Herbal Connection

Cat and the Shed

2012-01-28T10:09:00.000-08:00

A feral cat lives under this garden Shed in our front yard.

Snow is falling in sheets in the pre-dawn darkness...large, pure white sparkling sheets. Since it is not too cold, I sit on the front steps, well wrapped up, and watch as Lucky checks out who visited in the night.

I believe we have a feral cat living under the little garden shed. I can't say for sure. I have only seen her once. But judging by the amount of cat prints around the driveway and the shed, she certainly visits often...

This is where Lucky found the trail to come up from the Draw, down behind the pile of Snow.

I saw her one morning, as I stood by one of the front windows, sipping my coffee. She was sitting in Sun's rays, in a golden circle of light, and she was washing herself. It's been a long time since I have seen a Cat really groom herself. I had forgotten how intent they seem upon the act, yet they are instinctively alert to any seeming danger.

She looked like a Coon Cat, but it was difficult to say. She was grey and black, long-haired and large! This was one wild cat who looked as if she had no trouble looking after herself.

There will be much ploughing and shovelling today!

And then the thought struck...perhaps she was so large because she was pregnant? Oh, oh.

Lucky, covered in Snow and looking like a large, furry, white dog, with bits of red hair showing, makes a bee-line to the bottom corner of the shed. Sniffing once, he makes the decision...the Cat was in there!

Stiff-legged, he walks around the shed...and I immediately hear a soft, muffled yelp as he misjudges a Snow drift and falls down into the Draw...

As I come around the corner of the shed, he was already dusting himself off at the bottom of the Draw. It is really dark back there behind the shed and I can't see well, but I know he will find it difficult to come back up from where he's fallen.

It is so very, very DARK in the Draw...

Lucky tries to climb back up over the fallen logs and branches, and quickly gives up. I walk over to another area, further from the shed, where I have some light from the porch. There is an old trail there...I hope Lucky can find it in the dark and the falling Snow.

This whole thing is becoming ludicrous.

I am covered in Snow, it is dark as Hades, and I am becoming aware that it is also cold. It is 5:30 AM...what on Earth am I doing outside in pyjamas, in the Cariboo Winter, trying to coax a Dog back up from a deep, dark Draw?

Oh well. It is where I am at the moment. And the Dog is Lucky...

That Orb is following me around...

He is having trouble traversing the bushy, Branch-strewn area and it is slow going for him. I glance around and am startled to see two golden eyes fixated upon me, from the hole in the Earth around the bottom of the garden shed.

I stare at them, those golden eyes as mesmerizing as the drifting, falling sheets of Snow.

The sound of Lucky clambering about in the Snow falls away, as quick thoughts chase through my mind. Is it a Cat? Are those eyes not too large for just a small Cat? The hairs at the back of my neck begin to rise...and not only because it is cold.

Doubtful, but in the dark?...

Coming back to myself, I find that Lucky has found the trail, not any the worse for wear...and that the smell of Cat has grown intensely for him. I look around and find the eyes no longer there. But Lucky is back to his intense sniffing, where it seems like he wants to snuffle up the contents of whatever it is under the shed.

It is a safe place for a feral Cat to over-Winter. Now that I am back on the safety of the porch, I have found my common sense and courage, and am sure it is a Cat. So close to the house, it is unlikely a predator would bother to dig for this prey, ensconced so cozily in the Earth underneath the little green shed...giving another measure of safety. I wonder again if she is pregnant.

I go into the house and grab a towel. Our boy Lucky is wet and covered in Snow, with a few scratches here and there, and I want to brush him off before he comes into the house. I brush myself off as well...

Not my photo, but reminiscent of those golden eyes!

Lucky comes to me reluctantly, when I call him. As he trots over, I see those eyes, from underneath the shed, again. I send thoughts of safety and well-being to those wonderful, golden eyes, so much wiser regarding life in the wild, than any I know.

Lucky and I go in, grateful for the warmth. As I sit here, I battle with myself...should I go out with a little food for our feral Cat? I know the rules...no feeding wildlife, even if it is a Cat. But there is a Blizzard blowing...

I warm up, my limbs becoming less stiff. I ponder and wonder. I shake my head, knowing what I will do, even as I argue with myself. What if the animal is not a Cat?

A Keeper of Animals

I put finishing touches to a drawing of another face, another unknown somebody to add to the piles of other unknown faces. The face I am finishing at the moment is a gentle one, a youngish lady, a Keeper of Animals. I hear her words, as I stare into her eyes.

She tells me all things, wild and tame, deserve a break now and again. She asks me to put myself in the Animal's place, under a shed, in a Snow Storm, with Snow drifts much higher than a small Animal. She asks me...have I ever known real hunger and thirst? Suddenly, it no longer matters if the Animal is a Cat.

And there is a tin of Tuna in the cupboard...

The Soul-Searcher

I put on the layers of clothing required to go outside in a Snow Storm. I take the bowl of Tuna and, as I step off the porch into the suddenly very deep Snow, I realize I should have worn boots, as the indescribable cold Snow satiates my shoes and feet...

Too late now. My feet are already blocks of Ice, so at least there is no feeling there. I consider it will not take long to place the bowl of Tuna where the Cat will find it easily, but I have not taken into that consideration the quickly falling Snow and how deep it is becoming.

I go around the back of the Shed, where overhanging branches from the Fir Trees keep Snow away. Usually.

It is becoming light now, Dawn has arrived. I place the bowl of Tuna close to the only opening left at the bottom of the Shed...others are completely covered by Snow.

The Judge

I see where Lucky made his mistake in the dark and avoid the area, but as I turn away from placing the bowl of Tuna, Snow is driven by Wind directly into my face. I stumble and fall.

I fly face first into a huge drift of Snow, which also breaks my fall. I have so many layers of clothing on, as I hit the Snow, I hardly feel any pain, but I know it will surely arrive later. Fibromyalgia does not like face plants into Snow in the cold. However, I continue to lie there, catching my bearings.

I wonder how long it would take before I am completely covered in Snow. Not long, I'd wager, since there is at least a foot that has fallen since Lucky and I were first outside. When Snow falls like this in the Cariboo, many things are covered which don't see the light of day until May...

So far, I find lying here in the Snow comfortable, other than freezing feet. As I turn my head to breathe better, I glance over at the bowl...and see a grey Cat head withdrawing back under the Shed, as she sees me moving.

As I stiffly gather myself back up, I am glad I saw her. I am glad, as well, that I braved the Snow and cold and brought her a little sustenance, on a day like this, when she may not be able to go out to hunt for food.

The Nurse

I brush myself off and as quickly as I can (which is rather slow...there is Ice beneath the Snow, and conditions are very slippery) I seek the warmth of the house and hot coffee.

The day has begun with a bang...and it is not even 7 AM yet. Good grief...

As I watch the falling Snow, I wonder what the rest of the day will bring.

If it is up to me, it will be spent with feet propped up in front of the Fireplace and perhaps, drawing another face, another somebody with wisdom to impart...

Dark of Winter

2012-01-14T11:04:00.000-08:00

January's Icy Driveway!

The dark of Winter has enveloped my corner of the World. Twilight arrives very early...sometimes lights never go off during the day.

It has not been terribly cold...the temperature dipped to -20C a few times and every number in between, but we have had very warm days, as well. Day in which I felt an instinctive urge to garden, were the ground not frozen solid...

Snow blankets every thing. It is astonishingly beautiful, sometimes blindingly so. The landscape can be harsh, depending on the lighting and the time of day, but it can also be meltingly soft and inviting. The Cariboo is a land of extremes; I do not find it easy to live here, yet I love the stunning views, the never-ending Sky, the very feel of the place.

No Saskatoon Berries Left! Awwww....

The Animals are behaving strangely, I have noticed, lately. They seem to huddle near this house, during their resting periods. The other day, Lucky and I were taking our usual walk, when I noticed something...different...down in the Draw.

I had to take more than a few glances at the dark pile that looked as if it belonged, but wasn't there yesterday. That dark pile turned out to be one of the largest mule Deer I have ever seen.

She was lying against a small Birch Tree, not more than a few feet from the house and visible from the Office window. Lucky, because of Wind direction, did not smell her and his eyesight is bad, in any case. He seemed agitated, somewhat, but he did not catch sight of her.

A Mule Deer's Bedroom

I'd heard Wolves howl very early that morning, under the Wolf Moon. I wondered if she'd been chased, and had taken refuge in the deep Draw, close to Humans. Or perhaps she'd actually been hurt...

I stood at the top of the Draw. I tried to take photos, but it was cold that day and my camera would not work properly. Since I could not zoom in, these photos here are the best of the bunch.

She knew I was taking photos. She knew I was there and that Lucky was there, as well. Her eyes half closed, she seemed completely at rest...but what if she was not? What if she'd been injured? How could I find out?

I thought I would stop projecting my what-ifs into the ether and let sleeping Deer lie, after a bit of time where I went into a tizzy.

For two days, the Deer chose that spot for her resting place. During the one afternoon, she did not go far...I spotted her browsing across the road, at one point. And she was there again the next morning, completely at ease. Then she was gone...

She decided we were no threat to her at all...

The Deer is a blatant example of Animals seeking refuge here. There are many places where I find Vegetation and Snow trampled down in the shape of an Animal who has slept there for awhile. The Squirrels have their favourite branch of the Fir Tree outside our bedroom. They will rest at any time of day, in full view of our comings and goings, looking very cute and peaceful.

Since about two thirds of our property has been left in a wild state, and since even here, wild pieces of property are becoming increasingly rare, I imagine there are many Animals who call this place home, deep in the Forest. And as I rarely go into the very wild places, preferring not to come face to face with a Bear or Cougar or Wolf, Animals would certainly find safe homes there.

But these resting spots I have found are very close to the house. The feeling is strange, but it is as if they are seeking the security of being close to...a Human? If I were an Animal, possibly the last place I would want to be is right beside a Human's home.

I wonder when the Ice will melt!!! It could be months...

But times...they are a'changin'. And Animals are far more in tune with Mother Earth than Humans are.There is an odd feeling of contentment within me in having Animals feel comfortable enough to enjoy the surrounding peace here.

January has me more house bound than usual. The trip into Williams Lake can be iffy, depending on the ever-changing weather. I am very grateful that I have a vehicle which takes road conditions, whatever they may be, with panache and ease.

With the constant melting and freezing, the bottom of our driveway has turned into a frozen Pond. I have not been able to go for my usual walks; I am terrified of slipping on this great expanse of Ice. Graham's small commuter car takes on a mind of its own, when he goes to the office.

But the Torrent, a small SUV, has no problems with the Ice whatsoever. I know I can drive out of here, at least...

Welcome home!

I rarely do, however, preferring to buy everything I need in town about every two weeks or so. Especially in the Winter. Walking anywhere, be it here on our property or in the City, can be treacherous...Ice lies on every road and sidewalk.

The only time inclement weather bothers me is when we must travel for medical reasons for Graham. Twelve hour round trips to Kelowna can be so much more difficult in Blizzard conditions.

I've learned to take the time for quiet activities...ones which usually have me dozing in my chair. I sleep far more in the Cariboo Winter than I ever did on the Coast. And I find long-time residents are surprised at my realization...it is the way it is here and it is expected.

This little home is so welcoming and charming in the deep, purple twilight!

All I know for sure is...no matter how much sleep I receive during the night, I still doze each time I attempt any 'quiet activities'.

And what better time to give in to those delicious little dozing moments than in the Dark of Winter?

"And something born of the snowy desolation, born of the midnight and the silent grandeur, born of the great listening hollows of the night, something that lay 'twixt terror and wonder, dropped from the vast wintry spaces down into his heart—and called him."~~Algernon Blackwood The Glamour of Snow

Gardens of the Future

2011-12-30T08:01:00.000-08:00

The light from the camera's flash in the perfect place...

We left the family two days ago and it already seems like forever. It was the best Christmas...I suppose other Christmases felt just as good at the time, but this one had just a little more added to it. It seemed there was just a little more loving energy, felt in all manner of ways.

Graydon and I became dentist and assistant as we played with his play-dough dentist kit. I made the teeth and placed them in Mr. Towell's cavernous, plastic mouth and Graydon drilled, made fillings and pulled any tooth that looked suspicious. And eventually...they all looked suspicious!

It was his favourite game...he even dreamt about being inside someone's mouth the night after we'd played hard with the toy. Perhaps he will become a dentist in future years...he may be surprised to learn, however, that not all patients want every tooth in their heads pulled!

My grandson Graydon pulling one of Mr. Towell's teeth, completely intent...

Brianna and I went shopping together on the Internet this year. She and I would go peruse the actual stores so often, when I lived close by. This year, we decided to try and shop together on the web and it worked very well. She found her items and I bought them...could there be any better way for a seventeen year old girl and her grandmother, who do not live near one another?

Our granddaughter Brianna, looking angelic, but do not be deceived...

She also modelled her graduation dress for us. Oh, my goodness! So many thoughts raced through my head as she stood before us in the glimmering, shimmery white dress! How could the baby I'd held in my arms, just yesterday, it seems, turn into this brilliant butterfly? I wanted to take a photo, but that will wait until the actual date. Suffice it to say, tears ran freely...

I enjoyed watching my super efficient daughter Heidi cook for the hordes of people who forever required food. I did make the stuffing for the Turkey...oh, and I made some butter tarts...but that was all I contributed this time to the holiday feasts.

My daughter Heidi washing the inevitable dishes...

Years ago, my daughter refused anything to do with cooking. She was sure it was not something she had any interest in whatsoever. But after a few years with her family, she's an amazing, passionate chef and loves to experiment with unusual ingredients. And after a summer spent in renovations, even her surroundings in the kitchen reflect her passion for foods.

A treasured ornament...

I am, once again, in awe at how the Universe works. You see, I am waiting for another surprise that is, most definitely, in store for her, another passion which will shock her with its intensity.

She will become a gardener. There are hints of it showing now. I want to chuckle; it is so obvious to me...

Once someone becomes passionate about cooking, about using fresh ingredients instead of canned or prepared foods, about finding out and realizing how many pesticides and hormones come in foods...one becomes interested in searching out the freshest, most local of foods.

Yummy, cheesy biscuits...

At first, it is to showcase one's Art of Cooking. After all, one cannot show off a lovely salad with wilted Lettuce. But soon, interest turns to the taste of these foods. Surely, a row of Lettuce grown with love and care from one's own hands will reflect that love in its taste?

And this is how one thing, one passion leads to another...

Heidi, at some point, will become interested in the Soil and what it can produce for her, and I will be delighted to stand by and watch and offer advice, needed or not, heh, heh...

