Life, it seems, is a series of these three concepts.
All of them can have character building moments.
All of them have the potential to be nerve wracking.
All of them have the opportunity for joy.
I stand at one of these junctions, only it is a layered junction as well, meaning that while I contemplate letting go of something, I have to weigh how much or what to hold on to in order to maintain the essence of who I am, my dreams and hopes for tomorrow and the day after...
It would be a lie if I said or thought I had this all figured out. I don't. I wrestle with all the potential options and weigh them against possible outcomes until something makes sense, like a giant life size puzzle where the individual pieces don't have any familiarity until you start grouping them together to make a composite cluster.
Stepping out in faith is terrifying, even to one who has heard the sermons, treasured the comforting promises, tried to remain faithful to One Who knows eternity, yet has taken the time to endear Himself to the longings of a broken heart. It isn't easy to relinquish known fears, worries and concerns, improbability and statistics to the maker of something from nothing. He has a proven track record when I read the stories of old.
It's not a matter of 'can I' trust Him, but rather, 'will I' trust Him with my impossibilities.
'I know not what tomorrow holds, but I know Who holds tomorrow.'
Monday, May 15, 2017
Saturday, April 22, 2017
Humbling moments
This past week has had challenges that have not painted a portrait of myself in beautiful colours. My portrait would have been more akin to a disjointed Picasso painting. Something ridiculous and inhuman. I am not proud of how I dealt with one stressor after another, as unrelenting as the second hand on a clock. But I have had the decency to be humbled by things with a higher IQ but an inability to reason.
One of the newest members to my farm is a little Freedom Ranger meat bird. He arrived by post very cold, as all but three of these chicks did not survive the flight. He has had quieter quarters, food, water, and heat within his reach. He has had smaller chicks in with him to keep company and to encourage his appetite. They have all outgrown him and are not aware that he is unable to move easily. Now, he is alone, with a bolster around his body, food, water and warmth at his disposal, and not once has he murmured. He peeps sweet little peeps when I lift him out to change his nappy. He basks in the sunlight and drinks gratefully when I refresh his water jar. He chirps back when I talk to him. He is completely at my mercy for everything. And yet never complains. It's humbling to see such gratitude from a less than ideal situation.
I picked up two packages of bees today to install in my hives. As I walked away from the pickup point with my two buzzing boxes, I felt an overwhelming emotion of gratitude, awe, responsibility to provide for their well-being until the hive is strong enough to sustain itself. I was humbled by the 'trust' I was given to tend these bees. As I loaded them in the car and drove home, I felt speechless. As I opened the packages and introduced them to their new home, I whispered, 'I am your caretaker! Thank you for your hard work!' As I dumped them into the hive between the frames, the bees instantly grabbed on to the frames of previous years comb, I was awed and humbled that a thing so small could be scooped up by the thousands, introduced to a new Queen, a new caretaker and a new hive and instantly be at work with what a bee is designed to do.
All this week, as I was painting myself Picasso, the farm around me was creating a masterpiece of unparalleled excellence. Perhaps it has something to do with Who is allowed to hold the paintbrush!
One of the newest members to my farm is a little Freedom Ranger meat bird. He arrived by post very cold, as all but three of these chicks did not survive the flight. He has had quieter quarters, food, water, and heat within his reach. He has had smaller chicks in with him to keep company and to encourage his appetite. They have all outgrown him and are not aware that he is unable to move easily. Now, he is alone, with a bolster around his body, food, water and warmth at his disposal, and not once has he murmured. He peeps sweet little peeps when I lift him out to change his nappy. He basks in the sunlight and drinks gratefully when I refresh his water jar. He chirps back when I talk to him. He is completely at my mercy for everything. And yet never complains. It's humbling to see such gratitude from a less than ideal situation.
I picked up two packages of bees today to install in my hives. As I walked away from the pickup point with my two buzzing boxes, I felt an overwhelming emotion of gratitude, awe, responsibility to provide for their well-being until the hive is strong enough to sustain itself. I was humbled by the 'trust' I was given to tend these bees. As I loaded them in the car and drove home, I felt speechless. As I opened the packages and introduced them to their new home, I whispered, 'I am your caretaker! Thank you for your hard work!' As I dumped them into the hive between the frames, the bees instantly grabbed on to the frames of previous years comb, I was awed and humbled that a thing so small could be scooped up by the thousands, introduced to a new Queen, a new caretaker and a new hive and instantly be at work with what a bee is designed to do.
All this week, as I was painting myself Picasso, the farm around me was creating a masterpiece of unparalleled excellence. Perhaps it has something to do with Who is allowed to hold the paintbrush!
Saturday, March 25, 2017
Old-Fashioned Weathervanes
Roosters.
The original Weathervane!
They answer all question weather related.
Is it windy? Yes. Just look at their tails blowing.
How windy? Tail blowing backwards windy.
Is it raining? Yes.
How do you know? Roosters are inside the coop by choice with their beaks pressed unto the rain drizzled window.
