Moving with Raven

Time stood still as we waited for confirmation about our relocation. Over and over, I began to write...and over and over, I closed the computer when sitting in one place became too anxiety-producing.

I love the patterns in the bark of the Interior Fir Tree

I've been pacing for a couple of months, now. It's good exercise, at any rate, and does seem to lower tension a bit. And I've realized, during any chaotic period in my life, that I paced through it all. Not that this is a big epiphany or anything; it is only an interesting thought!

I imagine my pacing will accelerate over the coming months. We are moving to Victoria, B.C.; Graham will begin his new job on October 1.  

I'm not sure I quite believe it. Victoria is one of my favourite cities. Never in a million years did I ever believe I would  actually live there. But it appears as if, for the next four or five years at least, that is exactly where I will be.

Poppies everywhere!

This will be as much of a transition for me as moving from Qualicum Beach to the Cariboo. As I write this, traffic sounds and other city sounds have become completely foreign to me...yet in a couple of months, I will have to acclimatize not only to a noisier environment, but also to the change in weather.

Driving the highway into the city of Williams Lake has prepared me for anything. City driving will not bother me, especially since I already am familiar with Victoria, having had relatives there over the years.

Victoria is surrounded by Ocean...the Universe obviously listened carefully to my plea about wanting...no, needing...to live by Ocean and her Beaches. You can believe my first  walk on a Beach will be something to write about...I will have come home.

Our young friend Raven

 

The last couple of months of interminable walks and garden work has allowed me to say goodbye to our home here. Many tears were shed, believe me. I love this home, this place, the Animals...yes, and even the extreme weather. But I will love the memories just as much, perhaps even more, from afar.


We will be so much closer to the family! Day trips are not out of the question...Port Alberni, where family lives, is about two and a half hours from Victoria. It is a small hop, as compared to the vast distances  we traveled in the Cariboo.


And as well, we plan on buying our retirement home/weekend retreat in Port Alberni. I am so excited over traveling up Island to garden in a home I know I will not leave again.

These Poppies will bloom until Frost

There are many unknowns. I try not to trouble myself over them. Our house here will sell, in the time allotted. The garage sale will be organized; movers will be contacted, excess furniture will be sold. All those things, taken one step at a time, will be done, one after another. Worrying over them will not get them done any faster, in fact, it may hinder the whole process.


So say I...


Finding a place to live in Victoria is my main objective, right now. Something inside me needs to know I have a place to go to...to arrive at...to be. It will settle me down. We will rent and there seem to be many, very expensive homes but few in what I consider a reasonable price range.

Delphiniums a little the worse from Wind damage

But then, the last time I rented any home, was way back in the early seventies. Things have certainly changed since then!


An apartment/condo would be ideal for Graham and I, but we have another member of the family to consider. Lucky may not do so well with long hallways and elevators and an inability to go outside at will. And so, hopefully, we will find a house which appeals, yet does not cost an arm and a leg...a daunting prospect!

September, in my mind, has forever been the time of new beginnings. This year, certainly, will be one of the more memorable ones.

I will have time to harvest my garden, to watch the Perennials bloom a final time. Lucky and I have met a Raven who follows us on our morning walks. Having just made his acquaintance...and an odd acquaintance it is!...I want to study him a little more, before I leave.

He has a message. As yet, I haven't deciphered it, although somewhere inside me, I know what it is. It is only a matter of removing the blockages I've put in place, long ago, in order for me to hear...

One morning, he sat here for a long time, contemplating...

In the meantime, Raven appears to be listening to my concerns, inserting the occasional gurgle or squawk, as Lucky checks out the overnight visitors. He flies from Branch to Branch, Tree to Tree, as I walk...bobbing his head at me, cocking his head when I speak. He is a young Raven. I imagine he is as curious about me as I am about him.


I will miss him, as I will miss seeing all the wildlife I have made friends with over the years. I am so eternally grateful to have had the opportunity.

Lilies are smaller than usual this year

A new stage is beginning. There will be much to do before I can see the finish line for this particular stage.