With extended families there is not always as much time as one wishes to have. We only spent an afternoon with our ten month old twin granddaughters...not nearly enough time for me to even distinguish the two with any certainty. I discovered, however, that they are intensely huggable, never mind which one it is...Kaleelah or Keauni.

Another suspicious tooth...yes, very slimy and disgusting, for sure!

Graydon was counting the days and nights we had remaining to our stay every day. When the time came to leave that little boy, my heart bled, as I know his did as well. It is the hardest thing for me to leave my family, all of them, knowing there are many things I will miss as they go about their lives.

Granddaughters Kaleelah and Keauni...

But. I am so grateful I am able to have great quality to our relationships, even if there is not much quantity. All of us in my family have worked hard to keep our contact with each other close, no matter the distance between us.

I find I love being a grandmother. I find it is, perhaps, my passion. It is so great to watch these little people grow into adults, with no more requirement on my part than to listen, advise and love, and with no expectations. What will be, will be. How different from parenting!

And so. Now I am at home, picking up the threads of my own life. What will be ahead, in the coming, tumultuous year?

A young mule Deer welcoming us home, back to the Forest...

No matter. I will live life day to day, as I have practiced doing for the last few months. I am becoming better at it; the difficulty is with knowing which day it is in the mundane World. Living life in the now, this instant, has its drawbacks, at times.

I wish all of you, those of you that have taken time out of your busy lives to read this long essay and those of you that haven't, all of you...a happy and healthy and abundantly, loving year in 2012. May you all experience balance and serenity and joyful, peaceful energies in the year to come...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Faces

2011-11-30T14:13:00.001-08:00

The Gardener

The last month has been rushed; with Graham not up to par, me becoming ill with a particularly vicious little bug who did not want to let go, there has been little time to write.

Once, not so long ago, I would have taken any opportunity to write. I would surmise circumstances do take a toll, as one ages and gains a little wisdom from the results of pushing oneself too early into responsibilities, after a flu bug strikes.

There is one thing, however, which has given me peace and has kept me balanced...

Over the last while, for perhaps a couple of months, I have felt the increasing urge to draw faces. Of whom, I have no idea. But the urge is strong and I find myself drawing a face each and every time a pen and a piece of paper present themselves.

This is something very new to me. I am a painter of landscapes...drawing something is not a thing I have explored, letting alone drawing faces of people only I can see.

The Teacher

I am a doodler; a sketcher of wishes and dreams. The faces displayed here have been scanned. It seems blue ink does not scan as well as black and so much of the detail is lost. But there is much more character...lines and shading...to the faces than you see here.

And that is not something I would have thought I could do...fine detailing such as I have been doing would have been anathema to me, even just a few months ago. I did not have the patience.

But since the portals opened on October 28 and November 11, the urge to draw these fantastical faces, some of them, has grown stronger, if that could be possible. I find myself lost in time as yet another character appears beneath my pen.

The Librarian

And as well...I must tell you about the dream...one that has been recurring over and over for awhile. In the dream, I am in a classroom. The mood is joyous; it seems the entire class has passed a test, one that was particularly difficult. I do not feel as if I am singled out...I see my classmates and the figure whom I take to be the teacher, although he is vague. The dream becomes one so familiar, I find myself sliding into it easily two or three times a week.

In the last dream, as I sat in my desk, putting papers away...it was one of those old wooden desks we had in our elementary school, with the slanted top, pencil grooves and paste container hole, with scrolled metal sides...someone leaned over my shoulder. I remember being startled. No one had spoken to me before this.

I did not see him but I did feel his energy. He told me...Make sure you keep the drawings...

I did not think to ask why or what he was referring to. And in any case, I almost immediately woke up.

Keeper of the Hearth

After a cup of coffee, consultation with Graham and a very cold walk outside with Lucky, I concluded the fellow in my dream meant the faces I'd been drawing. There were no other drawings the dream man could have meant.

I had not been keeping any of the faces in order. They were everywhere...it took some time to gather them all up, learning to treat them with some respect, and scanning them. As I did this, I was astonished at how many there were.

It was as if I had drawn all these unknown faces in a dream, or at least without conscious effort. I had certainly not been giving them any respect...

I believe this is a lesson I had to re-learn. Once upon a time, years ago, I painted...mostly landscapes, as I've mentioned...and I took college Art classes for two years. It took almost six months in the class before I could take compliments on my work. Criticism was not difficult to take, but those who praised my work received short shrift.

The Poet

I knew I was not any good, you see, at painting. I took the classes only because I loved Art. I thought the people who actually paid money for my work were deluded.

This state of mind has its roots in a former high school Art teacher, who once told me I did chocolate box paintings...no creativity there whatsoever. What I forgot, after a talk with the professor of my college Art classes, is that the high school teacher and I were at each other's throats, for much of the time I spent in his classes. And on a day where the World seemed too much for him, perhaps...on that day, he decided to lash out at his recalcitrant student.

I made an effort, after the talk with my professor, to look at my work with different eyes. I succeeded to a degree...but again, there was now someone in my life, my ex this time, who did not like my paintings or the time it took to do them, time taken from him...and once again, I let someone else decide the worth of my paintings. It was a very easy thing to do...I had not entirely shrugged off the

The Forester

idea that my paintings were worthless, even then. Having somebody corroborate that idea...well...you can see how easily I slid backwards.

After the dream, I remembered my conversation with the professor; I decided to let the feelings of worthlessness...because really, that is what it is...fall away. It was time to let garbage like this go. For good and all.

It really doesn't matter if the faces I draw are any good or not. I love drawing them.

The Baker

I don't know who these people are. They are figments of my imagination. It doesn't really matter...perhaps one day, I will actually meet someone who strikes a chord, someone who looks a little like these drawings.

The Universe works in strange, truly creative ways.

Without the dream, I know I would have continued to draw, but I would not have kept them or had any attachment to them. They would have been relegated to a pile somewhere, anywhere. I would not have recognized the passion I have only just re-discovered.

The Photographer

Perhaps I will have another dream...one which will tell me who these faces belong to.

These days, I wouldn't count that idea out...

Mysterious Skies

2011-10-30T07:54:00.000-07:00

Graham has been really ill over the last month. It began with bronchitis, which turned into a lung staphylococcus infection. He collapsed during our visit with the family and was taken to hospital by ambulance for an overnight stay. The infection cleared within two weeks, yet Graham still wheezed and coughed and could not get Air into his lungs.

Once again, he was hospitalized, where he was given Oxygen and ventilizers and other medications. His stay this time lasted for four days...and his doctor suspects his illness is COPD. In a few weeks, he will see a lung specialist for confirmation.

We hope, in this case, his doctor's prediction is wrong, of course.

During all this upheaval, I found I could do very little. I wandered from one thing to another and I was no longer able to voice my thoughts. It was as if I were living in an empty space...a void...where nothing could intrude.

But I discovered something that did intrude, something that is awe-inspiring, miraculous and exciting.

There is a lot of activity in the Skies these days.

I discovered this one night about a month ago when I took Lucky out for his last walk of the day. Each time it is around eight PM and of course, it is very dark around that time. There are no lights of any kind that intrude where I live; flashlights are the order of the day (or night) when Lucky and I venture outside.

I am accustomed to seeing satellites crossing the night Sky, and falling Stars and Meteors. On certain nights, it seems as if the heavenly bodies hang by a thread...it seems as if I could reach out and touch them. The atmosphere is so very clear here; one can see for miles into the deep, black Universe. There have been many nights when I have wished for a telescope for the ability to see farther into the Universe than the human eye ever could.

I am not looking for UFO's the first evening I spot them, as Lucky and I venture outside. I am only looking up, and marvelling at the Stars. To my astonishment, as I stare at a vivid little Star, a tiny round bit zips away from it, sending out an especially bright green flare. It flies South, then West, then back North again...back to its original "Star".

What was that!...I say to Lucky, who perks his ears.

The tiny UFO flew so fast...if I could only describe how fast!

I think my eyes must be tricking me...tiredness and emotional stress over Graham must surely have taken over...

But then the little "bit" zips away again...this time, heading South in a winking, wavering line until it is out of sight. There are one or two flashes of an...electric type of green and pink. I am not sure I have described those unearthly flashes correctly...they were quite unlike anything I've seen before in the night Sky. Even Northern Lights pale in comparison, and are very dissimilar in any case.

I tell Lucky...They must have forgotten their toothbrushes...

For many reasons, that first sighting, and the ones subsequent to these, fill me with a joyful expectancy. I feel as if I have been washed clean and clear throughout, with a loving feathery touch.

I become addicted to watching the Sky, feeling quite out of sorts when it is cloudy. But one night, expecting Snow, I look up in time to see a Cloud light up with that unearthly flash again. This time, the brilliance was of many colours, although it did not have any lasting effects on the Cloud. The Light was there and then it was gone completely.

Another night, it had been Raining. But, right above me, Clouds had parted in a circle, leaving heavy Stars to hang in the void. I was looking North, above our house. I see three tiny UFO's chasing each other, making impossible configurations. Again, they seem to be attached to a larger "Star".

As I stare at the bigger "Star", keeping the little ones in my peripheral vision, I notice it is different from what an ordinary Star might look like. It looks and feels harder. The brilliance of it is digital and static.

As I keep my eyes on the fantastic display above me, there is a flare from the Star, which I feel more than actually see, if that makes any sense. And then, as I watch in complete wonder, I see pulses of some kind of energy wash slowly away from the Star, towards the protective ring of Cloud cover.

I can find nothing anywhere that tells me what those slow pulses might have been. They were slower and more precise than those a pebble dropped into a pond might have made, but very similar.

I watched three emanate from the "Star", before I became aware of how cold I was. Lucky, who had become quite excited as the pulses washed over us from above, had been at the door for awhile. The neighbourhood Dogs, who had began to bark and howl, when the first pulse appeared, had quietened, seeming to accept the consequent pulses or rings of muted light.

I decided to go in and warm up. Later, I went outside again, unable to resist. The circle of Cloud was still there. I watched for awhile, seeing nothing, but just as I was about to go in, the burst of Light occurred again...and again, there were the rings emanating from the "Star".

I wondered if those strange, intermittent pulses would continue all night.

The incredible activity in the mysterious Sky has stopped. It has been at least two weeks since I saw the last strange Lights. I feel rather bereft...

I'm grateful for my time with these tinkling, teeny Lights in the night Sky. They took my mind off the daily stress I was experiencing with Graham's illness. Strangely, they gave me hope.

Look up on a clear Night and study the Stars. Watch for the ones that move...

Bubbles of Joy

2011-10-05T06:01:00.000-07:00

On the bridge over the Fraser River

I find it so incredible that Thanksgiving is once more just around the corner. Where did the last months of 2011 go?

Soon, it will be Christmas! And then New Year's Eve...and the year 2011 will drift away into the past.

Years ago, when I was in my teens, I wondered where I would be when I was in my sixties. I didn't realize, at that age, how quickly the years pass...and that I would be here, in my dotage, before I knew it.

The Williams Lake Stampede Grounds

And really,I couldn't grasp the fact that each day would quickly recede in my memory, into the mists of Time. In my youth, I truly thought I would remember each and every moment...of heartache, grief, intense joy and anger.

I do remember the dramatic, life-changing occasions...yet the details, the fine-tuning that occurred, what I did to learn the lesson that had been presented to me...those have mostly left me.

Williams Lake

Sometimes, something will come up, however, in conversations or events that jog pieces of memories I've buried deeply. Dreaming also reminds me of choices I might have made throughout the moments, days and years of my life.

Not all of those choices were correct...in fact, many of them weren't. And these are the ones that come up, during quiet or even not so quiet, moments. It seems quite strange to me...I thought I had put the past completely to rest.

The beautiful, green Chilko River

But every once in awhile, a sharp dagger inserts itself into my heart...a dagger which reminds me a former decision may have had severe consequences...maybe not so much for me, but for others in my life.

It is quite like an awakening.

Pelicans! Photo taken from information booth

I've learned something, though, with all these old thoughts and decisions I made years ago trumpeting their way back into my mind. This time around, when those past actions return to haunt me, I actually am able to face them, to unravel them, to allow the hurt to appear, to forgive others and myself, and then to let them go.

Something I quite obviously did not do the first time around, when these events actually happened. I'd guess the actions required to reach forgiveness were not done at the time.

Information Booth

It seems to me, during this flood of folderol which moves through my senses, I am happier after I've let some relatively small thing go...and so, as these past events assault me now, I have learned travelling to the other side...the forgiveness side...well, it might be difficult for a few moments, but once it's done...there are bubbles of sheer joy which flow throughout.

So even if time passes so quickly and memories fade with its passage, it seems events which turned out badly, if they haven't been dealt with, will come back...at the age of sixty, or seventy or even older.

Hay field in the Chilcotin

I know a lady who is 95 years young, with an inoperable cancer. She told me she lived her life in pure denial. Every time harsh words were spoken, every time an accident occurred, she would take the words or the accident and shove them deeply inside. So deeply, in fact, that more often than not, she never thought of them again.

Until now. With a laugh, my friend told me it was impossible to get away with anything...those deeds that were hidden in a bottomless void in her mind eventually caught up with her.

At the age of 95.

Thanksgiving, of course, returns each and every year. As I write this, I try and remember past holidays, specific things about Thanksgiving. I cannot. They all meld into one.

An old barn in the Chilcotin District

This is the thing, though. I am not in control of when the troubling past returns for me to deal with. I wish I was...hurting thoughts, from the past, can engulf me at the most inopportune moments. And then, I can find myself reacting to something in an angry or emotional manner. I find my reaction is fuelled from a past event...and not the present one at all.

It's a really good thing to know...

I feel much lighter these days, those bubbles of happiness much more prevalent.

This year, we will travel to the Coast for another Thanksgiving with the family. This year, I will go with a little more awareness of what makes me tick.

The years pass by so quickly, as if life were all a dream.

The Sun, Clouds and a green Orb!

Perhaps one day, in the near future, I will awaken completely, to a life no longer held back by dark, slimy sludge.

Sounds pretty good to me...

Happy Thanksgiving! May your day be filled with good thoughts, from the past and the present!

Bird Talk

2011-09-18T07:05:00.000-07:00

I've been experiencing and enjoying some odd events over the past few weeks. I have no explanation for any of them; strangely, the urge to find a reason for them has gone. Acceptance is the order of the day. It makes my life so much easier.

I must confess I wake up each morning with a certain wariness...What will occur this day to make me feel unbalanced and anxious? So much is happening in the World...even a 6.7 Earthquake, along with many minor ones, on the West Coast of Vancouver Island hardly makes the News, when there are hugely terrifying events occurring elsewhere.

