Beauty in Transition

Living in a country with four seasons has taught me to appreciate change and find the beauty and opportunity in transition. The splendour of the autumn foliage is the opening act for the blustery winter to come. It takes summer out on a high note and leaves us wanting when it finally recedes and all that remains are stark, naked trees and the gray chill of November.

If we take our queue from nature, we could trust the transitional periods in our lives that may be tumultuous and even painful, knowing that it's something that we have to go through to get through it.

So for now we celebrate each precious remaining sunny, autumn day with long walks immersed in golden and fallen leaves and deep blue skies; and give silent thanks for the gifts that come with change.

Path Less Travelled

It was intended to be a long walk in the fresh air down our cottage road. In mid September, the cottage season is all but ended and we stubbornly cling to the last precious remnants. It had rained relentlessly through the night before, leaving the ground spongy and muddy. We trampled along with Fritz the yappy schnauzer, accompanied by the chorus of song from far away tree tops.

We made a left turn up a gravel road leading to the other lake and followed it until it ended at a private property - "no trespassing" - and a pathway veering off into the woods.

With nothing but chill and damp waiting for us back at the cabin, we plunged into the forest, carefully picking our way over fallen branches and pools of rainwater. The weeks of moisture had rendered the foliage of the forest  a brilliant sheen of green, and shocks of colour poked through the bed of crispy brown leaves.

For more than an hour we navigated the roughly marked trails, changing direction on a whim, exploring where our curiosity led us, eventually crawling under a locked metal gate to find ourselves on the road to our camp.

It's incredible what you notice when left without distraction to the quiet and tranquility of nature; what exquisite beauty is there for discovery - and adventure - when you choose the path less traveled.

We both agreed; it is a path we are going to choose more often.

February to Forget? Not!

Days of bitter cold blustered by on crystallized sheets of snow - mountains of snow. As per my desktop calendar Kidlet slid into adulthood, unexpectedly. Hearts and love exchanged; dinners prepared and shared; many birthdays celebrated; expectant babies warmly anticipated; and an epic anniversary commemorated. February was ripe with occasion.

Nights of haunting winds howled as fingers tapped keyboards, scrutinizing, imagining, reliving the words dancing across the screen. Versions and versions edited, saved and shared. Although the stories are not my own, familiarity with the words and phrases born of hours of intimacy have seeped into my being and I now wear them.

A month slipped by without a single post to my blog. Was there nothing - no reflection nor retelling - worthy of documenting? February slipped by. It was rich. It was full. And I was busy.

I am putting the finishing touches on my dad's book about his educational career - Restless and Inattentive and we are so close. I joked with him that the book I write will be about an aging over-achiever father who is desperate to leave footprints in the snow. He already has.

And somehow I suspect that after his projects are wrapped and bound, I will look back the many years of this  journey of writing that I have shared with my dad, and be ever-grateful for this very privilege and the time together. I am already.

And so I bid February a fond farewell and welcome March with open arms. I will not miss blustery cold and howling winds as we move on. I'm ready.

No Complaints

Tree is still standing, fully dressed. I didn't have the heart nor energy to tackle it today. It's a chore I abhor; and I gladly procrastinate.

I milked my illness for one more day and as a result, my backside is officially flat as a pancake and my nose, a flaky mess. The drugs have been good - dried me up like the Sahara desert, leaving me with just the fatigue and aches to deal with. I have been far too familiar with my couch these days and I fear I've left a permanent indentation. I'd had enough by 2 pm and rolled into the shower to scrub off my illness and shrug off the fatigue. 

It seems I've missed a few of the most frigid days this winter. The sun was bright in the sky but offered little warmth. After being inside for so long, the cold air and frozen nose hair were refreshing and a welcomed wake up call. 

And although many complain about winter and claim to hate it, I enjoy the contrasts of the seasons. Winter paints glorious glistening portraits and sends us indoors to luxuriate in the warm and cosy. It provides guilt free hours to reflect, read, and hibernate. The driving is horrendous but the ice and snow embody our Canadianism and are part of our DNA. 

It will be springtime soon enough and like the ornaments on the tree, our memories of winter will be packed away and long forgotten. But for now, I am reminded of the intrinsic beauty of the season in which animal, plant and human life slows down; the season that demands to be noticed, and in which peace is prescribed. And mostly, winter deepens our appreciation for the other three seasons! And for all four glorious seasons,  I am so very grateful.

Seasonal Cold and Bright Spots

Kicking off the new year with a cold that erupted spontaneously and has me sneezing with such power and vigor that I'm sure they are registering on the Richter scale. Perfect opportunity to stay couchside and catch up on reading - books and blogs - and testing the strength of my high-end lotion filled-tissue.