I know more tears will fall, when I leave. A piece of my heart will always reside here in the Cariboo.

It is the way of it...

 

Joy?

Early one morning last week, on one of my usual walks with the two Dogs, I met a Hummingbird.  Or should I say the Hummingbird met me? He had a message to impart.

I'm not sure I would have noticed him, had he not made his position as clear as he did.  Hummingbirds are prolific in the early Spring...they arrive early in the season, even if the liquid in Hummingbird feeders still freeze at night.

I am accustomed to them speeding around the place. Their buzzing noise, a little louder than the huge, bumbling Bees that are also prolific, gives me a heads up that one of them is near. And with their first arrival, it is magical. 

Upon the first sighting, everyone rushes to fill the feeders; during one of the first trail walks I took when we moved here, I found a feeder hanging from a Tree far from any dwelling. And it was filled with fresh nectar...at the time I wondered if the feeder would draw a Bear or two. But the only creature feeding upon it was the Hummingbird, that I could discern.

But the Hummers have been here for a long while now...at least a couple of months. I'm accustomed to the sound of their wings and rarely look up to watch in wonderment any more. There are so many of them, you see...after awhile, they become commonplace, a part of the twittering, tweetings, buzzings, chirpings and sharp calls that abound in the mornings.

I planted many Seeds this year, right into the Earth, rather than starting them indoors. But, as soon as I planted them, I forgot which and where. I tell myself every year to find a scribbler and write down which Seeds I've planted; every year I skip that step. And every Spring, my memory gets worse...

So I had my head down, intently searching for the first signs of something lifting its head up through the Soil. The World recedes then; I am completely in the moment, completely oblivious to anything other than willing the Seedlings to grow.

I was dimly aware of hearing a Hummingbird close by. And then I heard the swish of Air, just a little closer than normal.

Closer than normal is right.  I was completely startled when the Hummer landed upon my head. I was not sure exactly what to do...I was bent over, my head close to the almost blossoming Tulips. Did the Hummer mistake my head for one of those blossoms? Should I brush it off? Thoughts ran through my mind, speeding as if they had taken wing as quickly as the Hummingbird.

I heard it twitter once or twice. I was worried it might get tangled in my hair, which is shoulder length and was up in an untidy bun. What was I to do then, should the Hummer get caught in hair and clips?

There was nobody around, other than the Dogs, who watched the whole debacle with interest...and a bit of humour, if I'm not mistaken. There was no one to come to my aid.

Within a very short time, although it felt like eons, the Hummer, with a sharp tweet, took off, speeding his erratic way through the Trees. And I was left with...you guessed it...Hummingbird excrement, mixed in with my hair.

For that tiny Hummer, there seemed to be a lot of it. I touched my hair and discovered a small, gooey blob right in the middle of my head. I dashed it off, only to feel liquid running down the side of my face. He had left his calling card, in spades!

The Dogs laughed and laughed, dancing around me, sneezing and huffing. As I walked into the house to take a shower, I wondered what on Earth that Hummingbird thought he was doing.

Had I wandered too close to a nest? Hummers are territorial and most species are fighters...sparring for feeder rights with other kinds as soon as the feeder is put outside. But I've been in that particular area many times, before and after the incident. And have never had problems with any Bird, Hummer or otherwise.

My hair is grey, glinting silver from Sun's rays upon it. Could he have thought my head was some kind of untidy, exotic Flower? Could he have been attracted to the colourful clip that was trying to contain hair that wouldn't be captured? Others have grey hair...do Birds alight on their heads, as well?

I'll never know. But I do know the Hummer's message is inner Joy.

From this site, I read about the Hummer and the other messages he gives.

His first message is to taste and enjoy the sweetness of life...life as it is, not what I wish it to be. I am to make the most of what is.  The Hummer tells me to be more adaptable; he tells me I am not to look back in life and wish for what was.

And then there is that inner joy I am to find and project to others. I am proficient, he tells me, at finding the good in life's situations for other people. Now I must learn to find the good in me and my situations.

