and then it was winter……

IMG_4279.JPG

Those of you who don’t live where there are seasons; I mean REAL seasons don’t experience the dramatic here-today-gone-tomorrow of the warm summer on the deck and the empty snow-covered deck in six short months.

The laptop and glass of wine move indoors and the wood heater radiates warmth as I look out the window at the wonder of my winter white world.  Sounds all smarmy and romantic, doesn’t it.

Winter reality is, well……. kinda different.  Crazily slapping and cursing at mosquitoes is replaced by crazily slipping and the graceless fall on your ass on the ice. And it hurts bad.

Winter reality is doing that weird little double tap on the running board of first your right foot and then your left to kick the snow off as you climb in the car.  The tricky part is remembering not to do that when you visit your brother in Santa Clara so it doesn’t look like you have OCD.  Or not….. he knows me well 🙂

Winter reality is watching the cracks appear and spread like a virus across the windshield from the “sand” on the road.  “Sand” that in reality is just rocks.  Rocks big enough that with a little mortar could be stood up as a retaining wall. Just saying, Department of Highways; maybe grind it up a little more?

Winter reality is the greeting “how’re the roads?”

Winter reality is moonlight on snow with sparkles in the air like fairy dust that take your breath away from the cold.

Winter reality is that it will switch again in six months to a memory as I sit on the deck in my flower garden with a glass of wine.

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Thanksgiving, PTSD and kindness

097c352387c09e33f1af6cba87453a7a1d5a96a2.jpeg

This weekend is Thanksgiving for us here in Canada.  It sort of sneaks up on us with still warm days leaning into fall.  We hang onto our (not politically correct anymore) Indian Summers with rays of late afternoon sun blinking through golden leaves as we pause and give thanks for the bounty of our lives. Continue reading

something I learned from her

Unknown-1.jpeg

There are things that stay with us. Words that matter and have meaning far beyond the moment they are spoken.

I was always a little intimidated by her quick wit; the ability and forthrightness as she said what was on her mind. In awe of her intelligence. In another sphere she could have been a doctor, lawyer, an author. As a cherished Grandmother and lover of Christmas, her days were full.

She let me know that contrary to what I was taught, it is ok to drink beer from a bottle. It’s ok to sit on the beach with the wind blowing our hair and laugh and drink beer as we sat huddled in down jackets determined to enjoy the frigid day at the beach.

She hugged me tight the last time I saw her and said “…we had a good run, Susie.  We had a good run”.

She taught me to look at things I can’t change and be able to say “….we had a good run” while I step into tomorrow.

 

 

the cedar chest

 

IMG_4229.JPG

I’ve always just called it the cedar chest but I think it was meant to be a hope chest. The place where a woman gathers her linens and household items in preparation for marriage. Later to become the repository of baby books, dried faded roses and a maribou feather stole worn to prom some fifty years ago. Continue reading