It snowed most of the day and the temps were minus 30; if I had known I was going to end up sick I would have forfeited the shower and stayed in my pj's all day. I love those rare occasions of guilt free relaxation, when you can do whatever - or nothing - your little heart desires, and the kettles boils up copious cups of tea.

The empty crates stand stacked in the living room in the off chance I get the urge to deconstruct Christmas. No such urge transpired. However our beefy balsam fir is showing signs of dehydration so it's got to happen soon.

Through my watery eyes and cold misery I can still see bright spots to look forward to. I had a SKYPE call with Oliver, one of the directors of Good Hope the other night and from the first moment I heard her sing song voice saying my name, my heart felt lighter. The Internet connection wasn't the best however we managed to have a brief conversation and I was able to ask about the kids. This ongoing relationship with my Tanzanian friends is something I am going to enjoy this coming year.

And the journey to find a new home with acreage will continue, but we are in no rush. We'll enjoy the process of fixing up our house (replacing the 22 year old carpeting) so we are ready when our new home finds us (it'll have to be close enough to my family and work). One of my three amiga friends is turning 50 this year so a celebratory girls' trip will be in order. Hurry up and decide Adventure Girl.

So much to look forward to, lots to anticipate -- like this next sneeze. Fritz - pass the Kleenex!

All is Calm

With much of our city still without power, and trees bending, splitting and breaking under the burden of the thick ice that has accumulated, this will surely be a Christmas remembered for years to come. I have friends who have been warming and eating by candlelight for two days and counting. They will most likely spend have an imposed pioneer Christmas.

And the funny part is, even with all of the devastation - streets lined with the piles of tree remnants - and inconveniences and challenges people have been facing, there is a lightness in the air. I was caught in the crush of the last minute Christmas shopping at both the mall and the grocery store, and I couldn't help but notice how pleasant and patient the general mood was. None of the usual scowling faces - but rather there were may smiles and "Merry Christmas" cheers and random acts of kindness abounded.

The ice has created ethereal beauty to behold, and tested our resolve - and Christmas spirit. The landscape is forever changed, as are our notions of the meaning of Christmas. This little natural disaster has been a timely reminder of all that we have, and take for granted.

I am ever grateful for the warmth of my home and the hot meal I ate tonight; and I am grateful that my family is safe and sound. As the spirit of the season descends, I pray for peace and love for my loved ones close in heart as well as for those who are struggling, where every they may be.

The Fall

Whoosh! Thanksgiving has come and gone - country fair and famjams and all; our cottage is closed up and in an induced hibernation; and whoosh! October is almost gone before I barely flipped my calendar. Time is precious and in short supply these days. I have lots to do and lots to look forward to. But I am trying to live in the now while preparing for my trip to Tanzania. Just a few things between then and now -- root canal, some writing, some work deadlines, a few birthday celebrations...

So -- to catch up -- I'll share a few captures of my month. I hope all is well in your world and that you are finding the beauty in each day before it slips away. I'm trying - and then - whoosh!

First time using family heirloom turkey plates for the feast

At the fair, the noses had it!

Leaves were down at the cottage, signalling the "close" of the season.

Contrasts

The cover is on the pool, held in place with random bricks and planters; a little pool of water has collected on the blacktop cover; the gazebo is stripped of its canvas cover and the patio is devoid of furniture. All traces of summer fun have been packed away.  In a nutshell, our backyard is in hibernation, laying in wait for winter.

At first glance, it looks dismal, and maybe even a little depressing. But the weather is beautiful, the leaves on the trees are turning their shades of gold and crimson, and in a week or two, we will be surrounded by brilliance. And in another few months, the dreary will be draped in a cloak of white snow. We need the contrasts to fully appreciate the beauty.

Life is like that too. We need contrasts. We need chaos in order to appreciate order. With stress, we feel the peace and serenity that comes with the absence of such pressure. If  we've done without, we more readily recognize abundance. We experience discomfort - and then relish comfort. So maybe the lesson is not to shy away from the unpleasant side of things. The pendulum always comes swinging back and when it does, we can fully appreciate the good and gifts in our life.

The Change

What a difference a few weeks makes. We've gone from cooling off on a sunny deck to warming our frigid fingers by a blazing fire. This will be one of the last few weekends spent at our place of peace - also known as Falconridge, our summer cottage. It's been rainy and cold for most of the weekend and our electric heaters are working overtime to get the inside temperature up above 12 C.

Time to start "the close" - pull the boats out of the water, ready the docks for the ice, tuck the chairs and umbrellas under the cottage, and lastly, pull the water lines out of the lake. Summer has past and "the change" has begun. Me and the lake have that in common - we're both going through the change, albeit I'm a little farther along in the process.  My feelings are mixed as I watch the brittle birch tree leaves flutter to the ground, signalling a time to pack away our precious summertime memories and say good bye for another year.

