One Long Week...

The last two weeks actually...that began with a tragic, untimely death of a young man who was a friend of my daughter and son. Too soon, too far away, too surreal. The fog descended suddenly while he and a buddy were back country skiing in Japan. As a veil of mist enveloped them, and reduced visibility to virtually nil,  he hit an icy patch and while trying to regain  his balance, slid over a mountain cliff and landed 600 meters below. Somewhere during that fall, breath turned to air. And for the 1000 plus mourners who gathered tens of thousands of miles and eight days later in a little church in rural Ontario, the topic of weather arose frequently. Unpredictable. Capricious. Friend. Enemy. Glorious. Ying. Yang.

In Canada, we celebrate our four seasons and welcome each of them with the same exuberance as we say farewell when their time is up. We are cursed and blessed. We have the largest wardrobes on the planet. And, we have the largest wardrobes on the planet.

We have special events that are themed around the weather: Winterlude gives over to Spring Fling, which bows out for Summer Sounds, which in turn introduces Harvest Ball, which brings us to Christmas in the Valley, and so the circle begins again. Each season plays host to special activities that are meant to seduce people into the outside. Hockey. Skiing. Nordic Walking. Snowshoeing. Skateboarding. Roller Blading. Mountain Biking. Hiking. Swimming. ATVing. Fishing. Kayaking. Canoeing.  And, of course, Birding year round.

It's a full life. We draw our circles large, and invite friends in to share the experiences. And, as I read recently, "If you're not dead, then you're not done. There are lessons still to be learned."

I take comfort, personally, in thinking that when someone dies, they have, indeed, come to the place they were meant to be. Have completed their journey, and can now move on to the next, whatever that may entail. When a young person dies suddenly, the silver lining is that they will not be left to languish slowly and alone in a long term care facility, sad, diminished and incapable of caring for themselves. No one gets out of life alive. But some have more pleasant journeys than others.

And so I arrived at today.  I walked out the door two hours ago, and was greeted by the actual demise of winter.

.

The quiet blanket of fog had crept into the woods and along the edges of the road. The silence was thick, broken only, and beautifully,  by the sweet jingling of the Juncoes, the tat-a- tat of the Hairy Woodpecker, the yanking of the Nuthatches, and the tinkling little trills of the Redpolls.
It was profoundly peaceful. The air smelled warm and rich and earthy. Nature was rolling over and shedding her wintry cloak.

This we know to be True. Spring will come.
And with it, a new dawn.

Fall and Winter Have Retired.

Who'd a thunk?

Not me certainly!

When I said " So long, adieu to you and you and you!",  and tore off the shackles that bound me to a career as an Economic Developer I really had no idea what would happen next, where I would go, what I would do, when I would know I had arrived at that magical place where retired people dwell, how I would manage, what would it be like....

So I had to just LET IT ALL GO. And the night I decided that that was the best plan, this happened:

And nothing was revealed. Well, not quite true. It was a beautiful autumn evening...a Tuesday night. And while we sat around the bonfire enjoying the full  golden moon, the lovely merlot wine, the soft evening breeze it hit me! I didn't have to go to work the next day, and I was accountable to absolutely no-one but me! And so I stayed up past midnight. 

And the next morning, I slept in past 9. And dreamed of a trip to Cape May, that wouldn't be a vacation at all. I didn't have to take a holiday from anything! I just had to go and enjoy the gorgeous ocean breezes, fabulous seafood, stunning scenery, and the birds. Oh, the birds!

And so I did!

Getting used to having no schedule whatsoever, other than a self-imposed one, took about 10 minutes. And then it became a huge release from stress, worry, and time constraints! My time had arrived, without me being aware that I had been waiting for it! 

All of a sudden, I realized that I could do anything I felt like - and I didn't have to wait until the weekend to see friends, go out for dinner, go rambling around, cook, clean or not clean...time had suddenly become my friend!

Hello!

Hello cooking classes. Hello mid-week birding excursions. Hello I don't think I feel like doing anything today. Hello Netflix binge. Hello  afternoon yoga classes. 

Hello life!

Autumn morphed into winter, and even our white world became something to celebrate. Previously there had always been those moments of frustration - have to clear snow off the car, scrape the windshield, put on coats, mitts, boots, scarves moments - just to simply leave the yard. No more!

I can stay in with a book. Or not. I can, and did, go skating and had the most memorable skate of my life one gorgeous sunny day in January when water turned to ice and the magic happened.

It wasn't just one day, either. There was the day when we found not one, not two, but THREE Snowy Owls as we were taking a leisurely afternoon drive around the Valley.

There was the morning when I looked out the window, and saw deer in the yard, and then later, along the road, in the fields, and into the woods...deer here, deer there, oh deer!

There were days of wonder. Days of sleep. Moments of laughter. Time with friends. Time with family. Day dreams. Incredible scenes.

And ever so slowly, my world began to shift. It was - and is - a better place to be. And softly, winter dropped her coat, and it became easier to breathe. And signs of Spring coming appeared. 

The days got longer. And the sun warmed. 

And Spring arrived.

And so did I.

Spring Soulstice

Solstice. Soulstice. That's what this time of year is for me. And therefore why it takes me twice as long to get anywhere if I'm driving. And why I carry binoculars and a camera with me everywhere I go. Because it's spring, birds are returning, the land is waking up, and so am I.

