If Only It Wasn't a Sign of What's to Come ...

The snow is kind of pretty ... 

... if only it wasn't followed by winter.

Good Enough

As I wrote my way through my three, hand written morning pages this morning the theme of my thoughts seemed to be simple. Life is not perfect but it is good enough.

I shoulda, coulda, woulda'd myself to death throughout the weekend. But after all was said and done, I did "enough".

I may be working a few days I'd prefer to have off. But since I'm taking off several days in the next short while, I know the extra hours will be appreciated when pay day rolls around. I am fortunate to be exactly where I am. I need to work and work is available. It may not be perfect but it is enough.

It snowed last night. Snow may not have been at the top of my wish list but I don't have any snow shovelling to do. It is enough.

I was reminiscing about the weekends I spent out on my son's farm. I packed up my grocery supply for the weekend and knew what I had, had to be "enough". And it was. It was more than enough.

I was wistfully thinking that I'd like to have something fresh and new to wear to my uncle's upcoming birthday. I despise shopping. I don't want to spend the money. I plan to spruce up something I already have with some accessory and it will be good enough.

I don't have everything I want in life. But what I have is good. I have more than enough.And I am grateful.

Hello? Who is This?

Remember the good old days when the sound of a ringing phone brought surprise and anticipation as we didn't know who was going to be on the other end of the telephone line?

These days, phone calls are a rarity. When the phone does ring we have the convenience of knowing who is calling before we answer the call. While this is convenient to avoid telemarketers and the like, is there anyone out there who has not screened their calls with this knowledge?

More often than not, I will receive a text message asking if this is a good time to talk. While I fully understand the need for this modern etiquette due to the fact that many people no longer have a land line in their home ("Why pay for two phones?" is a valid argument), and one never knows where in the world a person may be when they call a cell phone.

It is handy to get a message to prepare for a call. One can grab a cup of coffee and tend to their personal needs when they know a long conversation is up and coming. I actually appreciate the advance warning.

But what of the times when you are expecting a call and it doesn't come. Hmmm. Kind of like the old days, isn't it? Except in the olden days, when one didn't reserve a time slot for an anticipated call, one went on with their life in progress (perhaps not a teen age girl, who had just given her phone number to a cute boy back in the 1970's though).

I remember staring at the phone, wishing it would ring. I remember not wanting to leave the house because I wouldn't know if someone called in my absence. I remember seriously considering leaving a tape recorder running beside the phone so I would know if I missed a call. I wouldn't have known who it was from. I would have simply known the phone had rung. I remember even being excited to talk to a wrong number.

Long gone are those days. I now return home from a day of work and I am absolutely thrilled when I see no one has called in my absence. Or if someone did call and didn't leave a message, I am off the hook. No need to communicate has become the highlight of returning to a day away from home.

I am presently sitting here waiting for the phone to ring. A friend made a notation in her calendar to call me today. This may or may not happen. But in the meantime, I sit here in a state of readiness. I will need to hop in the shower at some point soon but I have the option of bringing the phone with me just in case it rings.

Remember the days when the phone was attached to a wall and your ability to roam was restricted by the length of your phone cord?

I sound so old-womanish as I sit here and reflect on the changing times. It is hard to imagine that these good old days were only a decade or so ago. Life is changing. Too much. Too fast. Our need for connection has disconnected us in the ways that count.

Mom saw the writing on the wall when she was disgusted with people attached to their cell phones when cell phones were new and a novelty item. "What is so important that a phone call can't wait until you are home?" She certainly appreciated the convenience in case of an emergency. But any other time? Can't we just talk when we are at home, preferably attached to a phone cord so the person on the other end of the conversation receives our undivided attention?

My attention is so divided I accomplish very little in this modern world. I have no one to blame but myself but I'd like to shift some of the blame to the expectations due to the technological advancements of our era. We now celebrate "disconnecting". Shouldn't that be the norm?

I miss some parts of the good old days. The anticipation of who was on the other end of a ringing phone brought no end of excitement to my quiet little existence.

Just my thoughts of the morning as I sit here hoping the phone will ring. Over and out...

Overthinking

Overthinking has never worked for me. I have no idea why I keep thinking I can find a better way by thinking too much. But I keep doing what I have done in the past, hoping for better results. So far, my success rate has been pretty close to nil.

Go with the flow

Trust the thoughts you wake up with

Let it go

Keep it simple

Trust the process

These are the mantras I keep trying to teach myself. Yet I continue to overthink far too much.

I spent far too long trying to find a way to make some reservations more economical. I may have saved myself $18.86 ... but then again? Maybe not.

I changed a flexible reservation for accommodations to a non-refundable one. I changed the guests from "three" to "two". Now if someone does take us up on our offer to join us, I will have cost us money.

Sigh.