He tells me I have a gift for working with flowers...he suggests aromatherapy as an adjunct. He warns me to take care with sweets...I am diabetic, so the little warning was taken.  But why does he not worry about overdoing it with that nectar he is constantly guzzling back? Never mind that his energy output is phenomenal!

I believe strange interactions with the Animal Kingdom should not be overlooked, and so I take Hummingbird's message seriously. He was right to remind me to take what is and not try and change it for my own satisfaction; rather I will try and accept circumstances as they are right now.

Perhaps I am thick-headed...perhaps I was not hearing or accepting what I knew to be true. And having the Hummingbird relieve himself on my head certainly brought the message to the forefront.

He had some words of wisdom to impart, this Hummer.

It is up to me what I do with the wisdom Creator tried to send, so uniquely.

And now? Now I keep my eyes and ears open when Hummingbird flies past...

Indisposed and Out of Sorts

I made a list in December of things I wanted to get done during the cold and dark days of January. That list has been put aside for now.

I have the flu. Now, I received both the seasonal flu shot and the H1N1 flu shot. It seems there is a Beast of a Bug who has not been included in the mixture for the shots. And that Beast has found me...and Graham, and a score of others whom I have spoken with recently.

The Bug attacks in a soft, silent way. To begin, one's only want is sleep. Sleep overtakes in any situation; I was stirring a pot of soup and felt myself drifting off at least a couple of times. I slept as I ate, waking with food in my mouth. The only way I could stay awake was to keep moving. It was decidedly odd.


And then, after one has slept for what feels like a few centuries...the Bug strikes. Suddenly, sleep is a thing of the past. Very quickly, one's breathing is completely compromised. My nose, stuffy and red, is sore from repeated blowing and dabbing, my eyes, swollen and very pink, weep constantly, and I sneeze and sneeze and sneeze...


But the Bug will not stop there.  It is not enough that one's head feels enveloped in mucous; the Bug desires the chest cavities as well as the sinus. I cough and sneeze now, in quick succession, and attempt to block the Bug laden spray I know must be falling all over me and everything nearby.


The Bug will not, in the heat of his battle with one's mucous membranes, allow one to do anything other than move from bed to couch. And there one lies, staring into space, mouth open and breathing with difficulty. Sleep, that wondrous thing which just a short time ago was such a cross, now evades...disappearing into the ethers of memory.

At certain times, I become angry. How can this situation have come about, I ask myself, when I have done everything the medical system tells me to do? I have had the shots, I wash my hands at every place that has a station, I take my vitamins...and still the Bug found me.


I want to blame someone or something. I want accountability for my being ill. I want to stamp my feet and yell, engage in extremely childish behaviour...if only I had the strength to do so.

One must recover, at some point, I tell myself, from the Bug's onslaught.  But right now, the World is passing me by...I have not the concentration or the will to keep up with it.


I will fight myself out of the morass of mucous. I will dry out. The endless coughing will cease. The Bug will depart, in his own good time, sped on his way, perhaps, by the bombardment of various cold and flu remedies.

I will end my close association with the couch. With great determination, I will take January's list of things to do, and I will have the energy to do them.

This is how I pacify myself, when I am unable to do anything of consequence, when I want to join the World which is passing me by, when I want to clean the dust I see gathering on every available surface.


Wait, I counsel myself. Accept this Bug's war on my body. Accept the fact that rest will speed healing.  Accept that papers and books and dust and writing and crafts and hobbies will all still be there, when I am well. Take the enforced downtime, and be thankful that I can. 


I tell myself to be grateful my indisposition is only due to a rather rapacious flu Bug.


And that the World will still be there, when I am ready to ride forward once again...

Future Dreams

Another trip to the Coast is over.  It seems to me my life, right now, is split between visits to the Coast and time spent here, in the Cariboo.

It is becoming more difficult to leave the Coast.  I have discovered a very important facet to myself...that is, I love my family far more than I ever imagined...and that was a big imagining.

When we leave, a bigger piece of my heart remains. It will not be possible to continue leaving too much longer.


With this in mind, Graham and I talked, on the long trip, about where we want to retire.  We both agree it will be on the Island, with no other reason than family ties.


