So I’ve been irregular and a little constipated with my words and posts. It happens. No need to explain. Eventually I do return. There are no better words than Mary Oliver’s. Here’s hers from 3 of her poems rolled in one. The Summer Day, Wild Geese and The Uses of Sorrow. And no better pictures than these of Sheba. They’re worth a thousand words. I haven’t seen her for awhile. They bring tears to my eyes.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?’, ‘You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.’, and ‘Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” -Mary Oliver
It’s is a very cold, cold day here in Saskatoon. This morning Environment Canada posted a temperature of -40℃. The wind chill made it feel like -53℃. Double and triple burrrrr! Made me think of the winters of 2009 and 2010 when Sheba and I did daily walks down by the river at the Sutherland dog park. The river was frozen over. We could walk on it. Sheba ran, of course. Steam rose from the river. I had icicles hanging in my nostrils.
The cold brought back these wonderful memories of our times down by the river. Tomorrow promises equally cold temperatures. I do love these times when I can just hunker down and just be. Feeling grateful I have shelter, heat and food. Day 12 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge in the bag!
I had a lovely sleep last night and woke to a typical cold, -27℃ sunny January morning. Not too many of these left – the typical or the January. I’m feeling a bit of nostalgia for the old and familiar. Yesterday, Sheba’s photo popped up on Facebook from memories of 5 years ago. It was enough for my eyes to mist and my heart ache with missing her. It is not a bad thing, remembering love of my precious puppy. No matter how old she was, she’s always my puppy girl. I feel lucky that I have known such love.
Then in the evening, we watched Hanover Street with Harrison Ford, Christopher Plummer and Lesley-Anne Down. It was a movie made in 1979, a movie starting with the credits and ending with THE END. Surprising to see Harrison Ford and Christopher Plummer looking so young and lithesome. The romance was romantic with no raw eroticism. They left something for our imagination. The heroes were heroes to the end. It was so refreshing to escape from our present madness for just awhile.
Now I’m back to my real world. I hope I can get real enough to tend to my housekeeping chores after I’m finished here. I’ve been procrastinating and evading. I’m ending up with more boxes of ‘stuff’ because I don’t know what else to do with them. Every night I plan to deal with them in the morning. Every morning I feel overwhelmed looking at the mess of them. There is no good time and no good way to do it. No use checking out ‘how tos’ or Marie Kondo. I just have to DO it. Wish me luck. I cleaned out one storage unit of art supplies yesterday. Yay!
December 14. We’re almost halfway through December, 11 days till Christmas and 7 days till the shortest day of the year. I am not sure of how I should feel. But today is not the groovy day of yesterday. I think I will classify it as one of my S.A.D. days. The biggest challge for me is to not take it personally and put my best foot forward. That best is not to put my BAD and SAD on anyone else. That means not taking it out on myself either. I did say it is the BIGGEST challenge, didn’t I?
How shall I tackle the challenge? I cry alot about the difficulties but really it’s difficulties that leads me forward. I do not want to be stuck in sad and bad. I will try to be as joyful as possible. I hate to rain on this universal celebration of Jesus in the manger and the ho ho ho of Santa Claus. But I do feel bereft. And how shall I proceed? My first step is to sweep out my cynicism and bitterness. Change my attitude. I once felt the holiness of Christmas and Easter and Lent. I do not know if I believe in the God out there or of Jesus. But I have felt the loving spirit. I want to feel it again.
It is ok to be silly.
It is ok to believe in Santa.
It is ok to have fun.
It is ok to still love and miss Sheba.
Moving on, I have cleared my dining room table. It does make me feel better. I vow to keep it this way by clearing it every night. I am uncomfortable with some cleared psychological spaces. I can sit with those for awhile until I know how to fill them. Sometimes empty spaces, physical or psychological feel unsafe and unfulfilled. There’s a need to stuff them up. I’m resisting the urge. It’s not an easy task any time, but especially difficult in this season where much is made of the joyful season.
December 15. It’s 11:21 am. The sun is streaming through the sunroom windows. What a beautiful winter day. The temperature is -16℃ outside. Checking the greenhouse, it is -7.5℃. In 3 months I can start planting in there. I think I better give my moods a kick in the ass. I have no time to be maudlin. It’s almost time for me to start a few seedlings if I want some early tomatoes. Peppers and egg plants need lots of time to grow and mature. Their fruits were coming into abundance just when the season was coming to an end.
