart. I revisit them often.

And I don't need to worry about the future, because my dreams project contentment and happiness and wonderful joy...and because, really, only time will tell.



In the future, if the Universe throws a curve ball my Way, I will remember it is possible to find joy, always, once again.


And now, today, I will grasp each fleeting miracle, each small joy, and shelter it within my heart, as fuel for Hope during the less than times.


Pericles said..."Wait for that wisest of all counsellors, Time."


Guess he was right.

First Snow Storm

It snowed during the night...and the temperatures dropped to -5C.  

This morning, as a weak Sun filtered through the Trees, I decided a first Snowfall was worthy of a few photos.

I suited up.  I have many layers of clothing to put on each day, in order to keep from pushing up the thermostat. All those layers...they keep Arthritis at bay, a little.

It took awhile to grow accustomed to all those clothes...at the end of the day, I feel somewhat like a stuffed sausage. Long underwear seems to get tighter as the day passes. But I wouldn't go without...the extra clothes and underwear are comforting, when Wind howls and Snow blows.

We are expecting another Storm this afternoon. I fear I will no longer, this year, at least, be able to build garden beds. I left my tools under a big Tree, convinced I would have a few weeks left to work...but it's not to be.


Snow which falls will freeze, over and over again. Eventually, I will walk on  built up frozen Snow...last year, there was three feet of it.  It gives a different perspective to the land.

As I take photos, meandering about in the soft, powdery stuff, I remember my vow to learn to snowshoe. Our property is great for it...there are game animal trails throughout. It is an extremely pleasant hike during the gentler months, but will be largely unavailable during the rest.


I have trouble imagining myself snowshoeing....however, there is a first time for everything. I say this rather defiantly; my vow to snowshoe brings laughter or, at the very least, a gentle smile, from those to whom I have divulged this vow.


My camera lens fogs up...and Wind from the West is rising.  The feeble reminders of a Sun warmed land dissipates...gentle dripping stops.  It is time to sit by the fire with a cup of tea, and watch the Storm.

And what a Storm it is...the thermometer on the deck drops impossibly quickly. Wind howls through the Trees, taking hunks of icy Snow and hurling them at my windows. The house stands strong against the blasts of the swirling Wind, but I can feel when a particularly large gust hits...there is a muffled booming sound when it occurs, as well.


It would be impossible to take my camera and shoot photos, at this point.  Sometimes, I can't see the Trees for the driving Snow. The Boulders and Stones I am attempting to find a common ground with will be covered in softly rounded mounds, which will grow as more Snow falls and freezes.

I suddenly take in, for good and all, the fact that gardening is over for this year.  I take another sip of Tea and reassure myself I will find other creative pursuits...inside.



Graham's Mother has given me a sewing machine...a Janome Quilter's Companion with a Quilting Table attachment.  The last time I used a sewing machine was close to forty years ago...my mother's.


This one...this machine which sits on the dining table eyeing me with reproach...this one will take some getting used to.


I look at it balefully. The machine brings back memories of sewing clothing which rarely lived up to my mother's idea of perfection...she was a seamstress par excellence...and I was not.


In my youth, I did not have the interest...I wanted to get from A to B without all those seemingly unnecessary steps. Impatience...a trait I have not yet mastered...held sway, at the time.


However...however, as the Storm rages, as Snow finds crevices in the landscape formerly unseen to my eyes, I think of the feel of linens and cottons as they flow through my hands to the machine...I remember how soothing it felt.


And there are newer materials out there now...materials like hemp and bamboo I would like to work with.


It no longer matters, if items I have sown are perfect, in another's eyes.  If I am satisfied...I will be happy with its imperfections.


I take another sip of tea...still comforting, still warming my hands and soul.


There are revelations to be found, during a rattling, bone-chilling Snow Storm, when I am held captive inside.


A cup of tea, a Wind and Snow Storm, a warm fire and a sewing machine...I believe it might be a great day.



 

Spirit's Eve

The veil between Worlds is thin during the days preceding, including and following Halloween.

The boundaries become translucent. Spirits of all kinds wander the Earth, trying once more to experience Life.

Odd dreams have populated my sleep these last few nights, dreams which are disturbing and unexplainable. I catch glimpses of people, here and there, as I work in what will be a garden.

These phantoms...they no longer startle me.  I have accepted their curiosity. And I most often feel approval emanating from them.

But not always. 

I am accustomed to being visited by Spirits. I do not always see them, but the feeling, when they arrive, is unmistakable. The Spirits who visit most often...close family and friends...have a familiar energy.  I welcome those energies, which sometimes coalesce into a vague human form, with all my heart.

However, the last few nights, I have been visited by one who is not someone I know. When I feel his darker energy, I feel deep fear.

This phantom growls.  He moves items, noisily and with intent, so that I may be startled awake. The night becomes blacker and deeper...there are no shadows.