But the last sentence is not really true.  The Island draws me, as I knew it would...it is where I grew up, after all.  The ties and roots are very strong. And Ocean, when she calls, I cannot resist, nor do I want to.

And so, much of my time, at the moment, has been spent researching various different towns and villages on the Island. So many areas from which to choose!


There is great anticipation on my part.  This time, when I move, it will be different from all other moves in my life.  Most, if not all, were done without too much thought, because circumstances did not allow time for much research...and many times, there was no choice.

And because it will be a few years before we actually re-locate, back to the family and the Island, life here in the Cariboo has relaxed, for me.  I intend to enjoy my time here, by the grace of Creator. I now realize I am here to understand more parts of myself...parts I may have missed had I been too close to family and friends.


As the Hermit card in my Tarot deck explains, my need to go inner, to understand where I am and who I am, was displaced by too many outer disruptions. I am here to accept the wisdom of patience...and to accept my passage into the ageing process.



One has only to look at the long Winters here, in the Cariboo, to understand that patience is a strong part of the characters who live here. There is no use at all in railing against Mother Nature. I have a feeling I have a few more Winters to experience!

But in due course, if one is willing to wait, rewards or opportunities appear. In Creator's own time...and I believe I have accepted my sojourn here, giving me joy in the adventure in which I find myself.


So many places from which to choose...I wonder where it will be? Will it be Duncan, Courtenay, Comox or Campbell River? I visualize my future home; I will know it when I find it. There is no doubt.

In the meantime, Spring is slowly, gently and very softly showing her face, here in the land of extremes.  Brown twigs and branches are suddenly showing their early glow; buds are, oh, so minutely, unfurling into their tender green.



And the weather is turning much warmer...even Rain is finally overtaking interminable Snow showers, giving me the soft, watery atmosphere I crave.

Anticipation is the order of the day, whether it be future homes or the flowering of the Crocus.

In these uncertain times, with no sure thing on the horizon, I am undeniably grateful for where I am on the present roadway.


Future dreams and an acceptance to just be...can there be any better way?



Note: Photos gracing this post were taken by my granddaughter Brianna, on her trip to Europe. I post them here with many thanks to my lovely, talented fourteen year old Bree!

Going Bushy

At this point in the Winter season, I prefer to think we are over the worst of it. Certainly, there will be more Storms; yet, I can feel Spring's soft breath just behind each angry late blast of Winter.

It is the time of year when, I've heard, people go 'bushy', meaning, I believe, cabin fever. It has been a long Winter; there has been much Snow. But I believe my dose of bushiness, if there is such a term, will come when Air is soft...and the ground will yet be covered by feet of Snow.

I still won't be able to feel and smell the musky,  fecund and moist Earth. There might be some bushy behaviour going on then.

On the other hand, I must remember I have not seen Snow melt as quickly as it does here, when a fresh South West Wind blows its secrets from Ocean...

This being my first dose of a Cariboo Winter, I wondered at the outset how I would do, not without a little apprehension.  I find I have days where the need to go for a long walk overtakes me, where the requirement to stretch my legs in the clear Wintery Sunshine makes me attempt it...


In the awesome cold, I find a short walk will do.


Our dogs, however, are not so sanguine. They have developed some strange behaviours which defy explanation.


Our Natey, a black lab/terrier cross, has been the owner of a red Kong ball...one which he can't or won't destroy...since we moved here.  A year ago or so, for Nate.


He loves his Ball; he will chase it for hours, as Labs will do. When Snow arrived, a chase after his Ball also involved some vigorous digging. He learned to repeatedly throw it into Snowbanks, thereby increasing his delight in the game.


Imagine our surprise, when, as the Season of Winter moved on, our Natey could not seem to urinate unless he had his Ball in his mouth. And imagine our horror when, after he threw his Ball into a Snowbank...he couldn't find it!


It was a Thursday; I underestimated this dog's perseverance and attachment to his Ball. I dug; he dug...and Lucky, our Retriever/Airedale cross, became more and more anxious, as no Ball turned up in the all-encompassing field of Snow.

