Crossing the Strait

Sunday morning. Blue skies, bluer water. The ferry glides through the water. In Active Pass we meet a sister-ferry headed for the Island. 

Pristine white deck railings. Forested chunks of rock jut upwards from the sea.

Gulls wheel overhead, flying into the wind, holding themselves almost motionless against the sky. 

On Monday we gathered to celebrate a crossing of a different kind. Once 10 siblings posed for photos, stair-stepping in age from my mother, the eldest, to my uncle, the youngest. Now they are 7. Seven red roses for the surviving siblings, two yellow roses for sisters who crossed ahead, and one white rose for my Auntie Clara. We grieve, but not without hope.

While walking and waiting for the ferry on the return trip, this bit of moss caught my eye. Life springs up. It's irrepressible. Precious. 

Where can I go from your Spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there, 

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me, 

your right hand will hold me fast.

Psalm 139: 7-10 

This Beautiful Broken World

A walk over the weekend took us by the naturalized front garden on Lily Street. Currently blooming among ever lengthening grasses are native Camas Lilies. The tubers of these plants were a staple food for the First Nations People who once lived here. There are also white Camas Lilies, but those are poisonous. Only the blue ones are safe to eat, thus, harvesting must take place when the plant is in bloom.
 

Nana pushed the stroller, but Little Miss S preferred to walk. We kept her overnight while her parents enjoyed an anniversary getaway. All went well although after her bath she wanted to "go downstairs, see Mommy." At nearly 2 she hasn't spent much time away from her parents.
 

How beautiful the bluebells are in the woods, here framed in front of a mossy tree. The world is so full of beauty, yet brokenness is everywhere.

Girls are captured and held as trade goods in Nigeria. A Nigerian student at our local university spoke on the radio this afternoon, expressing sorrow not only for these girls, but for all who live in that country under fear of such things happening.

Dear friends of ours lost their beloved 27-year-old daughter to cancer this week. The next day, their older daughter gave birth to a lovely baby girl. How does one come to grips with such onslaughts of sorrow and joy? Faith gives hope for the future, but the anguish of loss now must still be born.

Buttercups bloom in my lawn. I am drawn back into the past to my grandparents' small farm in the Fraser Valley where, in the summer, I gathered fistfuls of these sunny flowers, wanting to bring their brightness indoors. They soon wilted and lay limp in the glass my grandmother provided.

Life goes on in the midst of brokenness, and it is beautiful. Finding the beauty and letting it seep into my soul while acknowledging the pain of the world seems paradoxical. Yet, I believe that one day, all things will be made right, and so, I'll ache and weep with those who weep and still look for beauty in each day.

On Absent Mindedness and Waiting

Doesn't it seem like we've waited a long time for this particular spring? It does to me, and I live in the most mild climate in Canada. I'm just so glad to see these brighter days. I love going out into my garden to see what new thing is blooming, growing, bursting with life. 
 

Pink cherry blossoms are flying like stars about the town just now. But these blossoms, white, not pink, are something special. They're blooming in our yard with the hope of fruit. Cherries, if we can get them before the birds do. We planted fruit trees last year and picked all the blossoms off so as to give the trees a chance to grow before fruiting. This year, we're hoping for fruit.
 

Mesclun lettuce growing in the garden bed. We won't be waiting very long before harvesting some of this. 

I read somewhere today of someone who went to the post office with a chocolate bar in one hand and a letter to mail in the other. She mistakenly mailed the chocolate bar. It reminded me of an event several years ago.

A bad cold had me in its grip. I don't take any medications beyond ibuprofen for I'm highly sensitive. Cold medications never. But this particular cold was terrible. In desperation I took one third of a tablet designed to ease the congestion. I had several errands to run that day and came home feeling dragged out only to discover that the letter I had mailed that day was still sitting on my desk. The envelope I slipped into the mail slot was empty. Then the library called to tell me that I had returned a DVD that belonged to the video rental store.

Later that afternoon, I picked up the remote to change the channel on the television. I clicked and clicked and nothing worked. One of my children, I don't remember which, looked at me strangely and said, "Mom, you're holding the telephone." 

And that's why I don't do "drugs." 

Have you ever done something absentminded, either under the influence or not? 

"Fog. Go. Away." she says

Oblivious. That describes me often sometimes. I've been so pleased with the fog these past few days, admiring the mist as it creeps across the landscape. 

However, we were supposed to be on a flight early this morning. In a conversation about cancelled flights with friends yesterday, it finally dawned on us that our flight might not leave as scheduled. 