I feel Mother Earth is re-balancing herself, ridding herself of eons of negativity and pollution the human race has placed upon her. I am not making light of the terrible Floods, Fires and Quakes which keep happening...I send Oceans of Light and Love each time I hear about another Flood, another Fire, another Earthquake. It is about all I can do, at this time.

I find safety here, surrounded by the Forest and its creatures.With tall Trees ringing the entire property, the World and its problems so easily disappear from mind.

Lucky, my dog, and I, go for long walks around the property each morning. I check out the garden and Lucky checks out who visited overnight. It is not uncommon for me to go out in my pyjamas and slippers...this is a reward for living on acreage in the country. There is no one to see and judge and shake their heads.

It is peaceful and calm in that early morning hour. Last year, throughout the Forest Fires and the Smoke, many Animals and Birds converged here in this Forest, seeking safety. This year, there are not so many. The extremely wet Spring took care of any Fires which might have caused chaos and even though we experienced a heat wave recently, the nighttime temperatures are becoming frosty. The likelihood of any big Fires this year is decreasing daily.

And so, I have not had occasion to visit with as many Birds as I did last year. But there are a few...

Chickadees. Oh my, there are Chickadees. Let me tell you a story about those Chickadees and Lucky and I.

I was standing beneath the only Birch Tree inside the fence-line, beside a garden bed filled with flowering Plants, all seeded directly into the ground in late Spring. I was marvelling at how lovely it looked, after all the Rain we experienced over the last Spring. The Plants were still lush and wildly flowering; my attention was focused completely on the pinks and blues, reds and oranges of the different kinds of Poppies, Bachelor's Buttons, Daisies, Digitalis, Coreopsis, Cosmos...

By this time, Lucky was waiting for me to open the gate and continue on our walk. But I heard a Chickadee in the Birch Tree just above me. I looked up, and without a thought, I mimicked his voice...Chick-a-dee, dee, dee...over and over.

It seemed as if he answered me and then his head tilted from side to side, as he watched this two-legged creature try to speak with him.

I noticed another Chickadee settle on a branch...then another and another...until the whole Tree was covered with the small, fluttering and hopping Birds! Each one's attention was entirely focused on me and my continuing bird speech...Chick-a-dee-dee-dee, Chick-a-dee-dee-dee...

Lucky was becoming aware something odd was happening. Whining, he looked up at me, as if to say...Stop this! Who knows which kind of Bird will appear next!...

I stood there in awe, still calling. More and more Chickadees flew in...the Tree was alive with them. I stood there for a good half-hour, sometimes speaking bird speech and sometimes human. I have no idea whether any understanding was reached...I certainly had no idea what the twitterings and chirpings, chips and calls meant.

But the energy surrounding us...the Birds, the Tree, me and the Dog...was warm and loving. I wanted to stay all day in what seemed like a comfort spot. But Lucky became restless, wanting to continue his walk and wanting to go as far as possible from the Birch-Bird Tree, which was just too odd in his mind.

I didn't know how to say good-bye to all the little Chickadees who had graced my morning. I didn't want to leave them, either. But I raised my hand, said a final Chick-a-dee-dee-dee, and walked away.

And the Chickadees flew off, as well, to do their daily foraging, I imagine.

I felt like a child on Christmas morning...what a gift Creator had seen fit to bless me with!

Lucky cannot forget what happened that day. When an Eagle flies overhead, most times they will call...and now, I try and copy the eerie sound they make. Lucky goes ballistic. I'm sure, in his mind, all he can see is Birch Tree filled with Eagles.

He has problems with the Raven who lives in this Forest, as well. Raven and I have had many conversations, his usual call being quite simple to emulate, although it can hurt my throat. The other day, though, Lucky had occasion to go outside, just as Raven was filching some of Lucky's marrow bone. Lucky rescued it, of course, and Raven flew up onto the Birch Tree. When I came outside, after watching the kerfuffle from a window, Raven began the most awesome speech.

He made glottal sounds, burrs and purrs, sounds like a motor running...Raven had quite a repertoire. His head bobbed, around and up and down. His long, black wings were spread at times, to give him balance, as he danced along the branches.

I wanted to answer him, in Raven speech, but could not mimic his sounds. So I spoke to him in Human speech...and it seemed as if he listened. He would stop his movements when I spoke. He would tilt his head towards me, and when I had finished what I had to say, Raven would continue his awesome talking.

At first, I wondered what he was saying. But then, I noticed that warm, loving energy again...and I found it really didn't matter...

But our Lucky is not so cavalier. He has taken to watching the Skies as well as the immediate surrounding areas, just in case I might decide to call another Avian. And when I tease him, by imitating Bird song emanating from the Forest, he becomes super excited, searching the Sky and the Trees.

It was interesting to hear from an acquaintance of mine, just after the Bird episode I experienced, how she was convinced that a Deer who visits her home every day seems to hold a conversation with her. She shook her head, as she spoke with me, telling me it was not a good idea to be that friendly with a wild Deer, but that she could not seem to help herself. She tells her Deer friend about her day, what she is having for dinner, etc. She tells me she swears she can tune in to what the Deer tells her, in return. And she says she only feels a little strange about the whole thing, although she also concurs that she rarely tells anyone about her Deer episodes.

I smiled. Welcome to my World, I say...

I find more and more people tell me about odd occurrences involving Animals. I believe it is because I don't judge, I only accept. If they say a thing is so, I know it is.

After all, it happens to me, more and more.

I feel the times are such that waking up wary is acceptable...it keeps me aware...the World and her re-balancing will go on for awhile.

There is nothing I can do other than accept this is the way it is, right now.

Acceptance and learning Bird speech or Animal talk, even if Lucky disapproves, will see me through.

The Animal species knows a lot more about Mother Earth than I do...

Leo and Me

2011-08-30T12:47:00.000-07:00

One of the gifts Graham received for his recent birthday was a gift certificate to a book store. The two of us whiled away some time perusing all the titles before one of the books Graham (and I, heh!) chose was Georgia Nicol's book You and Your Future, a book on astrology.

Both of us watch Georgia on Global News on Sundays and have enjoyed her sense of humour and her accuracy. But I had no idea she would teach me something as profound as the Rising sign.

The Rising Sign is based on the time of day you were born, as opposed to the Sun Sign which is based on the day of the year you were born. Most of us know our Sun Sign...be it Pisces, or Cancer, or Taurus, etc.

Georgia writes that the Rising Sign is my persona. It is how I project myself outwardly to the World, with my appearance and my personality. She tells me it's the style I use to get what I want, now and in the future. It indicates to me how I will make things happen in my life.

Now, I have always been happy with my Sun Sign of Pisces. It seemed to cover most of the peccadilloes in my personality. It sat right with me.

Georgia says my Rising Sign shows how I survived in my family. Upon looking back, had I only had Pisces in my sign, I would have been swallowed whole in my family group, instead of only some parts of me.

Keeping Georgia's warning in mind about her Table of signs as being too simplistic (she suggests using an astrologer or Googling the Rising Sign Calculator in order to find your accurate Rising Sign), I found my Rising Sign to be....Leo!!

Ouch. Leo was my mother's Sun Sign. It was not until a year or two before she died that I grew closer to my mother, that I began to understand her. I wonder what my mother's Rising Sign was; there is no way to find that particular nugget now. Leo has never been a favourite sign of mine, keeping my mother's persona in mind.

And in looking up family members' Rising Signs, I find Brianna, my granddaughter, and Graydon, my grandson, have Leo Rising, Graydon and his Dad both have Aries in their makeup (one as a Rising Sign and one as a Sun Sign), that Graham has Pisces Rising, and Heidi, my daughter, is a Pisces with Libra Rising. The twins are Pisces with Aries rising.

How very strange to find how intertwined we all are, in the eyes of Astrology!

I find the section on Leo with trepidation. I know quite a few people whose Sun Sign is Leo; I've liked and even loved them. I wondered what the negatives were in regard to Leo...had my mother been stuck in that contrary area?

And sure enough, the pessimistic words flew off the page on the negative qualities of the Leo archetype. Arrogance, pride, extravagance, ostentatious, egocentric, patronizing, opinionated, didactic, and uncompromising...all of these fit my mother well.

And then I think...do all these words fit me, as well?

But according to Georgia's book, Leo's are also generous, principled, honourable, warm-hearted, forthright, energetic, brave and intelligent. Certainly my mother's friends thought so of her.

Georgia presents three broad qualities of the sign of Leo. She states the sign of Leo is creative, generates warmth, radiance and generosity, is a leader with a need for recognition.

AAAargh!!! The last part...the need for recognition...that part does not sit well with my Piscean sensibilities. But oh! did my mother ever require recognition! There were never enough compliments to make my mother happy, and I cringed each time she sought them.

Suddenly, in a strangely obscure way, I understand why I secretly love compliments, yet spurn them when they arrive as unimportant (Piscean)...and why my granddaughter, a Sagittarius with Leo rising, loves recognition, accepts compliments with grace and loves to create happy situations.

My mother loved to create situations, as well. However, many of hers were not as happy as I might have liked...

As I think about all this, I realize I have much to thank my mother for. My mother had many tough times, many crises in her life. She chose to become embittered; her choice led to my being strongly averse to living my life in that way. I watched her as a child and later a teen, at home, and I made a very strong, conscious choice to use optimism and hope, instead. I made the choice to work my Leo aspect in the most positive manner I could, even though I didn't realize how important Leo rising in my sign was, at the time.

Leo is the sign of the Sun. Leo is the Lion. I learn, by reading Georgia's book, that Leo can be timid, but will rarely show it. How true that is...I will face down any situation with a roar, yet tremble inside the whole time I do it.

Georgia went a little further for me, after I'd written to tell her how much I'd enjoyed her book. She actually drew out my Natal Chart and sent it to me, along with the other signs I need to read. She also told me I had the stronger Leo aspect, while my mother was the 'authority' in my life...and Georgia says...Of course you would clash!

Of course! I wish I'd known this years ago!

Georgia also advised me to read all twelve signs with reference on How to Be Happier Chapters. Within the first few paragraphs on the Piscean chapter, I find familiar waters. I find, more than any other sign, Pisces people have the strongest ability of all the Astrological signs to manifest their core beliefs. Whatever Pisces thinks about their World becomes reality.

For example, were I to wear rose-coloured glasses, as I try to do, most of the time, the World becomes a wonderful, magical place. Yet, were I to believe the opposite, I could become my own worst enemy...because the World, or at least my World, will become whatever my negative thought patterns conjure up.

No kidding.

A happier Leo, on the other hand, should forego their
pride and arrogance...so much a part of this sign. I hope my Sun sign of Pisces will help me achieve the positive parts of pride and arrogance. Georgia, in her book, explains the difference.

I've heard Georgia say many times, on television, that astrology is all about math. Looking at my chart, I believe it...it looks like some mathematical test I failed at some point in my school years...

Astrology is great fun for me...I check where the stars and planets are every morning on the Cosmic Calendar. I have the added bonus now of having two signs to help me make sense of my day.

Even in times of angry disputes with my mother, a Leo, somewhere inside, no matter how ridiculous her assumptions, I knew where and how she had arrived at her conclusion. Somewhere inside myself, I understood her.

Georgia's book was really cheap at the price, if it means I move that much further along the completely convoluted journey of life.

I'm so glad I was with Graham, when he went shopping for his birthday gift...

Strange Times

2011-08-24T10:02:00.000-07:00

Jack Layton and his granddaughter

I asked my Muse this morning to help me write something...anything. I seem to have no...oomph...for writing these days, and it seems the Muse doesn't either, since she hasn't stimulated me for some time.

I believe it is the events the World is experiencing at the moment. One cannot turn on the news without some catastrophe just waiting to pounce, just waiting to destroy any peace I may have gathered through the night.

I could list them. But it would just exacerbate the whole thing, magnifying them in my mind.

The one thing I will mention, however, is how Jack Layton's death from cancer, at the age of 61, affected me. He was the leader of the Opposition in the House of Parliament, a New Democrat.

Jack Layton, with his granddaughter Beatrice, and his wife, Olivia Chow

How odd that a man I have never met, a politician of and for the people, could have me in a state of mourning, along with, seemingly, the rest of Canada, no matter their political bent.

I was in a state of shock the morning I heard about his death. I had known he was ill, of course. I saw him making his last announcement, when he said he would be back in September. As ill as he looked, I believed him. I thought he would be back in Parliament, holding all the rest accountable, as he had done for his whole life.

To me, he was like a Terrier or a Bulldog, worrying and tearing at the Conservatives without restraint. With a four year term of a majority Conservative government, I felt so much better in knowing Jack Layton was the leader of the Opposition. I felt, if anyone could, he was the one who would hold the Conservatives to account.

Flags fly at half-mast

The strange thing is I am not terribly political. When I vote, I usually vote for the person and not specifically the Party he or she is leading. But Jack was and always will be a man for the people. For him, it was forever about the people and their well-being in Canada. And I understand that...it is how I hope I would be were I in politics.

I felt he had our backs. And when he died, I felt bereft. Who could possibly take his place?

I was astonished when I cried, really cried, for him, for his wife and family and grandchild, and for Canada. And I was truly amazed at the wave of emotion that overcame the Country. I'm not sure I remember this ever happening before.

He wrote a letter to Canadians the day before he died. In his very personal letter, he urged all of us to remember not to let others say we can't do a thing our minds are set upon. He addressed his Party, his caucus, other people suffering with cancer, the youth of Canada, Quebecers who believed in him enough to vote in huge numbers to give him the opposition Leader's seat. And he addressed his fellow Canadians.

At the end of his letter, one that must have been so difficult to write, he wrote..."My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful, and optimistic. And we'll change the World."

I wonder if I could have had the fortitude to write something so eloquent if I faced death. This man remembered the people of Canada, knowing well his time was at an end. This was the kind of man he was...and the words above were words he truly lived by, in all accounts.

As the World enters strange times, where nothing seems certain, where Earthquakes, Tornadoes, terrible accidents and civil unrest seem almost the norm...I will take Jack Layton's words and enter them deeply within my soul, never to be forgotten or misplaced.

Let us, indeed, be loving, hopeful and optimistic. Let us not give fear the upper hand. Fear is a destroyer...love and hope fill the heart, giving more strength I believe we will all require in the coming months and years ahead.

Jack, I will miss you and your smiling face. I will miss your witty, sometimes even snide, comments. I will miss the love you projected to us all, even though I never knew you personally. It does not seem to matter, to my complete and utter astonishment.

We are living through strange times. I do not blame myself for not wanting to write about despair and fear. As odd as it seems, Jack Layton's death opened the hearts of people as nothing else might have done.

