A gift of a small pot of heather delighted me no end yesterday. I hope I can keep this one alive. I’ve had one before. Heather reminds me of the Yorkshire Moors which we drove across and visited lots when I was growing up. I love the vast wildness. Those purples waves. That biting wind. And the sheep that live there. A couple of years ago, when Dad and Sandy went on their honeymoon to England and especially Yorkshire, I was so excited for Sandy to see the heather but there was none when they got there—wrong time of year—September? In my mind the heather is always in bloom! Even under snow. Lol. Many many moons ago (over 20 years) when I was working at Zellers, I discovered a wallpaper border that reminded me of heather. Although abstract, it has a distinct heather-blowing-in-the-wind shape in purple on it. My heart leapt and I absolutely had to have it. My bedroom is still teal (from the background colour on the border) and sports that probably now very unfashionable border and wall colour. But I don’t care. I fall asleep surrounded by heather (quite literally now as I've placed the real-life heather by the bedroom window) and often lulled to sleep with sweet memories. Day 267 Purple heather my heart sings of childhood days home across the moors Day 24 of Effy’s blogalong
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After my tears yesterday morning, Rob came home from work earlier yesterday evening and brought a red miniature rose and this beautiful red begonia. I love flowers and plants so they were both very much appreciated, as was the gesture. They also brought me comfort today as I prepared to go back to work tonight after two weeks holiday. I had ideas and plans for my time off, hardly any of which materialised, but the time off was wonderful and even though I still didn’t let myself sleep enough, my body really appreciated sleeping at night. I work midnights so sleeping at night time feels so indulgent. I returned to tai chi class/practice today. Ahhhhh…The energy was palpable, almost too much throbbing in my fingertips and palms at times. But then I think is there such a thing as too much? Perhaps I’m more afraid of the power, the energy than anything else. What if I embraced it all fully instead of experiencing it but shying away from it and toning it down? What then? Perhaps that need to play it small, to be small, to feel small, isn’t so much a need but a habit? One that needs to be over. Day 266 Red begonia gift given for comfort holidays over Day 23 of Effy’s blog Warning: I talk about triggers and their affects. NB This is not about my hubby, Rob, who is neither the original ‘hurter’ nor the trigger. The man who was the trigger for me yesterday is unaware of being a trigger for me in this respect but his emotional reaction in a discussion was explosive and extreme and although I wasn’t fully aware of it in that moment, it was a trigger for me. Rewording broken. I will NOT have it that he (from a previous abusive relationship) has broken me or that I need to be fixed. I understand that he has hurt me on a very visceral level that I hadn’t perhaps fully experienced before. And that it brought me to tears to this morning. I hate that he has affected me like that. I hate that my response is to cry even though I feel anger (at him) but I appreciate that I need to cry so if nothing else it brings about a desire to comfort myself, to tend to the hurting parts. To acknowledge them. To acknowledge that this has happened. It has leaked into today. It will not contaminate my day. It makes me aware that I carry this inside me, not his anger, not his swordlike ways that have cut me, but a tenderness that I was unable to attend to at the time. What I experienced today was grief. What I did was acknowledge and name the source both yesterday with the trigger and all those 20 odd years ago. What I did was comfort myself. Perhaps I tucked my heart into my sleeve instead of onto it today. But that is as temporary or permanent as I choose it to be. That is my choice. My choice too to see myself coping as best as I could all those years ago. Yesterday. And today. To say to myself, to all those parts of me which are ultimately me, ‘Hey I see you there.’ And, when ready, moving forward with love, recognising that I have all this inside me, recognising that it is okay, not that this happened, any of it, but it is okay to have these tears. They are neither shameful nor embarrassing. They are necessary and lead to self-compassion. I felt shell-shocked after the trigger yesterday but went straight into a previously scheduled video call with one of my dearest friends, Bethe. A call which I knew could be honest but comforting as the inside of a bird’s feathered nest. I didn’t bring that conversation up. And I slept well although the explosive image lingered. I remember one dream from last night: I was mowing a communal lawn with another woman and my lawnmower wheels got entangled with her lawnmower wheels. Rob was with me and this other woman had another woman with her and we were discussing the communal housing, at least Rob and the two women were. Only I noticed that our lawnmower wheels had tangled. I whispered to Rob and told him. I could neither move the lawnmower nor tell the woman myself. I had lost my voice and my ability to make positive changes for myself. When I woke up, the trigger rehearsed itself in my mind, no matter how much I argued back with it, with my beliefs, then the tears came and I understood so much better. Nothing else was needed in that moment but to cry and let the tears fall and then to care for myself. Words are my power. I wrote the following poem several years after ending the abusive relationship and won a prize for it. At the Street Fair, Selling Books At the street fair, you hurry to my stall. I know I should know you, can’t place you at first. Unshaven, greying, hands puffy with edema. Last year, a burst appendix; last month, heart issues, you tell me. Spittle foams, dries white as you speak. But you buy my book, ask can I sign it. Years ago, I signed another book for you. With a shaky hand, I wrote: ‘Thanks for your support.’ I abhor the lie. Remember you in a rage. As I typed, you swiped the keyboard onto the floor, broke the table. Keyboard balanced on my knee, I still wrote frantically. Until I wrote you, your bloodless lips, the shirts you ripped, out of my room, my home, my life. Now, in August warmth, a steady hand, a calm heart, I sign this book: ‘All the best!’ —and mean it. But today my order from LUSH has arrived…so much karma. Karma is my favourite scent. Boundless self-care done with gift cards given with love no less. From drama and trauma to karma. I’ll take that. 1. Across the mauve mums a thickly-spun spider web hammock of sunshine #265 Day 22 of Effy’s blogalong Thank you for reading. Above all be compassionate with yourself. Sometime mid-summer I bought a reading from Canadian medium Carmel Joy Baird in which she was to instruct me what to plant around my house as directed by my ancestors and spirit guides. I couldn’t resist. It sounded so intriguing. Roses by the front door as a reminder of beauty (I think). Thyme for wisdom somewhere on my property. Acorns on windowsills for abundance and prosperity. Sunflowers by the back door for pride. Ouch. Pride? Something in that hit hard. Mistaking arrogance for pride, I rarely fostered pride in anything. Certainly not my home. Not long after, a friend texted me a link from Honey Nut Cheerios for a free packet of sunflower seeds for the bees. So I got those and, combined with a packet I already had, I planted sunflower seeds in my back deck pots. Too late I thought. And far too shady back there for anything as sun loving as a sunflower. But they grew. Spindly and twisting and turning every which way. I loved them all the more for that. I watched their buds fatten. Shivered on chilly mornings as I checked on them. Would they have chance to bloom before the cold killed them? I wrote a haiku last week about how I was concentrating on the big buds right by the back door and had missed smaller ones further away begin to bloom. Lesson learned. Again, about concentrating on one thing (often negative) so long that the positive a step away is almost missed! Every day since I have delighted in those small lemon flowers. Then yesterday, I noticed one of the bigger buds had started to open. Petals unfurling, tentative but determined. Last night we had torrential rain and I worried that the cautious sunflower would be beaten down, drowned in a puddle on the back deck. But no. It had bloomed fully overnight. I feel so proud. Day 264 Sunflower unfurls south wind coaxes sunshine mid-morning stretch Day 21 of Effy’s blogalong NB I wanted to post a beautiful video I found of "Here Comes The Sun" by the Beatles but when this post is published, it doesn't show up but you can follow the direct link to YouTube for it. The song itself is lovely and heartwarming and uplifting but this accompanying video is also really beautiful. It's 3 minutes and 11 seconds long. Watch it if you can. Perfect timing yesterday morning: I caught this gorgeous reflection of the old red glass dish on our kitchen counter. Stunning. I love those moments when everything lines up and something ordinary becomes extraordinary enough for me to notice. And I love that I do notice this tiny step above the mundane, this gift. The little dish itself (it is small, maybe four inches at its base) is special. I rescued it from Dad’s when he was clearing everything out in a frenzy when Sandy came into his life. It was one of the few things that we brought over from England. I remember salted peanuts in it at Christmas. Now I usually use it for my salsa. Yesterday and today were balmy days, like summer and beautifully sunny. Tonight it’s pouring down and we had a short but exciting thunder storm. Rob and I voted (voting day in Canada) then went to Swiss Chalet for dinner where I had the biggest baked potato in the world. Yum. The potato, coupled with the deliciously drippy rain, made me super sleepy so I'm off to bed soon to snuggle down with a good cuppa and an absorbing book and to fall asleep at night (what a treat--I work midnights!) to the comforting sound of rain dripping through the trees. Yaawwwnnnn… Day 263 Sunday morning sun shines through red dish from childhood kitchen stained glass Day 20 of Effy’s blogalong The irony and unexpected joy of today is that I wrote my haiku earlyish this morning based on yesterday’s painting productivity and I had closed all the windows in the house but today turned out so warm and beautiful that I re-opened them all again. Today felt much more like summer (a lovely summer’s day not too hot and not at all muggy) than fall. That’s okay. Much as I love fall, I’ll take this too.
Painting is from A Year of Mary [Oliver] with Effy Wild through her patreon account. I finished her yesterday but she is April’s painting. We create a painting a month throughout 2021 based on a Mary Oliver poem. I love the course so much that I’m savouring it by doing a painting every couple of months! Not on purpose but I did realise that was happening. I love Effy’s style and way of presenting and interpreting the poems and I love being immersed in the world of Mary Oliver. Who wouldn’t? If you’re not familiar with Mary Oliver’s work, I envy you the joy of discovering it. This is the prose poem in its entirety: “If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.” ~Mary Oliver May your day be filled with unexpected joy. I can’t think of a better kind. Day 262 Windows closed nature’s palette outside creativity within Day 19 of Effy’s blogalong Yesterday evening held a memory. When I was a young girl, maybe 8 or so, I would have tears in my eyes on a Sunday evening as Dad drove us home, often over the Yorkshire Moors, with the sun sitting low. Squished in the back seat with Nanna, Mam’s Mam who lived with us, and with Mam in the passenger seat, I