Frantic  Determined re-booking calls.
We packed. We took a taxi to the airport. We waited. 
Late Evening flight also cancelled. Lineups and phone calls to re-book. Hundreds of people want off this Island.
Taxi return to home. A fine sleep.
Early morning flights cancelled today, too, but we're on the 6 pm this evening. Will we make it? I'll let you know.

*the airlines generously gave us taxi vouchers for our trip home and back out to the airport. Kudos to WestJet. 

Meanwhile, I have an unexpected day at home. I cleaned the bathrooms - something I didn't get around to when we left yesterday. My mind is in a bit of a dither and I can't concentrate on very much. Perhaps it's time to tackle the kitchen cupboards. 

The downside of fog. But still the robin sings. 

On Daydreaming

 Neil Gaiman gave a lecture on "Why our Future Depends on Libraries, Reading and Daydreaming" which was edited and published in the Guardian. I loved it. Books and daydreaming have always played a big part in my life.

I'm also practicing with photo editing using textures. These are my first efforts. I'm not too pleased with the way they look when the photos are enlarged, so I'll go back to the drawing board. Little is more, I think.
 

Back to the subject of books. I usually have a couple of them on the go. Novels I tend to devour quickly because I get caught up in the story line. Non-fiction I take more slowly. I want to remember, to think about what I've read. Non-fiction is usually less addictive than stories, although not always. 

In his lecture, Gaiman asked his listeners to look around them. I did and didn't see anything unusual - a few dishes to wash, a window with grandbaby fingerprints, a pile of tea towels to put away. Then he said that everything around us was something someone imagined. I've been mulling that over. Walls, windows, heat, tables, chairs, dishes - everything was imagined before it was made. What a powerful tool the mind can be. For me, this thought puts value on daydreaming and taking time to think, activities that are highly undervalued in our produce now, publish now world.

Years ago, I remember going into my husband's office in Quito. He was the administrator of a very busy hospital. Meetings, phone calls, emails occupied his time. Yet there he was, sitting in his chair, staring out the window. I asked him what was wrong. "Nothing," he said. "I'm thinking." 

Wouldn't it be great if we all took a few minutes each day to really think? We might do some things differently if we really thought about the implications of our actions and words, both short term and long term. Wouldn't it be great if our leaders, be they civic, political, religious, or employers, did the same?

I'd love to know what you think. Do you daydream or imagine? 

A Little of This and Some of That

It's Cyclamen season! I frequently walk by this yard that's been allowed to naturalize. In the spring tiny crocuses are followed by daffodils, then bluebells. In summer it's mostly brown grass, but once the rains begin in fall, these beauties pop up. 
 

Here's a closer look. While looking on line to see what kind of cyclamen they might be, I ran across a blog entitled "Stupid Garden Plants." Hmmm. But he has a great post on cyclamen, if you're interested. 

There's starting to be a whole lot more of these on the ground. 
 

Dinner with friends on Saturday night included the warm glow of candlelight. So cozy. Summer left in a big hurry this year, and left nothing behind. Rainy days, misty mornings, with the hope of sunshine in the afternoons. That's early fall around here.

What coziness is there in your world these days?

A Post of Little Consequence

The garden is still yielding. Lots of "baby 'matoes" as Little Miss A calls them. Next year I'm going to plant less of the small fruits and more of the big ones. I'll be making a batch of pasta sauce in the next day or two, with tomatoes from my garden and that of my daughter's.
 

While in Banff in early August, I took the above photo with my phone. I like the way the slabs of rock are set in the bed, some leaning, some straight. No exact placements and the plants growing up nilly-willy between them. Casual and interesting.
 

The new and the old. The Oster was bought in 1977. It's served us well and faithfully, but alas, it's time to go. Just not enough oomph. I hate getting rid of old things, don't you? I wish the things that work well and I'm used to would just keep going and going, like the Energizer Bunny.
 

The Cuisinart blender, fresh from the box, made short work of frozen strawberries, milk and ice cream. Delicious! A great way to assuage the mild grief of retiring the Oster.
 

A nod to the coming season - a pot of mums on the front porch. This was an odd plant. Apparently it was squished in the growing and so the back half is flat. A half-moon plant. It works perfectly against the porch railing since our porch is quite small.

Time to move on. Do you have anything of little consequence to share today?

A Mixed Bag

White rocks and one piece of sea glass brought from French Beach on Sunday. I'm so glad we decided to go that day since we've had rain and clouds ever since. This week has been a bit of this and that - a part-time job teaching French I was hoping for didn't come to pass (it was posted just last week, so a very short time frame for beginning class.) So I'll keep on as a teacher on call. 

