Which one?

No, I'm not trying to decide which Nancy Drew Mystery to read (though that might be fun too). I'm trying to decide which jigsaw puzzle to do. Why? Because today is Puzzle Day!

I'll admit that I have quite a few choices, and that might be one of the reasons I'm not sure which one to do. 

One of my favourites is an old wooden puzzle I found at a second-hand store many years ago. Even when I bought it, I knew it was missing a couple of pieces. I didn't care. 

There's something about the way the thick pieces click into place that is much more satisfying than the non-sound that comes from putting cardboard pieces together. 

I suppose if I get desperate, I can open one of my precious Beatles' puzzles -- ones I've kept sealed in case they ever get valuable... this one, which is not only of my favourite of their films, but might well be what I'm asking for: Help!  

Shifting gears

Events occurring over January 20th and 21st make for an interesting glimpse of meanings for the term 20/21. 

Wednesday gave us an inauguration ceremony that was dignified and of and for the people. Respect. Diversity. Calm. Such guiding words. 

Dana Bash, one of CNN's commentators said yesterday that it was clear that now there were suddenly "adults in the White House" for a change. 

Even the tulips in the window box seem to be bathed in a rosy glow. 

Truly, a time for going forward. Onward. 

He got his wall

There used to be a cartoon character called Tweety Bird. As far as I can tell, this creature had nothing to do with the contemporary icon, the Twitter Bird. That one is apparently named Larry T.[The] Bird after the Boston Celtics' basketball star, Larry Bird.

The Twitter Bird that holds court on all things Twitter, the platform that no longer allows Tweets from Donald Trump. That account's been closed, we hear permanently.

Strangely, the little bird in the photo, which to me at least looks a lot like his cousin on Twitter, no longer has a voice. The gizmo inside him that used to make a 'tweeting' sound when you moved him has worn itself out. Something like the way that president's voice has worn itself out. 

Oh well, at least he got his wall. He must be disappointed that it's currently around the government buildings in Washington, D.C. and not quite the kind of wall he'd promised. 

Three more days. 

Entering a new phase

This vine-entwined portal opens onto a path that doesn't seem all that clear. But then, that's pretty much the way the world is feeling to me these days. 

The virus continues to rage, and so do the terrible-sounding plans for rebellious events in the US. Frightening, and hard to say which seems worse. 

Tonight's new moon is the first of this still mostly-new year, though its skinny fingernail of light will likely not be visible here. We're still experiencing more rain than usual, which makes for obscured skies. Still, that moon symbolizes another new beginning. 

And obscured, hard-to-know-what-comes-next days are how things feel, especially in light of the many changes occurring on the political scene.

Really, all I figure I can really ask from our elected officials is honesty. 

So, in that light, pale though the light of a new moon might be, I say to our premier, Mr. Horgan, please face up to the massive mistake that is Site C. Stop it now, so we can move towards actions to remediate the disaster the site has become -- quick, before it gets any worse. 

Christmas Redux

We must love Christmas more than most people do, as today we're observing it again. Why? Because today is Orthodox Christmas. 

The day started with a big breakfast, one that's lasted us long enough that we can wait 'til supper for a Christmas dinner.

Presents aren't a part of this celebration. In fact, tomorrow we'll be packing away any gifts still sitting under the tree (not an evergreen, a decorated hibiscus). That's when we'll also be taking down the lights and other decorations. 

The amaryllis, now on its second branch of blossoms, can stay for a while. Its beauty helps dispel the mostly rainy days we've had of late and seems to offer the promise of spring. 

A fresh start

The blank page of a new calendar always feels like it means the chance for a fresh start on things. 

One of the matters we always settle up for the beginning of the year is our bills. 

I've long called our method a marriage-saver, as it's meant we've never needed to argue about money. 

When I buy something, I tear a small rip in the top of my receipt and put it into what we call 'the jar' (even though it's actually a drawer, and not a jar at all). When the guy buys, he puts his receipt into the same place, but because it's un-torn, we know he paid. 

At the end of the year, we separate the chits and make our totals. We figure out the difference, divide it in half, and that's how much the person who spent less pays to the one who paid more. 