Is it warm? Looks like the roosters are dust bathing and spreading out their wings, so yes!
Is it cold? Roosters are hunkered down.
How cold? When they are roosting with their heads tucked underneath a hens feathers, it's likely frostbite weather!!
Today looks like high winds!!
Wednesday, March 22, 2017
The need to hear a heartbeat
Sometimes, life is filled with unknowns. Scary unknowns. Uncertainties that overwhelm or seem larger than life.
I held one of my pheasant hens yesterday as she needed some care for a gashed thigh (thanks to an ungentlemanly proposal). She thrashed violently, clawing and scratching and flapping her way to her imagined freedom and safety. But I was her safety. I was providing the care she needed. I wrapped her inside my coat, next to my heart and pressed her close. I told her it was only her own imagination she was afraid of. She was stilled and soothed.
Today, I have two little chicks snuggled next to my heart. Their surrogate mother was needing to return to her coop and abandoned them after theee weeks of brooding and three weeks of mothering. Stellar performance at both, but her egg duties were calling for her return. As these chicks cried at her departure, and were concerned with my unknown hand scooping them up, they were stilled and soothed hearing my heartbeat.
Also today, I myself was faced with the fear of the unknown. The need to hear a heartbeat of comfort holding me close. I reached out to a friend and heard her heartbeat. And through her, I could hear the heartbeat of God.
'But as for me, the nearness of God is my good' Psalm 73:28
I held one of my pheasant hens yesterday as she needed some care for a gashed thigh (thanks to an ungentlemanly proposal). She thrashed violently, clawing and scratching and flapping her way to her imagined freedom and safety. But I was her safety. I was providing the care she needed. I wrapped her inside my coat, next to my heart and pressed her close. I told her it was only her own imagination she was afraid of. She was stilled and soothed.
Today, I have two little chicks snuggled next to my heart. Their surrogate mother was needing to return to her coop and abandoned them after theee weeks of brooding and three weeks of mothering. Stellar performance at both, but her egg duties were calling for her return. As these chicks cried at her departure, and were concerned with my unknown hand scooping them up, they were stilled and soothed hearing my heartbeat.
Also today, I myself was faced with the fear of the unknown. The need to hear a heartbeat of comfort holding me close. I reached out to a friend and heard her heartbeat. And through her, I could hear the heartbeat of God.
'But as for me, the nearness of God is my good' Psalm 73:28
Monday, March 20, 2017
Holding the door
He was waiting outside on a cold windy day. I had to unlock the door. He waited pleasantly while I found the key, twirled the latch round to the unlock position, let him enter and then relock the door behind him.
Meanwhile, he held the second entry door open for me, the same patient smile on his face.
I was stunned. My heart felt nourished and cared for.
It is sometimes the smallest gesture that conveys so much. No bravado. No indebtedness. Just genuine, old fashioned, 'ladies first', selfless gifts of kindness.
I shall bottle that memory and apply lavishly, perhaps as soon as tomorrow, when the world crowds in their unkindness.
Meanwhile, he held the second entry door open for me, the same patient smile on his face.
I was stunned. My heart felt nourished and cared for.
It is sometimes the smallest gesture that conveys so much. No bravado. No indebtedness. Just genuine, old fashioned, 'ladies first', selfless gifts of kindness.
I shall bottle that memory and apply lavishly, perhaps as soon as tomorrow, when the world crowds in their unkindness.
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Defining Love in the 21st Century
LOVE
Without Sacrifice
Is either giving,
Or sharing,
But almost always
Is Self-Promotion
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Misplaced Motherhood
As a young girl, my only ambition was to be a good wife and mother. Neither blessing has befallen me, though I have cared for many families by showing value for their marriage and loving their children.
Over the past few very busy years, I have added elements of farming to my life: gardens, rabbits, quail, chickens, turkeys, pheasants, and of course Claire as her role of guardian/nanny. Even Lucia, the ever so darling cat is part of the farm life in her dainty way.
Motherhood is likely to elude me (for starters I am missing all the precursors such as meeting the gentleman whose heart and soul captures yours) but I felt a different fulfillment this evening as I watched various critters or critter and exchanges.
-one of my Salmon Faverolles had collected all the ladies eggs, for the third day in a row, and was sitting hunkered down like a fluffy Abrams tank, ready to do battle against any intruders. She made her strike when I started to remove the eggs from underneath her. She was so astonished that she dug around in the shavings while remaining hunkered and defensive. I seized the opportunity to run inside and grab the turkey eggs I have been collecting for just such a broody mama. When placed in front of her, she stared without moving, then quickly and in one motion walked up over them and scooped them back into her divot. Motherhood.
-While feeding the different enclosures a bedtime snack to get them through the bitter cold night, I observed my Black Spanish tom and dominant rooster Magnum Opus standing side by side in all their splendor and pomp, yet not an inkling of rivalry. They had enough respect for the each other's role within their shared space of Black Spanish turkeys and Magnum Opus' premier laying flock. It was a teary moment to realize that they have never had to fight or engage in a power struggle, and as such, their ladies were well taken care of. Me, while mothering the fine fellows, allowed them confidence to be securely at their best. Motherhood.