listened to the car radio spouting hymns or old fashioned songs that Nanna knew. We’d had a happy day out, often at a little Yorkshire village, often having ice cream or tea somewhere but even though it had been a good day, now it felt sad, not totally sad, bittersweet, I suppose. Sad that a good day, a special day, was ending but also happy, glad that it had happened. It all felt mixed up for a little girl. But I never forgot that feeling, glimpsing the low orange sun, a good day ending. Last night, a bright sunny fall evening, Rob and I drove out to a country market after he finished work. He picked up MacDonald french fries for me and grocery-store cooked chicken pieces for himself and we munched as we drove. The whimsical market is outside under awnings and has maybe a dozen stalls. It spoke completely to my soul. While we were there, a young woman emerged from the woods behind with a wicker basket in her hands full of grasses and greenery. I pondered a new mug from the pottery stall (Up At Dawn Pottery) but we have tons. Still I wanted something. Then I noticed the bowls. We bought two of these beautiful blue bowls. And I knew they’d hold more than cereal and chips. Day 261 Drive to country fair buy bowls to hold memories evening sun sits low Day 18 of Effy’s blogalong I love fall! Today especially has been one of those high cloud, blustery sunny days that defy you not to step outside and enjoy it. This time of year infuses me with energy—perhaps it’s just a relief after the slug of humid hot summer weather. Late last night, around midnight, we had an exciting thunder storm. Such changeable weather. Cool mornings and chilly evenings with the darkness drawing in. And so the leaves are changing and falling. I saw this gorgeous maple leaf yesterday and snapped the picture before the storm. Enjoy! Day 260 Red and yellow leaves scattered on the welcome mat school bus trundles by What is your favourite season? Why? I can't really explain my increase in energy and surge of excitement in the fall except that it is a very physical experience which increases my enjoyment of such a beautiful season. Day 17 of Effy’s blogalong For decades now, ever since reading Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy by Sarah Ban Breathnach, I’ve written a gratitude journal most nights. Over the years it’s evolved to the practice it is now and I thought I’d share it with you in this blog. This particular journal was a gift from my step-daughter Crystal and granddaughter Maddie. So the physical journal becomes like a gratitude reminder all by itself. Similarly with the bookmark that I use in all my gratitude journals…a present from my lovely friend Maggie. We have known each other since we were five or six and call each other Souley. Both these things, indeed the practice itself, are a comfort to me and a delightful way to slip into slumber. I work midnights so on those days I still write the journal before bed for the day before including the immediate shift I’ve worked. The first 5 entries are somewhat general things I’m grateful for during the course of the day. FTD stands for ‘From This Day’ and is 3 things/events from this day that made it unique. I can’t remember where I got this practice from but I like it because it takes me a step deeper than the 1st 5 things so I’m giving everything more thought and truly acknowledging this particular day. This doesn’t always include positive things but usually does. Then the starred final entry is like a big win of the day. These are the last two day’s entries: Tues. 14th Sept. 1. Freezer being fixable and not costing too too much. 2. Rain, sun, rain 3. Home 4. Melts & air fresheners 5. Sleep FTD: 1. Lots of cleaning while waiting for Mr. Appliance—dishes and cat poop. 2. Jonathan’s Midday Mindful Moment live. 3. Setting up my tea for tomorrow morning—a little self-care I used to do. * Freezer—again one day soon.* Wed. 15th Sept. 1. Dane 2. NOWW readings 3. Sunshine! 4. Sunflowers 5. Haiku FTD: 1. Lovely long chat with Dane this aftie and catching up. 2. Sitting outside doing puzzles in the afternoon sun. Then mowing the lawn. 3. Arranging dinner out with Rob tomorrow night—I think as compensation for not getting time off work. * Dane * I’m feeling some sadness in cancelling my gym membership and need to remind myself of all the good I still have. I cancelled due to work and being only able to go to one class a week and only going for the tai chi class and feeling guilty for not keeping up with tai chi practice more on my own through the pandemic which I realise is a strange reason to cancel! I don’t know that I’ve ever had buyer’s remorse but I imagine this feeling is similar only in reverse…canceller’s remorse? Missing the camaraderie of the class and the feeling of belonging as well as health benefits. I've been taking tai chi for about 15 years and am feeling nostalgic about it, too, I think. Ah well… Day 259 Gratitude journal night after night after night portal into sleep Day 16 of Effy’s blogalong I love it when nature teaches me lessons. I planted sunflower seeds by the back door quite late in the summer and have been anxiously watching the biggest buds fatten, those immediately by the door. They are supposed to instigate and represent pride and something in that resonated with me. The other day I noticed a fleck of yellow at the bottom of the steps in the dragon pot and investigated. The tiniest sunflowers, smaller than black-eyed susans, were opening! I’d almost missed them! Now I say hello to them every day and enjoy them…while I’m waiting for the big buds to burst open. Another nature incident/accident/lesson occurred earlier this year. On a walk I’d noticed a silver birch missing a slice of its bark. I studied it and ran my fingers over its nubbly surface and finally took a photo of it. Only when I got home and looked at the photo did I see what I had missed in person. Silver birch trunk concentrating on the scar I miss the carved heart A reminder to