of loss and empty denial
merciful blues grip tightly
blanketing the air
whispered admissions of the heart
confessions of tender remorse
music beyond words
It is also the place where writing found me again, three summers ago while sitting in this spot. I have this photo tacked to my computer at work as inspiration. I am forever grateful.
We witnessed a few BIG thunderstorms last summer........this is one coming in for a landing. It walloped us! Thunder, lightening, wind, rain..............dark skies. Somehow I ended up as the only adult in the cottage with all the kids, including my daughter who is FREAKED by storms and was under the blankets..........head and all. What is so cool about storms like this is how they usually end up with rainbow endings and amazing sunsets.
Like this one......my relieved beauty beside beauty. xo
ps. For you Tim...........may you and your family start the plans to head north to the land of Anne Shirley.
Nature's canvas last night really seemed bleak while my dog Lily and I walked up on Springhill Road. At first, it knocked whatever energy I had left at the end of the day right out of me. I found my thoughts to be swirling in negativity as I swore at the black and white and grey landscape. The clouds blocked all hope of a sunset. There would be no moon, no stars last night. Out of the blue it seemed, wet snow began to drop unpredictably.........just enough to be irritating. I walked on while Lily made her way along a snowbank in search of a stick.
March in Canada is definately not a time to be promoting tourism. The sleepiness of hibernation still aches in the bones of this nation. It's true. However, so is the dogged determination to fight back..........to get outside, to plan for spring. A little bit of sunlight to begin the meltdown of accumulation carries a medicinal essence which is craved and sought. Everyone may look too pasty to be healthy. Winter coats and paraphenalia have a sorrowful look of a well worn uniform. Mittens, which have long lost their fancy fur to mottled overuse, are seen like roadkill on the sides of roads. Winter boots reek of telltale cycles of wet and dry and wet and dry. Salt stain remnants tatoo the season.