I can see nothing. But I feel and hear him...and I quickly cover every inch of my body, telling myself I'm dreaming...telling myself to wake up, yet knowing I am not asleep...

I shook it off, the next day. I fully accept not all Spirits are good. However, it is very rare for me to be visited by a malevolent one.

Busy with the day, the deep fear faded within me.

I had almost forgotten, as I prepared myself for sleep, dozing in that wonderful pre-sleep, floating through the day gone by......

Very suddenly, peace departed...to be replaced by sheer black terror. It became very hard to breathe, as I struggled to contain my fear. Recognizing, honouring and controlling this fear is imperative when being visited.


Fear clouds awareness; I needed to know this being, in order to deal with him. And fear drains my power.


I become angry, as is common for me when I am overwhelmed by enormous presentiment. I sit up in the deep darkness, pushing my energy out, to the forefront. I decide I do not want to be frightened by this dead being, night after night.


And so, I feel I must stand and face this fearful Thing.


As I do, fearfulness fades...and curiosity takes its place. What or who is emanating such black energy?


In the midst of what I consider to be very disruptive noise, Graham sleeps on...as do the dogs. The visitor is here for me alone.

I feel my guides near.  I feel protected by my Guardian medallion, which I had slipped under my pillow earlier. Yet there is an intense pressure...a force keeping me still...


I negotiate. Let me know your intent, I say, Why are you here? But there are only strange growls in reply. I sense, also, a feeling of futility and sadness.


The growls and banging fade.  The Night becomes soft and shadowy once again, the furniture outlined clearly against the walls. The entity has departed.


Sleeps eludes for awhile; I decide to smudge with clear intent in the morning. As I lay in wonderment and perplexity, I considered the fact we had excavated an area where I felt a very strong energy field. Perhaps, even with all the preparations I undertook, with respect to the land, something feels displaced and disoriented.



After a thorough smudging and blessing, last night's sleep was undisturbed, by the being, at least.  Dreams, however, were troubling, with no apparent meaning.


But the memory of this dark force has me unsettled. Who, what, why? There are no answers, as yet. However, I feel  I must prepare.


Halloween...the Night the Spirits walk...has yet to arrive.

Sunrise in the Mountains

This morning I was greeted by the most impressive Sunrise I have yet to see, here in the Cariboo.  The show began slowly, built up and coloured the World a gorgeous orange-red-pink, the intensity of which changed the colour of the closed drapes.

And when I opened the drapes to see, my mouth opened in amazement. Through the Trees, Sun rising looked much like a huge Fire lighting the horizon. The glorious fingers of Sun licked Tree branches, back lighting them against a deep red Sky.


The message of Hope from Creator lasted only seconds...

It was enough to give me a reminder of renewal and anticipation. It is a new Day; the Sunrise reminds me of intentions and inspiration and gives me Will to follow through.


But the heart stopping beauty of the Message reminded me of Sam Beam's (Iron and Wine) words in his song Upwards Over the Mountain..."So may the Sunrise bring hope where once it was forgotten"...and quite suddenly, an epiphany, if you will...I knew, deep in the Heart of me, that I had, for a bit, forgotten. 


I had forgotten the tremendous uplift Hope gives me and, I suppose, countless others. For what is Life without this intangible feeling that all will be right?


During the last weeks, Hope has risen and fallen.  Answers have been difficult to come by.  Inspiration and creativity have fallen drastically, for me. It is as if I was waiting...for what, though?


During this odd waiting period, I could feel myself falling into the deep pit of Worry. Endlessly, I discussed my problems with myself, focusing without reprieve on the drastic state of things. And dwelling on Anger, fuelled by my seeming helplessness.


And this morning...I understood.  There is no waiting for things to be right.  They already are. As the Stones tell me...Things are exactly the way they should be, at this moment in time. Right now. The future is unknown; the past is just that.


People say the future is so uncertain.  But how do they know? Change can happen quickly...every Day can be taken with anticipation...a Day where aspirations can be fulfilled. A Day filled with uplifting Hope, instead of depressing Despondency.


Sunrise...every day Sun rises. Every Day, I can choose to see it and the Message given...or not. And if I choose to see, feel and even hear Sun's song of Hope...the Day begins with anticipatory excitement, colouring my World with peaceful, strong intentions.


If I choose to see Sun's rising as nothing much...He rises every Day, after all...I'll waste this precious Day, this precious Moment, with cloudy, perturbed thoughts.  Thoughts which can distort the Future. And my thoughts are possibly the only thing I can control.



Sun's message of Hope, now residing deeply within, lends positive reinforcement to what I want my Future to become. It is a work in progress, my Future, and I would prefer to drape it unequivocally with Happiness.
 
And this Morning's Sun rising gave me the impetus to do just that.

Musing With Stones

When I first arrived here, in the Cariboo and on this property, I wondered if I would ever find the deep connection I have had to other lands in the past.

There were no gardens here.  And in hindsight, this was a very good thing.
 