And perhaps, this is the point. This heart-opening, this outpouring of love, the collective astonishment that this could be so for a politician's untimely death...this taught us all to be more open, more heart-centred.

Imagine the possibilities...

This morning, I had a conversation with my Muse, the wondrous lady who sits on my right shoulder as I write.

And she did not let me down.

Rest in the greatest of peace, Jack, your time on Earth has ended too soon.

It is time, now, to take up the cudgels, the loving truncheons, on your behalf.

And I will.

The Road Less Travelled

2011-08-14T09:03:00.000-07:00

Duffy Lake Route to the Coast...long and curvy!

One of the many old Log Cabins one finds anywhere in the Cariboo...

Did I say long and very curvy?

We took a different route to the Coast this time. The Duffy Lake Road would be treacherous in the Winter, in my opinion...there are many curves and cliffs along the way...but it is well worth taking in the Summer. So many wondrous views!

My daughter and her family were in the middle of renovating their home...the kitchen and two bathrooms were being ripped out and re-done...and so when we arrived it was to controlled chaos.

At the Water park, it was difficult to capture Graydon in a still moment...

Graham and I have renovated many times before; therefore we completely understand the process.

But I managed..

After a restful sleep, we left the construction workers to their jobs and visited the Roger Creek Water Park...it was a truly lovely, warm day, which I really appreciated, it being quite chilly and wet in the Cariboo up to that point...

Brianna at the grand old age of three...

I watched Brianna, my granddaughter, go a little further along the path to adulthood and maturity when she was picked up from home by one of her friends who drove. No longer is there any need to beg rides to the Lake from her parents...although she doesn't as yet have her own driver's license, many of her friends have theirs.

Ahhh...independence!

It brought back memories of when my daughters found freedom from requesting a ride from parents. It was bittersweet...on the one hand, I was grateful and on the other...well, on the other, this was the beginning of their own independence, further away from me, so many years ago.

He's so active! Pictures turn out fuzzy.

Brianna is well on her way. She's in Grade 12 this coming year; she is maturing in leaps and bounds...way too fast for this grandmother!

What happened to my little girl?

And Graydon, too...He and I have discussions, now. No longer does he take everything someone says as complete and utter truth. He questions everything. He tells me the folks around him don't always like to be bothered by his questions, which centre around the "why?" category. So I countered his nonsense Why's with Why not? Given that scenario, he loved to pass on his knowledge by answering the question himself...

Maple Trees in the Park entwined for eternity...they look like they are dancing a wonderfully slow waltz...

The Park was crowded. There were children everywhere. I noticed there were young parents there whom I knew many years ago when they were youngsters themselves. Wasn't that only yesterday?

At a younger age, when my daughters were small, I never noticed the shrieks and shouts of children. Those sounds were part of my World. I'm much older now; I find myself sneaking away at times to seek some peace.

A favourite spot, in the centre of the two Trees, for hide and seek!

I remembered Roger Creek Park. It was a favourite venue for weddings and photos for special occasions. It was a park I went to when I needed the comfort the large Maple Trees give the human population.

And so I wandered away with my camera for awhile, renewing old acquaintances, still there after all these years.

Still Waters capturing reflected Trees and Sky.

The River was low and still. I remember it as being rushing and busy. But it is Summer and the River is called Roger Creek. And my memory is not what it once was. I think, too, my memories can get confused with other Rivers, other Creeks... all melding together in my mind.

Serene and peaceful Ponds...lovely, lovely Water!

But it was exactly what I needed, regardless of the Creek's stillness. I sat and stared at the Water for a long time, letting my tired body receive satiation from Mother Nature and allowing my mind surcease from problems.

When I felt the urge to go back to the playground, I felt refreshed, as is always the case when Mother Earth and I connect.


*Back to the laughter of children!*

The rest of our vacation passed in double quick time, as it always does. We travelled back on Hwy. 1 through the Fraser Canyon...the Duffy Lake Road made me a little dizzy with its twists and turns. It is a great alternative route, though, on the way to the Island, as it is a good hour shorter than Hwy. 1.

At least in the Summer, this road, which is less utilized than the other, more up-to-date routes, will be one we'll choose more often.

It is good to shake up complacency, sometimes, by taking a road less travelled...

Double the Fun!

2011-07-20T08:13:00.000-07:00

Kaleelah finally grabbing a few zzzz's in Granda's arms

With great anticipation, Graham and I awaited the twins' first visit to the Cariboo.The trip from the Island took a long while, what with Kimeesha feeding two voracious, growing babies and having to stop each time. The trip took twice as long...and must have seemed as if it would never end.

But finally, in the waning hours of the day, the family arrived, safe and sound and hungry once again...

Someone turn the page!

I'd been looking forward to walks in the garden with the babies; with Rain and Mosquitoes the order of our days for the last two months, my wish was not granted. But I'm not sure the twins minded in the least...they were kept busy, with either Graham or myself holding one or the other.

Kaleelah in green and Keauni in yellow

Both of them are such sturdy, little bundles. Both smile and chuckle freely, at almost five months...it was a bonus for me when I was able to make both of them laugh at the same time. Double the fun!

In these photos, I find it easier to tell the differences between them, but in the flesh it is not so simple. The only way I can tell which of the twins I have in my arms is because Kaleelah has only one pointed ear, while Keauni has two...an inheritance from their maternal grandmother.

A very busy Keauni

I'm told Kaleelah is more demanding, while Keauni is calmer and more accepting. I was amazed...Kaleelah sleeps very little, preferring to remain awake rather than enjoy her naptime. I believe she thought there was just too much going on...she did not want to miss a thing!

I love those baby grins...their whole bodies curl, their shoulders rise...they put everything they've got into those wonderful, crooked smiles...

Time to change positions...

It was the best gift...to see this young family doing so well, after a bit of a rocky start...nobody expected twins. It took a bit of time to become accustomed to the thought of double everything.

I'm so pleased with both of their parents...calm, quiet and sure, they do what is required without complaint or fuss. I know quite well that I could not do as well as they, especially if both babes cried at once. That would rattle me, but Kimeesha takes it one step at a time.

Time to change positions NOW!

It was not too difficult this time, to say goodbye. We are travelling to the Coast this week, and will have more time with the babes then...

I'll be visiting with my granddaughter Brianna, who along with her soccer team is off to an event in Manchester, England next week. Her Dad will go along as one of the chaperones. And of course, my daughter and I will have much to catch up on. Graydon has been counting the number of sleeps before we arrive...

And so have I!

Peonies blooming despite the monsoon-like downpours!

Poppies love this climate and are in full bloom...

Flowers on this Black Elder are usually quite pink...it almost looks as if Rain has faded them!

I hope everyone, despite the weather, be it Rain or Heat Waves, has a very happy week, just as I surely will!

An Enchanting Day

2011-07-10T10:31:00.000-07:00

Lovely Hosta!

On some days, when Lucky and I are wandering through the garden, something I can only call a state of grace descends.

For no particular reason I can discern, meaning I am not meditating or doing anything other than just being, I feel as if life has expanded. I feel as if my heart is open and filled with love.

Grasses soaking up Sun's rays...

The day takes on a certain bright quality, luminous and much more pronounced...each Plant becomes a shining beacon, each Boulder takes on a distinctive personality, each Tree, each Leaf glimmers with a certain intensity.

My hearing becomes more acute...instead of a cacophony of shrieks, twitters, and calls from all the Bird life, I can differentiate between each one, even finding the Tree from which the Birdsong emerges. The chatter of Squirrels suddenly has some meaning...

A photo from a past garden

I visit Grasshopper, who has taken up residence in the Sweet Grass patch. He looks up at me, rubbing his back legs. I look into his eyes and the connection between us happens very quickly...Grasshoppers do not take much time in communing with humans, before they are off again...doing whatever it is that Grasshoppers do during a long, warm Summer's day.

The warmth of the Sun and the love that is stationed in my heart gives such a shimmer to the day! Lucky and I wander here and there, with Lucky searching out scents that excite him, bringing out the Puppy who still resides within him.

The Begonias are three times this size since this photo was taken.

We find a large, black Spider. She looks as if she is mostly body...I only see her legs when she moves. But she has the largest eyes! She twists and turns, keeping her eyes glued to mine. What a strange experience...it seems I am communicating with her, as she dances on the ledge of the deck.

She is a Spider I would not want to meet in the dark of night, but she is beautiful now, in the shining Sun. Even her black, furry back reflects and glows from Sun's rays. She keeps her eyes on mine, and I can't look away. I feel a further rush of warmth run through my body...did it come from her?

A Poppy about to burst its pod.

We leave Spider to her day and continue on to the Seeded garden bed, which has bounced into life. There has been much Rain here, a very unusual amount for the Cariboo. As a consequence, greenery is much pronounced, although flowering is still spotty. But this little garden bed has Baby's Breath beginning to show her lovely, white blooms tucked here and there. And Poppy is running rampant.

As I bend down to look at the Flowers about to come into bloom, I feel as if a hand has descended and is stroking my hair. I am startled for a moment, until I discover it is the Birch Tree which sits right beside the garden bed.

Finally time to put out the deck furniture! Graham's workshop in the background...

And then, I am even more startled, as the realization hits that this Tree could not stroke my head...how did her branch reach down this far? I am not tall, the branch is far above my head and there is no Wind. How odd...but still, she moves her Leaves back and forth on my head for another moment, before her Branch is once again above me. I feel another surge of what can only be described as receiving doting, deep affection from another...in this case, from a Birch Tree, one of many here.

Lucky, just after his bath and before he was trimmed!

I feel as if the whole place has become enchanted. I stroke a Boulder who has many times grounded me, when I feel scattered and in need. I will sit on him, during those times, and I will immediately feel a strong connection to Earth, calming me instantly.

The Raspberry patch, now full of blooms and the beginnings of Berries

Today, this Boulder, warmed from a Sun bath, looks as if he is smiling. His face, usually wreathed in a runnelled, thoughtful pose, seems to have changed to one of contentment and pleasure. I wonder if the shadows from the bright Sun has anything to do with it...and then, just like that, I accept the change in Boulder's countenance. This day is not one where I try to find what others consider real.

It is mid-morning...not a time when I would ordinarily see any wildlife. And yet, as Lucky and I wander on, completely relaxed, my bones and muscles feeling fluid, Lucky stiffens and growls. I grab his collar, knowing the signs, feeling the presence of another.

Petunias love the hot, dry climate here

And yes...there ahead of me, working on a fallen nurse Log, is a Bear. He is unbelievably large and old...I know him, he has been here before. He is some distance from me. I know I can reach the door of the Workshop before he can reach me, but strangely, this day I feel no fear, only caution.

Lucky is very alert, watching. As am I...this Bear is big!

Another photo from another time

He turns his head and once again, I feel that certain warmth rush through my body when his eyes meet mine. He grunts, seems to consider continuing on with tearing at the Log, and then turns, slowly meandering along on his way, melting into the deeper Forest.

Lucky is beside himself, now. The Bear is gone, leaving no trace. I find myself missing his huge bulwark of a body...I find myself thinking of the stuffed Bear which once comforted me as a wee child.

Rose shines in the Sun

I let Lucky go. I know he will go no further than the Log; Lucky has changed much since Nate died. He listens well; he no longer chases any wildlife, preferring instead to stay by my side. But the smells from the Bear are too good for Lucky to resist...

Ferns in my former garden at the Coast

I continue to be in awe. Quite suddenly, the thought comes that I want the whole World to experience this unbelievably fascinating entrancing day. I feel a strong urge to send Reiki blessings to the Universe, to everyone and every insect, every animal, bird and fish.

And so, while Lucky 'hunts', I do.

Manifesting Parsley

2011-06-24T09:03:00.000-07:00

The soft, seductive scent of Wild Rose is everywhere...

I'm not a physicist. In fact, it is a subject I have forever thought I had little interest in whatsoever. But recently, I'm once again reading about parallel universes and guess what? Now I really wish I had a physics background in order to understand what I am reading and experiencing...

But my wish for that kind of background will not happen, now. And since my interest in why and how the string theory works is not huge, I guess it doesn't matter at all. What matters is how quantum physics affects me...and so I feel all I am required to do is enjoy in absolute wonder the remarkable incidents which are happening more and more.

I gave up counting the Buds on this Rose!

As an example, the other day I was searching for Parsley bedding plants. I attempted to grow these from Seed, and did have some very weak Seedlings growing in the greenhouse. I use a lot of Parsley; being impatient, I wanted to have plants ready for use in as short a time as possible.

It is late in the season; most nurseries here have little in the way of Herbs or Vegetables left. I went to a department store which has a seasonal nursery. As I'd suspected, there was a section with some very sad looking Vegetables and Herbs...plants which should have been transplanted into the warm, deep, loving Earth a long time ago.

But there was no Parsley anywhere.

The Purple Crabapple Tree also has an unbelievable amount of blossoms!

I asked the clerk in attendance whether they had any Parsley left. She said no, they'd had other people asking for it, and perhaps the next shipment would have a few plants. But there was none in the store at the moment.

Hmmm. But being in the nursery meant that I had to take a bit of time to check things out and besides, I needed some Bark mulch.

I can never just go into a nursery and turn around and leave...who can?

I felt that funny, familiar feeling I have in my gut, where my intuition lies, as I wandered the store. It told me to go back to the Vegetable aisle...perhaps I had missed something?

I ignored it for quite a time. I told myself not to obsess, not to be silly, not to expect a thing when I've been told over and over it isn't there...

The view from our deck, far above the Field, in the Trees...

Just before I went to the check-out to pay for my mulch, I gave in. Alright, said I to myself, okay, I'll go one more time to where the Vegetables are situated.

For whatever reason, I get annoyed when that 'voice' kicks in. By now, I know something is going to happen I have no explanation for, no control over...

I walked down the aisle. I could feel what I call my intuition almost giggling with anticipation. Is this not the strangest thing?

And there, sitting right beside the Rosemary plants which I had searched through just a while ago, was a six-pack of the most gorgeous Parsley plants anyone could ever want. Just one six-pack, beautiful and lush and glowing.

I laughed. What else could I do? That six-pack wasn't there earlier. I had searched this whole area really well.

I awaken to the scent of the Wild Rose each morning...

It was early in the morning...there were no other customers about. I thought perhaps someone had returned this one six-pack, while I was perusing the aisles in the store.

No matter...I was happy to see it there.

I took the Parsley and the mulch to the cashier, the same lady whom I'd asked earlier about the Seedlings.

She looked askance at the Parsley. She said...Where did this come from? After you asked for it, I went and looked for it myself. There was no Parsley there...

I told her I had no idea, that there wasn't any Parsley there when I searched earlier either.

Marguerite showing her cheerful, loving faces.

