June 27 ..... A man of Canmore...

I don't understand how people live here. I walk out side and am instantly agog at the mountains. They are everywhere. At the BBQ last night I asked people, some of whose families have lived here for over a hundred years!! I asked them, do you ever tire of the mountains? Is it possible to become blase about them? I am stupified by them. Young daughter will ask me an important question while we're driving and I'm tuned out.... gawking...

At one point today son-in-law noticed a rescue operation going on on one of the mountains.. he called out to Peanut and she got me and we all watched. Then they sat and watched for at least an hour how birds, presumably eagles, were dive-bombing for food. I am very grateful that my daughter has found a man who finds that interesting, who is mesmerized by nature, who has a healthy and immense respect for nature. THAT makes me happy.

It takes my breath away sometimes to see the values I hold dear - obviously nature, its care, the beauty of the mountains, Winnetou... I see those values being held and shared between my daughter and her mate, soon with her son, my grandson. I love the continuity.

April 29 ... Sensory Memories

I had a great bike ride today. I rode up and over Mount Royal to the Plateau - to go pick up my glasses finally - and rode back up and through Mount Royal to get home. It was great. Nothing like endorphins to make me a happy camper.

It was cool when I left. At one point along my ride, the wind stinging my face, in a not unpleasant way, brought back a memory of sitting on the dock at dear lake Winnetou on a beautiful, crisp Fall day. It was clear as could be this memory and brought a smile to my face. Further along, I smelled the blossoming Cottonwoods. That too took me to Winnetou - memories of walking through the woods, feeling as familiar as ever, this feeling even tangible if that's possible- the impact of odour on memory is just so remarkable. Near the top I was riding on the edge of the road, close to treetops from the land below the cliffs, the wind was blowing fiercely. Our cottage was on a piece of land that also had a cliff's edge - and we always heard the wind in the treetops that ended up being at the same height as the house. That is one of my fondest memories of all, sitting out on the veranda, listening to the wind in the trees, bending gently, dappled by sun...

There are days when the images and sensations of Winnetou and the cottage come back so strong it's as if I were there an hour ago. I'm grateful for these memories, for connecting with something here - like Mount Royal - and having that take me back to my beloved lake and cottage. I pray that my grief, prolonged as it was, is not rekindled this year. It's been a hard 9 years, a hard process of loss. And yet, even though ... I always smile when I smell, feel, hear ..... when I am taken back.

April 14 ... What I did for Princess Day...

Even though my Princess Day had to start at 6:00 am... I am still grateful for how it turned out.

After all the meetings this morning - I was free and went home. I took a nice long bike ride. Oh the wonders there - daffodils, tulips, dogwood, hyacinths, and lovely magnolia trees all in bloom.. amazing.

I then came home and gardened. I suppose that over the course of the rest of this year, I will get my fill of needing to tend to my plants but you know, it's April 14th. And it's already a miracle that I am not shoveling my way out from underneath... but I'm tending to my blooming clematis! I mean what's with that?

So I tended my garden. Took out the plethora of those nasty stinging weed plants, picked up the leaves, noticed that my strawberries have all come back (yay!), and felt content for the smell of the earth and the sound of the wind in the trees.

Much gratitude.

April 9 .... silver linings...

We woke up to stormy skies and rain this morning. What a sweet smell so close to the ocean. As you can see... there is obviously a silver lining to stormy weather. It's absolutely beautiful. I tried recording the ocean - to share here, but it ended up sounding like a bad radio... so I encourage you to look at the pics and breath in deeply, exhale deeply, sigh, and that's pretty much the sound track to the ocean...

I am very grateful for the experience I have had this week.

I am very grateful to have a wonderful home to come home to, kids that await my calling, friends that are meeting me and waiting for me.

Life is good... and I am grateful.

April 8 ... apologies and dolphins

Well it was bound to happen. I didn't post yesterday - for the first time since January 1. So now that it's out of the way... onward to gratitude.

This morning's cup of coffee, out on the balcony, relaxing, it's already 78 degrees... and all of a sudden a school (a school? herd? gang?) of dolphins passes by! There are at least 10 of them, frolicking and playing. I run down to the beach to watch, they are clearly enjoying themselves, catching waves, bumping each other playfully, putting on a show for the rest of us. I WISH I would have gotten a picture... I am so grateful for having witnessed them.

The ocean with it's ebb and flow, in breath out breath in breath out breath... and yet, when you're playing in the waves, it's immense, powerful, reminding me of my smallness, and I'm grateful - because for me it makes me humble. I have a great respect for Mother Earth and I believe that respect gets rewarded with a wonderful display of dolphins.

March 7 ... solitude with company...

I awoke very early this morning. The house that our dear friends are having built still doesn't have curtains, and "our room" is facing the rising sun. It was fine being woken up by the sunrise really ... it was quite spectacular. The lake is still frozen so there is such brightness - it's breathtaking.

Not being able to sleep any more, I got up and went for an early morning walk. I passed a creek, the waters rushing from the melting mountains around us, waterfalls, ice sculptures, stunning. All of a sudden I heard a splashing... four white-tailed deer were crossing the creek. They gazelled their way up the other side, noticed me, and stopped. We stood there for many minutes - they wary, me in awe. They got bored with me and hopped away, tails white and high behind them.

When I got back to the house, I sat out on the deck, it being warm enough to do so. I kept hearing this noise by the lake and went to investigate. While the ice is solid (supposedly), there were cracks apparent. The way the water along the shoreline froze a sculpture of a wave seemed to have formed. As the sun continued to rise and warm the air, the ice tinkled and crackled sounding like little bells. Then this music like whale song began. It lasted for quite some time - it was the ice moving I guess.. I'm not even sure that's what it was truth be told. It was groaning and humming .. the ice alive. It was amazing.

Much gratitude in my aloneness today .. how full that space was with these marvels.

March 2 .... Mother Earth..

It is a glorious day today. Warm even by winter's standards. Sunny. Brilliant. I walked alot today, first with Honey, then to work. Birds singing, which by the way they do all winter long, it just seems on a fine Spring-like day you really hear them. And then as I walked... there is was.. that smell, the earth melting, a tulip's bulb somewhere, tingling, the ground thawing, that smell of Mother Earth.

When we moved into this lovely home of ours, I cried a little every day because the smell (I would learn later that is the smell of trees) reminded me of my dear cottage, what used to be my dear cottage. It's been eight years since we lost the cottage, since my father sold it in a dementia-stricken moment. I still mourn it's loss. But through my relationship with that place, those grounds, the air, trees, and water of that space ... I developed a deep connection to the earth. Something real and tangible. And while I mourn the loss of that cottage more than the loss of my mother, I am ever so grateful for having had that relationship for the time that I did. I am grateful that I had a place and space that was reliable, solid, never really changing, encompassing and embracing, real. I can call up the memory - sensory memory - without trying very hard at all. Whether someone else owns that piece of land or not, I will forever be a child of Winnetou Lake. I will forever be grateful for what that land gave to me.

And so on the first Spring days, when Mother Earth loosens up a little, basks in the warmth of the sun, shifts and changes and gives of herself after a long winter, I am grateful. I am grateful for the sense of peace she shares with me.