-my blind and very old rabbit, Poppy, has been the mainstay in my flocks for years. Every season he is right in the middle of the babies. They look up to him, adore him, are calmed by his stable presence. They sleep beside him, pick food bits from his fur, and are curious about his eating habits. This is Poppy's second batch of chicks this year. Fifty little meaties milling about. This is the first time they have tucked underneath like they would tuck under a hen. Looking for Motherhood.
-Claire dotes and nuzzles on the critters, sniffs out anyone that might be a little hunkered and cold. The turkey poults especially are enamoured with her and run after her, always needing to be near her. If she lays down, they follow. If she sniffs the ground, they come running to check what she found. Motherhood.
Although I don't have my own children and although my hands are now busied with raising food for myself and others, I see glimpses of motherhood being fulfilled around me every day, and I am delighted!
True Motherhood is a beautiful thing!
Over the past few very busy years, I have added elements of farming to my life: gardens, rabbits, quail, chickens, turkeys, pheasants, and of course Claire as her role of guardian/nanny. Even Lucia, the ever so darling cat is part of the farm life in her dainty way.
Motherhood is likely to elude me (for starters I am missing all the precursors such as meeting the gentleman whose heart and soul captures yours) but I felt a different fulfillment this evening as I watched various critters or critter and exchanges.
-one of my Salmon Faverolles had collected all the ladies eggs, for the third day in a row, and was sitting hunkered down like a fluffy Abrams tank, ready to do battle against any intruders. She made her strike when I started to remove the eggs from underneath her. She was so astonished that she dug around in the shavings while remaining hunkered and defensive. I seized the opportunity to run inside and grab the turkey eggs I have been collecting for just such a broody mama. When placed in front of her, she stared without moving, then quickly and in one motion walked up over them and scooped them back into her divot. Motherhood.
-While feeding the different enclosures a bedtime snack to get them through the bitter cold night, I observed my Black Spanish tom and dominant rooster Magnum Opus standing side by side in all their splendor and pomp, yet not an inkling of rivalry. They had enough respect for the each other's role within their shared space of Black Spanish turkeys and Magnum Opus' premier laying flock. It was a teary moment to realize that they have never had to fight or engage in a power struggle, and as such, their ladies were well taken care of. Me, while mothering the fine fellows, allowed them confidence to be securely at their best. Motherhood.
-my blind and very old rabbit, Poppy, has been the mainstay in my flocks for years. Every season he is right in the middle of the babies. They look up to him, adore him, are calmed by his stable presence. They sleep beside him, pick food bits from his fur, and are curious about his eating habits. This is Poppy's second batch of chicks this year. Fifty little meaties milling about. This is the first time they have tucked underneath like they would tuck under a hen. Looking for Motherhood.
-Claire dotes and nuzzles on the critters, sniffs out anyone that might be a little hunkered and cold. The turkey poults especially are enamoured with her and run after her, always needing to be near her. If she lays down, they follow. If she sniffs the ground, they come running to check what she found. Motherhood.
Although I don't have my own children and although my hands are now busied with raising food for myself and others, I see glimpses of motherhood being fulfilled around me every day, and I am delighted!
True Motherhood is a beautiful thing!
Sunday, March 5, 2017
A Spendid Winter's Afternoon
This has been a memorable week, filled to the brim with life's joys, sorrows, hardships, and surprises. I wasn't sure I could bear some of the moments, but was grateful for the reprieve or distraction of other moments to displace the burden.
Today I enjoyed a spot in front of the window, with golden winter light piercing the negative temperatures. With book in hand and two baby pheasants needing a little quiet time, I picked up where the bookmark marked several chapters in.
It's a good book. Not one that I would normally delay finishing, but life has bestowed different lessons to learn recently, than that written under the title of Pilgrim's Call, by A.L.O.E. (A Lady Of England).
It's a fictional story with ties and references to the great classic Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan.
This passage in particular is something that resonated with me. It's something that I have experienced from others and been guilty of myself these past few weeks especially. It's something that I wanted to warn others of, but instead prayed that I would heed the words myself.
Let me provide the passage:
'Judge not, that you be not judged,' said the clergyman, impressively. 'There is nothing so little becoming a young pilgrim as passing unkind judgement on his elders.'
'I'm afraid that it's my besetting sin,' said Charles, 'and one that is very difficult to get rid of.'
'Like many others, I believe that it springs from pride,' observed his tutor. 'When we are deeply sensible of our own imperfections, we have more mercy to show, or less attention to give to those of our neighbours and companions.'
Amen and Amen. God grant that it be so.
Today I enjoyed a spot in front of the window, with golden winter light piercing the negative temperatures. With book in hand and two baby pheasants needing a little quiet time, I picked up where the bookmark marked several chapters in.
