the frosh twarkles

      Sunshine and frost. That's what it's all about right now. Just sunshine and frost. I think I need a word for that like frostshine or frunstine or frosh or sost or sunst or ... you know, none of those are really working for me. I just like it when the sun is high and the days are long and the snow sparkles and twinkles (or should I say spinkles? twarkles?).
      It's about saving time. If I could just condense all my words I could say more in less time. People would be twice as impressed with me. For instance, the following sentence

"Hello! Top of the morning to you! Look how the sun shines through the frost and snow and makes everything sparkle and twinkle."

could be transformed into

"Toplo! The frosh twarkles."

I would have so much time on my hands it would be like I was two people! Can you see the potential? I could say nothing twice as much!

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water log

I'd never met a smoothie I didn't want to eat until ....

Oh. Hello. You ... you're so ... so REAL.


I know.

Hello?

And once you are Real you can't become unreal again.
It lasts for always.

Is a smoothie really quoting The Velveteen Rabbit to me?


Please don't look at me like that.

☺

Mojo's in Portland

    The perk of being at a sports bar with Mark and having every imaginable sport being highlighted at any given moment in all directions is that I can observe his face observing observed observations without hindrance from him - ie. "What are you doing?" or "Stop that." I like his face.
    Plus the eggs benedict was very good.
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sweet sleep

      A few days ago, while in British Columbia, my friends Jenna and Sage and I made a little visit to Fort Langley. I had a London Fog at the Village Coffee and Tea. Jenna bought special tea for Eddie while Sage and I looked at how a jar of maple syrup lit in gold and ochre when the sun shone through it. Usually when I'm in Fort Langely I like to poke through the shops like the garden store and the Paper Moon, Wendel's Bookstore, antique stores and art galleries but this day was so lovely it was almost painful to put a foot indoors. Instead, after tea and with a handful of honey sticks, we traipsed over the railroad tracks and down to the Fraser River just seconds away to poke at things with sticks and deep breathe the March air. Heading back to the van when Jenna and I stopped just one more time to look at grocery store flowers and Sage burst into tears we knew we'd pushed it just a bit too far. After all this date was for wee her and we'd forgotten it for a moment. To the van we went, honey sticks were reintroduced and clouds parted over a tear-stained perfectly freckled nose and a bobbing head heavy from sleep as we made our way home.
      Is there anything honey can't do?

an exchange

      This winter has felt uncommonly long. The more I think of spring the more winter stamps it big Acton boots all over me as though thoughts of flowers and green leaves are wildfire. Those who've lived in the North for a long time know that this is spring. Mr. and Mrs. Fox and Mallard are pairing up on unchaperoned dates, the sun is high and bright, birds join great birdy choirs (no auditions necessary) in the barren trees. What do they all know that I don't know? It's white and and it's cold and it's getting to me. And I hate that it's getting to me. I want to be stronger than weather.
      I was trying to figure out why winter has felt particularly long this year. I thought being away on holidays would help. I was looking forward to a few days on the other side of the fence in hopes that some milder clime and green would help me to stick it out awhile longer in deep subzero. But AAAHHH. As wonderful as it has been to be away it hasn't helped me deal with being here while I'm here. In fact it may have made it worse. And that struck me like a brick. Looking to something else for the pure joy and reprieve of it is one thing but looking to something else to fix what ails you is another. There are good and needed things that come along, like vacations or chocolate or a night out or a warm conversation, that help us through whatever it is we're dealing with but "whatever it is" is still there and usually ends up needing to be dealt with directly.
      My tulips didn't survive. I think I may have overwatered them because they moulded. So here I am. What am I left with? I need a different set of eyes to see that bright, cold sun and welcome it. New ears to relish the sound of returning birds despite the leafless trees and deep snow. It feels a little like dying - this giving up of what I feel I have to have in exchange for what I do have and with acceptance and gratitude, with joy. With intention. But if I don't spring could be here and I might miss it.

broccoli chop

      The sun has returned to Yellowknife. The snow is deep and plentiful, the days are still cold. But the great big golden sun is high in the sky and looking for broccoli to shine upon. I am presently adjusting to being home again after many weeks away. Once inside our house I wondered what do I do here again? How does this go? So I'm starting with soup. I want to kick this lingering cold in the bum and send it shivering on it's measly way. I think soup might be the hiieeeya! that I need.
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road stop

rain, rain, go away

      Oh woe! Oh rue. I am stuvved ub wid a sore throad. When I was a girl and wasn't feeling well I'd say "I have dough in my veins". Everything sluggish as though my insides are bread kneaded and rising. I don't even really know what that means. It's just what it feels like. And I'm with my dear friend whom I haven't seen in a year and I wish I was bright sunshine o'er her but I am drizzle in a cloud. How wonderful these things don't matter one bit with those who love us most.

stairs and stars

Portland laughs in moss

A poem should be ...

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone

Of casement ledges where the moss has grown -- ....

(from Ars Poetica by Archibald MacLeish)

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