not focus so much on the bad that I miss the good. I’m often concentrating so much on the negative or the darker scenario or even the ‘not-yet-happened’ that I miss what is directly in front of me. Ah the teachings of sunflowers and birch trees. Day 258 Fat buds by back door promise of large sunflowers almost miss small blooms Day 15 of Effy’s blogalong Summer has definitely parted way for autumn without so much as a backward glance. But there is the greenhouse at my dad and step-mom’s house. Step in there and I swear you’ll be transported back to heady summer heat and nodding peonies. I stole so many photos from their garden—little capsules of summer. It’s the first full summer they’ve lived at this house and they bought it from a master gardener. Sandy herself is wonderful with flowers, plants and veggies so the gardens have been bountiful and beautiful despite the extra dry conditions this year. Last night was a little disappointing. My friend Lyn from BC is travelling across country, as hurriedly as herself and her friend can drive with a not so healthy dog, Nova. We had hoped to connect as they drove through Thunder Bay but they arrived too late and were exhausted from an extra long day of travelling so it didn’t work out. Lyn and I haven’t seen each other for years. I don’t know the full story of Nova except that her family is in Nova Scotia and Lyn is trying to reunite the dog with her family. But Nova needs lots of medications and she has oxygen and syringes at the ready if needed. The journey has been carefully orchestrated with vets. To me it’s an epic hero’s adventure! Like many others I’m following their journey on facebook. Facebook is funny. I won a couple of books from a publishing company through a random draw last week. They arrived yesterday. I posted on instagram and facebook to thank the publishing company with a photo of the books but I obviously didn’t explain it well enough as many friends started commenting and congratulating on my poetry success! It’s funny but lovely at the same time as they believe that I could have a published poetry book or that I’ve won a poetry contest. Today was stressful for me as the repair person was coming to look at our freezer finally. But that meant someone would be in our house, in the basement even! So I spent the morning clearing and cleaning and spraying air freshener everywhere. The guy who came, Andrew, was young and chatty and ever so nice. We have to wait 3 to 10 business days for the parts to come in but the cost is much cheaper than we anticipated so I’m happy with that. When he’d finished (hardly here long enough to take several lungfulls of air!) he listened to the messages on his phone in his van before driving away. His phone was exceptionally loud. He had mentioned that he had a daughter and I heard a female voice on his message, lots of use of the word love then as he’s pulling away she says, “Oh yes, one more thing…love yoooooouuuuuu…” So sweet. I woke up to rain this morning and it’s raining again now (about 10pm). I love sleeping when it’s raining and despite sometimes waking up at odd times and still not sleeping lots and lots, my body is totally loving being on holiday and not having to be awake and working overnight. Thank you as always for reading and commenting if you choose. Wishing you a peaceful night or day whenever you’ve found your way here. Day 257 Straw gardening hat on a bench in the greenhouse bleached by summer sun Day 14 Effy’s blogalong Up in the still-dark morning. Are those song lyrics? I thought they were poetically mine but they arrived with a tune so maybe not. I woke up in a panic. Worry sits heavy on my chest. But right now it’s pre-dawn dark and I have my words and thoughts as swords or feathers. In bed, trying to stop catastrophic thoughts, lists of things that need my immediate attention, I ground myself by naming 5 things I can feel: 1. cool of the headboard with my arm and hand flung against it 2. Spook’s whiskers tickling my arm as she settles in beside me Oh! A thought. Undergrowth reddens. I count out the syllables on my fingers. Five. Yes. I like that. It’ll do for the first line of my haiku. I had picked the picture already, one I’d taken a few days ago. I recite it to myself so I don’t forget it, my phone too bright for this early so putting it in there isn’t an option at the moment. 3. warmth of the cotton sheets 4. brushed cotton nightie soft against my hand What about a second line? I want something autumnal. Hhmmm… 5. chilly breeze from the slightly open window That’s it. Something about the chill in the air. I get up to write my haiku and post it on instagram with a somewhat related photo. I feel like I had gotten lackadaisical with my daily haiku and want to bring in more specific details and make a more pointed connection. Of course not every day will be brilliant. At the very least they form stepping stones through my days. At their best, I hope they are touching in some way, lingering and thought-provoking. Some days it’s all I can do to string a bunch of words together and shove them, protesting, into three lines if not syllables. But despite the early start, despite the worry and feeling of overwhelm and not being able to cope that squats in the dark, I finish my haiku, write it in my Moonlology diary, take a photo of it and post it online. I really like this one. I went to a friend’s retirement party yesterday and while it doesn’t sum up the mood of her party, it works with the mood of the haiku. I almost wish I hadn’t posted this one as it counts as publishing and I might have wanted to keep it to enter into a contest. But there it is. Out there now. I read my tarot for the day. Not so bad. Two of cups is lovely. Nine of swords—oh yes! Was just in the middle of that! I read a blog or two and comment, loving the connection. Next I read my email. Then I feel ready to face the day. (This is also my routine after midnights before I go to bed during the day) The day after the freezer