It's a good book. Not one that I would normally delay finishing, but life has bestowed different lessons to learn recently, than that written under the title of Pilgrim's Call, by A.L.O.E. (A Lady Of England).
It's a fictional story with ties and references to the great classic Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan.
This passage in particular is something that resonated with me. It's something that I have experienced from others and been guilty of myself these past few weeks especially. It's something that I wanted to warn others of, but instead prayed that I would heed the words myself.
Let me provide the passage:
'Judge not, that you be not judged,' said the clergyman, impressively. 'There is nothing so little becoming a young pilgrim as passing unkind judgement on his elders.'
'I'm afraid that it's my besetting sin,' said Charles, 'and one that is very difficult to get rid of.'
'Like many others, I believe that it springs from pride,' observed his tutor. 'When we are deeply sensible of our own imperfections, we have more mercy to show, or less attention to give to those of our neighbours and companions.'
Amen and Amen. God grant that it be so.
1(+15)+P+23.5-3=12+1!!
One hen
+15 pheasant eggs
Add patience plus 23.5 days of brooding
Resulting in twelve pheasants being mothered by a Salmon Faverolles hen.
Sienna hatched twelve beautiful pheasants, leaving three random eggs that were undeveloped.
The little phizzers have been exceedingly sweet, mellow and entertaining to watch! A truly rewarding experience!
+15 pheasant eggs
Add patience plus 23.5 days of brooding
Resulting in twelve pheasants being mothered by a Salmon Faverolles hen.
Sienna hatched twelve beautiful pheasants, leaving three random eggs that were undeveloped.
The little phizzers have been exceedingly sweet, mellow and entertaining to watch! A truly rewarding experience!
Sunday, February 19, 2017
Patience at its finest
Today should have been the day. The numbers add up, calculated ever so carefully, except for one small detail. Well, fifteen small details to be precise.
The story line is simple. Mid-winter, my pheasant hens decide to lay. Not a common thing for an undometicated bird to do. After collecting fifteen eggs, one of my Salmon Faverolles decided to go broody, so I took advantage of her mothering heart, and offered her the pheasant eggs. She accepted them with astonishing earnestness, rolling them one by one under her plumage.
She hasn't moved from her basket, not even to lean forward and drink the water placed in front or to eat a morsel. She hasn't stood up, stretched or given any opportunity for these much smaller eggs to cool off.
After two weeks, she started her quiet mothering croon to the littles lives stirring in their armoured womb. She has zealously guarded them, loved them, spoken endearingly to them and claimed them as her own.
I confess that this sacrificial love has made me feel unworthy and inept in my very feeble attempts to show love and care to others. I confess that I am altogether willing to count the hardships of endurance, to shed tears when the sacrifice has been so great.
Today, Sienna would have heard little pips, had these eggs been her own, but they are not. They are pheasant eggs, which means she has at least two more days before a little pheasant chick unearths itself from underneath this feathered act of love and greets this darling of a mother.
Patience, endurance, long-suffering, These qualities are within my grasp and yet I hastily grab at impatience. Impatience that says 'I didn't plan on this. I need resolution. I want results.'
Leave it to a lovely little hen to teach the simplicity of waiting in silence.
The story line is simple. Mid-winter, my pheasant hens decide to lay. Not a common thing for an undometicated bird to do. After collecting fifteen eggs, one of my Salmon Faverolles decided to go broody, so I took advantage of her mothering heart, and offered her the pheasant eggs. She accepted them with astonishing earnestness, rolling them one by one under her plumage.
She hasn't moved from her basket, not even to lean forward and drink the water placed in front or to eat a morsel. She hasn't stood up, stretched or given any opportunity for these much smaller eggs to cool off.
After two weeks, she started her quiet mothering croon to the littles lives stirring in their armoured womb. She has zealously guarded them, loved them, spoken endearingly to them and claimed them as her own.
I confess that this sacrificial love has made me feel unworthy and inept in my very feeble attempts to show love and care to others. I confess that I am altogether willing to count the hardships of endurance, to shed tears when the sacrifice has been so great.
Today, Sienna would have heard little pips, had these eggs been her own, but they are not. They are pheasant eggs, which means she has at least two more days before a little pheasant chick unearths itself from underneath this feathered act of love and greets this darling of a mother.
Patience, endurance, long-suffering, These qualities are within my grasp and yet I hastily grab at impatience. Impatience that says 'I didn't plan on this. I need resolution. I want results.'
