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Saturday, November 6, 2021

Wind and Weather

Magical, yet menacing ……

words reminding me of wind and weather


Rain that falls softly

glistening the land

drip - dripping from eaves

bright umbrellas bloom along sidewalks


Fog silently settles on field, town and city

silver grey mist tapestried in grasses and trees

swirled into cracks and crevices 

beautiful moist air fills my lungs


Snow that gentles the air

piles softly on fenceposts, rocks and fir trees

awaits snowmen, snow angels and snowballs

and children catching snowflakes on tip of their tongues


But a menace remains…….

 

On the back of a whirling dervish of wind ~

collusion and collision- the black magic of nature 

slashes rain against the world

blows snow across roads

bends trees to its will

breaks branches, scrapes twigs to the ground

whips live wires into the air


When the wind holds its breath 

there is fog ~

a silent and deadly enemy, 

translucent padding for brick walls and potholes.


“But who wants to be foretold the weather? It is bad enough when it comes, 

without having the misery of knowing about it beforehand”
~ Jerome K. Jerome,  Three Men in a Boat

Friday, November 5, 2021

Walk On


R
isky, rocky terrain begs to be walked on ~ a dare tossed randomly by Mother Earth.  

Hidden pools of cold water      shelter thick purple starfish but threaten injury to intrepid humans. A dare answered with caution can be a risk worth taking.







“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go.”

~ T.S.Eliot

Thursday, November 4, 2021

City Nights



Exposed to the bright lights of the city ~

a sailing moon, 

  all the shooting stars and

    wisps of shadowy clouds

flatten, fade and disappear

in a once velvet sky

unless I look past 

those sharp streetlights with 

my child’s heart to let

the wisdom and magic of the night sky shimmer into my soul. 


“I wonder about silence. Also about darkness. I love the idea 

that city lights are a “conspiracy” against higher thoughts.”

~ Terry Tempest Williams

Wednesday, November 3, 2021

Chapter Two, Episode Fifty-Seven - A Boy and His Dog - Situationally Theirs

A Boy and His Dog


“It’s pretty quiet out here most of the time. Oh, at night I hear a coyote from time to time or the chittering of that pack of raccoons livin’ back of the orchard. When a heavy fog settles in, the fog horns are so lonesome soundin’……reachin’ out for a friend.” Samuel, grizzled, tall and lean, was glad to be in the warm of Elizabeth’s kitchen. Brewster, practically glued to his side, wagged her bushy black tail, never taking her eyes from him. Samuel had an audience. Miss Emelina, Miss Dez and Elizabeth. Even Digby and Martha were there. The dark came early because of the cloud, rain glistening on everything. Samuel was just settling in to his story telling mode, his coffee getting cold. “But the sound I heard a few weeks ago took me back a lot of years.” He sat at the end of the long kitchen table, one work worn hand rested on Brewster’s black head. He looked down at her. “You’re a good girl, but no treats for you.


“Here’s the cinnamon buns - they’ve cooled enough for everyone to eat now. Probably spoil your suppers.” Cook brought the plate to the table, with napkins, butter and jam. “Get on with it, Samuel.” Cook, her hair greying and pulled loosely back in a bun, smiled at her friend. “What was it you heard so long ago, Samuel? Some of us have to get home tonight.” He helped her get settled, poured her some tea. “Just hold on. I’m gettin’ to it.” He sat down and leaned on his elbows. “I was only about ten. Always after my dad for a dog, like my school chums had. Not enough money for feedin’ me let alone a dog. I didn’t believe that ‘cause he worked here takin’ care of the gardens and yard. We always had enough food. Cook, not near as good as you Elizabeth, kept us fat and happy. Anyway, one night when I was goin’ to bed, I hear this whine. Not real loud at first. Then it would go quiet. Just when I was about to drop off, there was a couple of yips, and another little whine. Then it went quiet. I fell asleep.” He pulled apart a cinnamon bun, tossed a little piece of bread to Brewster and had a bit for himself.