Let it go. It is a done deal. There is no going back now. 

But there is another life lesson for the books. Don't think so much!!

On the flip side, I learned from yesterday's lesson when our cat playfully tipped my morning smoothie all over me and the surrounding area. I held on tightly to my morning drink and maintained order in one area of my life. I should have let go of the rest.

May you take what you learned yesterday to make today a better day! 

Life Lesson #1,548,315,654

This one is an easy one.

It takes less time to make a smoothie than it does to clean up said smoothie after one's cat reaches out and tips it all over the smoothie-maker (aka: me).

Yep. My bored little kitty was stretched out on the computer table, reached out and over my arms, then tipped over my smoothie.

Spilled smoothie was (almost) everywhere. On the table, table leg, chair cushion, floor, wall, baseboard, my pj's, sweater and socks.

I cleaned, cleaned and cleaned some more. When I stopped sticking to the floor, I resumed my position and continued on with the crossword puzzle in progress.

There is a bright side though. I was able to salvage half of my smoothie by scooping the contents that landed onto the table into my glass. AND the smoothie did not fall onto or towards the computer. That would have been an epic fail.

Lesson learned? Keep the smoothie away from the computer. The cat? He is not into life lessons. He is a cause and effect kind of learner. I do believe he was somewhat entertained by consequence of his actions this morning. I'll be holding onto my beverages a little more tightly from here on.

Life Lessons Are Not Easy

Some of life's lessons are easier than others. I have learned some things the hard way but I have been spared some of life's harsher lessons.

Mom's last year was a gift in so many ways. My availability to go out on a whim, stay when needed and extend those stays at times was something I never could have done in any other circumstance since the beginning of my working life.

I was given the gift of "flexibility" at exactly the right time.

While it was nice to be there at times when we were concerned about Mom being on her own, the best times were when I went out just for me. I was told Mom was doing okay. I could stay home. There was no need to go. But I went. I wanted to be there for the good stuff as much or more as the harder days.

I'm so glad I followed my instincts.

Mom and I had a lot of time to visit. I don't remember the details. I simply remember the feeling. There were times when it was light and easy. Other times were not. As much as I felt I said everything I needed to say, I heard everything I needed to hear.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. I would make some minor adjustments but overall, I wouldn't change a thing.

Mom was not a complainer. "I am not in any pain" was a common refrain as those in the medical field would ask her about her pain. She said she may not feel pain the way others do but she was able to alleviate most of her discomforts on her own.

Though Mom did not complain, her fuse became a little shorter as time went on. She could not have been feeling well. She was used to living alone and she shared her home so much of the time that little things were slipping out of her grasp.

My nature is to step back, give people their space to do and say what they need to do and say and as time has gone on I have tried not to take things personally. Easier said than done. Mom rarely, if ever, directed her frustrations towards me which made it so much easier to be "me".

Near the end, I wrote "I have discovered the best way through these little moments is to drop the conversation, don't push the point and feel the need to be right. Humor doesn't hurt if you can find a way to use it."

Unbeknownst to me at the time, I would be in circumstances where I would need to follow my own advise. When someone is not feeling well, they are not at their best. Give them room to be who they need to be. Try your best not to take it personally. Rinse and repeat as often as necessary.

Fast forward to the present day ...

My youngest son had his wisdom teeth pulled one week ago. He has been in some form of pain ever since. High grade pain, low gnawing pain and swelling which has advanced to sharp, shooting pains. You can see it in his eyes. He is not himself.

Add a slice of "life" - assignments looming, other pressures mounting, the inability to eat solid foods and it really should come as no surprise that it all came out in the form of frustration as to how I load the dishwasher.

My son and I don't argue. We have rarely had moments where someone needs to walk away. But rather than argue, that is what has been done in the past. The time I was angry over a paper shredding incident, he recognized that was not typical of me and went to his room. I apologized later. I gave him the same grace.

A short while later, he came up and apologized. I mentioned "all of the above" and that his ongoing pain was not helping matters. I suggested this to him and he raised an eyebrow acknowledging that he may or may not have added the pain factor to his frustration factor.

My lesson to him was "Remember this. This is how it feels to be in pain AND have life pulling on you from too many directions. Frustration is inevitable."

Remember this.

There may be a day someone directs their anger toward you and it is less about you and more about where they are coming from.

There is a story circulating the Internets that talks about when you bump into a person with a full cup of coffee, their coffee is spilt. The moral of the story is "What is in your coffee cup?" If your cup is full of joy, your joy spills over. If it is full of pain, anger, frustration, etc, that is what spills when you get bumped.

We cannot control what is in someone else's coffee cup. But we can try to offer compassion. I say "try" because we are imperfect beings in an imperfect world.

Life is full of lessons. Some of them are easier than others. Always look for the lesson. There is always something to be learned as we make our way through this thing called life.

