By Jove, that moon is big!

I think I have always been a fan of the moon, whether it's cutting the sky with a skinny crescent or giving us a full-on blast of redirected sunlight when it's full. 

I know the track it takes across the sky above our house, and how it's higher or lower in the sky, depending on the season. I even admit to a few personal traditions I follow, though howling isn't one of them. 

When I'm travelling anyplace near the Equator, I love how its crescent shape seems to lie on its back, rather than 'standing' upright, like a giant "C" in the sky, the way it does here in northern climes. 

Last night's, called the Wolf Moon, was so bright, I actually tried to take photos of my hand in its shadow. The moon's light was so intense, I thought it might work. But no, my little camera couldn't quite manage it; I only got a bunch of darkish blurs which I chose to delete. 

As for the moon itself, even taking a photo of it through the skylight (probably not as clean in winter as it could be) looked pretty great to me. 

And if you look closely (maybe click on the photo to enlarge it a bit), you should actually see the rounded ball of our solar neighbours, Mars. 

A confluence of dates

It was always a bit of a mystery to me how it was that Pierre and Margaret Trudeau managed to have two of their three children on Christmas Day. Both Alexandre ('Sasha') and Justin were born on December 25th, some kind of miracle, eh. 

So now that same son Justin has decided to resign (at last!) on, of all days, the feast of the Epiphany (as in I'm having an epiphany), the day the Wise Men arrived with gifts for the infant Jesus. 

So today it seems Justin has arrived with gifts of sorts for all of Canada. Right now it may look like a tangle of crossed wires, as we are all left to wonder just who may step forward and become the new leader of the Liberal Party of Canada. And yes, lucky thing there's a rainbow on the horizon. 

Believers

Once, long ago, there were two little girls--not Heidi and Lulu, but Heidi and Lisa--sisters, who believed in all of the magic of Christmas. They believed so hard that one Christmas Eve, the two of them stood beside the bedroom window and watched, hoping. 

And then, it happened. They saw it together: a sleigh pulled by reindeer, gliding through the night sky. 

It flew past quickly, but both of them knew they'd seen it, and to this day both can recall what a thrilling sight it was.

Simply the power of suggestion? Or, the power of belief made real. 

Whatever you choose to believe, here's hoping your holidays are magically wonderful.  

The Big Countdowns

When I was little (and same for when my kids were small) we'd count the number of sleeps until Christmas. 

These days I'm more inclined to count the days until Solstice, when the darkness finally begins to recede. With sunsets these days happening around 4, the days can feel mighty short. 

This year will see Solstice occur on the 'traditional' date for it, the 21st of December which means, I suppose by Christmas, sunset will occur a wee bit later, though I'm sure we won't notice much until sometime early in the new year. By mid-month in January, the sun will be rising before 8, and not setting until closer to 5. 

Which means, I suppose, we'll be feeling the return of light, though I'm not sure, following events scheduled for January 20th that things will feel much brighter. 

Remembering

My little vase of winter roses looks pretty sad. But then, today is a day they have reason to look that way. It's the anniversary of the day when a shooter murdered 14 women, all because he decided that feminists were ruining the world. 

For many years Montreal has shone 14 beacons to memorialize those women who were killed, but this year they've added a 15th beacon--this one on behalf of the many women who continue to be victims of violence. 

Maybe those brave little winter roses that reign on the ledge above my kitchen sink (where yes, I spend plenty of time) have reason enough to look a little sad. 

Another Surrey joke

And one that's not at all funny. 

The image is what's called 'public input' in Surrey, the city where I live (though wow, there are days when I wish I could move someplace else!). 

The City has decided to expand one of its cemeteries into a forested area where there are many trails, including the Semiahmoo Trail, one they themselves have designated as 'heritage'. In an area that's in the midst of a development explosion, cutting down trees and removing side trails is about the last thing our community needs. 

The room where last night's meeting was held was packed with people, many of us doing our best to engage with representatives from City Hall, trying to get straight answers. 

But straight answers don't seem to be what Surrey is all about anymore. One of the questions none of those reps could answer was why this meeting hadn't been advertised better. So many of us were there only because we'd heard about it from neighbours or friends. 

Those of us who were able to ask direct questions mostly received run-around replies that sounded like double-talk. In his all-too-prescient novel, Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell called this kind of lying talk 'Newspeak'. His vision of distorted communication seems to have become the all-pervasive language here. 

As one of the comments on last night's boards suggested, the future is going to need more trees, not fewer (Surrey's canopy keeps declining every year). If you care about trees, you might want to think about adding your name to this petition. 

Poetry and Art and Friendship

The other night I was lucky enough to be part of a group of writers invited to read at the Sidney and Gertrude Zack Gallery in Vancouver. Our challenge was to find inspiration in the artworks on display, a kind of exercise in ekphrastic poetry. In the past, I've explored this method of writing, but previously the art works were landscapes or abstracts. All of the paintings in this show, while not technically portraiture, were faces of women. 

The artist Therese Joseph was in attendance at the event, and answered a number of questions posed by audience members--mostly about her process (which turns out to be a combination of methods). 

It's worth taking a look at her website, and to view the images we worked from (click on Faces).

I hadn't been in one of these readings at that gallery since pre-pandemic times, so this felt like a kind of homecoming or even a family reunion, as so many friends were there--including the reader and our emcee in the photo above. 

Among the poems I read were ones reacting to the recent US election--not particularly happy pieces, but then, part of my job as a writer is to reflect on the times, even when they're not happy ones. 

I'm hoping 2025 will bring more such opportunities, ones that leave me feeling 're-filled' with warmth and with hope.