Once we've got that figured out, we burn all those supermarket and produce store and home repair shop and pizza place receipts. 

Because it's been raining so much, we had to wait for our annual bonfire. But yes, here it is -- a fresh start on 'the jar' and on a new year. 

Here's hoping we're not the only ones heading into fresh territory, especially after the horrific events in the US today. 

Two men I love

Two of the men I love the most gave me the same gift for Christmas. A book about love, written by an author (a man) I love. 

Today is also the birthday of two other men (one an author) that I love. 

A day for reading about love, thinking about love -- not a bad way to spend a day. 

One of a kind

At least we're certainly hoping that this Christmas holiday will not need to be repeated. No family gatherings, no Solstice party, and certainly no big gala for New Year's Eve. 

Still, it's giving us memories we won't forget. 

Think of the stories from the pandemic of 1918 -- the year my father was born. I can only imagine how worried my gramma must have been, hoping she wouldn't get sick while she was pregnant. 

We'll all have our own stories, though I'm sure we'll be happier when they're well in the rear-view mirror. 

Onward, towards the new year, but for now, let's celebrate Christmas. 

Comin' back

This week brought the news that we may well be starting the long road back to some kind of normalcy, with the first people receiving injections of vaccine against the virus that's ravaged the human race. It feels like the first sign that the world we used to know might be comin' back. 

Tomorrow (or, here on the West Coast of Canada, 2am tonight) brings another kind of coming back --- the one we are blessed with every year, the Solstice, when the days again start to grow longer and hope grows along with the daylight. 

This year also brings a conjunction between Jupiter and Saturn that hasn't occurred for hundreds of years, maybe another sign that life on Earth is soon to improve. Because those 'conjoined' stars will be so bright, they've been dubbed this year's 'Christmas Star'. 

Those iris sprouting in between the leaves outside my local library looked like a harbinger of spring not impossibly far off. 

Good things on the horizon, getting nearer all the time. 

The blessings of friendship

This is the time of year when many of us think about friends, especially those from long ago, ones we hope to stay in contact with. 

I'm one of those oddballs who still likes to send (and receive!) Christmas cards. 

Quite a few of the ones I send are homemade, often using bits of old cards, recycling them into new creations. 

This one was quite fun, already such a beautiful Christmas tree. All I had to do was tear the paper around it and attach it to a green piece of cardstock (that I'd added gold and red bands to). But then, the most fun part of all: in my collection of paper clips, I found a star-shaped one. So I cut a hole near the top of the tree and clipped it in. To cover the torn spot, I stuck on a glittery red circle. Voila! 

And yes, this one's going to a friend from long-ago, one I've been lucky enough to find and reconnect with. Something I treasure. 

But I've also been rediscovering other kinds of friends -- the kind in the image at the top of this post -- like that darling girl, Anne with an E. 

I think I might have started this kick earlier this fall when I went back to Philip Pullman's wonderful series, 'His Dark Materials' and reread the first in that trilogy, The Golden Compass. There's nothing quite like riding along with Lyra, hanging on to the fur of a very big polar bear. 

Ah, so blessed am I -- even when I can't hang out with my usual, nearby friends, I can still pal about with those friends in the pages of well-loved books. 

Neighbourly

The other day, the doorbell rang -- an odd occurrence these days. One of my neighbours was standing on the deck with a mask on her face (but of course) and a gift in her hand. She'd noticed that we still had (have) a pumpkin out front and figured it was time for us to shift seasons. 

She brought us this lovely little wreath she had made. To match the "Peace to all who enter" flag by our door, she made it in the shape of a peace sign (hard to see, as it's now interwoven with the black metal knocker). 

Besides getting me into a little bit of the spirit, the wreath has made me think about just what this year's Christmas will be like. 

It doesn't look as though we'll be able to have friends or family over for any kind of celebrating (not even the traditional Solstice celebration), as with rising numbers, we all need to be vigilant towards keeping safe. 

So instead, I plan to make up tiny gift packets for my neighbours. I'll leave them on doorsteps and pretend that Santa's responsible. 

We can all only hope that this year's Christmas with its restrictions and worries is one we'll never have to observe the same way again. 

