Highjacked

Vision sparkles clear until

the heat of my breath 

coats my glasses with fog. 

“Doubt is a thief of the soul.”

~ Andrew Davenport

A Crow in Fog

 I had the advantage!

Crows - and birds in general - seem to have an aversion to having their picture taken. In my experience, as soon as my hand pulls my cell phone out, before I can even turn it on, or lift it to click a photo - the avian photo op takes flight!

I first noticed the quiet of the fog, only torn by the occasional obnoxious goose discussion. But that settled into the silence. Then I noticed the crow, its ebony presence barely touched by the fog. It was intent on grooming, lifting a wing, fluffing feathers and not noticing me at all. From my second floor window ~ I had the advantage. 

“If men had wings and bore black feathers, 

few of them would be clever enough to be crows.”

~ Henry Ward Beecher

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

Winter Fog

Winter fog settled in softly

clothing trees and bush

in frosty glitter 

awaiting the icy ball.

"The fog comes in on little cat feet..."

~ Carl Sandburg, Fog

Back to Basics ~ 2

I don’t like this.

this blankness

this gray-white silence

like a low thick fog

settled in my mind

letting go 

of daily episodes

storied fictional lives 

necessarily set aside

has left a void, a vacuum

Beginning again

to find the other

stories, lives and loves

gently pushes me 

back to basics.

“Check your heart and make sure your 

intention steers you in the right direction.”

~ Norhafsah Hamid, Back to Basics

Quilted

February, 2017 but the same as today! Maybe not the ducks.

Stitched in green and black,

reds and gold,

nestled in shades of grey sky and ice mushed asphalt

Jack Frost spread his own

icy quilt over the west coast.

Decorated with snowcapped mountains, 

homes, high-rises and charmingly cold pillows 

fashioned from shrubbery and fence posts,

he breathed a chilling fog and cheered!

“Take a good look at your fabric and intuit what it is saying to you.”

~ Patricia Belyea, East-Meets-West Quilts

Wintering

Victoria, BC - December 14, 2008

Solstice in winter is a nice break for everyone both secular and non-secular. Cultural celebrations and winter solstice celebrations cross over at this time of year. However, solstice predates many of them as it is based in astrological phenomena. 

Winter solstice, which is really the beginning winter, is a time when the light of the sun comes just a little earlier. This year, the date is December 21st, so still 11 days of the heavy darkness of this ‘pre-winter’ season when the darkness is nudged aside toward spring. My opinion? Spring is still is too far away. That opinion is reserved for every foggy, rainy day beckoning hibernation indoors with a cosy pillow and blanket. My memories of the prairie freezer temperatures are absolutely the same. Getting outside to make a good snowman or snow angel is impossible, let alone starting a car to get to the warmth and companionship of the skating rink. But the winter solstice, with the light edging earlier, is a reminder that winter, as beautiful as it can be, does not last forever. Rain and fog soaks the red trunks and branches of Victoria’s arbutus trees and willows against our ever green lawns. Gently falling snow on the vast expanse of prairies and scattered small farms, the arching elm trees of Regina’s city streets creates Christmas card vistas. Whether fog or snow, if the temperatures dip too far life slows, whether we like it or not. 

Winter-like weather at least two or three months before December 21st, will not last forever. It only feels like forever. Winter solstice tells us differently. Our excitement about the lightening of the sky in the morning has transcended centuries, cultures and history. If I have to hunker down in my home, without  crawling under the covers, Christmas time, Hanukkah and other sacred winter traditions, join hands with candles, good food, family and coming together. Books, toys, gifts all kinds ~ maybe even a new pair of pyjamas only worn at Christmas. All to celebrate the return of the light in whatever form chosen. Winter solstice stops the pall of winter, wherever a person resides. 

“No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.”

~ Hal Borlund

To Drift and Settle

Like a leaf 

Drifting down and down

Like the fog

Settling into bush and tree

My mood

Drifts and settles quietly

Uplifted by

The easy flow of breath and movement

Like a leaf

That settles to the earth

Like the fog

That lifts up and away

My mood

Settles into contentment

Uplifted by 

The beautiful music of life.

“Embrace the glorious mess that you are,”

~ Elizabeth Gilbert

Do I Dare?

Outside for a breath of fresh air I tiptoe into a foggy day ~

veiled sunshine hesitantly promises bright sapphire skies by day, sparkling star shine on moonlit nights.

Do I dare believe

in perfection past the veil?

                or 

Do I believe that 

each breath of fresh air is perfection?

“It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare, 

it is because we do not dare that they are difficult.”

~ Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Touching

To touch the future

is impossible

walking in heavy fog

feeling the dampness

my skin grows cold and wet

turning me towards the warmth of home.

To touch today

is always possible

where there is no fog,

only dusty memories

falling gently on precious items

keeping the warmth of home within.

To touch the past 

is impossible

the heavy fog of hovering memories

~ feeling the distance ~

my heart reaches out, stretches out

turning me towards the warmth of home.

To touch today

is always possible

clearing away dust and fog with a resilient spirit

spices to futures hopes and dreams

using many flavoured lessons from the past

 ~ home can be created that is safe and warm. 

“And he that strives to touch the stars, 

Oft stumbles at a straw.”

~ Edmund Spenser

On a Foggy Day

Tiny jewelled chandeliers

woven by master weavers

 ~ forever a curiosity.

“In nature, everything has a job. The job of fog 

is to beautify further the existing beauties!”

~ Mehmet Murat Ulsan, Turkish author, playwrite

Be Curious

‘The fog creeps in on little cat feet..’

So says Carl Sandburg ~

Fog swirls around our feet

Rises up through our bodies

Filling cracks and crevices in our hearts

But above eddies of dust in our lands

  Above worries of every day

    Above the fog in our hearts 

There is always starlight above.

“So remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet.”

~ Stephen Hawking

Don’t forget!  

March is Epilepsy month with Purple Day for Epilepsy on March 26 each year.

Waiting

A silent postcard from

an ancient graveyard

on a gentle winter’s day

with a depth of stillness

matched only by heavy fog. 

A calming city scene melted, 

 ~ green, shining wet, cold.

A lone bench left in waiting.

“It is very strange that the years teach us patience - 

that the shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting.”

~ Elizabeth Taylor, A Wreath of Roses

Flight Line

Clouds raining down,
black asphalt shines
street lights reflect in puddles

Up from the tarmac
soft white fog cushions,
blotting out landscape and sky

Rising above the fog
rumpled grey cloud throws a blanket
to the edges of the horizon

Passing the horizon
a flat white sheet of cloud
meets blue domed sky

Ever shifting cloud becomes
soft foothills and valleys
white, slate blue and grey

Light grey clouds thin and fray
rivers and prairie beneath
disappear spontaneously

Patchwork prairie emerges
clouds suspend themselves
tarmac dried, dusty and rough.

"The sky and the sun are always there. It's the clouds that come and go."

~ Rachel Joyce

Wind and Fog

Winds, 

wild and untamed, 

sweep streets clean,
build piles of autumn debris in corners and under bushes.


Chaos, 

controlled and channeled 

only by city streets,
settles and changes 

as thickening fog rolls in 

dampening the noisy world of reason.

“Weather is always unrehearsed.”

~ Marty Rubin