The Best Things in Life are Free

Costco gave our cat Jet the best gift ever. A box:

This handy dandy box not only has three sides with an easy access entrance but it comes with bonus handles so he is easily carried if he is in the way.

Jet was raised in a daycare environment and was very accustomed to going for rides around the house in plastic toy boxes. Those days are long gone but his enjoyment of a good box has not been forgotten.

Thank you Costco! You have made one cat very happy.

It is the little things in life that truly make a difference. What little thing brings you joy? Celebrate and enjoy that which brings pleasure. The best things in life are free.

Twenty Years From Now

Where will we be twenty years from now?

This was a question that was tossed into the room where I sat with my siblings in a light hearted kind of way. I believe we were reflecting on the video recording we had of all four of us made twenty three years ago. Then we tossed out the notion of where we would be twenty years in the future ...

The comment "You will be ninety years old!" was directed towards the oldest in our family. We laughed. Then the reality of where we will actually be in twenty years fell down upon the room like a quiet fog.

Twenty years. It is impossible to imagine and I won't go into all the possibilities. There are many. So very many.

As I think of my uncle who will soon be 90 years old and his three brothers who are flying out to join in on the milestone birthday celebration, I can't help but hope that will be us in twenty years.

We had a few gatherings while my soon-to-be-ninety year old uncle was here for a visit this summer. All of his siblings attended each one of the events. Various nieces and nephews gathered at each - if a person couldn't make it to one, they may have been able to make it to the other.

As I sit still and think of my siblings and each one of our own families, I can see us doing the same for each other twenty years from now.

It is a dream worth holding onto ...

Question Period - 1996

I have just returned home from a weekend with my siblings and reflections of our visit are echoing within my thoughts this morning.

I am blessed to be part of a family who make me feel whole, accepted and loved. They seem to like me just the way I am. The feeling is wholeheartedly reciprocated towards each and every one of my siblings.

Mom was brought into our conversation often. We watched a home video my brother crafted 23 years ago as a gift to Mom. He titled the video "Question Period (1996)". It was a video which featured all four of Mom's children. My brother came up with a list of questions. We pondered and answered to the best of our ability. It was fun to be a part of the gift our brother was creating.

The video was from a time when Mom was in perfect health. Yet we said all the important things.

My brother wound up the video in a way which we unintentially recreated when we gathered to say our final farewell to Mom 21 years later. The images and words were touching but meant ever so much more with the passage of time and the loss of Mom.

All that was left after the credits rolled was the feeling that Mom heard all of these things when it mattered.

When Mom died, I was consoled by the knowledge that I had said all I had to say. I said it when I thought it. In the present. In writing. In cards and letters. I had said everything I wanted to tell her.

It saddens me when I think that Dad never received the same gift. It is my hope that he knew how we felt. But there is nothing quite like hearing the words said aloud. I wasn't very vocal in those days. I'm glad I found my voice.

Using your voice to spread kindness is one of the best gifts one can give. Write what you can't say, say what you can't write ... but say something. Give the gift of letting someone know how you feel now. One never knows what tomorrow will bring.

Sibling Weekends Are the Best

You just can't plan weekends like the one I just lived.

A person can make arrangements to spend time with a group of people. You can make reservations, plan a route, a destination and an end goal. But one doesn't know how it will all unfold. Until it does.

A weekend away from home causes great angst for me. But a road trip with my sisters is one of my most favorite things. It overrides my anxiety and spills over into a feeling that is like no other. Add a final destination at my brother's home and I could ask for no more.

It was a weekend that began the moment I walked in the door after work to find my sister awaiting my arrival.

It just got better from there.

It was a weekend of family where all the stars aligned. It was simple. It was good. It was so very, very good.

We know how fortunate we are to have the connection we have with each other. It isn't something we take for granted.

I'm so glad we took this weekend to honor that bond and simply spend some time being in the company of family. I am grateful. So, so grateful.

Silent Saturday

The sun is setting on a perfect day

That is all. This is enough.

Look How Far You've Come

While scrolling through the internet this morning, I found a few words that spoke to me:

Credit to: Goalcast

I thought I would reflect on the year and went to check my blog history. September, 2018? Nothing. Not a post.

I then went to look up my 2018 calendar to fill in the blanks. I couldn't find it. I searched through my income tax papers where I always keep my calendar. Not a thing.

Okay, memory. Kick in. What were you doing a year ago?

I remembered September started by a trip with my brother to see my uncle in Guelph. I remember going to my sister's the weekend after that.

I remember feeling a lightness of heart starting to take hold but without the crutches of my blog or a calendar to look back on my memories faded to black. It was a scary feeling.