Picnic by firelight

Because it gets dark so early now, it's easy (and fun) to have a 'campfire' at home. 

Last night, with a fire in the chiminea and no rain (for a welcome change), it seemed like a good night to have a picnic supper. 

Nothing very fancy -- buns and sausages along with a pot of beans. Homemade quince cider in big metal mugs. 

I suppose this is a post that should likely show up on the old "What's fer supper?" blog, but the celebratory feeling from eating outside by the fire made the meal feel like something better than just 'supper'. 

These days, we keep seeking (and luckily, finding now and then) ways of bringing a bit of spice into the restricted lives we're all now leading, even if tonight that 'spice' was mostly raw onions on what some would dismiss as 'hot dogs'. 

Every now and then, some silly idea comes along, delivering some joy to break up the dullness. 

The wonder of the light

Today is the 12th anniversary of my mother's death. The little angel in the photo is an item she gave to me -- a gift I am pretty sure was something 'regifted' -- but I'm thinking that makes it all the better. 

I heard part of an episode of Tapestry today, a CBC show that deals with matters that might be called spiritual. Author Richard Van Camp was doing what he does best: telling stories. I loved the one he told about heaven (being like the West Edmonton Mall). But even more, I liked his idea about a full moon practice -- giving things away, which is why I like the idea of regifting, especially of things we love. 

It isn't full moon yet -- not until month's end. But what I'd like to give away today is the idea of forgiveness.  

In truth, I don't think it's all that easy to hold a grudge, but some of us seem better than others at this. 

I'm in the process of writing a letter to someone I love, and I'm hoping that his heart will soften enough that we can be close again. 

But the person I'm sure my mother would most like to see in my life again is my youngest sister. The last time she spoke to me was at our mother's funeral. That seems like an awfully long time to lug around whatever transgression she believes I committed against her. And yes, it would help if I knew what it was, as it would make an apology so much easier.. 

But maybe that's the little miracle I can hope for today (or soon). In the meantime, the little angel stands guard over the tealight candle in the kitchen.  

New traditions, old remembrances

I love that even our buses help us remember, especially where this is a year when we can't have any gatherings to observe Remembrance Day. 

We listened to the ceremony from Ottawa with its speeches and haunting bagpipes, and even managed to catch a glimpse of the old planes doing their flyover here. 

And a new tradition (one that won't be repeated) is the fact that this is the day I send off my manuscript so review copies can be printed. It certainly feels right, being that the book is about Harold and Maude, a film with such strong anti-war sentiments. 

But that's not all I plan to do today. Our local arts council has set up a number of online activities to help us observe the day. My favourite is an excellent demonstration of watercolour technique. I think I feel inspired enough to try painting my own. 

And beyond the traditional poppy, I've started my annual amaryllis bulb, and hoping it will bloom in time for Christmas. And yes, that will be the day of Alex Trebek's truly final Jeopardy, so the bloom -- in addition to brightening up our home -- will serve as a kind of virtual gift to him, one of both remembrance and of gratitude. 

Awww, Canada...

It was a weekend when two memorable Canadians died. 

The first reported was the much-loved host of Jeopardy!, Alex Trebek. Tributes and remembrances have been on every news outlet. My kind-hearted sister expressed concern over how sad I might be, as I'll admit to having been a fan of that show for years. In truth, I remember the first series with Art Fleming, as my gramma watched it, with me by her side, probably pitching as many answers (er, questions) as I could come up with. 

Less notice or fanfare went to the passing of another Canadian, Howie Meeker -- not only a great hockey player, but a longtime feature on Hockey Night in Canada, a program that was a Saturday night tradition in so many households. Meeker had a unique style as a commentator, overly excitable, and with a high-register voice (brought to our attention by the satirists at SCTV). News reports reminded us not only of his many accomplishments, but (as was also the case with Trebek), his humanity. And really, it seemed all too appropriate in this morning's NYT crossword puzzle (one of my addictions) to have a clue, "Golly!" with its three-letter answer -- completing a phrase used often by Meeker -- "Gee". 

Both men were recipients of our country's highest honour, the Order of Canada. Two of our greats, Adieu.

