Seasonal Changes

Warming up to chill of winter

cosy blankets and sweaters

that bundle against the damp

shifting focus from 

   bare toes to 

       socks and shoes.

“The fires burn and the kettles sing, and earth sinks to rest until next spring.”

~ Clyde Watson

Work Life Balance

At the bus stop!

Rumbling bus took me to

a day at work

moving quickly with focus

client care to telephone

to paperwork to client care

to telephone to computer

to groceries to bus to home

where the lingering aroma of 

last night’s apple crisp

welcomed me in the door

soon replaced by chicken baking,

fresh coffee dripping

fish chowder bubbling

until my day at work

drifts into memory of

a job well done.

“Balance is not something you find, it’s something you create.”

~ Jana Kingsford, 

UNJUGGLED: Lessons from a Decade of 

Blending Business, Balance and Big Dreams

Winter Carving

Winter Carving

Forests are usually quiet places. Quiet and serene. Tall, tall old pines reaching to the sky. Woodpeckers rapping and digging deep for grubs. Echoes dying down only to hear the chirp of tiny song birds in the sunlit days. Deep hoots of owls in the night. There was a glen in this old forest that was far from quiet.

Music and laughter drifted through the grand tall trees. A crescent moon carved it’s place in the night sky and shone down on the frozen lake. Skaters scraped the ice clear of snow, strung lights along the shore and called out to each other. Cousins built a snowman and a snow-woman under the twinkling lights.

“Hey Jane! Is the hot chocolate ready yet? Your grandparents are coming down from the cabin soon.” 

“Come on, Tommy you know everything’s ready. Quit worrying.”

Jane and her cousin, Tommy had been focussed on their plans for a skating party for their grandparents for weeks. Professional skaters from thirty years ago, their grandparents were celebrating their 60th Wedding Anniversary soon. They were going on a long cruise making it impossible for the family to celebrate the couple that had built not just careers, but families. This little lake was where they first skated together. So many bodies of water no longer froze over with warming of the planet, but this little lake had escaped the changing temperatures. Just up a little rise, a log cabin stood where they also had spent summers and some winter holidays. The family was all gathered there with warm lights, good food and a roaring fire.

“Here we are kids!”

“Grandpa, get your skates on!”

“Oh my darlings! Look at what you’ve done! Jim! Jim! Did you bring my skates?”

“Of course, Estelle. Let’s dance.”

Music soared up into the night sky. Their grandparents graceful cut and scrape of ice blades in the cold winter air twirled into the grandeur.

“Love grows more tremendously full, swift, 

and poignant, as the years multiply.

~ Zane Grey

Author's note: Edited February 17, 2024

Ready to Roll

Ready to Roll

The gritty dust hung in the air, back lit by the orange glow on the horizon. Anthony, his jean jacket slung over his shoulder, walked toward town. Not necessarily because he even wanted to walk into town, but because his old pickup ran out of gas. He kicked at a clod of dirt that burst bits of grass and pebbles into the dryness. Stupid gas gauge. He didn’t have any money to get it fixed, but he sure loved that old red hunk of metal. It had been his dad’s. When his dad wanted a new bigger, shinier pickup, he let Anthony have Old Red. He had to let him be - to just sit waiting to be filled up and roar into life again. Well, not a real big roar, just ready to roll again.

“Hey, bud! Need a ride? Did Old Red give out on you again?”

“Jethro! Sure do need a ride and it was just the gas gauge. I forgot I have to fill up every week and I didn’t do it. My fault. Let’s just get some gas. That party’s going to have to start without us, but thanks to you at least I’ll get there. Jenny'd be real mad if I just didn’t show up.”

By the time they got back, filled Old Red up and Anthony got to the party, the sun had set. The air was cool and music filled the small prairie town. Across Main Street, the straw scent of harvest was wrapped with the buttery aroma of popcorn. It was the last weekend of the summer that Old Mr. Sanders had his popcorn stand gathering customers like flies around a honeypot. A full moon night, with popcorn, a party and a pretty girl, Anthony felt good. Focussed on a life he had almost left behind. He missed having beer with the boys, but at least now he would remember the evening. Jenny could count on him and Old Red could count on him to drive them safely home.

“Reliability is the precondition for trust.”