I scrambled to scroll back on some old texts to find a frame of reference. I found a text where I was headed out to Lloydminster with my son. After reading a few of the messages before and after this trip I was grounded with the knowledge that I remembered what was written in between the texts.

Once my feet were back on the ground and I was thinking clearly, I found my old calendar. Right where I expected it to be.

I flipped back to September, 2018. One year plus six days ago, I received the Final Clearance Letter for Mom's estate. A sibling trip was planned and we officially wound up everything pertaining to Mom's estate shortly thereafter.

We are planning another sibling trip this upcoming weekend. I will be headed off to see my uncle soon. Other events are mirroring those of one year ago.

Two years ago, the loss of Mom was fresh and I felt broken. A year ago, I was picking up the pieces and healing. This year seems to be a renewed version of the year past.

Life has moved on. There is a lot of the same old, same old. Just the way I like it. It feels like the good old days seasoned with the present.

How far have I come? I have a home renovation to celebrate. I am fortunate enough to still be employed. We are all in good spirits and our family relationships are healthy. I'm standing in a very similar place to where I was a year ago but the landscape has changed a little. I am grateful. So very grateful to be back where I have been but feeling better about it.

How about you? What has the last year brought into your life? I hope there have been rainbows after the rain, strength when you need it, courage to keep putting one foot in front of another and the company of those you enjoy to walk through your days.

Six Weeks

I live my life in six week intervals. The six weeks I can stretch between coloring my hair from one time to the next.

I try to time my hair coloring before momentous events (aka: any time I am seen outside my regularly scheduled life). When I decide the time is right, I will look at my upcoming schedule and see if one color will cover all the main events.

The reason I write this today? Today is "the" day.

I am off work today due to the fact my youngest son is having his wisdom teeth pulled and this requires someone to take him, remain in the office throughout the procedure, drive him home then stay with him afterwards. I was nominated for the job.

This gave me the gift of this morning. You guessed it. I have colored my hair. I am ready!

Ready for my up and coming Sibling Weekend. I look forward to these weekends like no other. But I like to be prepared. My roots are covered, I have checked for chin hairs and all I have left to do is pack. Ready. Set. Let's go!!

Followed by this is another out of province experience with friends. These are friends that have seen me in various shades of greying. It doesn't really matter but I'm pleased I will be freshened up for the occasion.

The grand finale of them all is my uncle's 90th birthday event. I will be completely out of my comfort zone there. No siblings. I will be among cousins, uncles, aunts and people I don't know. I feel a bit like a fish out of water without my immediate family by my side. The least I can do is color my hair. That will boost my confidence enough to get through the day.

As I sit here letting my hair color's conditioner work its magic, I am marvelling at the wonder of no apparent roots. I feel like a renewed old me. Hair color doesn't work miracles but it has given me a boost this morning. I'll take a boost wherever I can find it.

For the total cost of $9.95 (INCLUDING taxes!), I think it's well worth the price. The best part is that I paid for this a few months ago so this morning's entertainment was pretty much free. AND it will probably last for a month and a half.

I know what I'll be doing six weeks from now. Do you?

It's All Going to Be Okay

Everything happens as it should. It's all going to be okay. Don't overthink this. All will work out exactly as it is meant to be.

These are the phrases I mindlessly wrote over and over again this morning as I wrote my "morning pages" of long hand, free thinking, mindless writing. 

My subconscious mind is speaking to me. Nothing more than that. I have other people's stories on a loop within my mind and these are the lessons that keep coming to the forefront of my thoughts.

I wrote out my three pages and walked away. 

I tended three tasks that were taking up too much real estate in my mind. 

I soothed myself with my morning routines. 

And here I am.

I feel wordless. 

If a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?

If I think my thoughts and do not write them, do I exist?

Heavy words to ponder on a wordless kind of day.

Everything is good. I live a blessed life. I have more than my heart can hold. 

Yet I seem to need to remind myself it is all going to be okay today.

So I just thought I'd stop by and write this out loud just in case anyone else needs to hear these words.

Remain hopeful.

It's all going to be okay.

Hopeful

It is a little late in the year to be forming the traditional resolutions and mind sets one hears so much about as one calendar year folds into the next. But I very much like the way this word rolls off my tongue, into my vocabulary and seeps into my thoughts. I want to incorporate this word into my world in an every day kind of way. The word is "hopeful".

Hopeful is a word which is based what is possible while keeping in mind some probable outcomes. It is a word that meshes faith with reality.

Hopeful is an optimistic stance to take on any situation. Whether it is waiting on or dealing with a health diagnosis ... anticipation or dread over an upcoming appointment  ... to simply the way a day will unfold.

To be hopeful is to expect nothing but hope for the best.

Credo: from Mom's little book of notes

I want to step into each day filled with hope for best possible outcomes and the stamina to roll with any obstacles I may find along the way.

