Greeting Old Friends

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..

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

“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

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

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...