~ Wolfgang Schauble

The Gift of Story

The Gift of Story

In the late afternoon, when the sun slides through thin clouds streaming along the horizon, Chelsea had always felt a calm settling on her world. She was looking over the grounds of the vast estate left to her by her great uncle. She felt alone and frightened in this gentile world. Her world was a world of horses and dogs. Definitely not welcome in the grand ball rooms of this old castle. As a child, that was what she and her brother called it. Their family lived in the small cottage at the back of the estate so the children were able to play on the lawns. The stories they heard about the grand parties of yesteryear were magical. Horses and carriages bringing fine ladies in silks and feathers, their handsome gentlemen in top hats and tuxedos became the focus of many stories. Chelsea and her brother Eric were the stars in many of the stories. Now that childhood magic seemed so far away. Chelsea took a deep breath and with it her sadness seemed to just vanish. This old house did have so much potential. There really was some magic in the old place. Horse and carriage rides? No. Equestrian stables with lessons? Hmmm.... Bed and breakfast - a big one? Maybe…Uncle Bert had also left some money..not enough really, but if she could make it pay? 

“The possible’s slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.”

~ Emily Dickinson

The Day After

John Hendry Park, Vancouver, BC

The day after Thanksgiving 

eating leftovers from the fridge, tidying cutlery and glasses, taking out garbage and recycling

quiet and reflective with

an open air motorcycle ride 

a crackling fire and a movie with pillows and a blanket

a stroll around Trout Lake

warm sunshine filtering through maples, cherry, spruce and oak, weeping willows and birch trees with gentle focus, we are grateful and happy.

“The most fortunate are those who have a wonderful capacity

 to appreciate again and again, freshly and naively, the basic 

goods of life with awe pleasure, wonder and even ecstasy.”

~ Abraham H. Maslow

Author's note: Edited February 17, 2024

Reminders and Memories

Before I offer you my writing exercise from Friday afternoon’s writing group, I must tell you this has been a wonderful Thanksgiving at my son’s home. New friends made, friendships renewed and families blended to share great and varied conversation. And the food! Fantastic aromas, delicious tastes and prepared by many hands of both guests and hosts. To top it off, much of the music was played on vinyl!  Who remembers 78’s? The digital music paled by contrast, although in reality I really couldn't tell with all the visiting and laughter.  An evening that made sweet memories which is a perfect segue to my post.

*****

Reminders and Memories

The smell of an orange reminds me of a summer day at the beach, pulling me away from grey winds flinging rain against the window. Breathing deeply, I feel the long ago warmth of the sun on my face. I taste the cool, clean of the orange soda I sipped from the sweating glass.  At the same time I shiver in the cold, shaking the image from me, stirring the fire to encourage the flames. Summer sun is rolled up until next year. Bare toes curling in the hot sand are covered in warm wooly socks. Cool drinks are replaced with hot cocoa lathered with whipped cream. But oranges? A lovely orange from the refrigerator, sliced through with my sharpest knife, splashes spots of orange juice on my hands and face. Peeling away down to the fruit, I focus again on my memories of summer days at the beach. With a smile, I take my cup of cocoa and dish of orange slices back to the fireplace to plan my summer stay at the beach.

From Writer’s group Friday afternoon, we were each given a lead to a 10 minute writing exercise. The lead that I got was:  The smell of an orange reminds me of …….  The only thing that came to me was the beach! In discussion afterwards there were those that said that the reminder was of Christmas. I ran out of words at eight minutes So have an opportunity for a ‘do over’. Here is the revised piece to include Christmas.

Including Christmas - Revised Reminders and Memories

The smell of an orange reminds me of a summer day at the beach, pulling me away from grey winds flinging cold December rain against the window. Breathing deeply, I feel the long ago warmth of the sun on my face. I taste the cool, clean of the orange soda I sipped from the sweating glass.  At the same time I shiver in the cold, shaking the image from me, stirring the fire to encourage the flames. Summer sun is rolled up until next year. Bare toes curling in the hot sand are covered in warm wooly socks. Cool drinks are replaced with hot cocoa lathered with whipped cream. But oranges? They are still here for me. A lovely orange from the refrigerator, sliced through with my sharpest knife, splashes spots of orange juice on my hands and face. Peeling away down to the fruit, I focus again on the day before me rather than my memories of summer days at the beach. With a smile, I take my cup of cocoa and dish of orange slices back to the fireplace to open just one gift on this Christmas Eve. The smell of an orange also brings back memories of Christmas and stockings full of nuts and candy, with the ultimate treasure the orange in the toe of the old brown stocking.

“For the sense of smell, almost more than any other, has the power 

to recall memories and it is a pity that we use it so little.”

~ Rachel Carson

(The image for this piece is on my Facebook page.)

Author's note: Edited February 17, 2024