Leave it to a lovely little hen to teach the simplicity of waiting in silence.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
A Danish Bedtime Story
Once upon a time, there was a Dane who shared a life with a lady, who shared a house with her horse, who shared a bed with her master. This master decided to alter the circumstances. The rest of the story will be shared in pictures, but to start things off fairly, I will give you a hint on the first picture!
 |
| The lady's neighbour boy outgrew his toddler bed!! What possible use could she have for this? Hmmmm...Oh!!! That's right! She has a dog that might like having a large bed! |
 |
| Fitted sheet. Right. Got it. Are we done yet? |
 |
| WHAT? A flat sheet too? But I am SOOOOOO tired. Black bags, I tell you! Black bags! |
 |
| This certainly looks promising! The duvet has been placed! |
 |
| Carpe Diem |
 |
| Mine |
 |
| What toddler bed? Just try to condense me! I weigh more than you; YOU sleep on the toddler bed! |
 |
| Make mine a Queen!! |
My Humbler Bumbler
I have recently discovered a new species of pollinator in the cottage garden. Swift, large, able to cross pollinate multiple plants at a time. This indomitable creature is tireless and uncomplaining in the course of duty. She may lack a few refinements here and there such as using not only the traditional rear legs to carry pollen , but also the abdomen, the muzzle, eyebrows, forelegs, ears, tail, and whiskers while cross-pollinating brilliant orange lilies with delicate blue speedwell, or a soft pink dianthus with a tall spired blue delphinium. Certainly by next season when a large five foot stalk unfurls from the ground sporting nothing but a solitary pink flower the size of a baby's fingernail, SURELY the pollinator will consider refining her talent!
Friday, September 28, 2012
The Last Vestiges of Puppy-hood
I finally had to break down and do it.
This vehicle is relatively new to me, purchased in mid-April when Claire was still growing and when the air was warming toward spring, allowing her to ride along in the car and stay alone while I ran chores. Each time, upon my return, I would find her curled up in my seat...no easy task for a lanky ninety pound pony! So as not to startle her, I would gently knock on the window. This was never a successful approach, needless to say since she was A) in trouble for not being where she belonged, and B) taking her guardian role seriously.
After knocking, she would whip her head around with gaping eyes and very rapidly try to uncoil all nine feet of front legs, body and hind legs from the garden hose style nest she had created under the steering wheel. More often than not, I would have to cover my face or look the other way to stifle the hilarity I exuded, so as to enforce just how intolerable I found it to have her in the 'Master's Chair'.
One of these times, I returned to find nose prints on the windshield, right in my line of vision. This may sound crazy, but I have loved seeing the vigilant loyalty that I took this symbol to mean. It has remained there...until today.
It is getting VERY cold and soon to snow, so any marks on the window are quick to gather steam from the temperature variation. Out of necessity, I had to take window cleaner to these sweet marks of friendship. However, I will never look through the windshield without seeing the nose prints with my memories vision.
In fact, I still can see my one year old nieces little thumb print on my review mirror, from a road trip and time when I was holding her on my lap while her mama was busy changing my newest nieces clothing before getting back on the road. I kept that thumbprint out of love and the sweetness that symbol brought to my heart.
I will always miss that car, but I can still see the thumbprint and cherish the memory of that trip.
This vehicle is relatively new to me, purchased in mid-April when Claire was still growing and when the air was warming toward spring, allowing her to ride along in the car and stay alone while I ran chores. Each time, upon my return, I would find her curled up in my seat...no easy task for a lanky ninety pound pony! So as not to startle her, I would gently knock on the window. This was never a successful approach, needless to say since she was A) in trouble for not being where she belonged, and B) taking her guardian role seriously.
After knocking, she would whip her head around with gaping eyes and very rapidly try to uncoil all nine feet of front legs, body and hind legs from the garden hose style nest she had created under the steering wheel. More often than not, I would have to cover my face or look the other way to stifle the hilarity I exuded, so as to enforce just how intolerable I found it to have her in the 'Master's Chair'.
One of these times, I returned to find nose prints on the windshield, right in my line of vision. This may sound crazy, but I have loved seeing the vigilant loyalty that I took this symbol to mean. It has remained there...until today.
It is getting VERY cold and soon to snow, so any marks on the window are quick to gather steam from the temperature variation. Out of necessity, I had to take window cleaner to these sweet marks of friendship. However, I will never look through the windshield without seeing the nose prints with my memories vision.
In fact, I still can see my one year old nieces little thumb print on my review mirror, from a road trip and time when I was holding her on my lap while her mama was busy changing my newest nieces clothing before getting back on the road. I kept that thumbprint out of love and the sweetness that symbol brought to my heart.
I will always miss that car, but I can still see the thumbprint and cherish the memory of that trip.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Seasonal Markers
August 15th: The first Autumn leaf fell, a bright burgundy leaf from a plum tree.
September 5th: Termination dust fell on the mountains in the early morning hours, marking the official end of summer.
September 9th: First Autumn frost. It was very crisp this morning and the frozen ground yielded interesting smells for Claire and Kate (our weekend guest Irish Wolfhound). Week by week you can feel the thermostat being turned down, frosty breath staying until later in the day and arriving earlier each evening. Brrr!
The next marker for winter is the first sticking snow - we are on track for an earlier arrival date this year which reminds me that my next trip to the feed store better include the purchase of Claire's red mittens! and a snow shovel! and more candles! and a camp stove just in case!