The greenhouse in winter’s repose, waiting for spring.
I’ve come to believe that I do have a choice as to how I feel. There’s a limit. There’s no other way to feel in the face of tragedy except bad. In that case, I would accept and laid down with it and wait for the wave to slow and ease up. But in the every day hair pulling, thorns in the sides kind of irritations, I have the power and ability to respond in a healthy responsible way. There is no gain in losing and blowing my gaskets all to hell – except high blood pressure and other bad side effects. I choose higher ground and joy, the path of my ancestor, Lao Tzu. I hope I can remember that in the heat of anger and in the depth of my blues. Let us pray.
It’s Friday, Chinese AirForce Day, as someone once called it. I took the bait and asked why. He said, It’s F-l-y-day. Would you call that a racial slur? Anyways, I chuckled like a good agreeable Chinese woman. I wasn’t offended, honest. I’m a little sleep deprived. I couldn’t sleep past 3 this morning. I hate it when that happens. And it does occasionally, especially when the weather shifts. I whine about the weather alot. Not only it disrupts my sleep but also my moods.
There’s alot I could whine about but I’m too tired. My edginess have worn off and I’m pretty mellow. My AM Energizer class certainly helped. My serotonin level was further elevated by lunch with the “YWCA” girls, our first in 2 years at the Parktown. We had a good time but we do miss the buffet which is no more. So many changes in 2 years. The diningroom was mostly empty except for us. It was a good and bad thing at the same time.
I am just poking along here, keeping up with my routines. I have just finished reading Naomi Judd’s book, River of Time and watched Ashley Judd speaking to Diane Sawyer about her mother’s suicide by a firearm. So sad! I have to be careful that I don’t dwell on all this too much. I am not emotionally fragile but vulnerable. Having experienced depression myself, I admire and have great respect for Naomi and her two daughters. Life is hard and messy and their lives certainly were. Wyona described it perfectly when she said they literally went from the shit house to the White House. What a journey and what an adjustment. Now they have more to adjust to. River of Time is a worthwhile read.
I am happy to say that I have a handle on my moods. Knock on wood. I have worked very hard every day to maintain good mental health. I have read countless books on the subject. I’ve put what I’ve learned to practice. One of those was getting Sheba. She took me out of the house and out of my bad moods. I got a heavy dose of nature and exercise. We went out rain, snow or sunshine. We were more regular than the mailman. Now she’s gone but she’s prepared me well. She certainly had earned her keep. I love her forever – then and now.
Day 16 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. The sky is grey and snow is coming down. I’ve forgotten how grey and dreary November can be. The snow is welcome. It will brighten up the landscape. I am remembering another scene – of snow falling on the cedars. They were really spruce trees but they’re close enough. The phrase had caught and stuck in my head after seeing the movie. The cedars/spruce are gone. I’m missing them today. It’s nostalgia for those trees and what has past.
The trees are gone and Sheba also. I’m remembering and missing her today. She loved nosing and messing around and under the spruce trees winter or summer. She didn’t mind the snow or cold. We were out almost every day in all kinds of weather. We were as regular and dependable as the mailman.
The snow is still falling but not on the cedars. It is a good day for tapping out the memories. It is a good day for eating spicy pumpkin chili, drinking hot chocolate and curling up with a good book. Maybe later I can coax myself downstairs and finish shortening my new snow pants. Maybe tomorrow will be a good day for cross-country skiing.
Morning has broken like the first morning again. Sunshine coming through the clouds as I sit here tapping out the words. I hope they will flow smoothly. I was sitting thus yesterday when we got a surprise visit from a friend and his dog. I was a little confused at first. With his mask on, he looked exactly like the guy. He was coming up the deck stairs. I was face to face with him through the window. He held up his coffee from Robin’s Doughnuts and I wondered why he went out and bought me a coffee. And how did he get out without me noticing. All this must have flashed across my face. He pulled down his mask. That’s when I noticed Mabel, the dog.
Ir was a beautiful sunny morning. The guys had a good visit outside. I got to play with Mabel. She’s friendly and energetic, alot like Sheba. She was better behaved though, not running off. Perhaps it was because she had a better trainer/owner. We had a little walk down the back alley, Mabel sniffing and smelling everything. I was surprised by how familiar and comforting it felt. I was surprised by the softening and opening of my heart, by the joy that rushed in. In 9 days it will be a year since Sheba’s departed this earthly world. Love has no expiry date. It was good to experience it again – unconditional love.