But I believed, erroneously as it turned out, Nature would take its course and he would urinate without it.


Uh, uh. No. Dribs and drabbles is what appeared, when he attempted it. There was much whining and sorrow along with the whole thing. Perhaps some pain, as well, since Nate is well-known for his everlasting urinations.



By now, stores were closed for the weekend. I could only hope I would be able to replace the red Kong ball on Monday. All other balls had been lost during the first Snow storm, and are now under many feet of Snow. 


And while we waited, we threw Nate pop bottles, old oranges...even Snowballs (which really confused him, as he couldn't begin to find it, in the deep Snow) all to help him heed Nature's call.


After searching through three stores, I found only one Kong ball like his.  I was filled with gratitude at seeing it; in the meantime, I had already bought other kinds of balls in case they were required.


My eyes filled with tears at Nate's reaction to seeing the red Kong ball. He had been consistently digging after his old one; he had never stopped his search. This alone was heart-rending.


He seemed confused at first, anxiously whining as I unwrapped the Ball. And then, when I gave it to him, when he had it in his mouth, he almost overturned himself with joy. I could feel his tense energy disappearing, as he raced around, shaking his head, and wiggling his rear end with delight.


He's a big, black, mostly Labrador-appearing dog; but the terrier's dance will out...

You can imagine the relief he felt when I threw it for him.  He found it quickly...and then, there was enormous pleasure as he urinated...and urinated...and urinated...


Ah, well...we all have our peccadilloes.


Lucky, on the other hand, has been highly-strung and a little neurotic since the day he came into my life. This behaviour has accelerated, during this long Winter. A lack of exercise has built up energy which rarely gets released, as much as he requires.  He is a runner...it is a pleasure to watch him gracefully go full out around the yard, in more clement months.


He's hated the sight and smell and sound of cans of furniture polish, since he was a pup.  But the other day (after much commotion and confusion which occurred during the days we repainted and refloored the office), I wanted to clean and polish the office furniture.

I took the can out of the cupboard.



Lucky, already very anxious from the sounds of construction, went into a full-blown panic attack. Tail tucked, ears down...his whole body showed his misery.


I put the can away, I threw the dustcloth into the laundry basket...but Lucky could not be consoled.


There was a Snow storm that day.  Flakes fell quickly, forming waving, twirling figures with the help of a strong Northwesterly Wind.


Lucky wanted out of this house, where the evil can of Pledge lurked in dark cupboards.  He literally threw himself against the closed door; the very picture of anxious misery.


I let him outside and he ran from the door.  I watched as he dug himself a huge hole in a bank of Snow against the fence, and huddled there, with flakes of Snow quickly covering him...


It's rare for me to be at a loss regarding helping my animals in distress, but I certainly was this day.


I could have dragged him in, since he would not come when called. But in the house is where his fear lay and he was not able to overcome or face it with its smells all around him, ever fuelling...


It was -7C...not as cold as it has been. I decided to leave him be, denned up in his Snow cave for awhile. Lucky has an unerring sense of what is needed to help and aid others...was he perhaps healing himself, as the gentle flakes of Snow completely covered his red-haired, wiry coat?


He emerged, on his own, finally...just as I had decided enough was enough.  I was worried over the cold. 


He looked like a small Snow bear as he trundled along the fence line.  The over-anxious energy that had defined him for the last couple of days was gone. He still did not look like the happy eager dog he usually is; he still carried a bit of the World on his shoulders, shown by his demeanour. 


And yet, as I left him, watching his progress back to a balanced state, I could feel the worst of his panic attack was over. 


He returned to the door, completely spent but far more relaxed...and very, very cold.  I rubbed him dry, and let him sleep in front of the fire for the rest of the day.


I believe our Lucky went bushy for a few hours.


And the human equivalent to going bushy? 


Staying in bed with the covers pulled over one's head, I suppose, might be one way. 


But just maybe, revisiting with my old friends Patience and Acceptance might be a better way...