quit on us and we had to find a repair service, Rob came upstairs while I was writing my haiku. He waved the phone at me. “So you’re just going to go through all your regular routines, aren’t you?” he said, obviously annoyed because I wasn’t immediately on the phone trying to find someone. I nodded. Yep. Tried not to feel guilty. “These are my tent pegs,” I said as he went back downstairs. He didn’t hear and I’m not sure he would have understood. At least not in that moment. I know my inaction, as he saw it, exasperated him. But these routines first thing, especially the haiku, help hold down what are sometimes the errant flaps of my day. Today, especially, I needed them. I feel stronger, more in control with them behind me. Grounded I suppose. Even if I do nothing else today, I wrote a haiku. (and now a blog as well! Lol!) Day 256 Undergrowth reddens chill sweeps in on morning air retirement party Day 13 of Effy’s blogalong Spontaneously yesterday afternoon, Rob and I took off to a neighbouring town, over an hour’s drive away. So relaxing. Nipigon is much smaller than Thunder Bay but it’s a pretty town on a lake (Lake Nipigon. Lol). A little hilly with a main street full of flowers and wooden carvings. Playgrounds and splash pads. And a little Chinese restaurant and bar where we had some delicious food. Along the highway bracken had started to turn yellow and brown but some fields were a surprising lush green, others packed with tall corn. Our tunes played low and wind whipped through the slightly open back windows as we chatted. I had been dubious about us spending much time together on my holidays, especially when Rob took a morning off work to help deal with our broken freezer. So this break together (his idea) pleased me on many levels. We came home to a bag of fresh home made perogies from Dad and my step-mom in our mailbox. Scrumptious! Rob caught most of his Blue Jays baseball double headers (and they won both so a double bonus!) and I puttered around on the computer. We had both watched the 9/11 live service that morning so the escape to Nipigon then an easy relaxing evening seemed the perfect way to balance the heavy emotion. I changed my mind about the last line of my daily haiku today as soon as I’d written in my Moonology Diary. But I didn’t want to cross it out so I just posted it to instagram like that. I recorded it in my computer file as being changed (as you see it below.) It happens sometimes. A friend posted an insightful Mary Oliver poem (is there anything such as an uninsightful Mary Oliver poem?) on instagram. I responded with a thank you for starting my morning with Mary Oliver and Marion said that she loves Mary’s poems for their understatement and specificity. My incident today reminded me that I’ve become too loose and non-specific with my haiku perhaps. Day 255 Together, windswept, bright splashes of memory *lakeside reflections *Changed from reflecting lakeside Day 12 of Effy’s blogalong Yesterday became a delightful medley of spontaneous contact from some long-fast, distant, dear friends. Bethe and I (we’ve known each other for almost 40 years) had scheduled a video chat in the late afternoon. Bethe is a pilot presently working out of Dallas Texas and although we never lost touch, we reconnected more regularly last year and generally video call every week or two. I met Bethe in B.C. when she dated my ex-boyfriend. We later found out, much much much later, that he had kind of dated us both at the same time. Anyway, Bethe and I got on great and remained fast friends over all these years. The ex, not so! Lol. In the morning I received a postcard of the heather on the North Yorkshire Moors. Swoon! This from my old high school friend, Angela. She is an incredibly accomplished visual artist and one of my biggest fans regarding my writing. She also sends lots of ‘home-spun’ Yorkshire stuff even though she now lives in southern England. The postcard lifted my spirits no end. The Moors, and especially the sea of purple heather, does that to me. As do little snail-mail notes from Angela telling about her and her twin sister’s activities. Even though we also email, these cards and notes delight me. Who doesn’t like to be thought of in the middle of someone else’s adventures? Then yesterday evening my phone pinged with a facebook messenger note over two phone screens long from Sheila, also a high school friend. I’ve known my high school friends about 48 years. Sheila was catching me up on her family’s comings and goings. A lovely soft place to land at the end of the day. A spontaneous trio of hearts and kisses, lots of loves and ‘Love you!’s from people I equally cherish heralded me throughout the day. What could be better? A couple of days before, in a miserable mood, I had gone for a walk by the railway tracks close to my home. Sometimes I had to dodge iron rail spikes scattered on the ground. On impulse, close to the path leading back to my road, I told myself that if I found another before that path, I would pick it up and bring it home. No idea why at the time. I did find one: old, uneven and mottled orange with rust. At least it had character. I wanted to put it on my altar, again not realising why. But at home, as I held it in my hand, feeling its weight, I understood. Iron. The town where I grew up in the north of England had developed in the early 1800s because of iron ore in the hills behind it. No mines were in operation when we lived there but the town was full of mining stories and water ran orange in the hill’s ditches. Sometimes even from the taps! Maggie and I grew up houses apart and throughout many many years have boosted each other up by reminding ourselves that we can handle anything—we’re tough and strong because we have iron in our veins. The rail spike will be a terrific reminder! A few years ago, Maggie (we call each other Souley as we’ve known each other so long and Maggie has special names for all her close friends) sent me a glass coaster which I use