“So did you figure it out in the morning?” Dez had called Brewster over to her, petting her and scratching behind her ears. “Sure did, but I didn’t want to tell mom or dad. Decided if it really was a dog, I’d try to keep it hidden and they’d never know. I feed it with some of my food. Didn’t know what I’d do if I got real hungry.” He shook his head and chuckled at the memory. 


Emelina chimed in. “What ever happened, Samuel and what does that have to do with this dog?” She’d never considered herself a ‘dog person’ or any other kind of pet, but she loved Samuel’s stories. “Well, Miss Em. I had that dog for three weeks before anyone noticed. Never brought him in the house, just kept him behind that big rock at the back of the orchard. I built a little lean-to for a dog house. Wasn’t much. Didn’t even use nails. Just leaned some old boards against the rock, put an old blanket in that mother was goin’ to throw out. And that’s why I called this girl, Brewster. Same as the dog that I found.” At the mention of her name, Brewster left Dez without a backwards glance and went to her friend. “And that’s how you got a young fella’s name, young lady.”


“You never told me that story before, Samuel.” James had been standing back again the cupboard. After sitting most of the day at his desk, he alway liked the opportunity to stretch his long legs. “How is it that this Brewster made an appearance?” Digby and Samuel had an easy friendship after working for Miss Em for many years. “You haven’t built another doghouse have you?” His laugh was low and kind. “Nope, James. Brewster comes in the house with me. She was a mess when I found her. She had crawled under the front porch a few weeks ago. I could hear her, just like the other Brewster, then she’d go quiet. She wouldn’t let me near her, scootin’ back as far as she could, when she heard me comin’. Now, she’s underfoot most of the time.” He leaned down to her and tousled her hair. Sitting up again, he continued. “I went into the feed store and got dog food, and a couple of dishes. Every morning when I left, I’d set out fresh food and fresh water. Same thing every evening after supper. She ate it all up, drank up all the water. She’d come out a little at a time, til she’d come up on the porch. Meanwhile, I was lookin’ at every place for posters about missin’ dogs, checked with the SPCA in town and put in calls to the radio. After two weeks, not hearin’ a peep from any of them, I let her come in the house. Sleeps by my bed. But I had to get her to the vet, make sure she was healthy and see if they had heard of a missin’ dog. Gettin’ in the truck wasn’t a worry for her at all. The day we went to town, I just opened the side door and she jumped right in like she’d done it a hundred times.”


Martha had been uncharacteristically quiet through it all. She wasn’t sure she approved of having a dog in the kitchen. She was the Estate Housekeeper. It had been a charming story, but all she could see was dog hair everywhere, muddy paw prints on the clean floors. “Well, Samuel, the vet gave her a clean bill of health? No ticks, no fleas. How did you get her cleaned up? You did say she was quite a mess.” Samuel stifled a laugh. “Don’t you worry, Martha. You won’t be seein’ her in the kitchen very often. But when she is, Elizabeth has towels in the mudroom for her. If she sees so much as a muddy toe print on her floors, she’ll send the both of us packin’. I’ll be eatin my own cooking.”


“Is there an end to this story, Samuel?” Elizabeth stood and started to clear away the empty plates and cups. “Well, the vet said she was healthy, told me I’d taken care of her really well. I’d taken her to the car wash in town and got her all cleaned up before I ever let her in my house. Then he gave me the ‘good news - bad news’ story. She does have owners. They had been holidaying out here when this virus thing started. All the way from Newfoundland. Left their phone number with the vet. She’d run away from where they were staying, just on the other side of Hatley. They had to leave without her, but hoped they would get her back somehow. Their little boy didn’t understand what had happened. Just a little fella I guess. Doc Nesbitt was going to call them and will let me know what he finds out.” The whole room grew quiet. Samuel had grown serious. If you looked closely, his blue eyes glittered a little more that usual. Martha quietly said “You bring her in here whenever you want, Samuel.” Dez stood stiffly “I’ll be getting out to walk in couple of days. She can come with me.” Everyone else was quiet. Emelina finally stood and said “Dez, are you ready to go upstairs? We’ll have to walk around on the porch and go in the front door. These stairs are too much for you right now.” Dez nodded and leaning on her sister’s arm they said good night.


“Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.”

~ Roger Caras (photographer and writer)

Tuesday, November 2, 2021

Standing Still Slowly - An Essay

Precarious, unsteady ground should be obvious. You know, rocks, broken sidewalks, muddy marshy land. Ground we would obviously avoid. Find a way around, or just change directions. In March, 2020 globally we were all thrown onto very precarious and unsteady ground. For some the bottom of life dropped out completely. Tragically, lives were lost, businesses closed, health care was, and still is, severely compromised. And politics spun completely out of control - but that’s another story.


Where is the permission in all of that? None that I can think of, except that Covid 19 happened. For me, it felt like a gigantic rug of security and certainty in life had been jerked right out from under me. For my family, so very many things were thrown up in the air. Living and being aware of one second at a time was a big deal! Not an airy fairy idea posited by some self help guru.


We could not avoid what was right in front of our lives. Certainly, many have been avoiding the reality of the situation since them. But, there has been no way around the presence of this viral enemy. Only vaccinations have decreased the potential for life-threatening illness. Yes, we’ve been encouraged, sometimes pushed, to get vaccinated. Ultimately, we have given our own permission to go forward. But there has been one more thing in this whirling mess that could be done, and in some cases, had to be done: change directions. In my case, it was a major life move. What I will always remember, is how frightened and panicked I felt before I made a scary, but momentous decision. Trapped by my own circumstance, and after many hours of worry and panic, I gave myself permission to jump ship and move to my home province of Saskatchewan. It took a lot of work, different sorts of worry and packing up seventeen years of living. 


Standing still slowly was my mantra once more. I picked my way through the precarious unsteady ground that had become the norm. Cautiously moving forward, life is not as unsteady, or precarious today. I have learned so much! I have met myself on my own terms in this new/old land of Regina. I’m not a bad sort! Finding a new path has been challenging and exciting. Giving myself permission to feel all the unpleasant and pleasant feelings of this new life is a real blessing.


“Give yourself permission to shoot for something that seems totally 

beyond your grasp. You may be surprised at your capabilities.”

~ Danica Patrick

Monday, November 1, 2021

For the Magic ~ PERMISSION ~ Theme for November 2021

In this life, we are all given permission. Permission to go outside and play when we’re kids. Permission to wear what we want despite direction otherwise. Children and adolescents are especially good at this. Permission to decide what job or career we want to apply for when we grow up. When we’re retired, what permission do we need from anyone? Or even want? So for this month, my theme is ‘Permission’. Permission to be ‘alive in the world’ and to enjoy the magic of it all.


Precarious, unsteady ground…

Exposed to the bright light……

Risky, rocky terrain……

Magical, yet menacing….

I can’t……..

Serving a new purpose……

Simply in front of me…….

I Can!

Over the mountain……..

New but gently worn………..


“….the reason is that when we look at nature, 

we receive a sort of permission to be alive in the world…”

~ Naoki Higashida, The Reason I Jump:

The Inner Voice of a Thirteen-Year-Old Boy with Autism

Sunday, October 31, 2021

Hunkering Down


Rabbits again!!

Furry boulders scattered about.


Today, on CBC Rick Mercer, 

interviewed by Rosemary Barton about Covid-19 

and the coming winter, said

“Canadians know how to hunker down.”


Well, these are Canadian rabbits ~

all over the lawns they hunker down 

in golding grasses that barely offer shelter.

It’s cold! And not even real cold yet!


“I’m gonna hunker down like a jack rabbit in a dust storm.”

~ Lyndon B. Johnson

(I couldn’t find a Canadian winter reference!)