Last year was such a delightful winter with Claire; I am looking forward to this year!
Hmmm....It feels like Christmas already. Think I will listen to Luciano Pavarotti's Christmas Collection!
September 5th: Termination dust fell on the mountains in the early morning hours, marking the official end of summer.
September 9th: First Autumn frost. It was very crisp this morning and the frozen ground yielded interesting smells for Claire and Kate (our weekend guest Irish Wolfhound). Week by week you can feel the thermostat being turned down, frosty breath staying until later in the day and arriving earlier each evening. Brrr!
The next marker for winter is the first sticking snow - we are on track for an earlier arrival date this year which reminds me that my next trip to the feed store better include the purchase of Claire's red mittens! and a snow shovel! and more candles! and a camp stove just in case!
Last year was such a delightful winter with Claire; I am looking forward to this year!
Hmmm....It feels like Christmas already. Think I will listen to Luciano Pavarotti's Christmas Collection!
Thursday, September 6, 2012
I Was Just Wondering...
If the old saying states that
"Less is more"
then what is it called when you have
Much Less?
If another saying says to
be happy with the little things,
what happens when the little things become
MICROSCOPIC?
I was just wondering!
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
...and then I saw Providence
Last night around 10:30, the electricity went M.I.A. and remains missing to this very moment. It was a tremendous windstorm that spirited the current out of the city's electrical veins, taking down trees, removing fences, and crippling businesses. Work was an extra enormous effort today, but thankfully all worked out without detrimental issues.
What was amazing today was the incredible moon and starlight for a few brief moments as the winds offered a glimpse through the clouds to the floorboards of heaven. Within minutes, the same wind pushed the cloudy blanket over the city, leaving us in darkness.
My ride to work was very black. No street light, house light or stop light sat vigil. I realized the allegory God was teaching me. He was showing that He intended me to be the light in darkness, even in a sometimes hostile work place, a thankless job, the never ending flow of demands and unkindness.
Further along on my drive, I observed the information / help assistance poles lit up by a royal blue light, offering a chance for passers by to stop and call for help. This too is something God gives us each day. A beacon in this dark world to offer hope and light and help to get through. A reminder that we are not alone yet must ask and want the guidance offered.
By this time in my drive, I was rather choked up by the clear message and the inner yielding that for whatever reason, God does have me at this job for His glory, not my own.
My last leg of the journey to work left me in tears. Just ahead a half a mile in blazing lights, I saw my destination lit up with power from it's own power plant. On the top was a bright blue light in the shape of a cross followed by the words PROVIDENCE.
He chooses us. He calls us. He enables us. He is good.
What was amazing today was the incredible moon and starlight for a few brief moments as the winds offered a glimpse through the clouds to the floorboards of heaven. Within minutes, the same wind pushed the cloudy blanket over the city, leaving us in darkness.
My ride to work was very black. No street light, house light or stop light sat vigil. I realized the allegory God was teaching me. He was showing that He intended me to be the light in darkness, even in a sometimes hostile work place, a thankless job, the never ending flow of demands and unkindness.
Further along on my drive, I observed the information / help assistance poles lit up by a royal blue light, offering a chance for passers by to stop and call for help. This too is something God gives us each day. A beacon in this dark world to offer hope and light and help to get through. A reminder that we are not alone yet must ask and want the guidance offered.
By this time in my drive, I was rather choked up by the clear message and the inner yielding that for whatever reason, God does have me at this job for His glory, not my own.
My last leg of the journey to work left me in tears. Just ahead a half a mile in blazing lights, I saw my destination lit up with power from it's own power plant. On the top was a bright blue light in the shape of a cross followed by the words PROVIDENCE.
He chooses us. He calls us. He enables us. He is good.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Taking a Rain Check on Summer
Autumn is infusing the early morning air with her fragrance. The sun is sleeping in later each morning and retiring earlier each evening.
Presently, we are tied for the second coldest summer on record and on pace to succeed in earning first place. This, following Winter with record snowfall and a record Spring Blood Drive, courtesy of the state bird - the shameless mosquito.
Our winter clothes have barely had enough time to wrinkle or lose their detergent freshness, yet we are pulling them out already in anticipation of the eminent return of the Old Man and his winter blanket.
Presently, we are tied for the second coldest summer on record and on pace to succeed in earning first place. This, following Winter with record snowfall and a record Spring Blood Drive, courtesy of the state bird - the shameless mosquito.
Our winter clothes have barely had enough time to wrinkle or lose their detergent freshness, yet we are pulling them out already in anticipation of the eminent return of the Old Man and his winter blanket.
My Single Favourite Thing on Planet Earth
Bittersweet Chocolate. Tea. Gardens. Flowers. Gardening. Sunrise. Sunset. Mountains. Wild Creatures. Steak. Fruit. Classical music. Antiques. Embroidery. Wholesome laughter. Pastries. Cooking. Lucia on my lap with a great book in hand.