everyday. Yorkshire Lass, it reads, a nod to my email address, Born and Brewed in Yorkshire. For me, one of the biggest comforts in life is treasured friendships. All the years between old friends become a hammock of memories and shared experiences. Friends, especially old friends, carry the truth of each other’s histories and remind each other that they’re loved regardless. I am extremely fortunate to have some of the very best. Day 254 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku Postcards from old friends video calls, messages cushions of comfort Day 11 of Effy’s Blogalong A group of starlings is called a chattering. Makes sense. They can be super noisy. Especially at dawn. Dusk too. They can be called a murmuration too which I had heard of especially in flight. But also a cloud, clutter, congregation, constellation, filth, scourge or vulgarity. A vulgarity! I love a constellation because of the name itself—starling. Which I also love. Indeed I love starlings—beautiful. Apparently they’re a nuisance bird and loathed by farmers. A chattering of them at the bird feeders and the birdbath yesterday morning. Somehow it’s a sign of fall to me, to see them gather like that. Or of spring. They’re here all summer but it seems to be those two times of the year when I notice them most, tons of them on lawns or at my feeders. I stood and watched them for at least 15 minutes. Their head feathers electric blue and shimmering in the morning light. The white ring around their eyes giving them an alert, no nonsense gaze. And their attitude too! Right down to the business of eating, all of them, no skittish looking around, scouting the area out beforehand. Marching through the birdbath, splashing water everywhere. They hopped onto the front railings, beaks prised open with a tiny round seed. Cocked their heads. Ever curious. Then together in an orchestrated black swoosh, they flew up and off. I felt honoured and somehow humbled. Before I investigated what their gathering names were, I called them an enchantment. An enchantment of starlings. Because they enchanted me despite their boisterous ways. Or perhaps because of them. I admired their boldness, their confidence, bolstered by their numbers perhaps but I suspected that was just their way too. When they flew away, the ever-present, comforting sparrows arrived and hopped and chirped, scattered and skittish. A squirrel balanced on the edge of the birdbath to drink. No sign that the starlings had ever been there, not a single electric blue or glossy black feather. Only a lot less food, less water in the birdbath. And the memory of them emblazoned on my heart. Day 253 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku Twenty starlings feed glossy feathers black and blue bold start to the day Day 10 Effy’s Blogalong Wild snapdragons by railway tracks lemonade stand memories Day 252 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku Today’s haiku has nothing to do with my day but I’m putting it first with the accompanying picture of the snapdragons as a couple of people wanted to see them and this way they should show up in Effy’s facebook group without said people having to read the blog. Today was a day! Or it tried really hard to be. Our upright freezer full of food stopped working yesterday. We discovered it at 7pm and frantically tried to rescue what we could. We kept the freezer plugged in in the hope that, now pretty much empty, it would start to work overnight. But it didn’t. So this morning was a flurry of trying to find someone to come and look at it and trying to farm out lots of the food to family so it wouldn’t go to waste. In the middle of all this and before I’d had breakfast, one of my stepdaughters, Willow, came by to take some of the food. I went to let her into the house. “Have you seen the size of that rat?” she asked. “Rat?” “Yeah, there in the middle of the road.” “That’s a rat? It’s huge!” “Yeah. It’s swollen and it’s leg is all—” “Ugh!” I threw my hands up at her. “I don’t want to know. I haven’t had breakfast yet. I can’t think about dead rats!” Seriously! This is what my life had become? Piles of soggy, dripping food; sinks full of dirty dishes; a kitchen table strewn with condiments from the fridge; cat poop in front of the upright freezer (I could relate to that sentiment at least); and now a dead rat in the middle of the road! Willow offered to remove the rat but I wouldn’t let her. “What will you do with it? You can’t take it in your car. I don’t want it anywhere near here. No. I’ll call the city.” Rob reached over me to grab some bags and I snarled. “No! Don’t you go and pick it up either!” He gave me a withering look. “These are for Willow’s food.” “Oh.” Chill, Sue. We had to settle for an appliance repair person on Tuesday, the earliest we could get anyone. I had called the City and they were coming to remove the poor rat. But then a braver-than-me neighbour came home and picked it up with a shovel. I called out to him about the City coming but he just shrugged and said it was okay, he could deal with it. By the time everything had calmed down and Rob was at work, I felt emotionally exhausted and very teary. My stepdaughter Carole was supposed to be dropping in the afternoon to take some food but I just wanted to run away. So I told her I’d drop by with the food cos I was upset and running away, probably to the Terry Fox monument. Carole, being Carole and very able to deal with me when I’m emotionally tattered simply asked if I wanted to stop in for tea. I asked her if she and my grandson Ollie wanted to come to the Terry Fox monument with me. Ollie was off school as he’d woken up with a sore throat at 5 a.m. but was now full of energy and feeling much better and Carole had taken the afternoon off work to be with him. So off we went to the Terry Fox monument. It’s located just off the Trans-Canada Highway close to where Terry had to stop his Marathon of Hope (cross country run for cancer awareness) in 1980 because he