I feel hopeful today. I hope the same for you. No matter what life is throwing your way.

Bird Watching

Sometimes life is just going on all around you, just waiting for you notice it. Yesterday was a day such a day.

A friend I haven't talked to in ages phoned me and I immediately made my way into the living room to gaze thoughtlessly outside while we talked of many things.

The first thing I noticed was robins. The robins are back! I wondered if they were migrating their way south and have just stopped over at my neighbor's yard for some nourishment before they continued on their way.

Then I noticed what I firmly believe were woodpeckers. Several of them. They had long beaks, red heads, yellow under their wings when they flew and would attach themselves vertically to the trunk of a tree. They were having much more luck finding bugs on the ground so that is where they spent most of their time. One of them had a genuine bird bath in a puddle on the street while the other simply waded on the sidelines.

As I marvelled over the woodpeckers, I noticed movement in our tree. There was something yellow flitting about within our fir tree's branches. There were more than one of them. They were a small drab looking yellow bird. My son told me they may have been yellow warblers. I'll go with that.

I noticed yet another unfamiliar bird. This one had a somewhat checkered black and white back. It was small and rather cute. I wondered if it was a distant relative of a chickadee but I don't know my birds so I highly doubt it.

Then a blue jay flew in to join the crowd. He didn't appear to upset the harmony but added one more bird to those I had been noticing.

Had I not stopped to gaze out the window, I would have missed the show. I thought I would be able to pick up from where I left off this morning but the birds must have moved on.

What else is going on around me as I mindlessly make my way through the days without looking up and out into the world around me? I get so caught up in my head I forget to look up.

Look up and see what is right in front of you.

I wrote these words and walked away. Hours later, I heard my son calling my name. "Come here," he said. There, right in the middle of OUR front yard was a rabbit. He was literally in the middle of the yard, facing our house. Waiting to be noticed. He was hiding in plain sight. All day, I had been glancing out the window wondering if the birds would return. And there was a rabbit right in front of my eyes.

The Day the Computer Died

I was frittering my morning away watching YouTube videos when suddenly the computer died. It just quit. No warning. No fanfare. No bright red boxes indicating a virus had taken control. It just died.

I unplugged the computer cord from the computer. I googled "My computer died" on my phone. I removed the battery. Twice. I unplugged the cord from the computer and walked away.

Hmmm. I wordlessly wondered, "I wonder if that is the end of my computer as I know it?" Then I picked up a book and carried on.

Whimsically, I thought I would call my computer guy on Monday. There was a fair chance files could be recovered. But what if they couldn't? Life would go on. That is that. And I would feel ever so much lighter without carrying around the excess I have amassed on this little computer of mine.

Hours passed. Life moved on. I thought of the computer again and decided to unplug the computer from the wall while I waited for the Computer Doctor's diagnosis.

Then I saw it. The cord was not completely plugged into the wall. In all my attempts to unplug and plug in the computer, I never once checked the outlet on the wall. I was unplugging it from the computer.

I pushed the plug in firmly to the wall and lights started flashing. I turned on the computer and in an instant everything came back to life.

Life is just that simple some times. We complicate matters by overthinking and underacting. Sometimes it is as simple as checking your power source.

It is good to "unplug" and disconnect. It is hard to do this voluntarily but I must admit I was grateful for the hours of computer silence I enjoyed while my computer was out of service.

The day the computer died was destined to be a reflective and quiet one. Then I plugged it in again and all was lost. Even though I knew better. Sigh ...

No lesson to wind up this post. I knew better but I didn't do better. There is always tomorrow.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

I take life seriously. I really do. Life is filled with challenges, seriousness and while it often feels like there is every reason to cry, complain and surrender, I find laughter is the salve that soothes my weary soul.

I like to laugh. I like to surround myself with people who bring out the lightness in life. As I write these words, I hear the laughter. I think of people whose resting face is joyful, with a twinkle in their eye.

People who can download the stressors within their world in a light hearted fashion are people I look up to, want to be around and want to emulate.

When I think of times when my world felt the most bleak, I remember the laughter that broke through the darkness and reminded me "this too shall pass".

My memories ring with laughter as I think of the people, relationships and conversations I have had. The memory that stands out above the rest is the laughter.

In my humble opinion, laughter is the best medicine. Add a good night's sleep and good nutrition to that equation and that is the recipe for a life well lived.

Never Let Me Forget

I wake up every morning to my petty little worries. I feel as though I am in a constant state of counting down to something. My to-do-lists revolve around what I want to get done before one of those "count down events" occurs.

There are some challenges worked into the days but none of them are life threatening or loom above my head in a life-altering kind of way. What I confront as I walk through my days are merely hurdles. Something I can learn to jump over, walk over or even walk around. 