Perhaps if Canada were equatorial I'd feel differently, but it's not. It has four distinct seasons and each one evokes strong emotions, and requires a special commitment from the people who live here. It is not an easy place to live, particularly in winter, and especially if you haven't prepared yourself properly. It's not as simple as going out and buying mittens, boots, hats, warm coats and a snow shovel. Our forefathers not only had to  grow their own food, they had to preserve and store it as well, they had to think about warmth, and plan their sources of heat for long, cold winter nights. They had to be prepared, and they had to survive. Of course it's easier today, but I think that the challenges our great grandparents faced are part of who we are today, and when we make it through another winter, we celebrate. We go outside, touch the earth, smell the deep, wet, woodsy forest, and welcome back the songs of spring.

Everywhere I go I see signs. Vast skeins of geese heralding their arrival, honking overhead. Turtles emerging from their muddy beds to bask once more in sunshine. Pairs of ducks locked in their ritual dances. Nest building, song singing, bawdy, raucous Spring! Welcome! And linger.

12/3/4 Winter's Still Outside the Door

In March I begin to tire of winter whites, and the vast expanse of it directly outside my window as I look at my frozen river. To  say nothing of the snow deer in the yard, hoping to be untethered soon:

These are the days when cabin fever can strike, and the urge to get outside sends me roaming around the countryside hoping to find signs of life. Maybe a bird or two. It doesn't really matter what I see, I just want relief from the frigid crystals that bind us....however beautifully winter arranges itself  along the roadside...

over the fields...

 

and upon the rocks...

The moodiness of March is a force to be reckoned with!  Around the Ottawa Valley all manner of life is coping with winter's last gasp. 

Cows and horses out of the barn for the first time in months

Mourning doves wait patiently...

The Raven tires of endlessly surfing snowdrifts...

 

 Wild turkeys roosting. Do they dream of fresh green sprouts?

 Oh for the day when we can go for a walk without hats, mitts,scarves, boots, coats!

                           

The road is long to spring, but there are signs.

The harbingers of spring are there, like little rewards for being so patient.And as I drive down the icy road, a final magnificent present! Do you see what I see??

Look closely...a tiny oval speck...white to blend with the snow....in the middle  of the shot

 YES!!!!!!!

A gift from winter. Posing quietly while I grabbed the camera, got out of the car, walked across the road to the edge of the field...and sighed hello.

A perfect ending. Just perfect.

Spin Cycle

In the background is a peppy little voice cheerfully chattering  about the nautical look, and how we can now take it the office. As she burbles away, I stare at this nautical look, and I wish I could. But I don't think that's what the etalk hostess means. This spring has been so long coming, that now that it's here, I find myself slightly off kilter. Not quite in focus and a bit soft.

Like dawn on the river. It holds me spellbound as I count hundreds, no thousands of ducks and geese, gathering, gabbing, gobbling, and going on their way. I sit and wonder where they have been. Where they will be tomorrow. I want to know their unknowable journeys. I want their promises to return. Again and again.

Like violets, and daffodils.

The cheery greeting I am given upon arrival is worth the long winter's wait.

And I smile, happy that they're so...so relentlessly yellow! 

They wink and nod with the spirit of spring.

Like little red squirrels who have waited for months to scold someone.

Anyone. Me.

Like a tightly coiled furry little spring, he can't stop moving. Or chirping.

"I'm alive! I'm alive! You are too! What are you doing? Where are the peanuts?

Get the nuts! I'm alive! I'm starving here! Hurray! Hurry.

No, don't stop. Don't look at the birds. I know they're cute. So am I!

Okay, one little look... Hurry!" 

How can one look just once?

This place has me on spin cycle.

I love Spring.

I'm alive.

This is a Whine Tour

While winter still insists on scratching it's cold brittle limbs against the window and pelting us with what would be rain if it weren't ice, it's a good time to at least think about birding.

One lovely mellow day last fall I went for a drive through the rich plains leading down to the river - an area of lush farm fields and ditches overflowing with tasty treats for wandering warblers, sparrows, and hawks on high.

It's an old area, on the edge of the Canadian Shield and hunted by the Algonquin over 6000 years ago.  Samuel de Champlain lost his astrolabe near here on one of his visits, and the Voyageurs plied the many lakes and rivers, laden with baubles and beads to trade for furs to warm the tops and bottoms of  European royalty.  Over time it became a destination for Irish, Scottish, Polish, German, and French settlers, hoping to escape famine in Europe in the early 1800's.

The day of my drive, the sun was warm, and lazy bees were making slow work of the meadows, lopsided and laden with pollen, they bobbed beside me,

while bright beady eyes followed their movements.

The Yellow Rumped Warbler is one of the first warblers

to appear in the spring, his cute little butter bum seen flitting

in the bushes and along the edges of fields.

The Song Sparrow is one of the first sparrows to make it back to the Valley. I know for a fact that they have returned, because I've heard then calling out and heralding the rites of Spring. Although I suspect that today

they are hunkered down, hopefully inside a barn out of the wind and rain.

Most likely wondering when the sun is going to shine, and wishing they'd lingered

a little longer  on the  south side of Lake Ontario!

Here in the middle of winter, a day of rain and temperatures hovering around 0 would have everyone saying things like, " Wow, is it ever mild!"

But in April?? Not so much....

Oh crap!

I have just proven, again, that Canadians  will always find

some way to talk about the weather.

Must BE the weather that causes this national trait!