I realize that as my last writing was in February, I have once again let the busyness of life get the best of my good intentions. I wonder sometimes if I keep my life so busy on purpose. Is that what keeps the sadness at bay? I wonder. I know I keep saying I want to do things differently, to have more time, more space...but when space appears, I immediately fill it up with something else. Something for me to reflect on I guess.
2011 is all but gone and was a year that saw some healing, finally. It’s been such a rocky road the past few years, but in looking back, I think I can say that for every bad day there was a good one this past year. That is an accomplishment, and hopefully the start of a better balance of days yet to come. And 2011 had some remarkable moments...lots of them in fact! A West-Coast House Concert Tour, 2 trips to Boston to share my music as part of leadership trainings, a return to California for the 25th Annual Bridge School Benefit Concert among the highlights...but today, I just want to focus on this day, and hope that as I make time for writing in my life, I can touch on some of those things later.
It’s been a funny fall....long and mild and very un-Manitoba like! There is a strong chance that we will be having a ‘brown Christmas’, there is so little snow around. It lays just a few inches deep in the valleys, and in the woods and on the hills there is nothing at all. Though the lack of snow and the dead fall colours leave things looking rather bleak, there is nothing bleak about either the sunrises or the sunsets we’ve been witnessing this year. They have been nothing less than breathtaking!
Sunrise as viewed from the yard, Nov 2011
I just came in from the most amazing walk. Among the things that have happened over the past several months, I have managed to make my own health a priority again. That has included daily walks...and although with the onset of winter they aren’t happening every day right now, I am still managing the recommended three times per week.
Today was exceptional! Here it is, December 16th, and we’re experiencing temperatures of only -2. Typically my walks are centered on doing circles around my driveway. It’s about 4.5 minutes per circle, and I aim for 45 minutes a day. But today, instead, I ventured south of the yard. The remarkable fall we’ve had has resulted in very little snow for this time of year. As a result, I was able to spend an hour walking back through the pasture and woodlands behind the house. The day was beautiful...sunny and mild. Last night we had just the lightest dusting of snow, and the sparkling reflection of the sun off of it was almost blinding.
I walked for an hour. With the snow being so fresh, I could see the tracks of the dozens of other creatures that share this quarter section of land with me. Some tracks I recognize, the deer, the rabbits. But lots I don’t. I thought of my Grandpa. He’d have known each and every one of them, just like he knew every tree, every wild flower, every bird. As I walked in the stillness of the winter day, I remembered his love of snowshoeing. Even into his 80s he would go out daily for the exercise, the fresh air, and most likely the time with nature that I was enjoying today. It’s funny how our people keep coming back to us at the strangest times. Especially those people who were such brilliant threads in the fabric of our lives. He was like that. The wisdom he shared, the lessons he taught, and the values he held all made you want to be a better person as part of his linage. What a treasure his memory still is.
My Grandpa, Allan James Dickson in his snowshoes (my Dad in the sleigh)
1933 in front of the Ladysmith School
As I walked today, I marveled at the silence. Except for the odd flock of birds whirring past in search of another source of food and the soft whistle of the warm wind, there was nothing. I did hear an eagle, although I didn’t see him, I recognized the call. I know there are several of them around. We’ve watched them feasting on the remains of the deer that didn’t survive hunting season, the ones that were wounded and left or butchered on the spot so the best cuts could be taken and the rest left behind. I know to everything there is a season, but those things just make me angry...and sad! I suppose it is that lack of responsibility on the part of the humans that allowed the eagles to eat for another period of time, so maybe its part of how the cycle is meant to go, I don’t know.
'Cecil's Eagle' photographed behind the cattle pens 4 years ago
For all the fresh tracks around, I half expected to see some sort of wildlife, but the crunching of the snow probably gave them lots of warning that I was coming. They were most likely watching me as I was watching for them! But even so, it was perfect! It allowed me to breathe deeply, centre myself and just be in the moment....what more can you ask of the place you call home.
The stillness of the escarpment in winter......
Till next time,
Lynda
www.musicwriter.ca