There is very little within this tiny little world of mine that is sitting in front of me daring me to take it on. I have my health. My family is hale and hearty. I have a job. I have a home. It comes with furry felines who shed a lot. 

I tend to complain about the endless cat hair and things-to-be-done. I am fortunate to have a life that comes with responsibilities and the need to be accountable. 

For every item on my eternal to-do-list or my daily countdowns to one date or another, I am blessed with a life that is filled with responsibilities, events and a community which pulls me out of the shell I would retreat into if I could.

Never let me forget to be grateful. That is my forever wish.

September 11th

Just a moment of silence to appreciate waking up to a day where I feel safe, secure, warm and sheltered from the outside elements of the world.

Just a moment to take note of what is truly important. It isn't the "stuff". It is the peace of mind I have as I map out another relatively predictable day.

Just a moment to reflect on the relationships I have with family, friends, community and the world outside these doors. I am treated with kindness and do my best to pay it forward.

Just a minute to gaze at the walls that surround me and the roof that shelters me. I am home. I am safe. I am content.

Just a minute to count my blessings. They are many. Few, if any, are material belongings. The contentment I feel within life as I know it is priceless.

Just a moment to remember how fortunate I am to wake up each morning. Period. To wake up with the ability to breath easily, place my feet on the floor, live independently and the gift of knowing there is an excess of what I have to share with those I meet along the way.

A moment of silence to honor this moment. To remember how fortunate I am when the day goes relatively according to plan. To go to bed at night with the peace of mind that those who touch my world have also made it through another day and are preparing to do it all again tomorrow.

A day to appreciate the ability to dream of "tomorrow" is a gift bigger than life itself.

I remember the way I felt the day the world as we know it changed forever. September 11, 2001 was a day etched in my mind. I vowed to never take our peaceful existence for granted as I walked through a day where the sky was silent.

Cat Meditation

Nothing empties the mind like watching a fire, gazing off into the ocean or watching kittens at play.

I could (and did) watch these kittens for hours on end.

You're welcome.

A Little Slice of Heaven

When I no longer walk this earth in human form, I want to be reborn as a kitten who lives on my son's farm. It is honestly like a little piece of heaven right here on earth.

The barn, wood pile and slough to the west

The shop, which houses the insulated dog houses takes on the appearance of a manger in the dead of winter

Check out the "cat condo" above the dog house door on the white dog house. It presently houses a new mother's family of kittens

The cat and rabbit house - shingled, sided and fully insulated with a wood floor and a cat door to use as needed

Cat walk up to the cat's feeding area to the left; rabbit house to the right

The "feeding area", with a cat walk up to the loft above

The loft, with a window with a warm northern view

And there is a people house too!!

With a deck which overlooks this panoramic view.

It is a little slice of heaven out there. I'm so grateful for the opportunity to step in and enjoy the view!

The Wonder of Motherhood

I do believe watching mothers in their natural habitat is one of the wonders of living on a farm. Mother cats, to be more specific.

The cats here on the farm are all descendants of the original Mother Cat. I am not sure of their exact lineage but I believe I am correct to assume all the mother cats are sisters, cousins or aunts or nieces to one another. In other words, they have all known each other since birth.

This creates a perfect co-parenting environment. The momma cats will step in to relieve one another. The kittens and teens have a strong bond with each other and every mother figure in their lives. Other than the odd hiss when someone oversteps a boundary, these cats lead an incredibly harmonious existence.

Then there is the Language of Mothering. One certain meow meant, "I have a mouse here. Come and get it!" Another specific meow was a momma cat calling out to her newly independent kittens who were out discovering the farm. There is the purr of contentment of a brand new mother as she nurses her newborns. The subtleties of the mews, meows, purrs, trill of a meow and the throaty mrrowl each have their own meaning.

Mother cats seem to have an ease about letting go when it is time for their kittens to set out and discover the world.

Yesterday morning when I went to feed the cats, the three youngest kittens were missing. I called out, I shook the cat food dish and when nothing drew them out I peered up into the loft. Not a kitten in sight.

Their mother didn't seem bothered by their absence and ate her breakfast without a care in the world. After everyone ate and lavished on any cat love that was being doled out, I asked the momma where her babies were. Eventually she seemed to understand my query and headed off towards the barn. I could hear the change in her meow. She was calling out to her children. No answer. She got closer to the barn and didn't enter. She headed towards the wood pile alongside the barn and continued to call. In no time, one, two, three kittens bounded into view and acknowledge their mom. She looked up at me as if to say, "Don't you worry ... I've got this".

I was the human being, supposedly with common sense and reasoning power. Yet I was the worrier. Last week, these new kittens were just starting to venture out of the loft. This weekend, I was greeted by three frisky kittens who were exploring their new surroundings outside the cat house. Add a day, and they were off to the wood pile. 