 

In the spring we planted some fruit trees - 2 or 3 years old. We were told they wouldn't bear fruit this first year and to not encourage it. I pulled most of the few blossoms off, but left one apple on each tree. We'll have a taste testing tonight for dessert. One Liberty and one Akane.
 

I can hardly believe it's been three years since our youngest's wedding day. What a sunshine-filled day it was! Happy Anniversary to the globe-trotters. They are back from Ecuador and settling into life on the mainland once again.

I've been canning tomatoes and salsa, pickling green beans (thanks to Mater for the idea), freezing pesto, and doing some sewing. Stitching by hand is what's appealing to me these days - a measured and contemplative activity - good for prayer and pondering. Much to think about these days with world events near and far being what they are.

End of Summer Melancholy

This has been a strange summer for us. Family issues have weighed heavily on our minds. We had house guests for three months (Tim's nephew who had the accident in May, and his wife.) As of last Monday the house was back to just the two of us and it's taken me some time to adjust to cooking less and to embrace being alone. 

I am reminded of how ephemeral summers are. We anticipate them throughout the year and plan the hikes, the barbecues, the picnics, the gardening and house projects. Then, like the scattering of seeds from wind blowing on a dandelion globe, poof, the days are gone. What remains? Memories of laughter, of tears, of the first sweetly warm tomato eaten straight from the vine, of raspberries red and ripe, of bushes loaded with blueberries, of toddler giggles and a baby learning to walk. 

But it's time to lay aside melancholy. There are days of sunshine still ahead and I mean to make the most of them. I love autumn, but summer's short season holds a special place in my heart. 

What's your favorite season? Is it approaching or ending? 

First Things First

During the past two weeks of spring break I've been able to schedule in more time with the Little Misses. We've baked cookies, returned seaweed to the ocean on a very blustery day, visited the Ocean Discovery Centre, played with blocks and Duplo, read a zillion books, and eaten snacks. What fun we've had.

Today, the sun is shining, but I have chores to attend to. There will be a little of the above,
 

 and some of this, 

followed by a cup of tea and a little reading. Doesn't that cover look inviting? So full of colour and freshness. Do you have a favourite magazine?

But, first things first! Back to the chores!

Restless

When I began blogging, oh, about 6 years ago, my intent was to chronicle my creative journey and projects, and to connect with like-minded people. It was a tentative peek over the mountain to "see what I could see." The experiment resulted in connecting with people around the world, with meeting a few bloggers in person, and in finding an outlet for some of my thoughts.

For the past few months, however, I've been restless, wanting another purpose to blogging. I feel stagnant creatively, and the things I do create, I feel hesitant to show to you. There are so many creative, artistic people out there, filling posts with things I only wish I could dream up. I've thought about quitting blogging, but I enjoy it too much. I don't want to lose the cyber friends I've made. 

These stagnant feelings are not confined to blogging - they extend to my cooking, my needlework, my decorating, and even my reading. It's time for me to create new challenges for myself, to continue to grow.  I wish to be braver. To cease comparing myself to others. To be fully confident in being the woman God created me to be.

Tell me, do ever feel like this? What do you do to challenge yourself to move out of stagnation? 

Just Chatting

This is one of those posts about inconsequential things - like a conversation that leaps from one topic to another, without many connections between them. My family seems to think I'm pretty good at that, and it gives them great delight. 

The rain-battered primroses are blooming in my garden. Hardy souls. I was looking for snowdrops and found no sign of them at all. Puzzling.
 

Eating just a little of everything at Christmas meant a little bit added to me. Everyone has their own way of losing a couple of pounds - mine is to cut refined carbs for a few weeks. I tried out the Cauliflower Crust Pizza that I've seen here and there. If you love the chewy bready crust that holds your pizza toppings, you won't find it with a cauliflower crust. But it was still pretty good. Do a search for the recipe and you'll come up with many options. I sort of did my own thing, simplifying some of the steps. Yes, I'll make it again.
 

Lately I've found it hard to get into a book I really enjoy. Do you think I might be getting pickier? I was worried. On Saturday I took this book out of the library. I finished it after work today. A story with unexpected turns, full of humour, characters I'd like to meet, and a friendly setting. Highly recommend.
 

Candles make the January gloominess a little less so. I've been practicing taking low light shots with my new tripod. It does make a remarkable difference.