We discussed the oddity of the whole thing for a time and then she said...Maybe you walked into an alternate Universe, one where there is really great Parsley, and by wanting it, you manifested it in your reality...

And she went on to explain, in very convoluted language, how this could occur.

I understood little of it. I went home and researched, finding myself going deeply down the rabbit hole, finding myself completely confused. I asked Graham, who explained it again. While he was talking, it made sense...as soon as he left, none of it did.

I've decided it doesn't matter. As I've stated before, my mind doesn't wrap itself around scientific matters, especially not something as difficult to comprehend as Quantum Physics.

The scent of Wild Roses will remind me forever of the very beginning of School Summer holidays.

The Parsley wasn't there...and then it was.

It's only one example of manifestation...it is very much the same as entering a full parking lot, knowing I will find a space, even when the sign states there is none. Or searching high and low for a utensil, only to find it in its proper space a short time after. Or having someone call whom I've only just thought about. Or knowing that around the next aisle will be the person who has just popped into my mind...

I take all these examples in my stride, smiling to myself when they happen, happy with my small miracles.

I couldn't capture the other-worldly blue of the Flax, dotted here and there all over the property.

If I was a physicist, I would feel impelled to find a reasonable, logical explanation for these events...

As it is, all I am required to do is believe.

Accidents

2011-06-12T07:40:00.000-07:00

Young Finch drying off in unplanted deck planter

After an accident with a cleaver last week, wherein I almost sliced off the tip of my finger, I find I still have quite a few plants yet to slip into the warm and welcoming Earth.

I was trimming and cutting Carrots, my mind elsewhere in the stratosphere, when the accident occurred. The Carrots were juicy, making my hands wet and orange, when the knife slipped and became embedded in my fingernail.

I stared down at my finger, which still had the cleaver inserted in the nail. I became aware of a huge pain in my shoulder and chest...vaguely, I wondered if I was having a heart attack.

Shock is an amazing thing. There was no pain...as yet...from the finger impaled by the cleaver. I was more concerned about the pain emanating from my shoulder and chest, telling myself to remain calm...just in case.

Sparkling white Saskatoon Berry bushes glimmer throughout the Forest

The sharp twinge in my shoulder receded, although the aftermath was still unpleasant. It was time to deal with the cleaver.

This all occurred in seconds. It astonishes me how many thoughts and ideas occur, racing through the mind, after an accident. Would the tip of the finger be salvageable, where was a towel to stanch the flow of blood which was sure to spurt once the cleaver was removed, would I need to go to the hospital, would I need to call Graham?

The only reason the cleaver was still impaled in my finger was because of the nail. Had it only cut flesh, it would not have stayed stuck.

Tulips did really well this Spring!

Blood flowed freely once I rescued my finger from the cleaver. Once I removed it, that's when the pain from the deep cut just above the quick of the nail hit. That's when I forgot about the pain in my shoulder and chest.

I managed to clean and bandage the slice, happy to find my fingertip still attached. Truly, this cut bled an unbelievable amount and I wanted to make sure it bled out of the nail and not underneath, where I knew it would be a mess if I had to release old blood later.

It was unbelievably painful. Cleaning up after the fact with one hand and a sore shoulder and chest was not pleasant, either. Because my chest and shoulder pain worsened when I moved them, I decided I was not experiencing a heart attack, only another muscle pull.

Lilacs thrive in this climate

It was not until later that I realized I had effectively stopped any idea I had of continuing to place bedding Plants, for the next while.

And I had to face the fact that I was not able to type very well either, so writing on the computer was put on the back burner. I apologize to all my bloggy friends for not commenting for a time...

Time is travelling on; it is now almost the middle of June. My bedding plants are still not all in their respective places. Because of a bandaged hand, I am unable to work very fast...and planting with one hand hampers the whole thing further.

But here, in the Cariboo, Sun shines very late into the evening, and rises very early. One thing I've learned, living here, is that gardens, be they Vegetable or Flower, bounce...one can almost see them grow. The plants not yet placed will catch up to the others in no time.

The Deer didn't find these!

I've also strewn a great amount of Seeds directly into the ground this year. I experimented with it last year, never dreaming of the lush, perfumed growth that occurred in August. The climate is so dry here, the Earth forms a deep, dry crust and in my mind, it would be difficult to keep the Seeds wet enough to germinate.

To my astonishment, germinate they did! And I believe they did better than any of the greenhouse grown Seedlings. This year, my Seeds germinated just fine, but the cool weather has held their growth back.

Amazing colour combo...yellow and red Tulips!

The weather lately has reminded me of coastal climates. It has Rained a great deal, making Vegetation prolifically luxuriant, keeping the Dust down and if I'm not mistaken, keeping the Pollen from bothering me as much.

The Rain and Thunderstorms we experience at this time of year have helped with my impatience to work outside. As much as I love Rain lashing against windows by Wind...it takes the pleasure out of gardening, for me, at any rate.

Even if I were well, it is doubtful I would be outside in stormy weather.

It was a small, irritating accident. It came out of nowhere, when my mind was involved in something else, other than what I was doing.

One of the young Kits from our Squirrel family

My mother, early on in my life, would constantly admonish me to watch what I was doing, where I was going. She knew I was not one to keep my mind involved in the task at hand.

You would think I would have learned that lesson by now.

A Wee Bit o' Reality

2011-05-16T09:13:00.000-07:00

I received a call from my doctor's office the other day. The receptionist told me that the doctor had requested I come in to his office. I felt this was strange, since I'd only just been to see him a week or two before this call. Everything checked out well, at that time, and he had not sent me for any tests.

I questioned the receptionist as to what the reason might be; she mumbled something about a medical review. Even though I had no idea what the doctor might be reviewing, I allowed myself a small bit of hope...had they perhaps found a new treatment for Fibro I hadn't heard about?

Since I didn't know what the whole thing might entail, I cancelled one appointment, as a result of having visitors that week. I thought, when I phoned and cancelled, that the receptionist ( a different lady, this time) sounded a little knowing. When she realized I didn't know what the appointment was about, she changed the subject to how cool the weather has been.

I didn't think much about The Appointment...it was just another thing to do in an already busy week ahead.

I was still not thinking about what the doctor might want, out of the blue like this, when I settled myself in his office. My mind was on a whole cadre of different tasks I had ahead of me.

After the preliminary greetings, my doctor said...I guess you're wondering why you're here?...

I began to be aware that he was a wee bit nervous. And that made me focus more on where I was and...why was I here?

I could see him thinking...In for a penny, in for a pound...and, with a little grin, he told me that since I was on a couple of medications for Fibromyalgia that could cause either Alzheimer's disease or dementia, that Fibro itself can cause them, he felt, at my age, that I should be tested for those two conditions.

All I heard was Dementia, Alzheimer's and...test. A test!

Good grief. My eyebrows shot up and I stared at him, wide-eyed.

My doctor, who reminds me of one of my granddaughter Brianna's friends...he seems about that young...began to giggle nervously. For him, I suppose, it must have felt as if he was facing his grandmother. I could see and feel his apprehension at what he was planning on doing.

He quickly explained. My doctor felt that aging was one of the things the medical profession was ignoring. He is all about prevention, he said, and since I'd just turned sixty, he felt he had to talk with me to make sure I knew what aging was all about.

Excuse me?

And then he went on to state statistics...on average, women die at the age of 75 and men at the age of 72. Women usually get Alzheimer's and dementia more than men, who statistically die of stroke or heart attack. He hurriedly explained, as I was about to fall off the chair, that these were only statistics...most people live much longer.

I kept thinking...they must have gotten those figures from somewhere!

I began to laugh...my usual reaction to shock. Some perspective arrives, after I let out inappropriate and nervous, forceful energy in laughter. Usually.

My doctor watched me. My laughter took on a nervous edge...was he already thinking I was demented?

I told him I couldn't pass the test...I could hardly remember anything. I told him I had recently joined Lumosity.com and that I was doing brain exercises every day. I told him I took my dog for walks every day, that I worked hard physically in the garden. I told him I could not pass tests...even an eye examination has sweat pouring down my face.

I tried to come up with as much as possible, to prove I was still mentally coherent...anything, just so I wouldn't have to take that test. I caught myself almost begging...

The doctor ignored it all. He told me the test was very simple, it was not about the questions so much as how I dealt with them, my body language, and so on. And that there was much that could now be done to help with dementia/Alzheimer's.

Well. If one knows one is to be tested for losing their minds, then perhaps one can visit the doctor in a better, more prepared frame of mind, one not shut down by shock and stupefaction, at the fact that statistically, at the age of sixty, there may only be fifteen years left to one...

I have never contemplated how much longer I would have to live. I knew about those statistics the doctor rattled off to me. I just had no idea they applied to me. I have forever held the opinion I would live to be 104. But, even if I lived to be eighty or ninety, there are only twenty or thirty years, conceivably, left to live.

Time goes very quickly, these days. The last ten years have gone by in a flash...

He began the test. He asked me the date, where I lived, what country I was in, where his office was. He asked me to remember three things...apple, table, and penny. Except he has a South African accent and penny came out of his mouth as pain.

He looked astonished as I recited apple, table and pain back to him, when he asked what three words I was to remember. He mentioned it again, again I heard pain. He tried to describe the penny; he said it was a coin, a round metal object you pay with. Still! I heard pain. I could not think what pain had to do with a coin.

Addled, I watched him take his wallet out and hold up a penny. Oh! Oh! A penny!

I just knew I would be the first person declared demented because I couldn't understand an accent.

After that, I was asked to write a sentence, fold a paper and place it on the floor, and subtract seven from 100, then seven from 93, etc.

It all caught up with me in the subtraction. After 93, I no longer knew who, where, what or why. I stared at the doctor, my mind a complete blank. Were there other numbers? What was a number? Oh, my goodness...

For just a second or two, I learned what Alzheimer's might be like for those so afflicted. For just that moment, my brain felt like a hole, like there was only Air where my brain should be.

The doctor watched me; suddenly, I could tell he was a doctor, albeit young, and a good one.

He was aware of my struggle and so, I didn't try to hide it. I showed my astonishment, for only a moment, and then, closed my eyes and concentrated like never before...

After what seemed like hours but was really only seconds, I was able to visualize the numbers once more. I was able to think once again.

After the questions were completed and after the doctor told me I passed the test in the high percentile, we discussed the moment where my mind went completely blank.

He told me this occurs more often in the aging brain. He explained why...something about blood flow, lack of exercise and a few more ditties I have stuffed away until I'm ready to really have a good think about them.

He warned me about lack of acceptance of aging; he'd seen too many people become angered and embittered at themselves and their partners/families because of impatience and fear of increasing age-related problems.

It is the way it is...he said...I am concerned that here in this country we ignore aging, we try to stay young. Any signs we might be getting older are hidden. And then I see the elderly not getting the respect they deserve, only because their bodies and minds cannot keep up with the young...

He looked so earnest and so young as we chatted. He knew I worked with elderly patients; he was somewhat surprised at my shocked reaction to the test. He said...You are a senior, after all.

And therein lies the rub. I have not, as yet, considered myself a senior. Nor have I ever considered how many years might be left, in my life.

A wee bit o' reality is a good thing, for the Queen of Denial.

On the drive home, I tasted the word senior, as it applied to me.

It felt good.

Actually, it felt right!

A Thoughtful Spring

2011-05-08T07:10:00.000-07:00

Graydon and his tongue!

It feels like ages since I've written...and when I look at the date, it is. Time is speeding up these days; there doesn't seem to be enough of it to get every last item on the to-do list struck off.

And...Spring has not let coolish weather deter her. My old friends...Ligularia, Hosta, Poppy, Tulips...are not growing as quickly as I'd like, but growing they are. Today, after a long wait, after a period of time where it only Snowed, it's been Raining. I love every precious drop!

I felt so homesick after our last visit to the Coast at Easter. We had such a great time, seeing all of them...

Pretending to choke...ahh, Graydon!

The family is, every one, doing well; we missed Barb and Bryan, who were off on a Hawaiian cruise. Brianna began her new job last Saturday and has really applied herself to her school work. Graydon...ahh, Graydon! He rarely smiles for the camera anymore; instead, with his eyes dancing, out comes his tongue. Each and every time! What else would a four year old boy do? I find him very handsome, regardless.

Brianna and Keauni (I think!)

The whole family descended upon my daughter and son-in-law's home for a superb Ham and Scalloped Potatoes dinner for Easter. The twins were adorable in their first Easter dresses...yellow and beribboned! I was so impressed with my grandson Graydon...there was absolutely no sign of jealousy, as he gently stroked baby arms and legs. At that moment, he fell in love with Kaleelah and Keauni, just as all the rest of us have.

Our sad Lucky with his Bear

Upon our return to the Cariboo, we found Lucky sleeping on furniture, trying to find comfort, I imagine. He's never done that before. He also confined himself in the garage, by nosing open the door, and did a fair bit of damage to the car parked inside and the door...

Poor old Puppy. I knew it was much too soon to leave him after Nate's death; yet plans had been made. It will take him awhile to relax again, to not have his nose stuck to my jeans..

Anybody remember the But an' Ben?

We welcomed visitors from Scotland shortly after our return from our Easter holiday. It took me only a short while, this time around, to tune my ear to the Scottish accent and sayings. We were the lucky recipients of a book as a hostess gift...Maw Broon's But an' Ben Cookbook. I'm not familiar with Maw Broon, but I listened to the memories the book brought back for Graham. In perusing it, I find many Scottish folk tales within, not to mention some great recipes such as Nettle Soup, which requires a glug o' cream...

Nettle Soup!

It feels to me like change is in the Air...more change than only transitioning into Spring. Do you feel it? It was so difficult to leave the Coast...not just the family, but also the Ocean, the gardens and Flowers. The green.

It is time, now, to make plans to move back home. Heartache for something so much a part of me...the Sea Coast and family...is coming to an end.

There is no rush, heart soreness notwithstanding. We will look carefully at all options, this time, before we leap. I am anticipating the planning, sometimes so much more exciting than actually doing the event. I am aware of the amount of work moving entails...

But there is more than just a change of residence, I think, within me. For instance, I have recently undergone a long dry period wherein I could not read anything of any content.

It's interspersed with stories and cartoons

I found myself reading magazines, anything of little matter, to lull myself to sleep at night. Yet, I continue to buy books...the pile of unread books on my night table is growing taller...in the hopes that soon I might want to actually read one.

I believe this odd behaviour on my part might be coming to an end. I have recently finished reading two books...The Room and Little Bee. Both of these are gifts from my daughter and both were difficult, in an emotional way, for me.

But both seemed to open the door for further reading.