In no time at all, they will be teens and pushing even more limits. Discovering more. Going further. Testing their "wings" so to speak. And the mother cats are good with this. It is the natural order of things.

If only we could live in harmony the way these animals do here on the farm.

The dogs stand back and respect the smallest of the independent kittens when the kitten hisses and teaches the dog where his boundaries are. The mothers all look out for each other's kittens. The kittens all play, wrestle, sleep and share their mothers with each other. The mothers simply love their children, love their children's children, love their sibling's children and so on and so forth. And they are raising generations of kittens who are doing exactly what their mother taught them.

The dogs quietly watch over their world, protect their boundaries, respect their feline companions and life is good. 

If only life was so simple off the farm. It could be. If only we could simply be kind to one another, respect each other's boundaries and look at life one moment at a time.

And Then There Was "Life"

Another weekend post from my son's farm:

It started with an innocent glance out the window. I noticed one of the cats walking towards the shop. She hopped onto the dog house with the cat condo in the attic and then entered. I thought to myself, "If I was a cat, that is where I would have my kittens." And thought little else of it. Until ...

I went to feed the cats and heard this mewing from above. Not in the loft by the window but along the wall beside it. All three little kittens who live up in the loft were accounted for so my heart skipped a beat when I thought, "Babies!"

I hopped up to take a peek and sure enough. The Mama Cat who had been hissing at everyone and everything upon my arrival the previous night (I had wondered if this could be a sign she was in labor because this seemed out of character for her). Sure enough. I peeked in and saw one proud Mama looking up at me as if to say, "Look what I did!!"

I marvelled at the wonder of life on the farm and then started to ponder what may be going on in the cat loft in the shop.

One particular cat was at my side and a bit ahead of me as I made my way. She quickly hopped into the cat loft ahead of my arrival. When I couldn't see inside, I used the camera on my phone to take this:

I was 95% sure this meant there were kittens. But my suspicions were not confirmed until my next trip back. As I approached, the suspected new mom made her way just as I arrived. Sure enough, there was the tell tale sign of mewing kittens as soon as they knew their mom had arrived.

Then I had the opportunity to witness another act of mothering. I heard an unfamiliar meow that caught my attention. Immediately I noticed one of the "teen" kittens running to the sound. As it turns out this was this guy's mom and he knew she had caught a mouse for him.

This is as close as I could get to "Little Smokey" last week:

She/he was too timid to make it down the cat ramp onto the platform where all the cats get fed. I tried and tried to coax her down but she just wasn't ready. But this weekend, I'm almost certain she remembered me. When I arrived Friday night, she was the friskiest of all. It as if she was saying, "Look at me! Look what I've done!! Look at me now!!!" And when I went to pick her up, she didn't even struggle or act uncomfortable. It melted my heart just a little. Look at her now:

All in all, it was a most excellent day. I bonded more with the dogs. I gave the rabbits some treats. I simply soaked in the day and its small wonders.

The sun set upon another most excellent day on the farm. And it was good.

Lately, I've Been Thinking ...

As I was typing up a response to a group email that has been cycling around my siblings and me this week, Mom's clock chimed in. Just as I was ready to hit the "Send" button.

Two years ago today. Very close to this very time. Mom breathed her last breath.

Did she just chime in to add her two cents worth? Think what you like. I asked her if there was any way to let us know she was close by after she left this earth, to please send a sign. Mom? Was that you?

One morning last week, I was feeling a tad out of sorts. I backed the car out of the garage and my radio transmitted the words, "Lately, I've been, I've been thinking ... I want you to be happier, I want you to be happier ... " Mom?, I wordlessly wondered.

The morning after I wrote about our final conversation with Mom, as I backed out of the driveway and headed to work, the radio sang to me again. "Lately, I've been, I've been thinking ... I want you to be happier, I want you to be happier ... " Mom?

I'm at peace, Mom. I sense you close to me. More at times than others. I think of you so very often, Mom.

This is how I think of you:

I think of you in good health. Memories of those final months are fading. I'm holding onto conversations we had. But I'm letting the sad stuff go.

Wherever you are, this is my wish:

 "Lately, I've been, I've been thinking ... I want you to be happier, I want you to be happier ... "

Someone is (always) Watching Over Me

Our cat, Jet is taking my morning pages very seriously.

While it seems he is very interested in the written word, it is less about what is on the page and more about the process:

He lays atop my book and arm then chases the pen as I write.

I am not quite sure if he is encouraging or discouraging this writing habit I am trying to develop. He is such an attention hog and is always looking to find ways to make his repetitive little life a little more interesting.

If chasing my pen as I write makes him happy, so be it.

One never feels alone in this home of ours.

Where Will I Be ...

My morning thoughts evolved into a state of wondering "Where will I be in ten years?" ... then twenty ... then thirty.