Re Downton Abbey. Yes, there is a Christmas special for Season Three. It was shown on Christmas Day in the UK. However, it does not take place at Christmas time, so it won't be too unseasonal when it airs here in February, I believe. Spoilers are all over the internet, but I won't say a word now. I'll have plenty to discuss later. Plenty. 

Roses in December

"God gave us memory so that we may have

roses in December"

James Matthew Barrie

 

Just before Christmas, I arrived home one afternoon as the sun slanted low on the horizon, illuminating this indomitable rose. I rushed indoors, dropped my purse and bags, grabbed my camera and took this photo before the last light slipped away. 

Memory is a gift. It's an amazing bit of God's creative genius that everything we see, do, hear, smell, taste, feel and think is stored away inside our brain. Retrieval of all that information is perhaps not as reliable as we would like, but still, with little effort, we can remember both the good, the not-so-good, and the terrible, of the past. Some memories we would rather not have, but there they are, seared forever in the mind. Others we wish we could remember more clearly, wanting to hold tightly to each minute detail. Memory is a fickle thing, often untrustworthy because of its utter subjectivity. Each of us remembers an event differently. Just ask your siblings about certain events of childhood.

As 2012 draws to a close, many of us sift through our collection of memories, holding this one and that one up to the light, smiling a little, shedding a tear, nodding, and sighing, as a myriad of emotions sweeps over us. Marking time by memory, we remember past joys and past sorrows. Today, I'm casting my mind back over the past 365 days, but once that's done, there's a wonderful new year ahead, full of potential and unknown opportunity. 

 

Yesterday morning we left the house early to take our daughter and son-in-law to catch the 9 am ferry back to Vancouver. Once again, the light caught my attention. On the way back into town, we stopped in Sidney and took a very short walk along the waterfront, out onto the pier and back. I didn't have my Nikon with me, but snapped these photos with my I-Phone. 
 

 

A new day and a new year dawn. Behind the clouds shines the light. As I move into 2013, which will surely hold its full allotment of both joy and sorrow, my prayer is that I will remember that the One who is the Light of the World is always with me. I pray the same for each of you, my readers. I want to embrace 2013 with arms flung wide in welcome. A year of abundant life awaits.

Breathing Time

When I arrive home from school around 4 pm, the first thing I do is put the kettle on and make myself a mug of tea or hot chocolate. I sit and savour the drink, drawing warmth from sipping and from wrapping my hands around the mug. A little snack, like these gluten and dairy-free cookies is a nice treat, too.

I find I need a little bit of breathing time to transition into the busy-ness of making dinner and evening activities. 
 

We've had a fair bit of rain lately, accompanied by pelting wind.  When the sun does shine, it's for a short time and noticeable enough that students and teachers alike comment on it when coming into the library. The other day, around 4:30 pm, I noticed the long slant of shadows on my dining room wall making my plates into a mottled landscape.
 

Shadows of the last spikes of lavender drying in a vase cast themselves onto the wall in graceful arcs, reminding me of the pass of summer into autumn's ever-shorter days.

I admire my daughter-in-law who comes home from work every day and immediately begins caring for a hungry two-year-old. I consider myself lucky to be able to transition gradually from work to home-work.

How about you? Do you need a little breathing time between activities? How do you transition?

Impromptu

Impromptu: off-the-cuff, spontaneous, unplanned

That was dinner earlier this week. The family gathered. We played on the grass, sat around the table, ate barbecued chicken, grilled vegetables, quinoa, and Blueberry Struesal Squares for dessert. (The link will take you to the recipe, but I warn you, there is no photo - I'm still updating, resizing, etc. It will likely take me years.)

Earlier in the day, Little Miss S and her mother, along with this Nana and Little Miss A went to the park, pushing matching strollers. Little Miss S spent most of the time sleeping peacefully on the grass. Isn't her hat darling?

Not the most flattering view of Nana, who accompanied Little Miss A to the edge of the spray pool. It was very cold and very strong. If the picture had been taken just a few seconds later, one could have seen Nana move very briskly as she's right next to a spray valve. Silly Nana.

Never could I have imagined how wonderful being a grandmother would be. I feel like I'm getting a third chance at the magic of childhood - the first chance was as a child, the second as a mother. Now, I can hardly tear my eyes away from watching these tiny beloved creatures explore their world. 

As many of you know, we raised our children in South America. Taking a stroll to the park, visiting a petting zoo, and going to a spray pool weren't options where we lived. We did other activities instead. Life was full and I have no regrets. But now I have the chance to do these fun activities that I'd read about in letters and books. Such joy! Such blessing!

What's giving you joy these days?