became too ill. The bronze statue of Terry is amazing in its likeness and he faces west, his home, a fact which always touches my heart. Being there puts everything into perspective every time. Despite being busy, the place emanates calm, a reverence even, with a beautiful view of Lake Superior and plenty of benches and picnic tables. I remember hearing that his mother Betty Fox particularly liked this statue. It used to be right off the highway (called the Terry Fox Courage Highway at this point), in a lay-by area, but it was eventually moved across the road to this high-up park-like setting. I miss being able to see him as you drive the highway but this is a more reflective place. I wrote the following poem a few years ago. Perspective is everything. Above the Highway To the woman huddled alone in misty rain beside the Terry Fox Monument: I feel your tears. I watched you brush the bench clear of sodden brown leaves, here, beyond an avenue of maples above the highway. I want to pluck you from this moment, reassure you, your son returns to you soon, arms open wide, despite your ex’s accusations in divorce court an hour ago. I will never forget you, your emotions, your lessons learned. And when it’s time, perhaps on a misty day like this, I’ll collect you. We’ll walk away arm in arm beyond an avenue of maples far above the highway. Day 9 Effy’s Blogalong 1. RUOK? My dear friend Fran from Tasmania messages me (and her other friends) this from time to time, a check-in adopted during the pandemic. She messaged me this today at a time when I was feeling very sorry for myself, feeling abandoned and wishing I had a dog so I could go for a walk (I know!). 2. I told her the last part about wanting a dog so I could go for a walk. It sounded as ridiculous then as it does now so I also told her that there was no reason I couldn’t just walk out the front door and take myself for a walk. I told her I’d get back to her. 3. Armed with my phone so I could take photos of the rapidly changing seasons and wearing my raincoat from Arizona, I walked to the end of the road, four houses down, to the railway tracks. 4. Brush and Bomardier’s rail car yard on one side and railway tracks and brush on the other. Huge expanse of sky east and west, the direction of the path. I felt like I could walk forever, use clouds as steps into pools of blue. 5. I lost my mood somewhere on that walk. Perhaps it tumbled into the cluster of wild yellow snapdragons as I bent to take a picture. 6. When we build the fence, then we can get a dog. I so miss dog energy even though I love kitty energy. Give me both all the time, please. 7. Rob came home with groceries. Whether we need them or not, he can’t resist a good deal. BUT when he went to put them into the stand-up freezer, juices were dripping down the shelves. Practically everything had thawed! 8. Exhausted now, physically and emotionally, from cleaning it all up and dealing with everything. Rob is still cooking up some stuff. The smoke alarms keep going off as he’s tired too and is rush-cooking things I think. Not the peaceful, relaxing evening we’d envisioned! 9. We saved about 2/3 of the food, I reckon. The freezer seems to be working now—overfull I think—so I hope it’s OK. I asked it. RUOK? 10. Still waiting on a definitive answer. Day 251 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku Little cat snuggles chill night wind whistles dark windows open still Day 8 Effy's blogalong September entered and overnight our weather changed. I love fall and everything about it but the change was abrupt. The nights pulled in, the temperatures dipped and the days got moodier. And we’ve had lots of rain after weeks of drought like conditions and heat and humidity. When I left work this morning, overnight rain had weighted the tops of the pansy petals, almost folding them in two as if they were bowing to the changes, acknowledging their fate. Today was also the first day back to school. Physically even! A real true return for most of the kids. My phone pinged with photos of the grandkids eager and face-scrubbed ready before school or sprawled on the couch afterwards, exhausted from so much in person contact after so long. I felt nostalgic seeing the photos, remembering my own school days and those of my son, that feeling of stepping away from home life to embrace life outside, not quite an about-face, but a gradual shift in perspective. Today I start two weeks of vacation. Not going away anywhere, maybe some day trips if Rob can take some time off, but more a much needed break and a chance to regulate my body to a day schedule and to embrace the beauty of fall. I trained a new young worker, Sam, in the last hour of my shift this morning. She had seen my client’s shower once before and did an excellent job on her own needing only occasional direction. When she put face cream onto my client, Sam rubbed it onto her gloved hands and smoothed it carefully over my client’s face, dabbing it over her nose and stroking it across her cheeks. Such a loving gesture. I usually swab it on with a make-up sponge! Yes, definitely time for a vacation. But even more than that. As I stepped outside into the cool morning air and saw the pansies, I noticed a subtle inner shift, a life season change if you will. A glimpse of the inevitable. Day 250 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku Weighted by rain drops pansy petals fold over bow to season change Day 7 of Effy Wild’s blogalong My lovely friend Louise gave me this gorgeous dragonfly cushion yesterday. More than a pretty cushion, though, she gave it to me in recognition of a significant friend visitation I had early in August. A recently deceased friend sent me a dragonfly visit as a gift and I’d mentioned it to Louise who completely understood. Hence, this cushion that she happened to have on hand as an extra throw pillow. Did I have a place for it? Did I like it? Louise worried. Oh did I have a place for it! The colour is in the same red/ purplely