Ten years is easy. I have sisters who are nine and eleven years older than me. I remember Mom at their age. Mom always seemed young for her years. My sisters seem younger. I'm not saying I will seem younger than them but the moral to this paragraph is I believe I will be a vibrant, healthy and productive human being in ten years.

Twenty years is more illusive. I can remember snippets of what was going on in Mom's life when she was twenty years older than I am right now. She may have had pneumonia by this time. It was the first time I remember coming face to face with the fact Mom was a mortal human being. She bounced back as if nothing had happened, adopted some new eating/living strategies and proved how resilient she was.

Mom was an independent, determined soul. Her advise to me was "surround yourself with younger people". She didn't mean those of the daycare age I had been tending. She was steering me towards surrounding myself with young minded adults who were not obsessed with aging, health issues, talk of death and dying. Live while you are young and as you age, surround yourself with youthful people was what I heard.

Thirty years from now, I will be on the cusp of what ended up being Mom's final year with us. Even when her health became more worrisome, she fought hard for her independence and to remain in her home.

I look at the way she lived that year. She accepted our presence when the chips were down but the moment she started feeling more like herself she sent us home and we all carried on life as we knew it.

I remember Mom bracing me to accept the news would not be good when she went to the hospital. She was giving me advance warning to prepare for the worst. It is not good. And it wasn't. But it wasn't as dire as Mom thought. She lived seven more months. She slowed down. She ate what she could. She did her very best to follow doctor's orders. She read. She had her favorite spots in the sun (her living room couch in the winter; her sun room in the summer). "I am not in any pain" was Mom's common refrain throughout the months that followed her diagnosis.

Mom died the way she lived. On her own terms. In her home until her (almost) final days. Her last chat with us had us laughing. A coin phrase we had adopted through some of my last visits with Mom was (because I tend to be a long winded soul who uses too many words to say very little), "And that's all I have to say about that". After our final family meeting with her doctors (who had been focusing far too heavily on talk about her health), when she had spoken her piece and said all that needed to be said, she looked over at me and asked, "What would Forrest Gump say?"

"That's all I have to say about that."

Very few words were spoken after that conversation and I believe that is how Mom would have wanted it. She went out on a high note. I remember that serious conversation with lightness in my heart.

Where will I be in thirty years? I hope I am in a place where I have enough of Mom's spirit within me to look up and out of myself and into the lives of others. I don't want to feel lost in my own thoughts and worries. I want to read in a sunbeam, soak up the moments and feel I have everything to live for.

Mom left me with many conversations to ponder. I hope I never forget her wisdom and adopt the feisty part of her that made her who she was.

We had our final conversation with Mom two years ago today. It is fading but I remember the feeling. We were ready. Mom was ready. She had said all she had to say. And that's all I have to say about that.

Pay Back Time

The real world has come crashing down upon me this Tuesday-after-the-long-weekend in a "Monday" kind of way. I'm back.

Monday has become my day where phone calls and appointments are made. It is a day of business for all, so I can tend to that which I normally don't have time to do during the work week. This morning is filled with all of the above.

The real world has come crashing down upon me after a most idyllic weekend.

Does powering down, turning "off" and stepping away from life as you know it make it harder to jump back into one's regular routine? One would think you should feel more energized and raring to go. I simply feel like I need to squeeze "Monday" into the first few hours of today.

The to-do-list is mounting once again. The goal is to do it all before Friday. Long weekends are wonderful. Tuesday after the long weekend? Is pay back time.

Happy back-to-work day to you. May you be one of the lucky ones who has the day to call your own.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

I don't want to go home. But I must...

I have done nothing of value since I arrived at my son's farm except for feeding the animals. I fed myself. I slept. I read (and read and read some more). I watched programs I had downloaded off of Netflix. I talked to the cats. Lots. I have tried to make my presence here invisible before I pack up and head home.

I will go talk to the animals some more before I go. I will feed them one more time. Then I must go home. Back to life in the city. I have another week to put in before I can do this "weekend thing" all over again.

How in the world can I do so little and feel so okay about it?

I have declared this weekend a vacation. A vacation away from home and from all responsibilities I have there. Our cats have fended for themselves and now I must go home and clean cat litter. More cat litter. And more cat litter (I put out three extra kitty litter boxes during my absence).

We will need some groceries. The house will need to be vacuumed. There is little more to do other than prepare myself for the week ahead of me.

I have had nothing of value to write during my stay here. I have simply been in awe of all I love about this place my son calls home. I did write a short poem:

We have a fly,

I shall call him Fred.

I can't find a fly swatter

so I'll name him instead.

That is all. It has been a most excellent vacation away from home. I'm so glad I came.

Bliss

So little to write ... so much to appreciate ...

What more can I say?

I love it here!!