Scenic Driving. Victoria, B.C. Oregon Coast. Snow. Snowfall. Snowflakes. Winter. Nature sounds. The American Flag. America's Founding Documents and Principles.
This list could go on with things that bring great joy, a sweet smile and a contented sigh in my soul.
However, the thing that gives me the greatest joy of all is having Claire sound asleep, her tail wagging with reckless abandon. Without a shadow of doubt, I can see that she has true contentment and pleasure. She is unafraid. Her conscience is clear. She is at peace and filled with joy!
This list could go on with things that bring great joy, a sweet smile and a contented sigh in my soul.
However, the thing that gives me the greatest joy of all is having Claire sound asleep, her tail wagging with reckless abandon. Without a shadow of doubt, I can see that she has true contentment and pleasure. She is unafraid. Her conscience is clear. She is at peace and filled with joy!
Sunday, July 15, 2012
The Impatience of Slobber
Here beside me sits Claire in ultimate perfection. Her eyes are looking at me with such adoration, her ears are upright sentinels, her carriage is the epitome of elegance. She sits in silence, patiently waiting for me after making sure she has dutifully complied with every piece of training that her memory can evoke. Had there not been a heartbeat beneath, she would have made an enviable statue.
There is one unfit clue however that is quite evident amidst this regal image. That is, she is dripping a rather significant amount of slobber as she watches me eat.
After dying laughing for a moment, my eyes flooded with tears as I realized how often I do this very same act before my God. I clean up, perform all the dutiful functions to make sure I am in compliance with His standards, then present my petition before Him. While this is all well and good to comply and present yourself, there is an underlying expectation that God will give way to my desire.
I adore Claire and love sharing the moment with her. Of course I love to provide for her, to praise her, to guide her, to dote on her, to watch birds and smell flowers together. I want to give her tasty treats and great sticks and fun toys but they don't always come when she is asking for them. Her best interests are always at the heart of my bond with her which means that sometimes the answer is yes, sometimes the answer is no and sometimes there never was a question....just an unexpected gift!
If my heart is one with God's heart, then I can comply with his standards, present myself and my request before Him, then wait in assurance of His goodness. He loves me no matter the answer, but do I love Him no matter the answer?
After giving Claire my last bite, I used American Sign Language to signal 'all done' and she lay down at my feet contentedly to sleep. After God gives me something dear, do I stay in His presence?
There is one unfit clue however that is quite evident amidst this regal image. That is, she is dripping a rather significant amount of slobber as she watches me eat.
After dying laughing for a moment, my eyes flooded with tears as I realized how often I do this very same act before my God. I clean up, perform all the dutiful functions to make sure I am in compliance with His standards, then present my petition before Him. While this is all well and good to comply and present yourself, there is an underlying expectation that God will give way to my desire.
I adore Claire and love sharing the moment with her. Of course I love to provide for her, to praise her, to guide her, to dote on her, to watch birds and smell flowers together. I want to give her tasty treats and great sticks and fun toys but they don't always come when she is asking for them. Her best interests are always at the heart of my bond with her which means that sometimes the answer is yes, sometimes the answer is no and sometimes there never was a question....just an unexpected gift!
If my heart is one with God's heart, then I can comply with his standards, present myself and my request before Him, then wait in assurance of His goodness. He loves me no matter the answer, but do I love Him no matter the answer?
After giving Claire my last bite, I used American Sign Language to signal 'all done' and she lay down at my feet contentedly to sleep. After God gives me something dear, do I stay in His presence?
Saturday, June 30, 2012
A Letter to my Sister
If you were here...
I would seat you in this cozy spot with a cup of tea.
Or perhaps a seat here with a book of your choosing.
You would be welcome to a nap
I would even let you pick my peonies!
I would seat you in this cozy spot with a cup of tea.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Set Against a Winter Landscape
Today on our walk, Winter was being ravished by warm winds, leaving behind traces of past seasons and heralding the coming of new.
In Danish Sickness and in Great Dane Health
My rather large darling became ill with a new strain of kennel cough last week, followed mid-week with an intense secondary infection. When I picked her up after work, she was non-responsive and exhibited every symptom of illness. Poor little lady.
After a late night trip to the DVM, she received subcutaneous fluids, an antibiotic injection and ten days supply of oral antibiotics. After a few dys of round the clock nursing, she is finally on the mend, even enjoying a walk today.
After a late night trip to the DVM, she received subcutaneous fluids, an antibiotic injection and ten days supply of oral antibiotics. After a few dys of round the clock nursing, she is finally on the mend, even enjoying a walk today.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Of Celery and Carrots
While discussing the alarming trend of childhood obesity patients rolling through the door, my co-workers and I were discussing just how young and how large children seemed to be now.
I chimed in by mentioning the three siblings that were all in the single digit by age, and yet weighed around my weight up to one and a half times my weight.