Moving On

This is the last day of moving. We are staying at a motel on the Beach in Parksville...a town a short distance from Qualicum Beach; the movers came and packed up the house...including our bed...and here we are. Cleaning the fridge is the last thing to do today.

I am using the new laptop. It takes a little concentration, a commodity very short on supply, after moving, packing, and generally feeling displaced all around. There are settings I am unfamiliar with...and when I am tired or anxious, learning about a new tool can make me frustrated.

Actually, if I was to tell the absolute truth, everything right now makes me frustrated.

It seems fitting to me to stay directly on the beach. The Waves whispered to me throughout the night, giving me reassurance the Ocean will always be. I took some solitary time this evening, letting Wind and Rain and the pounding of the Waves take the tension, sadness and tears...all the convoluted emotions with which I am filled...and replace my vessel of emotional detritus with joy and adventurous outlooks.

There are so many changes. Nate is leaving Lucky, Graham and I and will take up residence with Scott, Graham's son. Nate is really his dog; I understood this well when Nate lived with us for the last five years. However, I am filled with sadness and trepidation for Lucky, who will not understand why he is staying by himself in a new kennel.

An amazing thing happened, however, when we dropped the Luckster off, after his first really long car ride, to which he adapted well. Lucky is not used to cats; the only time he has ever had contact with a cat was when he chased one out of the backyard. And yet, as Lucky came in the door of the new kennel, an old cat immediately started schmoozing with him...and Lucky accepted his sympathy and friendship, with nary a growl or a bark.

Lucky has a great attachment to soft, fuzzy stuffed toys; I could sense the immediate love affair struck between the pair of them.

It is looking more and more as if the newest member of our family will be a Cat...finally.

We arrived in Williams Lake, after an uneventful trip. Hardly any snow remains here in the Cariboo; only the hardpacked, gravelly piles linger. And the grass, shrubs and other plants give hints of the glories to come, but at the moment, they look as if their green souls have leached out of them, hiding deep in the greyish black exterior or in the root of the plants.

I understand completely.

The last two months have been a Whirlwind...a Hurricane who swept my former life clean...down to the deepest parts of my Soul. It has not been pleasant, for the most part...yet there was a force driving me towards this move I did not understand. During times of grief and tension, I would notice the signs from Creator.

And in my deepest mourning, I shouted to Creator...You are sending me platitudes! I am tired of platitudes! That amazing Rainbow that just now has suddenly appeared...You know what you can do with that Rainbow!?

Creator let me vent. And then channelled my anger into creativity...I took the camera and used it as if it were a sword...I took the photos of the Rainbow and the following Sunset, the Eagles and the Sea Lions. On and On, until I was spent, with anger at the beginning for a companion and perception following...and finally acceptance, not complete...but further along the strange path I am suddenly following.

If I remembered to ask for help from Creator, during this move, if I placed a problem in Spirit's hands, then the situation resolved itself. Every time. I might not have enjoyed the process; quite often, in fact, the opposite was true. But the source of tension for which I had asked for aid worked out.

So. Here I am, living in the Cariboo. My address will actually be in 150 Mile House, one of the Roadhouse settlements, this one seven miles from the City of Williams Lake. At the moment, I am still in a Motel.

My new home is not old...a direct contrast to the home in Qualicum Beach. It is an eleven year old Rancher, with a large deck overlooking three acres of Forest. I will be living in the middle of a Forest once again. I have not seen the actual land; it still had two or more feet of Snow the only time I saw the house.

I understand the property slopes, with benches or flat areas. I sense it will be pretty, although we will have to build a driveway and sidewalks. There is no landscaping, although I believe the owner planted fields of wildflowers here and there.

But there are many, many different species of Trees, conifer and deciduous. There are many wild berries and fruits. And there is a wildlife Trail that bisects our land...it is not unusual for Moose, Elk, Bear, Cougars, etc. to use it often...the Land behind our parcel is Crown Land, deeply Forested. It is their habitat.

The house has a huge Deck, upon which Lucky and I and our unknown-as-yet Cat, will watch the Trail, in safety and in awe.

