We've had more than a few foggy days this month, something I'm quite happy about. While it's not an unusual phenomenon when you live near the water's edge, particularly at this time of year, fog is still a rare enough event to feel like a treat. It will slow me right down if not completely stop me in my tracks, and not just for the lack of visibility. I love how the fog lends an intangible and ethereal, even eerie sense to the day, while at the same time offers something of solace and grounding. All weather systems are relatively changeable in these parts, but fog comes with a more definite sense of the fleeting...think it's that sense that makes me stop and pay attention in a different way...it envelopes and enthralls and reminds me to take notice of the very moment at hand. These fleeting moments, they bring with them a kind of hush...there is both a weight and a weightlessness to them. Fog enshrouds like a heavy blanket that comforts and consoles, while at the same time whispers to me of the lightness of being...
in between times
No resolutions to post, no clarity of purpose to declare...I just keep on keepin' on, and find myself thinking on the very ordinary moments that make up my days. While I mostly find comfort in predictability, and can easily appreciate the ho-hum, I sometimes need reminding that it is often the seemingly mundane that makes way for magic.
For example, when you're in the trenches of day to day parenting it can often feel like a slog...the wiping, the feeding, the reminding, the driving, the worrying, the laundry, the listening, the repeating, the repeating, the repeating...and on it goes. Magic comes in moments, then and now, and I've always tried my best to stop and soak it up. These days, from my current parenting perch, there is no better kind of magic than that of watching our semi-adult children who have moved away and lived apart, come together again...by choice, as friends, as I-might-be-your-harshest-critic-but-I'll-always-have-your-back, nearly 'all growed up' folks. These times, these people, they make my heart swell.
As I go through the many photos taken over the holiday season, the following handful from one particular walk are my take-away. A walk on Christmas day is a yearly tradition of ours and every year there are three things that can be counted on: 1. mom will ask for a group shot of the kids, 2. sibling shenanigans will ensue, and 3. almost all of the shots taken will include said antics. Let me add a fourth certainty: it will always be these in-between moments that resonate the loudest for me, and in addition they will likely be blurred, over- or under-exposed, and otherwise far from technically correct. What they call the imperfectly perfect...or is it the perfectly imperfect?...either way, if you ask me, these are the best of times.
welcome christmas
The kiddos are not yet all home from university. The tree is several days away from its finding, chopping, hauling and trimming. The cards are still being written, packages still being wrapped. A list of our favourite home-baked goods has been made, the ticking off of which is in the works. But, the shopping is done, the parcels sent, the turkey ordered and perhaps most significantly, my sanity and good humour are very much in tact. It's been years since the hustle and bustle translated merely to stress and frenzy. Years since we pared it all down, simplified to what really mattered. It's always been the most wonder-full time of the year in my books, but now that comfort and joy have truly taken center stage in all that we choose to do for the season, I can say it with a relaxed brow and easy breath...welcome Christmas, come this way.
of the light and the dark
Here we are, midway into November already. For me, this is a time of remembering, a time of anticipating, and a time for being right here, right now. Temps have dropped, natural rhythms have slowed...we bundle up to go out, we wrap our hands around warming mugs when in. Like no other, it's a time for care-taking and cozy-making...for appreciating the light and the dark and everything in between.
take a walk
Storm season has arrived. In between systems, it's advisable to take a walk in the woods. In fact, it's always advisable to take a walk in the woods.
thanksgiving
I woke to the sound of a fog horn several mornings this week, my afternoon tea is more often taken in lengthening shadows, and despite the unseasonably mild temps the leaves are turning...and falling. Today, family from four different locations in two different provinces will be mobilizing to gather at a place we all call 'the lake'. We'll spend the weekend walking trails, playing card games, reading and chatting by the fire, raking leaves, and roasting marshmallows over an open bonfire. There's sure to be a healthy dose of silliness, too much food to be possibly consumed (but it will be!), and much to feel bone-deep grateful for...
land of the silver birch
This past weekend I had occasion to visit a part of the province known as Cariboo Country. It's a vast landscape of woods, rolling hills and pasture lands. The area is sparsely populated with resource and service-based towns, ranches scattering the in-between places. People are down to earth, hard working and true; the life and the landscape simple and stunning all at once. Loons call, cattle low, the leaves turn. It was a breath of fresh fall air...
bird by bird
As Anne Lamott would say...bird by bird. Here's the first.