Whew!

This has been a difficult week, filled with uncertainty and worry. There've been a few personal concerns too, but those were mostly overshadowed by the unsettled (and unsettling) results of the US election. 

The other day I was down at the beach, mostly I suppose, seeking some kind of solace. 

It was only for a moment, but I managed to catch a part of it -- beneath a sky filled with glowering dark clouds, a band of sunlight broke through. 

It brought me the comfort of a small bit of hope. And now with this morning's news, I'm feeling that the whole world can finally exhale. 

Ghostly

That's kind of how it felt on Halloween. It was the first time in just about forever that we didn't celebrate by handing out goodies to Trick or Treaters. There were quite a few houses decorated for the holiday, but I don't think we were the only ones holding out with the treats. 

And here it now is already November, the day I was raised to believe in as "All Souls' Day" -- a day when we were told we could say a certain set of prayers, and a soul would be released from the agonies of purgatory -- sort of a 'get-out-of-jail-free' card is how it seemed. 

The traditional Day of the Dead (Dia de Muertos) is the celebration in Mexico today, though it doesn't seem anywhere near as grim as the day of kneeling and praying I was supposed to observe. 

And tomorrow, well who knows what that will bring. I can only hope it means a change for calm, respect and peace. Otherwise, it's hard to say what the rest of this long winter might bring. 

As for me and my love of holidays, I can't help but wonder about Christmas -- probably not a long table full of friends and family sharing the traditional Swedish meatballs. 

Still, we can only hope for the best, can't we.

What's a bigger word than disappointment?

I suppose those little posies above the kitchen sink will be the last bouquets for the year, as we had a flash of frost the other night. As always, the brass swans seem oblivious, but the little pie crow looks like he's happily singing to them (no one ever told him he's not much of a singer). 

Today, especially, I am needing a splash of colour, as I learned some devastating news. The Peace River diversion at the Site C dam site (damn site) occurred on October 3rd. Sure, BC Hydro put an announcement on their website, but how many of us monitor that corporate hype. 

It was only by a small accident, communicating with someone not in government, that this tragedy came to my attention. Surely this will now provide the excuse that indeed we have passed the point of no return on this project. 

Worst of it all is that it took place while we were in election mode in this province. And even though Sonia Furstenau, our wonderful Green Party leader, raised a question about Site C during that forum, she didn't receive much of an answer -- and the premier certainly didn't reveal that the diversion had occurred (which surely he knew). 

Disappointed is too small a word for all that's going through my mind right now. I can't help but feel that the people of BC have been betrayed by a smarmy kind of avoidance I never expected from our public representatives. 

A peaceful and green anniversary

Reading the news this morning, I realized that I knew where I was fifty years ago tonight. At a Greenpeace (or as it was apparently then still thought of, as a name composed of two words, Green Peace) concert with a friend. 

Unlike some of the people mentioned in the article, we both knew about James Taylor. That somewhat-raggedy looking album cover in the photo is the first one I had by him, though more are stacked in the pile of LP's I still have. 

Taylor was the surprise guest of the event, something I am pretty sure owed to the fact that he and Joni Mitchell were supposed to be an item at the time. 

In the semi-darkness between performers, a tall lanky fellow came onto the stage and moved from amp to amp, apparently checking settings and such before he picked up a guitar, walked to the mic and said something like, Hey there, I'm James Taylor. 

The Greenpeace button in the photo isn't (I don't think, anyway) the one that was sold the evening of the concert. Still, it's been around for nearly as long as that album. 

I just wish the friend I'd gone to the concert with that night were also still around. Sadly, he's the one referred to in a not-too-long-ago post, the one about the empty shirt. 

Never again...

...at least not in this life of mine. 

One of those numerical sequences I can't help but noticing. 

Today, October 10, 2020 translates into 10102020, so how can I ignore something so elegant?

Next time such a pattern will occur is November 11, 2222 -- or, 11112222, a date I'm quite sure I won't be here to notice. 

Oh, the goofy things that make me attention... 

P.S. The next group of sequential numbers holding major significance will be happening soon: January 19-20, 21. Fingers crossed!