We plan to move the kitchen and replace the flooring, with hardwood. The house is big and open, with a good well and septic system. It has white vinyl siding, the preferred choice in the Northern Regions because it stands up well to the extremes in temperature.

And a Victorian Red Duroid Roof...when I googled the land on Google Earth, it was not difficult to pick out the Red Roof.

Here, now, in the Cariboo, Snow is melting. Even the Snow we received the other night is mostly gone. And soon, I will tramp the land where I will live, taking note of areas where one of Grandfather Tree's offspring might flourish. Where will my Lilac garden be? And the Pussy Willow...will I find Pussy Willow in this new Forest?

And which small field will the Wildflowers claim for their own? There is, apparently, a higher Bench of Land, from which the whole Valley can be seen.

It will be a time of discovery, the month of April this year. And March, the month of Mars, will be filled with choosing new furniture and appliances, searching out Plumbers and Electricians, finding just the right cabinets for the new kitchen, and choosing the perfect new floor.

It will be a time of anticipation and of homesickness. March will be an in-between month, a month where I will feel out of place. And still, with as many decisions as we have made in the last three month, and even with that final meltdown of mine...the way has been paved; the hills and corners turn out not to be as difficult as anticipated.

Creator, taking my anger in stride, has continued to send synchronicity and messages, has continued to muffle the worst of this strange new pathway I'm on.

March will be a month of reflection...and recovery...and moving on.

Moving and Letting Go

In the rush of our lives at the moment, sometimes I take time out, just to reflect and walk around our home and remember the plans we had for it. There are still many restorations I wanted to do that will be up to someone else now.

At first, when this all started, I wanted to finish all our plans before we sold it...I felt the house should have those little touches we didn't, all of a sudden, have time to do at our leisure. But I soon discovered that people who want this house are itching to do those things...their way. I had to learn to listen to these ideas, without leaping in and telling them my way.

People listen politely, to be sure, just as I would if a homeowner loved his home and wanted still to be part of its ongoing life. And I would use what I could, and leave the rest. Just as the new owners will do with my ideas.

I walk through the garden, the scene of so many traumatic and joyful tales that have happened since I moved here five years ago. I remember a fenced in area that had a few Rosebushes against the fence and Grandfather Tree, when we moved in. And that was all.

It was a blank slate. I brought many Plants and Trees from my former garden, and the first year I was here, they were left in their pots for the summer, as I readied the inside of the house. I looked forward to the following Spring, when what I considered I would have the time to do true gardening.

With great gusto, I transformed the empty space into a well-Treed, perennial planted area. All the beds are edged with Rock and Stone, giving a sense of grounded parameters. The garden still requires structure, trellises and completed pathways. And anyone who buys this property will want to garden...it is an inescapable part of the energy surrounding this home.

Grandfather Tree will give me an offspring, to take with me into the Cariboo. I will find a sheltered spot for his youngster, who, many years hence, will astound those around him, by his awesome size and the wise energy he will emit. And they will wonder...how did he get here?

Just as I did, when I first saw Grandfather.

This old home, built in the early 1940's, with parts older than that, has a firm, solid touch...I have always felt whatever Storms come my way, I could weather fairly easily, living with her.

We've replaced doors, added a hot tub, added a workshop done in board and batten, to follow the design of the house. We found a closet. We've replaced plumbing and hot water heaters, window panes with a low-e rating, and electrical. We've added a brand new Cedar shake roof, and replaced siding. Her kitchen is upgraded and she is painted inside and out.

Even in the dark of Winter, she glows.

I thought we had time here...I thought I was here for good and all. Next year, I would promise myself, I will have time to move that young Tree over by the other fence. Next spring, I will decide what to do with the area in front of the Shop...and what will I do with the Strawberry bed?

And next year was when I wanted to restore the old Fir floor, his beauty hidden under layers of linoleum. This is one project the new homeowners will have to decide on...and one I will miss out on. I wanted to see the image captured of it in my mind's eye, in reality.

This home will choose her new owners, just as she did with me. All I have to do is stand by and watch and do the mundane items required, with selling a home.

Stand and watch and be grateful for the time I had with her.

And then let go...