It's also a season of great beauty, with crimson and burnt orange foliage that goes out in a blaze of glory. I always get a little flutter in my stomach when change is imminent; maybe it is the prospect of new possibilities and eager anticipation of what is to come. And so I will soak up these last few hours at the lake and look to the adventures that lay before me. I have lots to look forward to, and even more to appreciate.

Here are some captures from our wet autumn weekend at the lake for your viewing pleasure.

Transitions

I remember from giving birth that "transition" is the most difficult part of  ->what-is-supposedly-> the most natural of all processes. I learned that just when things in life start to change - often in the most painful of ways - and at the exact point of when you think you've reach your breaking point, your full capacity, you transition into a new paradigm. You've been tested; you endure, and you inure.

We adjust to our new reality and if we are truly adept, we embrace it and go forward stronger and with wisdom borne of experience.

So here at cottage land, in our place of peace, nature is serving up advance notice, warning signals that she is entering transition. And soon the lazy, humid days of summer will be filed under "memories 2013" and the mysterious ways Mother Earth will reveal themselves. The birch leaves will yellow and be the first to fall; they already are. The maples will don brilliant crimson and fiery orange before shedding their cloaks to stand bare and tall to face the Canadian winter.

But for this weekend, the last weekend of the summer, we will give a nod to the signals and cherish these last few days at the lake. Autumn will arrive soon enough an with it, bring its own label of stunning. There will be great beauty in this beloved season of transition, as well as a little sadness that yet another year has passed. But as with any transition, there will be more goodness and blessings to come.

This Girl is On Fire

We're under an extreme heat warning which means the air conditioning is cranked up as high as we dare, I'm wearing as minimal clothing as is legal, and I have a fuzzy head of hair swollen with humidity. Ceiling fans swirl, labouring to move the heavy air; and the frigid air at my office is a welcomed respite. All chatter centres around the weather - the sweltering heat and global warming. The trickles of sweat rolling down my back are a testament to global warming -- or menopause!

What a perfectly insane day to truddle off to the gym - and truddle I did, inspired by the article I had just finished writing about the signs of heat stress. The ten minute walk to and from the Y was more grueling than the workout. But I had a lovely exchange on the corner with a lady from the east coast who said that even after two years of living here, she just can't get used to the humidity. Then there was a lady at the gym who chatted with me in between gasps on the treadmill. I tried my best not to appear winded but my purplish colouring and wheezing were dead give aways! We agreed that it was a bummer that Oprah, one of the most powerful, successful women on the planet, still seems to worry about weight. What message does that send? You can achieve everything - but if you aren't slim...

Getting back to my heat attack -- for the record, I am NOT complaining. Winter was long and summer was a long time coming so I am savouring every degree Celsius and ray of sunshine. I've got my arsenal of  iced cappuccinos, ice cream, light skirts and no sleeves cause this girl is on fire! And for that, I am truly grateful!

Spring Tease

I am not sure if the temperature indicator on my dashboard is a blessing or a curse -  I mean, at sub-zero "springtime" temps, isn't ignorance bliss? I had to chuckle when I heard the radio hosts talking about the rumoured lynching of the groundhogs that had predicted an early spring. In our neck of the woods his name is Wireton Willie. But hey, can we blame these furry fluffballs if Spring has turned out to be a tease?

She shows up in living colour; pulls us in; flirts; toys with our weather sensibilities and then disappears. Hide and seek. She'll be back by the end of the week and after a few more grand entrances and flamboyant displays to satiate her need for attention, she'll settle down and stay for the season.

Spring is a short - but much anticipated - transitional season with only a small window of opportunity to make an impression.

So if you are listening Spring, we love you and want you back - for good. Enough is enough. Truly!

Springtime Stroll

Spring was lurking just outside the window waiting to be discovered and greet it head on, we did! I snatched my camera and hubby and I jumped into the car and headed towards the lake shore. We took an old fashioned Sunday drive -- on Saturday. The sky was the perfect hue of blue and the sunshine demanded cool shades. We drove along, following the lake, content to drink in the sights of people eagerly unpacking springtime, content to follow our whimsy.

It wasn't long before we found ourselves walking the Toronto waterfront. We watched enthusiastic boaters free their vessels from their shrink wrap;  the ducks and swans flit and flirt; and an endless parade of dogs, runners, and bikers stream by. It was evident - there was an epidemic of spring fever raging through the city.

After a long winter of house arrest, we are more than ready shed the shackles of isolation, cold and dreary for sunshine and warmth. And so we strolled along hand in hand, breathing in the fresh and renewed, and snapping pictures as we went. It was a good day, a reminder of promise and new beginnings. And here are a few of the pictures I captured as we walked.