Winter's Bleak Beauty

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 25^th 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 16^th, 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

Appreciating Home.....all the beauty here in Lavenham....

The view from the escarpment, overlooking the Assiniboine River

It’s a beautiful fall day here, September 12, 2010, and I just returned from my walk up to the ‘escarpment’, as I do every September 12, and have since 2001, the day after 9/11.
At that time, in 2001, September 12 was five months after the passing of my first husband Greg, 2 days before what would have been his 55th birthday, and 24 hours after the world changed forever. In those days, I did the trek up to the escarpment daily. It had become my routine in the final months of Greg’s battle with cancer, when most nights were just plain bad, and most mornings that walk was required to gather my strength and my spirit for the day ahead, and remind myself there was still beauty in the world that was so marred by chemo and heartache. It was a very hard time. In looking back, I know I was the lucky one, as I had the strength and the health to make that walk daily. I continued those morning walks long after his passing, as I walked through the grief.

How many colors in one picture from my bench.

Standing up there on September 12, of 2001, I will always remember looking out at the beauty of that view, and thinking of all those in New York, scrambling to make sense of the world in the aftermath of the day before. That memory has stayed with me to this day, and each year at this time I go back up there, just to remind myself once again, how safe and peaceful and blessed my life is. In working through the Artist’s Way, one of my tasks this week was to go to a sacred space, and I realized as I sat there today, that is my sacred space. The gentle caress of the breeze, the scent of the sun warmed bark and leaves, the silence and the majesty. I was reminded one more time of how fortunate I am.

One of millions of Monarchs this summer, on the lilacs in July

I have been thinking a lot of where I was last year at this time, and the change that a year has made. Last year, I was wrapping up my final days of work before starting a six month sabbatical to find out who Lynda was after Shane’s death. I was packing boxes, changing addresses, pacing the floor in anxious anticipation of getting away from this place I called home. I needed to leave, and I couldn’t get away fast enough. My sight was on Salt Spring Island, and my heart was already there, waiting for my body to catch up.

A bee on a flower I can not name I'm afraid!

This year, I can’t even imagine being anywhere but home. It’s been very strange to say the least. Daily, I take may walks and drink in the sights and sounds around me, just feeling so glad to be here, where I am, doing what I’m doing. A few weeks after I got going on my morning walks here at home, I asked myself why it was that I never left home without my camera on the island, yet hadn’t taken it with me once since returning home. So, I grabbed it the following morning, and started seeing, for maybe the first time in a long time, the beauty and the magic that is right here in the hills of Lavenham.

A canola field near Lavenham, with flax blooming in the background.

My morning walks are normally supposed to be a 45 minute hike to get my heart pumping and my metabolism up for the day, but instead they became what often turned into an hour and a half long artists date, as my interest was captured by butterflies, dragonflies and flowers, in a landscape that seemed to change colors and schemes almost daily. I became a visitor in my own back yard, finally realizing all that there is right here within a mile of my home.

Sunset from my back deck

Common insects became my models. Weeds in flower showed the beauty nature can produce without the hand of man interfering. Wildflowers blossomed, each in their own time, and captured my eye and attention.

One of the many amazing butterflies that allowed me

to photograph them this summer



It’s made for a remarkable summer, as each morning has become my own little artists date between my camera and the nature around me. It’s been really good for my spirit and my soul, and home is truly home again.

A pink ladyslipper that bloomed near the Rossendale Cemetery this July.

I’ve had so much fun taking pictures this summer, and just losing myself in the pursuit of the nature I’m trying to photograph. I should mention though, that about a month ago, I had to give up my normal walking route. A bear has made himself at home in our neighborhood, and although everyone says he’d be more afraid of me than I of him, there have been reports of rather peculiar behavior from him, so I’ve decided although my walk is going well….my run really, truly sucks…so for now I continue my walks making laps around my circle driveway. Amazingly, there’s lots to see right here at home, and no bear to hamper my relaxation.

Another butterfly on wild mustard....

think I need to get a butterfly book!

As walking is one of the times that seems to fire up the neurons in my brain the best, I find some of my best thinking happens on those walks. A couple of weeks ago I purchased a tiny little digital recorder for myself, so as thoughts, to-dos, songs, memories pop into my brain, I can immediately record them to refer back to later in the day. So if you find yourself touring around Lavenham one of these fine days, you’ll recognize me….I’m the woman walking in circles, talking to myself…but I’m enjoying every minute of it.

Sunset along the trans-Canada highway

So many people have asked if we’re taking off again to the Island this winter, but strangely, I have no desire at all right now. Something about the time away last year reminded me of all that is here, all that I have. Maybe coming home to Mom’s illness and loss had something to do with that as well, as I was catapulted back into my home community…drawing on the strength and support that family and friends provided. Recognizing that I don’t think I could have gotten that anywhere else in this world, because this is where my people are.

A dragonfly along Ladysmith Road.

Maybe it was my trip to Lavenham , England in February, where every single person remarked on how very lucky we were to live here with the space and the room that we have to live and grow. Bottom line is, I have no idea why I feel so settled this year, I only know that I’m glad that I do. I’m even looking forward to the coming of winter, building a big fire in the field stone fireplace, curling up with a good book in the comfort of Shane’s chair, watching the world go by through the living room window. Just being at home, and soaking in all that that means.

A dragonfly at the Brandon Discovery Centre in August 2010




Butterfly on my driveway

One of many beautiful Swallowtails



A weedy flower in it's glory!

A bug I thought was just beautiful, but I think now it's the

Dreaded Ash Beetle that is invading Manitoba...still it is pretty!

One of so many bluebirds I saw on my walks this summer. I wonder what they are a sign of?
I like to believe that they are a message from those I have lost telling me that all is well... all is as it should be, not to worry, just be happy.

Till next time,
Lynda

www.musicwriter.ca