Kaleelah and Keauni asleep (1 mo. old)

Not reading concerned me. It was such a transition from my usual conduct...I have always found time to read. Books were my salvation; they allowed me to live in a different World, in a different way. Books saw me through so many parts of life from which I wanted escape.

I was actually terrified I would go through the rest of my life reading seed catalogues and People magazine. This last period of not being able to concentrate for long on any written sentence was a lengthy one.

And I am so glad it appears to be over! But quite incidentally, the other day I met an older friend in a bookstore. She was looking confused, which, if you know my friend, is a strange departure from the normal for her.

She looked at me...What should I read? she asked with some anxiety...

I suggested any number of titles to her. None seemed to interest her. Now, my friend once loved reading and writing...one begat the other, she'd tell me, over and over.

Keauni? Heh!

I was becoming confused. Finally, she admitted to me that she'd recently found no interest in reading. She would pick up a book, she said, and find herself still with the cover closed a long while after she'd sat down to read.

I told her my story. We looked at each other, perplexed. She said...I wonder if it is because of all the short snippets I read and write on the internet? All that instant messaging and stuff? Short bits, here and there?...

I thought about it and finally, had to say I didn't know. I do the same on the Internet. But I know many people who don't let short bits of information from the Internet stop them from reading books with meaty content.

It's just a stage...I told her...A stage in life with too many other things on your mind. It feels like that with me. It feels like I can't settle...

Kaleelah and Keauni

She wasn't convinced. She left the bookstore with a pile of magazines and said she was happy she could still concentrate on those. Later, after I'd thought about our conversation, I was sure she felt her age was also to blame.

And there's another transition. Sixty was a turning point for me...all of a sudden, I have more confidence than I've ever had. And I can't explain that, either.

Change is a part of life, of course. Many times throughout my life a sojourn I feel comfortable on comes to an end and another begins. I can't foresee any of it.

Purple suits the two of them!

For me, the best thing I can do is accept each day, each change as it comes. If I can't concentrate on the written word for awhile, well, there are other things, other hobbies which get me through.

And, perhaps, the story in my head and the story in my friend's head is much more interesting to me and she than anything we could read.

There is a whole lifetime there, in our minds, after all.

Greeting Old Friends

2011-04-19T05:18:00.000-07:00

As I write this, most of the Snow lying about has departed. The Soil is still frozen, nonetheless...I attempted to dig a small hole for an errant Tulip bulb. Even as the tips of other Bulbs are showing green, the Earth had not yet heard the message.

I am awaiting, with great longing, the soft scent coming from warm, Southerly breezes. Wind, this afternoon, has a very sharp edge...one which chased me indoors after spending a morning in the Snow-free landscape.

I injured my shoulder a few days ago, which has hampered me in many ways, typing being one of them. It is not serious, only somewhat painful. It has kept me indoors, resting it, for most of my time. But this morning, after returning from the vet's for a check-up of Lucky's ears, I could not resist the warm-ish early Sunshine, no matter an injured shoulder!

As all gardeners will do, I wandered about, raking a bit here, poking about there. I pondered the fact I now recognized favoured perennials which were showing the minutest signs of life. Last year, I had not lived here long enough.

There was no formal garden here, when we took ownership of our home. It was a completely blank slate. So many plants have been planted over the last four seasons of Spring we've lived here I have trouble remembering them all. Many only lasted a season, at any rate...until I finally grasped an understanding of which Plants could survive the harsh climate they would have to live in.

The Plants reaching for the Spring sunshine this morning have proved their worth. Many Tulips are pushing through the frozen Soil. I see signs of Forget-Me-Nots, Daffodils, Poppies, a wee Violet here and there, Pansies and Borage seedlings. Many of the old friends are still snoozing, waiting for warmer weather. Their roots are firm as yet, I notice with a bit of trepidation, during a quick check.

I make connections with Plants in the garden, as I plant them, but it has taken time with this one. I was also heavily involved in building raised beds...it became more a matter of...Yes, this Plant will look good here, and the other here, the next over there...

You know how it goes.

And so the connections I formed were tenuous, at best. But the Plants which continue to emerge every year, every season, mostly right on time, these are the ones I greet now as dear, old friends.

Usually, these favoured ones are perennials or small shrubs. We planted an Apple and a Cherry Tree. Although both are doing well, they are still young, without the wisdom of the wild, elderly Trees we are surrounded by.

I have discovered it takes time to 'know' a Tree in an entire Forest of them. I made the mistake of thinking I could just pick a nice Tree, one I was attracted to, and make friends, thereby connecting.

It didn't happen. At least not right away, as I fully expected it to do. Each Tree I approached was friendly enough, but neither of us had that energy surge which occurs, in these situations, between us.

Over time, after I had lost patience with the whole thing and had largely forgotten about it, each Winter, I would notice a big, old but curiously graceful Paper Birch which grew in the base of the Draw in front of our home.

I noticed it in the Winter for obvious reasons. Even though the Tree towers over the rest growing near it, I would not have been able to see it after the fleshing out of Leaves, from her and others...her babies...around her.

In the Winter months, however, her triangled top shows clearly...a beautiful sight with fresh Snow layering her filigreed branches. Birds have nested in the crotch of the triangle...a perfect spot! I watched a family of Robins nest there last year, although there is no longer any sign of them.

This is the Tree I have a connection with. An odd choice...one whose top seems to have split, making her appear headless, although I know she is not. She is old, she has watched over the land for a long time before I ever knew it. And she is a survivor.

But from all the hundreds of Trees here on this Land, this old Birch is the one who will tell me stories of the countryside, of the way things were. She is my inspiration, my guide and my muse, a part of my Spirit.

I am happy to see she has, once more, survived the long, gruesome Winter just passed. I look up to see one of her fingers pointing to a lone Eagle flying high overhead. We both rejoice at the sighting...Eagles are rarely seen during colder days.

I marvel at how lacy her tangled branches appear...naked and black against a clear, blue Sky, twisting and turning every which way...yet inordinately graceful. Her trunk is long, curving and white, largely without branches. She is beginning to shed long, white strips of her bark, exposing reddish-orange inner bark, which will turn black with age.

It is not surprising I am drawn to her. Birch Trees help mankind and animals in myriad ways. She is Winter food for Deer, Moose, Porcupine and Beaver. In years gone by, she has lent her Bark for baskets, cradles and canoes. Her Bark was also used for wrapping and storing food, and as roofing for pit houses. She gave medicine for colds. Her sap is fermented to make beer, wine, spirits and vinegar.

I've not had the pleasure of trying any of her products, but I did notice a bottle of Birch syrup in one of the health food stores I frequent. With the amount of Paper Birches in the Forest here, where I live, I've often thought it would be fun to tap a few, but I have no idea how to begin.

The Paper Birch is the Tree of new beginnings and new perspectives. A perfect Tree to choose for another ally!

As I prepare my Tea, I notice another dark Cloud, stronger Wind. The Leaves I've just finished raking are catching the Wind, whirling and spiralling about. Snowflakes are beginning to descend once again.

Will Winter never give up?

But then, I remember the growth my old friends in the garden are showing.

Spring will not give up, either.

This, That and the Other..

2011-04-03T07:31:00.000-07:00

I am writing this accompanied by the gurgle of Water from the melting Snow on the roof. I have placed receptacles to catch some of the melt...the Earth seems muddy and wet right now, but it will not take long to dry. On a well Water system, I have learned to use what Nature provides, with regards to precipitation, as much as I can.

The splashing of the running Water is loud to my ears at first, and then recedes to the background. During the last week, much Snow has melted. I am beginning to see the blackened remains of last year's garden. I wonder to myself...How will I ever get these garden beds presentable?...and even as the thought drifts through my mind, I know it will all get done eventually.

It's the way of it, in the Spring...

It is a strange sort of Spring this year. While I have so much to be grateful for, there are other things which I am not so joyful about. I find, to my dismay, some days...more days than not... that I am tending to more negative than positive thoughts and emotions. My intent is to change that not so insignificant way of being.

As I begin to rake the Flower beds, ridding them of the blackened Leaves and Stalks still standing, even after five feet of Snow covered and surrounded them for most of the Winter...as I begin, I wonder if that is just the way of it, too...the late Winter-early Spring blues that can take hold, darkening every thing and thought with a touch of the same black the Leaves hold...

When I look back over the sixty Winters of my life, I believe I've felt this way every year at the end of the season...perhaps the feeling is a part of the rites of Spring.

There are flocks and flocks of Birds travelling through, on their way to their breeding grounds. It sounds like I'm in an aviary when I open the doors to the outside...shrieks and twitters and pure musical notes surround the Forest. The bird feeder requires filling every few days...watching who has fought and won for the best access to the seed takes up much of my time.

I must remember, I tell myself as I pull on a mushy Peony stalk, finally breaking off the recalcitrant thing, that all these Birds and their babies become drunk with joy and seed and Spring. They fly every which way, with no concern for glass windows and doors. Should the window or door be open...well, in a Bird's reasoning, there is no cause not to explore the dim interior of our home.

And if the door or window is closed, the sickening thumps tell me a Bird has flown directly against it. Most times, Birds recover, after a period of rest and recuperation, where they all look surprised and shocked at the clear obstacle that stood in their way.

Some Birds, of course, cannot survive the blow...these we bury in the garden. And some of them...it seems to me as if they appreciate that shocking smack into the glass. I will watch the same Bird try over and over again to fly into the house. Over and over again, he will hit the glass.

This, to me, is the definition of insanity. When something doesn't work and one keeps doing the same thing continuously anyway...doesn't it seem like there must be something not quite right?

As I rake Limbs, Leaves and Fir Needles off the half-frozen Flower beds, I muse over Lucky, who has not bounced back after Nate's death.He has turned into a completely different Dog, with hardly any interest in anything at all.

On the day of Nate's death, a huge herd of Deer came to the lower gate. It was the oddest thing I've seen. Deer are always around here, but rarely in such large numbers, all at once. It seemed they were not interested in food or even browsing for it. They stood at the gate, looking up at Lucky, who sat on the deck.

There was no sound out of either Lucky or the Deer. If communion was occurring, it was done in complete stillness. It felt very like the Deer were offering their condolences to Lucky on the death of Nate.

After some time had passed, I continued my raking, leaving Lucky and the Deer to stare at each other. I could feel the empathetic energy in the Air, be it in a personalized manner or not.

The young Deer I have written about previously stood at the very entrance, his nose barely able to clear the top of the gate itself. The whole scenario...the youngster and the herd of Deer behind him... seemed so remarkable to me.

I felt a little as if I was intruding on some peculiar, private moment between the Deer and Lucky and after a time, I left them to it.

There was another moment, just before Nate's death, where I felt I was intruding in a particularly human way. I took a photo...and as soon as I did, I knew that photo would be a private one.

Nate was lying on his side on the floor. Lucky was in his bed. But suddenly, Lucky got up and lay down facing Nate, nose to nose. Knowing that Nate would be gone the next day, tears came instantly to my eyes...and then the practical, unbelieving side of me took hold for a moment. But the two of them stayed that way for a long, long time, nose to nose.

The practical, unbelieving side of me fled. I knew I was witnessing an extraordinary act, where the two Dogs were saying goodbye.

The photo I took will remind me that Animals mourn, just as we do, but that they also have an extra sense which allows them to communicate without words.

I am thankful that I am blessed with a strong sense of awareness. I would not have missed either of these two events for the World. Had I been focused entirely upon myself and how sad I felt, I could easily have overlooked them.

The Snow continues to melt. I have decided the gushing gurgling of the Water from the melting Snow is the sound of Spring to me, almost more than the Bird song.

When the gurgling stops, Winter has ended.

And Bird song has just begun..

Nate

2011-03-23T12:46:00.000-07:00

“Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.” (William Shakespeare)

They say a Dog is a Dog is a Dog; I'm not sure I agree. Our Nate was one Dog who left his mark, both figuratively and literally, wherever he went. He left us, and this life, yesterday morning, on his own, final journey.

I walk a ways with him, as he goes...just a short way, only until I know he is on his true path...

And I envision the following:

Nate passes over the Bridge, into the welcoming arms of Katrina and her Dog, Gussy and Heidi's Dog, Roscoe. I see Nate waver, at the entrance to the Bridge, his nose in the Air. He looks back...but the extraordinary essences and Katrina's light, happy voice propel him forward, hesitantly at first...Where is the pain? he thinks in wonderment...and then...he starts a slow lope.

The Bridge is long, rising in the middle. There is a small, burbling River, sparkling and winking, in the warm Sunlight, rushing along beneath it.

Many hesitate when they reach the top of the rise on the Bridge. Thoughts of the life just completed race through the mind, sadness and loneliness can take hold. And there is no going back, once the rise is reached.

But Katrina, her menagerie behind her, kneels down, her arms wide, her hands out, fingers fluttering, saying...Come on, Natey, it's all okay, Buddy...

Nate hears his nickname, and as his face breaks into his trademark wide grin, the last of his wariness disappears. He runs...his own speeding-bullet racing run...over the top of the Bridge, bowling Katrina over in his enthusiasm and joy. He greets Gussie, re-membering him from Before...

Roscoe marches over; his strong personality matches Nate's and the two greet each other, dancing around and around, marking their spots. Time enough...so much time!...to accept each other more fully.

Katrina leads the welcoming committee to The Field, where other beloved Pets discover their bodies, their limbs, after a long period of painful constriction. Nate races, circling the Field, his sleek, black body a thing of beauty and grace...

A fanciful vision, you might say. But it comforts me.

I met Nate at the same time I met Graham. He was very young at the time, only a year old. I had two dogs then; Gussy and Lucky. Gussy, a very large Lab/Newfoundland cross, was twelve years old and Lucky only a few months.

Gussy, as old and sick as he was, wasted no time in putting Nate in his place when he visited. It was his right, he felt, to keep these two pups on the straight and narrow.

But Gussy had very little time left on this Earth, as it developed. Lucky transferred his allegiance onto Nate...after the death of Gussy, Nate took on what he considered his role...the protection of Lucky.

Throughout his life, Nate never forgot his role, to the detriment of any other Dog who attempted to make friends with Lucky. Especially little white Dogs.

A neighbour had a friend who owned a small, white Dog. This Dog frightened Lucky constantly, when he was still a Puppy. And small, white Dogs, in Lucky's brain, became a huge threat.

It is comical that Lucky is so fearful of these very small animals; but Nate, in his protective mode, was not funny. Through the whole duration of his life we were not able to change his mindset.

Both Dogs are big, with Lucky even bigger than Nate. Fortunately, we soon clicked onto Nate's decision to take out all small white Dogs and made sure he was never in the same vicinity. We averted what could have been a disaster.