I’m misty eyed by the memories and feelings. They’re happy, soft and loving ones. They’re thoughts to nourish and sustain one through the not so easy days. Sheba and I had 14 years of loving, adventures and learning together. I couldn’t ask for more. I believe in the words from Tennyson:
I hold it true, whate’er befall; I feel it when I sorrow most; ‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
March 18th, 2021. I woke at 6 am to 0℃ outside and 4℃ in the greenhouse. Funny how the temperatures dip around 8 to -1℃ and 3.4℃ before going up again. Now they are 2℃ and 5.4℃. I’m still being a weatherman. I find if I don’t record things, they are easily forgotten. I should really do a gardening journal. Maybe soon. Famous last words, eh?
I’ve done a bit of sewing this morning. A little will do me. I find that if I make a start on something, even a teeny one, I have more success of completing it. I do get overwhelmed with the big of everthing. Breaking the big into bits and pieces work. I’ve got most of my flowers seeded yesterday. I had laid out the seed packs the day before. Sometimes I just can’t get to things. Appointments, dates with friends and fatigue interfere. They are important but it is also important to return to the task at hand.
I finally threw out the last of Sheba’s kibbles yesterday. It was still sitting in the pail in the kitchen. It’s 10 months since my fur baby went to dog heaven. Time to let some of this stuff go but I can’t help tearing and choking up a bit. It’s the memories, lost and the realization you can’t hold on forever. Our lives are finite. It is the natural order of things.We each will have our turn. We learn, accept and let go. I had 14 wonderful years with her.
A lot of the snow is gone. The little monk sits exposed in sunshine. He’s been watching over the herb spiral all through the winter. He has done a good job. Most of the herbs have survived – the rosemary, thymes, moss, oregano and chocolate mint. I must also do my duty, walk my walk and live my best life.
It’s another day, another Log Cabin square, another ski, and now another post for the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I thought I would show off our winter wonderland. I do love our winters. Most of these photos were taken at the Sutherland Dog Park. Sheba loved running on the frozen South Saskatchewan in the winter. We encountered a red fox here on Christmas eve in 2009. I had thought it was a dog as it streaked past us towards the river. No person followed after and it never came back. That was when I realized it must have been a fox.
I am missing my puppy girl now and again and for always. That is how it is with love. But I know she is happy somewhere over the rainbow. I know she will visit me again.
It is New Year’s Eve. It’s the first Christmas and New Year without Sheba. My eyes mist and my throat tightens. It is the way of nature. There’s birth, life and then death. A cycle complete but not an ending. I like to think that Sheba came to me in the guise of a fox the other evening while skiing in the park. I went or fell down two little hills. A little fox came and stayed with me till I was on my feet again. I thought it was a cat at first. I called ‘here kitty’. It came within a certain distance, crouched down and watched me all the while. I felt we were part of each other, breathing in and out. A miracle of connecting. Perhaps it was Sheba coming to check on me. I remember her favourite cuddly was her little fox with a squeaker in the head and tail.
Happy New Year has come and gone. Not as much fuss as other years but it was still marked with an explosion of fireworks at midnight. I did not feel I missed much. Most of my new year’s eves have been pretty quiet affairs. Sometimes it can be the loneliest night of the year for many people. I know that I’ve often felt a misfit and a failure on many of these evenings. One year my then husband and I attended a New Year’s Eve party at his boss’s house. There was a pot of chili on the stove, people here and there. We all wore party hats and had whistles streamers. At midnight we dutifully blew our whistles but none of us seemed at all pumped. It was the saddest party of all times. It still left an impression on me after all these years.
I’m well past my prime and finally I’m okay being left out of the hoopla. What I mean is I’ve never been a party girl but never been brave enough to admit it. It’s a natural thing to want to fit in, be part of the crowd. I wonder if we are all like that – putting up a front. So for the first time, I don’t have to make up a cover story for New Year’s Eve. I did nothing. So there is a silver lining to every cloud, even Covid-19. I probably wouldn’t have taken up skiing either if it didn’t happened. I would have missed out on our moonlight skis. I would have missed the fox/Sheba encounter. I wouldn’t have had this pause to think, to question the many aspects of life, of relationships, of my past thinking /behaviour, of where to next and how to get there.
onethousandandtwo 