Seductive Sun

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

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

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


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

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


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

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

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

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


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

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


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


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



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


It is time to go in.

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

Painting for Hope

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

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


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

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

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

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

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


Far off, just outlining the hills...


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


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


And I imagine I am not alone.  


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


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


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


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


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

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


Hope for a country in limbo.

Spider's Visit

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

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

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


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

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

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


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


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


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

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


Well.

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


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


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


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

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


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


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


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

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


Unless I had swallowed. 

There is always that to think about.

Time

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

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


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

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



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


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


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


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

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

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


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


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


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


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

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



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


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


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


Guess he was right.

First Snow Storm

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

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

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

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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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



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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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


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