In my mind Nate's sleek, black coat with white touches at his toes and chest, made him look as if he continually wore a tuxedo.

And he was a gentleman...he would pause before entering, looking up, meeting my eyes, to be invited indoors. He would give his special look, over his shoulder, to say thank you when he was given food or water.

Oh, but the two of them were terrors when they were young! There was no stopping them! To one who was accustomed to only one very aged Dog, admittedly large, but arthritic-ally slow...I remained in shock at the amount of hair, dirt and dust Lucky and Nate brought into the house.

And, as they grew older, so did my relationship with Graham and Scott. We all grew into our respective roles, just as Lucky and Nate did.

Lucky had his Girl, in my granddaughter Brianna, and Nate had his Boy, in my stepson Scott. They each respected the others right to be in their own Person's presence.

Lucky is neurotic; Brianna did a tremendous job in training him. To this day, if Brianna's name is mentioned, Lucky automatically sits.

Even though Brianna was busy with Lucky when she stayed with us, Nate had a special spot in her heart. He would allow her to cuddle and relax with him, whereas Lucky squirmed, alert all the while.

Brianna has always maintained that Nate gave the very best kisses. He had a way of gently extending his tongue and, in the slightest, softest way possible, would touch the recipient's cheek...

So many lovely memories pass through my mind...Nate sneaking into Scott's room and onto the bed, as soon as the lights were off and Lucky was safely ensconced in his own bed. Nate, deciding it was his right, as a Puppy, to chase the Cows in the next field, bringing the police to our home with a warning. Nate, throwing his muddy,slobbery ball onto someone's dressy, white lap, and then chasing his favourite toy, long and hard, over and over...

Nate was bigger than Lucky when they met, but it was not long before Lucky became much taller than Nate. His legs were long...he looked, and still does, like a Deer when he ran.

Nate, when young, looked like a black, shiny torpedo, as he raced around a Field or the Garden. He would use his whole weight, as he body-checked Lucky, who weighed far less than Nate. And so, Lucky knew, early in his life, that he would have to be faster than Nate.

It was truly a thing of beauty to watch these two young and very healthy Dogs do their racing dance, faster and faster, circling the backyard.

As Nate grew older and more arthritic, he would incite Lucky, with very, short mincing steps, into racing...up and down the deck and around the property on the other side...and then he would look at me, with a wide grin, as if to say...see, I can still get him going...

We missed him dreadfully this morning, as Lucky and I went for our usual walk. Nate was our big, black, grounding force...it felt as if his energy kept us safe.

We stared at each other, Lucky and I, neither having the heart to walk anywhere, when Lucky's ears perked, suddenly. He looked up, and around, stood up, wagging his tail.

We both felt Nate's strong energy. My eyes followed Lucky's and I knew Nate was racing through all the places on our property he had not had the ability to access when he was alive.

I could...almost...see him.

We will find our way, Lucky and Graham and I, just as Nate has found his. There will be a force missing, as we go through the rhythm of our daily lives.

Nate has left us with good memories, strong recollections. I will miss running my hands over his sleek body, I will miss his body leaning against mine, as he begged for Reiki. I will miss his soft, gentle kisses, given in thanks.

I will miss him.

Sleep tight and good night, our dear sweet Natey...

Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives." (John Galsworthy)

A Freshening Wind

2011-03-15T12:15:00.000-07:00

It doesn't seem as if Winter will ever release his hold. The weather has been cold, with gale force Winds. The Wind dries the Snow left on the ground, only to bring in another Storm with Snow to replace what has melted and dried.

Yesterday, nevertheless!...there were hints of Spring borne on the Wind, which came from the South. I imagined the sweet soul-inspiring scents of Daffodils, Narcissus and Crocus blooming on the Island swirling around and into my very core.

It lifted my spirits, those imagined scents.

I have allowed myself to drift into a small funk. Many things contribute to it...homesickness for my family, the weather, being house-bound because of the incessant Ice and Snow. An unfair betrayal which has occurred didn't help either. Upcoming medical procedures, none of which are pleasant, are in the back of my mind, as well.

And then there is the Earthquake and Tsunami crisis in Japan...

It was time to move on. Wind, blowing so strongly, with gusts which almost lifted me off my feet, propelled me back into my dusty, hair-ball filled house.

I felt a surge of energy, something sadly lacking over the last while. I pulled out the vacuum cleaner, the dust cloths, the myriad items required to do a thorough Spring cleaning.

I moved furniture, changing their usual place. I pulled items out of closets, intent on finding either designated spots for them or donating to the Salvation Army.

The Dogs slept, hardly disturbed at all by the chaotic activities. Winter has been difficult on our aged Dogs...Nate has lost an incredible amount of weight, after his last illness. Lucky's ears bother him in extreme cold and Wind. I was happy to see them dreaming the rest of the Winter away...

I worked hard, using muscles whimpering for hard exercise. Walking outside right now is dangerous...there is hidden Ice everywhere. Yogic stretches done inside don't have the same power, for me, as a fast walk along the Animal paths on the Land does, or even a meander around and about with camera in hand.

As I worked, I decided I would concentrate fully on the task at hand, instead of re-thinking events in the past.

How serene staying in the complete present was! Right then, right now...I was and am happy.

I remember, as well, to dream forward, to dream of a contented future. I remember how grateful I am to have the beautiful family I have, all of them doing very well. I remember how amazing it is that all my needs are met, on a daily basis.

How awe-inspiring it is when I have a thought or a need to have my wish or dream filled almost instantly!

Synchronicity happens often, startling me sometimes. It will only be a matter of a small amount of time before I will be in a place closer to the family...I feel the reassurance well up from deep inside.

I remember to send prayers and Reiki blessings to the country of Japan, so beleaguered by Mother Nature right now. I allow sadness which drifts across the Ocean to envelop me for a moment, wanting so badly to hold and give surcease from pain and grief to all...

In the wake of all this cleaning and dreaming of an uncomplicated and happy future, I find I feel well today. I have decided to have a spa day...I am going for a facial and a haircut. I have done my nails, sorely in need of help. I even...cut...my toenails, an unbelievably difficult thing when pain from arthritis in malformed toes hampers me. And tomorrow, I have an appointment for massage therapy...it will put me back into balance, as painful as it is.

All is not perfect, whatever perfect is...I don't know that it can ever be, with factors beyond my control popping up on a continuous basis. But it is pretty damn near.

A kick in the proverbial butt works wonders, when one is sitting a little too long on the pity pot...

A Weekend of Awakenings

2011-03-04T13:56:00.000-08:00

Both of us were consumed with excitement as we drove to the Island from our home in the Cariboo. Two babies were waiting to meet us, two very small girl babies. And there were all the rest of the family, as well...we hadn't seen any of them since before Christmas.

Far too long...

Our first stop, after leaving the Island ferry, was the hospital. It was so great to see Kimeesha and Scott, both wearing wide, proud grins. The babies were in the ICU neonatal unit, attached to feeding tubes, in order to bring their weight up.

Oh! How lovely the two of them were, curled up together in the incubator...one with a yellow hat and one with a pink.

They looked completely identical to me, both with black hair delicately framing tiny shell-like ears. How feather light they each were in my arms! It was such a blessing to wrap my arms around each one of them. I was privy to that wonderful newborn baby scent, as I held them close.

We battled a Snow Storm the next morning on our way to see the twins...one of those sudden Coastal Storms that can blanket the Island with a foot or two of Snow in a matter of hours. We were caught up in a traffic jam, only just escaping the closure of the highway by taking an alternate route, which was also closed soon after we detoured.

It was one of those days where I was extremely grateful that we both knew the area well enough to take that detour, otherwise we may not have spent as much time as we did with the babies.

Kimeesha was sent home from hospital before the babies were ready to leave. It was difficult for her to leave the twins behind; she goes in each day to feed and bathe and love...

And then we travelled to Port Alberni, where the rest of our family lives. We spent a whole day with Brianna, who caught us up on her life...her soccer, school, and her friends. And we had an evening spent baby sitting Graydon...he managed to get his Granda to read four books before bedtime, rather than just the usual one.

We had the most amazing birthday party! My dear family gave me a truly creative gift. There were little notes decorating each individually wrapped present, all held in a dark brown wicker basket that contained so much love.

And then, my daughter Heidi was sent off to have lunch and a pedicure, while my son-in-law and his brother cooked all of us a scrumptious barbecued Roast of Beef, with all the trimmings, as a surprise for Heidi.

It was a day filled with good energy and much laughter. It was a day to remember, that day when I turned the corner to sixty and my daughter embraced her fortieth decade.

I have to say the beginning of a new decade feels full of anticipation for me. In my quieter moments, I wonder what the next ten years will hold...

I know with each passing day I awaken a little more.

The quote on my family's birthday card that was given to me states..."I'll do my dreaming with my eyes wide open, and I'll do my looking back with my eyes closed."...Clay Walker

It's a perfect reminder for me! Let me tell you, the quote quite made me gulp.

It really is time to dream forwards...

The twins will be home with Scott and Kimeesha on Saturday. I know they have already changed, from the delicate preemie newborns I had the greatest of privileges to meet.

Just as Graydon and Brianna change, from one visit to another, so shall these two.

It is the way of things. Heh.

It truly was a weekend of many awakenings...

Kaleelah and Keauni!

2011-02-21T06:40:00.000-08:00

We received the call at six AM. on Sunday morning. The twin babes were not going to wait any longer...they were on their way!

I wish we had arrived in time; we are on our way to the Island on Tuesday. But those two little girls were tired of waiting for Grandpa and Grandma...they're letting us know in no uncertain terms that patience may not be their long suit.

In my Cosmic horoscope from Astrology.com this morning, the writer had this to say:

"Today's psychic thunderstorm includes Mercury uniting with Mars (2:45PM PST) and Neptune (5:08PM PST) while Mars also unites with Neptune (8:18PM PST) - all of this happening at 29 degrees of Aquarius. Some of you may recall that on December 13, 2010, we had a triple union of Mercury, Mars and Pluto in early Capricorn. That was quite a handful.

There's no telling how a Mercury, Mars and Neptune trinity will influence each person - let alone humanity. And then consider all the souls being born around the globe having this union of three primary planets at the same degree of the zodiac in their birthcharts. Any one of these three alignments is an enormous powerhouse for potential illumination."

So. It seems these two may be "enormous powerhouses" with Mercury, Mars and Neptune in their charts!

UPDATE:

Some time has passed since I began this post. The babies were born at 8 AM, both weighing 5 lbs 11 oz, by Cesarean section. Both are well, as is Kimeesha, their mother. And Scott...our Scottie is now a father! Of twins, for goodness sake!

This has truly been a miraculous morning.

Speaking of miracles, there were an awe-inspiring lot of them sent from the Universe last week.

With the arrival of the twins, it is way too difficult to decipher them all...my mind is scrambled. I want to list them here; in all ways, they were simply extraordinary.

The weather has been very cold again...another Arctic front has slid upon us once more...and this makes some of the sightings rather strange.

The first was a huge Daddy Longlegs Spider who decided to visit, just as I came out of the shower. This felt right in one way...her message is courage. But where did she come from? She most certainly was not there when I went into the shower!

I placed her in the garage, where she might at least have a chance of surviving until Spring. Had I put her directly outside, she would have frozen in a mere minutes.

The next was the Moth. She visited in the dark of night, when dreams hold sway. She batted at my face until I woke up...or at least I thought I woke up...rather irritated and swatting at the Moth. I recall seeing what looked like white feathers falling to the floor as I batted the quite large white Moth away, wondering where all these Insects were coming from in the middle of a very cold Winter.

But there were no white feathers on the floor the next morning and certainly, no sign of the Moth. I had been dreaming.

Then there were the lights, in the middle of the day, in the Sky. I was out on the deck on a sunny afternoon...still very cold, but almost cozy in the warmth of the Sun, dreaming about one thing or another when coloured lights, beautifully coloured streaming lights, danced across the Sky.

I stared, open-mouthed. What was it? I have seen Aurora Borealis lights, when I've visited friends in Saskatchewan, but never in the brightness of an afternoon. Those lights were similar to what I was seeing, but oh! these were so much brighter than my memory of them.

I was mesmerized. I wanted my camera, but I didn't want to leave the colours in the Sky, not even for a moment. And then, oh wow! an Eagle flew across the colours. So close he was, so very close to me...I stared into his eyes, just as he locked eyes with me.

I could not believe it. With the cold temperatures, I have not seen a Bird anywhere, let alone a Bald Eagle. In the Summer, Eagles will circle above our home, and it is not unusual to see him then.

But this big Bird appeared from nowhere, looking at me, and then flying directly into the lights, until he was only a tiny pinprick in the distance.

It sounds delusional, when I talk about it. It is such a cliche. An Eagle flying across Northern Lights? In the Winter? Even I might ask for a break on that one. But it is true.

There were others who saw the lights; I was not the only one by any means. But no one saw the Eagle fly past...

Eagle was my mother's Totem.

It is enough, right now, that I am aware of all the special occurrences. And that I have remembered them here.

And now it is time to pack for the trip to the Island. It is time to gather myself for meeting two new souls who have arrived. Kaleelah and Keauni...twin Pisces babies, with a Life Path number of 8.

The same as me.

I think that's quite miraculous, all on its own!

Spirit of Spring

2011-02-09T11:59:00.000-08:00

I enjoy rising early in the morning, even in Winter's dark. It is the time of day...the darkness before the dawn...when Animals move about the Forest. Even though I can't see them, my ear picks up slight sounds in the silence of the coming Winter's morning.

If it is not so frigid, I will bundle up and go outside, on the deck. If the Stars are out, I know I will have only a few moments in the cold before I must go in.When the Sky is clear, the temperatures can be too dangerous...frostbite can occur very quickly.

I am looking forward to the days lengthening. In late Winter or really early Spring, Animals are on the move again, just as they are in the Fall. Then, when the Morning is not quite as dark for so long, they are easily seen. But now, it is only the sounds that tell me an Animal friend has visited.

In the darkness, my hearing becomes more acute. The deck is huge, hanging over an embankment, looking over the Forest. Everything seems to be completely silent. Until I settle myself and become quiet, I imagine Animals standing as if frozen, their golden eyes glued on my figure.

When I am finally still, the rustlings in the Forest begin again. If it is a larger Animal, and with two feet of Snow on the ground, there is no mistaking it. I can hear my neighbour up the road walking on the Snow and Ice...the emphatic crunch of footfalls is clearly audible in the clear, cold Air.

When a bigger Animal, such as a Moose or Mule Deer, wanders through, even though I can hear him, it is impossible to see him in the early morning darkness. My best bet is to look for the golden glint of their eyes which reflect the porch light, in the general direction of the sound. And then, to look for a shadow and a blocky, energetic feel that shouldn't be there.