range of the cushions on my deacon’s bench by the front door. It sits there now as a cherished memory and gesture disguised as a pretty pillow. Wedged between a pretty maroon and gold elephant cushion cover (a gift from my friend Linda) and a sweet heart-shaped pillow from one of my step-daughters, it fits perfectly. It is now something to greet and ground me as I return home or a memory I can pluck and carry with me when I leave the house. The heart-shaped pillow from my step-daughter Carole was not meant for me. Nor was it originally meant for Rob, my hubby. On the first ever Family Day holiday on 17th February 2009, Rob had a massive heart attack at work. He was resuscitated by strangers at the scene (as far as I can tell) and ended up having emergency surgery at our local hospital. Terrifying. Rob has a big family—six children, five with his ex-wife, Judy. Those five children (Carole was the youngest at age 20) and Judy all joined me at the hospital and we waited and visited over days. At the time of the heart attack, Carole wasn’t talking to her dad (can’t remember why now but families sometimes) but she arrived at the hospital with her boyfriend and the cushion that I think he must have given her for Valentine’s Day. It has a little pocket in the front so possibly came with a little stuffie or chocolates. She hugged that pillow all the time we were in the family room waiting for Rob to come out of surgery. Rob had three stents placed in his arteries and to facilitate his healing, he was sedated and a condition similar to hypothermia was induced. We didn’t know for a couple of days if there had been any brain or nerve damage. Fortunately he made a complete and rapid recovery. I remember maybe 5 days later walking into his hospital room and he was sat in a huge chair with all the kids somehow perched around him, hanging onto him. At first I was mortified. He needed calm! And quiet! And rest! Not this constant babble and chaos and…I took a closer look. Rob looked so happy. Everyone radiated love. Even Carole who was hugging her dad fiercely. Somewhere in that hospital time, the little heart pillow had been left with Rob beside him on the bed. I think everyone who sat with him had held that pillow to their own hearts at some time. When it was time for Rob to come home, I asked Carole if she wanted it back. She smiled. “Nah. Dad can keep it. He needs it more.” The dragonfly cushion from Louise is in excellent company. Day 249 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku Cushions by the door long ago and yesterday plump with memories Day 6 of Effy Wild’s Blogalong I so needed a good cup of tea. Usually I don’t drink tea at work, opting for diet cola or water for my midnight shifts but it had been a long rough night, or at least it felt like it, and I had a half an hour before my co-worker relieved me and I just wanted a good cuppa. Fishing in my drawer, I randomly chose a bag of tea: Stormy Night. Stormy Night indeed! Perfect. I took a photo. That would be my daily haiku today. Nothing profound. Simply a nod to a moment in my day. The tea had been passed along to me by the daughter of the co-worker who was relieving me so I told her about it. We had a good laugh. And I told her all about my shift. Then I mentioned how I had left home for work in a torrential downpour but two streets away it was simply a spattering of rain. “That should have been a sign,” she said. I agreed as I put on my raincoat. I love my raincoat. I bought it last year on our Arizona trip to visit my son and his hubby. It makes me smile, not only at the memory of that visit but also because I bought a raincoat in Arizona of all places. The irony! That explains why it was such a good deal I guess. Walking out of work into fresh morning air, past the parade of pink and purple petunias by the entrance, felt so liberating. The best part of a tough shift. I dropped by my friend Louise’s house to pick up a local magazine she gets for me. She had mentioned something about a ‘dragonfly moment’ too as a nod to a recent visitation I had from a friend. A large plastic bag hung off her mailbox. She had gifted me a lovely pillow with embroidered dragonflies. That will be tomorrow’s haiku and photo. And likely my blog. I was beginning to shed the rough shift. Another delicious cuppa at home, this time Pear Cream Ceylon and climbing into sheets sprayed with the enticing scent of ‘Fairies Breath’, and the shedding was complete. I could finally relax. After I woke up, I was chatting with my hubby Rob and I asked him about his day. “It was a stormy night…day,” he said. And I cracked up. He had no knowledge of my Stormy Night tea and isn’t on instagram where I post my haiku and picture. All I had briefly said to him when I got home from work this morning was that it had been a rough long night. He had been referring to the weather, rain on and off all day, and 'night' had just been a slip but I thrive on such moments. To me they’re moments of connection, of the universe, or something somewhere, playing games. If I put them in a story they’d sound contrived and unconvincing but in real life they’re simply delightful and they tickle me. My friend Linda once sent me a dark blue glazed ceramic fridge magnet with a phrase on it: Friends weave invisible nets of love. Isn’t that lovely? This idea that there’s a web out there ready to catch you if you start to fall? That’s how I see the little ironic moments or apparent ‘coincidences’ in my life. A way of remembering that we are all connected in some way somewhere beyond this seemingly mundane moment. Day 248 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku Busy midnight shift get through with the perfect tea Stormy Night for sure Day 5 of Effy Wild's Artfully Wild Blogalong |
AuthorWelcome! I'm Sue Blott: a writer of all things, a poet at heart, mom, wife, daughter, step-mom, grandma, tea drinker, tai chi-er, mystic, artist, dreamer...and now a blogger! This is my world. Categories |