In order to feel the Spirit of the land, I had to work with it.  I worked with Stones and Boulders this time, noting the gargoyles and mischievous elves on the faces of the Stones. I walked the excavated earth; I noted which Stones I wanted...and then I picked them up (or in some cases, rolled them) and put them in their new places.

Each time I did this, I noted a pleasant feeling, a feeling of rightness and peace, deep in my soul. It was strong and very grounding.


I picked up a few favourite Stones the other day.  I placed them along the railing of the Deck, in order to sense their special energy a little more often than some I work with.

Large Boulder is easier for me to sense than these much smaller ones. He has become a confidante; the other day I sensed a bolt of his warm energy that quite took me aback. It is time, I think, to visit him a little more often, which will be much easier to do with the undergrowth melted away with the oncoming Winter's strong Wind.


His energy is much the same as Grandfather Tree has.  I am grateful to have found Large Boulder...to have him receive my latest joys and woes, sending them back to me with a slower, easier perspective.


The anxiety the financial Winds have carried lately seep away when I work with Stones.  Stones have stories to tell of the past and predictions of the future, if I listen well and with strong awareness.

The uppermost message I receive is all is exactly as it should be, here, today and now. The World is changing, I hear, and it is a process.  In order to get from here to there takes time and great energy...blasting through a wall sometimes causes greater shredding destruction than long, slow curves around it.


And I hear them counsel patience...a trait I seem to have been born without...I hear them remind me of the youth of the World who already demonstrate a different way.  I am reminded of the power youth has. I was one, once, in an earlier time...


Musing with Stones as an ally takes time.  Stones tell their stories, sometimes with great sonorous sighs, slowly. It does no good to hurry them.


But I come away with a great sense of Hope.  Indeed, youngsters are now being taught to honour the Earth and her bounty. Much more than I ever was.


Working with these Stones is an opportunity I can experience here, on this gravelly, hilly property. There is no lack of them; they seem to move around on their own, sometimes. And at other times, a Stone will resist being moved...if it does not want to move easily, I leave them be.


It is an opportunity to know Stone's energy, living here...being propelled here. There is a reason for it.


And all I have to do is have Patience.  


And Hope.




Note: These photos of Grandson Graydon were taken by Granddaughter Bree, a talented photographer in her own right.

Going South

For the last few days, a very warm South Wind has tenderly and gently blown off many of Aspen's golden Leaves, carpeting the ground in glory.


We have worked hard this summer; a South Wind blowing at this time of year in the Cariboo is a call...a soft whisper which reminds me it is time to visit the Coast.


Time to once again enter the realm of family and the stories of happenings in their lives...I want enough of those stories to last me until the next visit.


The dogs, sensing us leaving, followed me around with great anxiety...until Faye from the Urban Pooch Pet Sitting Service arrived. She reminded them of last time, when they went for long rambles through as yet undiscovered bush...and after a moment of recognition and a great deal of sniffing, they were ecstatic.

I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am Faye was sent to us, as we fumbled our way on a different path. She makes it easy for us to take overnight holidays or...a trip to the Coast.

Take a break from the incessant renovations and building and excavators...so says South Wind, in a sibilant whisper.


And so we will. 


Graham formed the concrete for the Woodworking Shop slab and contracted out the finishing. As he worked on this project, I built garden beds...everywhere.  There are empty beds wherever the eye rests...awaiting Hostas, Ferns, Columbines, and Lilac Trees.


As I built the beds, I took notice of the different faces on the Stones and Boulders I used for edging.  Some were very distinctive...dignified and mischievous, all at the same time. And some had definite gargoyle-like tendencies...but all fell into place neatly, looking very pleased with themselves.


I find very white Quartz Stones with veins of a dull, burnished gold running through them, as I search the construction area for Rocks who draw my attention.


One is very smooth and warm, in the shape of a ball cap. I have him sitting on the deck railing; to run one's hand over his back is to find instant peace. He is white, with the aforementioned veins...and he draws my attention, each time I pass.


There will be time to meditate with this Stone when I return. There are messages he wants to pass on.

I have a list of things-to-do, on my return.  As long as I can, I will work on those garden beds until the weather chases me indoors.


The master bedroom requires painting and new flooring, as does the rest of the house.  The scullery is still just the old kitchen...not yet ready for the work a scullery is known for.


And my office...yikes, my office!  It will take me a great deal of courage to tackle this room.  But I want to do it soon...I have not as yet grown accustomed to where everything is...and if items must be moved, it will be easier for me.  


The old memory not being what it once was, you understand.


I want to learn more about quilting.  I have a sewing machine now, courtesy of Graham's mother, and I intend to put it to good use during the long Winter days.

There are myriad other important items on the list.  They deserve my undivided attention, without the resentment that can simmer, when beautiful days are filled with hard work.


That resentment fades away, however, when I look up and see the golden Leaves fall, spinning lazily down to Mother Earth.


And when I listen to South Wind, who beckons so strongly from the Coast.