Eventually, the shadow will move. Should it be a Moose or Deer, if I or the light has startled them, the silence of the Dawn is suddenly broken. The crackling noise of a Moose crashing through the icy, Snow-covered Brush is one not to be forgotten.

It is not unusual to hear Coyotes singing, on some small, Snow-covered Hill somewhere close by, if they have made a kill. But the other night, just as I stepped onto the deck for a moment of quiet contemplation, I heard the Wolves greeting the Moon.

The night was ordinary. There was a far distant honk from a vehicle on the highway, lights glinting way off across the Valley, and a soft Westerly Wind sighing through the Trees. My mind was far away on some concern or another...

As I leaned against the deck railing, looking out over the Snow covered Field, the Wolves began their indescribable, unearthly howl.

It seemed as if all sound stopped...I could hear the World listening as the Lords of the Forest raised their noses and howled at the New Moon.

The awed silence lasted for only a slight moment, though...more Dogs than I've ever heard in my life began hysterical barking, yowling and howling in return...from every corner of the Valley.

But that moment, when everything and everyone remained in surprised, silent wonder, that moment shone.

Coyote's song rarely brings forth such a frenzied greeting from the neighbourhood Dogs.

I wonder at the reason for the Wolves' songfest. Why did the Wolves howl? Generally, it is because they have made a kill and are satiated, singing out their gratitude. I dearly hope their kill, which is made for their own survival, is not the Mother Deer who has been missing from the side of her Fawn for the last few days.

The Deer and her youngster have stayed on our property all Winter. It is not unusual to see the two browsing on the tips of the branches of the Saskatoon Berry bushes or chewing on the young Interior Fir branches or huddling together under the grove of Fir Trees at the bottom of our field, during a nasty Snow and Ice Storm.

Mostly, Lucky and Nate stay inside, escaping the hypothermic weather which makes up the Cariboo Winter. But there are days when they will be outside when Mother and her Fawn trail through.

The two dogs have had good experiences with Deer; there seems to be an almost symbiotic relationship between them. There is a small excited woof which escapes them...and then they are off to the great divide...the fence. The Deer will retreat to a safe distance and turn and watch the Dogs, who, after heeding Nature's call and marking spots on every snowy Hillock, will sit and watch the Deer right back.

I am accustomed to their behaviour, yet the interactions between the two species still has the ability to warm my heart.

But, as mentioned, Mama Deer has been absent during the last few appearances of her youngster. The young Deer, as well, has a look of great hesitancy about him, as he steps gingerly through the very deep Snow, caution outlined in every muscle of his body.

The Dogs' behaviour has changed, too. They seem distressed, when only one Deer is there to greet them...and the youngster, at that. Lucky will run up and down the fence line, nose in the Air, searching, searching...while Nate stays, staring at the Deer, as if to reassure.

It seems early in the season for Mama to have left Baby on his own, which happens usually when female Deer seek solitude to nest. But, still, I am hoping this is the reason Baby is alone.

I know it is the way of things. The predator and the prey. When I found myself becoming a bit attached to the two Deer, I also listened to the warning I heard in my mind. Enjoying the close encounters with the Animals who live here is one thing; forming attachments is foolish.

The weather here, and of course, elsewhere, too, has been strange. A week ago, one could have sworn the Spirit of Spring was only around the corner. It became quite warm; Snow melted, turning into Ice overnight, as temperatures dipped. Buds on Trees and Bushes began to swell.

I was not overly worried about the young Deer then. But just like that, the weather changed; an Arctic front pushed its way down and once again, frigid temperatures were the norm, along with Snowfall warnings...and then, yesterday, a wild Blizzard blew. We were back into the thick of Winter.

And then, today, right at four o'clock, baby Deer visited as usual. He brought some friends, completely befuddling the Dogs.

Our Dogs didn't see the others, until they exploded out of the bush and even in the deep Snow, they did not have a problem with navigation.

Baby Deer wasn't sure what to do...should he follow the others or stay and greet two very excited Dogs? He chose to follow his friends at first...and then came back, browsing on his favourite Tree, watching Lucky and Nate, who seemed to go a little insane. Lucky actually ran headfirst into the gate...I'm not too sure what he was thinking!

With each passing day, the small Deer will grow. If he has learned well from his Mama, he will seek cover during the day, foraging in the early morning and late afternoon.

Young male Mule Deer will find other male youngsters to hang out with, while the females have their babies. They'll stay in friendly little herds such as this, until rutting season, when the males will become solitary.

The Spirit of Spring dips her toes into Winter's Icy Pond and retreats...but not before she leaves a hint of her soft breath behind.

Even with masses of Snow on the ground and sub-zero temperatures, that soft breath gives the reminder that the cold will pass, just as it does every year.

It won't be long now.

Discipline

2011-02-01T06:35:00.000-08:00

"The time is now, the place is here. Stay in the present. You can do nothing to change the past, and the future will never come exactly as you plan or hope for." Dan Millman

Every year, close to my birthday, I check Dan Millman's book The Life You Were Born To Live for any insights into the coming year...this year being the year I turn 60.

I am a 26/8 number, meaning throughout the cycles in my life, I go through a two cycle, a six cycle and an eight cycle. But even though I retain these numbers throughout my entire life, there are other regular, progressive cycles through all of the primal energies expressed by the numbers 1 through 9.

So, in addition to my regular numbers, my birth numbers and life path numbers, the number of this year in the nine year cycle will also influence my life.

This year, according to Dan Millman's book, I am in a fifth year cycle. This year, it is all about Freedom and Discipline. It is time for opportunity, of many options and choices. It's a time for celebration.

Sounds good. And then I went to the section of the book where the life purpose for the number 5 is dissected and explained. Mmmmm...not really all that good...

There are challenges associated with freedom and discipline. The freedom is inner...and I have not liked the word 'discipline' for most of my life. But here...here on this page it states..."Discipline is the key in that it provides the focus, commitment and inner strength that overcome lack or limitation".

So. Much as I dislike discipline, it seems I will have to apply it if I am to find inner freedom, and by finding that, I expect I will find outer freedom and adventure. But that word discipline fights with the word freedom, in my book.

And then...then I read that unless I apply focus and discipline, I will develop skills in many areas, but master none. I will skim across the surface of life, touching down in many areas, but ultimately never reaching the depths of any.

Hmmm...that sounds a lot like me. And I don't really like that.

In the book, Mr. Millman writes by deeply knowing one thing, we can know many things. He tells me that if I stay with one thing long enough, past the point of boredom, I will break through into the space where all fields connect.

Really? For much of my life, I have studied a subject, until I get bored. How about that!

And then, after I have mastered discipline and focus, I gather, I will find the opportunities, options and choices this year can bring. But I don't know for sure that I can get past the boredom.

So I looked up the Law of Discipline. And right there, on the first page is a quote from Julie Andrews. She states..."Some people regard discipline as a chore. For me, it is a kind of order that sets me free to fly."

Discipline, as defined by Mr. Millman, is a habit of doing just a little more, going just a little deeper, staying with something, pushing through it. He says discipline recognizes that boredom means we are beginning to get it.

He tells me if my goal is bright enough, if I keep my eye on the bright light that signifies my goal off in the distance, I will manage to work through the swampy guck which threatens to muddy the strength and determination required to reach it.

All very well and good...but first of all, I guess I'd have to find a goal...which I don't really feel like doing, in my 60th year.

I'll leave that to the younger folks. But freedom...now, that sounds good.

I've been happy with my inner freedom; I believe, for me, I have figured my spirituality out. But I find, always, it is wise to check all the parts which make up...me.

I check my bodies. The spiritual body is in pretty good shape, I'd say. The mental body is neither good nor bad. The physical body is in poor shape and the emotional body is fair, right now, with the twins about to be born.

So the worst is the physical body. This is interesting because not long ago, after a few therapeutic massage sessions, I decided I wanted to take more control over the arthritis and fibromyalgia which plagues me.

With this in mind, I have been researching nutrition and different diets targeting my ailments. I have been eating differently, but it is all to easy to slip back into old habits...

So here, in this area, is where my focus will lie, this year. I shall see if I can break through the boredom which will surely arise, after a few months of trying a new way.

Discipline.

That's all it takes...

The Dinner Table

2011-01-24T05:54:00.000-08:00

When I was a youngster, there were many long Summer days that were spent with a large family who owned a dairy farm.

I don't remember now how many children there were. But I do recall how I felt there was nothing in the World better than being in the company of so many children in such a warm family.

And so, when I was asked what I wanted to do when I grew up, my pat answer was to have as many children as I could. When I was asked why on Earth I would want a lot of kids, I always said I thought it would be such a lot of fun.

And it would have been. But the Universe had other plans. I was fortunate in that I had two children and yes, they were a lot of fun. I still yearned for more children, though, even when I myself couldn't have them. That's when foster children entered my life.

We did have a huge lot of enjoyment then...sometimes there were not enough chairs around the dinner table to hold my family and the foster kids. But we managed...

And then life changed again. A marriage broke up, and I moved on with my two children, further along on the path of life. I remarried. My new husband wasn't all that fond of fostering kids...and so, I encouraged my two daughters to bring their friends home, possibly just so I could once again have a full complement of folks around the dinner table.

Again, life's path took a turn. My youngest daughter, Katrina, had a child, Brianna. It was a tumultuous time in the life of a family, even though Bree was the warmest, brightest light we had. Unmarried, Katrina found life difficult...too difficult. And even as I gained a grandchild, I lost a daughter...

Heidi and her husband took Bree and adopted her when, if memory serves, she was around five or six. My second marriage had gone the way of the first by then. And the deeply rooted thought of many children around the dinner table loosened. For a long while, it seemed Bree was the only grandchild I would have.

I met Graham, who also had two children. His son, Scott, lived with us. He was fifteen when I met him, a teenager full of hormonal angst. Most of my foster kids were boys so I was not totally male ignorant. Coming from a family of girls, having only girls myself, it was still a revelation to me...Scott was very different from my daughters. But he bore out my notion that children brought a lot of fun.

And then, wonder of wonders!! My daughter and her husband decided to have a baby...and Graydon entered our World. It began to appear, even if my dinner table did not hold only very young children, it was certainly always very entertaining.

Brianna is sixteen now. Graydon will be turning four. Two children...a girl and a boy...now further graced my family tree. It was enough...it had to be, I thought. Graham and I are too old to have more children, even if I could.

But oh! Once again, the Universe thought it would shake up our now fairly complacent existence. Scott, now almost 25, and his girlfriend Kimeesha announced they were having a baby. Another child to bring fun and joy to our family dinners! How could anything be better than this?

Twins. Twins could be better.

Sometimes...sometimes our wishes and dreams and goals are derailed, along that long and winding road of Life.

All in good time, the Universe told me, all in good time. Having held the dream of being surrounded by children for so long, and for so long, having the dream denied...I had lost hope. I did not hold on to my faith which told me dreams can come true, if one holds onto them tightly enough.

Who would have thought, years ago, of the number of grandchildren...here and on their way...who I now have to nurture and teach, to love and laugh with, to enjoy? I certainly did not. My realization, so many years ago, that my main goal was to be a mother to many children...well, it didn't happen quite the way I thought it would.

But the proverbial dinner table will soon require another leaf. And more chairs.

And in the wings, there is another leaf, another chair. Just waiting. Just in case.

Who knows how many children and adults will find their place around that table in the end?

All I know is...

It's already a lot of fun. With twin girls, the merriment will only grow.

My dream from so long ago is in the process of being filled.

Acquaintance

2011-01-14T10:46:00.000-08:00

At a meeting the other day, my friend and I had a short discussion about New Year's resolutions, goals and dreams. She said she doesn't make any promises to herself anymore; those are the ones that always get broken.

She told me any promise she makes to another, she keeps...no ifs, ands or buts. Not the ones she promises to herself, however. She said she was such an unknown entity to herself, she didn't really know what she wanted, anyway. Before I can find a goal...she said...I have to try and find out who that stranger is inside me...

"One of the greatest moments in anybody’s developing experience is when he no longer tries to hide from himself but determines to get acquainted with himself as he really is." – Norman Vincent Peale

We didn't have a long time to talk; we made a date for lunch. But the short conversation stayed with me. I recall saying to my daughter awhile ago that I didn't know who I really was, what my goals were, when she told me she would like to read more about me.

I've taken many long journeys inside, but they were all taken with the intent to heal, during my time in recovery. Once or twice, I have taken journeys within with the clear intention of learning who I was. How did I get here, why am I here, what am I doing here...what is my purpose?

These are the questions to which I wanted answers. I wanted those answers immediately...I didn't want to have to wait or work hard at all. And of course, with this kind of impatience, I got nowhere. I had some idea, as well, of the kind of courage it takes to go on that long, inner journey and face the nakedness of my own soul. I wasn't really sure I had that special courage...

I've learned, since then. Facing demons...the ones that stop progress, those embarrassing, hurtful, shameful ones, makes me cringe. But I've stood in front of these demons and have made my peace. And I think I know myself as well as anyone, finally. But as to what my purpose is...I have yet to form a conclusion.

"The longest journey of any person is the journey inward." – Dag Hammerskjvld

Since I didn't come up with any answers, I did what I normally do when I'm stumped...I stuffed it away and thought, well, eventually I will know why I'm living this life. Eventually, surely, after a few more revelations from lessons placed in my path by the Powers-That-Be, I will know, well and truly.

Of course, if I believe as strongly as I do the statement that everything is exactly the way it is meant to be right now...then I'm already doing what I'm meant to be.

And then, during a visit to the hospital, I spoke with an elderly man who had been declared palliative. He was of sound mind and of a rather philosophical nature. As I sat with some needlework, he and I spoke about life and what it was all about. He felt it is over-rated, life is. He said he had lived a whole lifetime, and still he didn't know why he was here or who he was. Or what his goals were. And he wondered why he'd ever cared...

And then he laughed rather ruefully. Guess it's too late now...he said...guess I'll just enjoy the ride, what's left of it.

As I drove home, I chuckled to myself, as I wondered why I felt the need to know everything about this...acquaintance...who lived within. Wasn't it enough to know my place in the Universe? To know that I am unique and connected, firmly grounded in my own place?

Why don't I just accept what is present...who I am now, what I do and why I do it? If I am such an unknown to myself that I cannot make goals or intentions because I do not know what I desire or which path I want to follow...I would have to be far younger than I am now.

My friend and I will have a spirited conversation over lunch.

And I keep thinking...why not make it easy...leave the whole thing simple?

Why don't I just enjoy the ride...what's left of it?