I also chimed in that my soon to be seven month old weighed ninety pounds and that I had put her on a strict diet of carrots and celery.....and moose and caribou and raspberries and butternut squash and apples and salmon and blueberries and kefir and peas and almonds and bok choy and pumpkin and. . .! To top it off, we chase it all down with popcorn............ and exercise and sweet, delicious NAPS!
Friday, January 20, 2012
Many Happy Returns of the Daylight
...to misquote a famous line from Winnie The Pooh!
Our sun is making its Northern journey once again, migrating toward the North Pole along with its many accompanying fauna who make this annual pilgrimage.
Our sun is making its Northern journey once again, migrating toward the North Pole along with its many accompanying fauna who make this annual pilgrimage.
A Case of Moosetaken Identity
When one lives in moose country, and one has a puppy who still needs to make a midnight facility run, one needs to be very careful that ne'er the twain shall meet! While there have been many near and surprising encounters, none was more entertaining than last night!
Let me enlighten you...
'Twas three in the morning, not a creature in sight,
til some lips came a bobblin' to kiss me, all right.
Claire's tail came a waggin', her eyes said 'Please Please',
won't someone, oh someone let me out to go pee?
Down the stairs we did go, out the door to the cold,
when her nose caught a whiff and her ears stood all stiff.
She barked and stood taught, while my flashlight I got,
And the beam it shone round revealed nothing, not even sound.
I called her inside,
Gave kisses goodnight.
When outside down in front, there arose such a clatter,
There was one thing for sure...something was the matter.
Down the stairs I did fly
and to my wondering eye,
flipped the switch to behold
a male moose outside cold.
At my door he did knock,
saying ...
"Darling, I saw you standing there outside and you are the most beautiful lady I ever did see. It doesn't matter that your ears are up in curlers; you are still my kind of gal".
I was stunned. This bull moose had followed Claire very quickly and lovingly up the steps of the front door and was just staring at me with desperate eyes only three feet away! I called Claire to me, but she, being very confused by the quick inside outside routine and all my bluster about being careful over moose had her worried that she had done something wrong. Since she was laying as submissively as possible, I resorted to picking her up so she would not miss the opportunity of a lifetime. We were well rewarded! The moose caught one glance at her and ran away! We sat side by side staring out at the midnight darkness and looking after one lone heartsick moose!
Claire looks both ways before walking down the front steps now!
Let me enlighten you...
'Twas three in the morning, not a creature in sight,
til some lips came a bobblin' to kiss me, all right.
Claire's tail came a waggin', her eyes said 'Please Please',
won't someone, oh someone let me out to go pee?
Down the stairs we did go, out the door to the cold,
when her nose caught a whiff and her ears stood all stiff.
She barked and stood taught, while my flashlight I got,
And the beam it shone round revealed nothing, not even sound.
I called her inside,
Gave kisses goodnight.
When outside down in front, there arose such a clatter,
There was one thing for sure...something was the matter.
Down the stairs I did fly
and to my wondering eye,
flipped the switch to behold
a male moose outside cold.
At my door he did knock,
saying ...
"Darling, I saw you standing there outside and you are the most beautiful lady I ever did see. It doesn't matter that your ears are up in curlers; you are still my kind of gal".
I was stunned. This bull moose had followed Claire very quickly and lovingly up the steps of the front door and was just staring at me with desperate eyes only three feet away! I called Claire to me, but she, being very confused by the quick inside outside routine and all my bluster about being careful over moose had her worried that she had done something wrong. Since she was laying as submissively as possible, I resorted to picking her up so she would not miss the opportunity of a lifetime. We were well rewarded! The moose caught one glance at her and ran away! We sat side by side staring out at the midnight darkness and looking after one lone heartsick moose!
Claire looks both ways before walking down the front steps now!
Christmas 2011
> 11 dogs a dancin'
> 10 plates a layin'
> 9 tails a waggin'
> 8 feet a tanglin'
> 7 trails a blazin'
> 6 glasses tinklin'
> 5 lords a leapin'
> 4 ladies laughin'
> 3 rooms a gatherin'
> 2 potato dishes steamin'
> 1 boeuf prime rib a standin'
What an evening with more dogs than people, but the mix seemed to work out well, with the exception of one lady who was not creature compatible...the dogs seemed to be aware of this and preferred the company of those humans with hands outstretched!
Claire, though only six and a half months old, was the largest of the bunch with a little husky rescue being about her age. They seemed to know that they were both the same age and were inseparable, including the time where the husky teeth imbedded themselves in Claires lip, thus earing him the name "The Stapler".
A few weeks later, "The Stapler" came over to play and became yet another office implement, this time earning the name "The Letter Opener" after tearing a one inch wound in Claire's hind leg right down to the muscle. We debated stitches, but after two MD's inspected the gaping wound, felt that it would be better served healing on its own since stitched would require antibiotics and could cause future tummy trouble.
Now, there is small pinky sixed spot remaing to close and a sensitivity to the cold, but she seems to be fine. There are no future office implement purchases planned, but if so, we will shop carefully!
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