Spirit of Spring

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

"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

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

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?

Scullery

I believe this is about the fourth post I have begun writing since Christmas, but with one distraction after another, I have finished none of them.

We are in the midst of converting a former kitchen and mudroom/entry way/laundry, both separate rooms, into one room. This will be the pantry/laundry room/mudroom. I believe, at one time, or even today...this room might have been called a scullery.

A scullery is defined by the Oxford Dictionary as a back kitchen, a room for washing up dishes, cutting up food, etc. In other words, an overflow kitchen. A scullery would have been where game Birds and Animals were prepared for cooking. The word is close to what our room will be intended for. It has a pantry in it, after all.



But sculleries have a bad name. In speaking with an older English client, I was told sculleries were the worst part of a home, where all the messy, dirty parts of keeping a home were done. I found a site explaining that the scullery maid was the lowest of the low, often found in workhouses and paid a very small sum.

But these days, as I tried to explain to my client, they even sell scullery sinks, which are very like laundry tubs. Our refurbished room has a new laundry tub in a cabinet, not a scullery sink, but I have no problem with imagination. There is also a very small cabinet, which was passed down to me many years ago. It came from an old scullery in Victoria. It will be repainted, leaving the old marks and dents still apparent. Graham will build a new top, out of Maple Wood we brought from the Coast.

The room will also have a linen closet. When we moved into this house, I remember wandering through, with a pile of towels in my arms. I asked...Where's the linen closet?... There was none. Our linens have been stored in one of the bedroom closets. In great disarray, I might add.


We'd taken out the dividing wall a month or so ago. But there was still drywalling and mudding to do. And there was a door to the crawl space which was taken out. There is a floor door now, giving us more space.


Moving the plumbing and electricity for the washer and dryer took some time. Then Graham built the stands for the washer and dryer. They are front loading machines and are meant to be on a stand, in order to reach the farthest points for that errant sock or hand towel.

I am accustomed to renovating...I have been a part of renovating each house I have ever lived in. Or a part of building anew. I'm not sure which one is worse, when it comes to anxiety and stress and just plain exhaustion.


But in only ten days, the scullery is almost done. There will be painting and flooring to do, but these are easy projects. I'm looking forward to moving in. I picture myself  coming in with arm loads of flowers from the garden, and cutting the stems on the long, stone counter to fit the vases which will be stored in one cupboard or another, all in order. It's a great vision!

A completed scullery means the World to me. It will allow me to be much more organized, with regards to homekeeping. There will be an ironing board always at the ready, with hangers and such all prepared to do their duty. There will be the pantry, where large foodstuffs, such as bags of flour and sugar and large boxes of cereal will be kept. The broom closet will finally be used as such, with the vacuum cleaner and all the other items used to clean this home in one place.


Our Dogs will now be able to come in through the garage, instead of through our bedroom. Since the washer/dryer will be moved and in their place, a bench for sitting whilst putting on footwear will be built, there will be ever so much more room for muddy, wet Dogs to come in and be towelled off.

Doesn't all this sound like a scullery? Without the scullery maid, unfortunately. I suppose I will fill those shoes!


This was a great project to do over Christmas and New Year's this year. With no travelling in the forecast, it was easy to concentrate on getting this room done, almost the final renovation we'll be doing in this house. The bathrooms will be next.


And after that, we will have finished what we set out to do when we bought this home. We've changed it completely...building a kitchen in a totally different spot in the house, painting each room, installing new lighting fixtures, changing the flooring throughout...and not to be forgotten, also building a woodworking shop for Graham.

Outside, we have built raised beds for flowers and vegetables. I discovered early on there was no point in digging the Earth where we live. There are far too many Rocks and Boulders. And we have gravelled a large portion of the front garden as well as the driveway, all the way to the Shop.


Only refurbishments to the bathrooms and changing the fence line to include the Shop are left to be done.


It is a good feeling, going into 2011 with most of the goals we set for our home met.


Even if there is no scullery maid...


Happy Belated New Year, everyone!!