Shadowy

The story of the groundhog has never quite made sense to me. As I understand it, if he sees his shadow, he runs back into his hole in the ground to wait out another six weeks of winter. But if he doesn't see it, he reckons that winter has run its course. 

I've always thought that if it's sunny outside, it might well mean that spring has arrived early. But no, legend tells us the opposite. Maybe his shadow frightens him into going back inside. 

Although I'm not sure whether groundhogs even live here, marmots do. But that's a different critter--still, it seems to be the one we rely upon to predict the end of winter. 

I've been thinking about shadows, how they grow or shrink according to the angle of the light, and of course, how they follow us, tagging along faithfully, as long as there's light to be had. Robert Louis Stevenson probably said this best in his poem, "My Shadow". Whether we're looking back or ahead, that shadow is bound to be near, just as mine is in the photo above. 

No flakes, just drops

Snowdrops, rather than snowflakes--that's what we've been getting this January. While that's hardly something to complain about, it does give me pause. Why is it we haven't had snow this winter?

There are plenty of people who choose to deny climate change, but this season's mild temps certainly seem to assert that something is not quite right with the weather these days. Locally, we've barely hit freezing/frost levels all month. And that's not generally the case for the month of January. 

I still have a fuchsia 'wintering over' out front. My hellebore never stopped producing flowers. Even a feeble geranium is hanging in, without benefit of cover of any sort. 

Bravest of all, I suppose is a persistent lettuce out back, almost aching to make its way into a salad. 

For now, I can only hope, with so many bulbs up and branches budding, that there won't be a suprise cold snap in February that threatens this season's fruit crops. 

In the meantime, I'll just have to go for another walk today, and enjoy these days, so many of which already feel like spring. 

What in the world...

It's hard to believe that it's really only a year since you-know-who was sworn in, yet it's even harder to not be amazed for how much the world has changed in that time. 

The "Gulf of America" was only the beginning. 

Today, there's a visual circulating online showing a new map, one that posts the US flag on the 'current US' as well as on Greenland, Venezuela, and Canada. 

Harder yet to imagine just how much more damage to alliances and relationships might be foisted upon the world in the coming year. 

Remembering Nelson Ball

Today would have (should have) been the day poet and publisher Nelson Ball turned 84. Sadly, he died in 2019. 

On Sunday, I joined with other writers in honouring poets no longer on earth in an event that takes place on a bi-monthly basis, the Dead Poets Reading Series. It was my distinct pleasure to be the one to celebrate Nelson. 

The little pile of books in the photo above were the ones I read from. What a joy to be able to share some of his poems with an audience who seemed eager to listen. 

The one on top, In This Thin Rain (apt for this quietly raining day here in BC) accounts for the happenstance of my meeting him. I wrote a review of it for a now-defunct online magazine and somehow Nelson tracked me down so he could say thank you. Not an experience a reviewer often has!

As I noted in my presentation, Nelson's wife Barbara Caruso was hugely important to him. An abstract artist who adored colour, she clearly influenced a great deal of his writing. The poems he dedicated to her were always filled with visual imagery and a lot of colour. I did my best to read a range of his work, poems that always seemed to be the result of close observation, both visually and sound-based. 

I closed with a poem that seemed appropriate for an ending to such a joyous presentation. Here, in its entirety (from a collection with the hopeful-sounding title, Almost Spring) is a poem called "Infinity" -- a little bit philosophical, I suppose. Somthing to think about...

There is 

no infinity--

 

only large numbers

 

growing

larger 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reso-revolutions

This past year has been one of the most challenging years I can recall. On the local front, the provincial scale, and of course, on the stage of world events. 

The last time the world was experiencing this many wars going on -- whether actively ongoing or in their early stages -- well, I can't recall.

As for environmental issues (even at the provincial level) -- what with Site C now being open, as well as those new transmission lines being built to supply fracking activities -- well, it's hard not be discouraged. Nation-wide, things are sounding even worse, with the tanker ban along BC's west coast being challenged, despite the hazards of shipping oil through Hecate Strait. 

Nearer to home, even our local arts council has taken a new direction, no longer offering the range of cultural events and activities it once did. 

Discouraging? To be sure. But hey, it's a new year, so all of us need to put on our shiniest set of armour and head out into the world to help bring about some of those badly-needed changes we and our planet so badly need. 

Onward!

Puzzling

Many would find it puzzling -- the fact that I enjoy assembling jigsaw puzzles. For me, they're a go-to activity for when I'm taking a holiday from normal life. 

This one, more pieces than I am generally willing to try, was an early Christmas gift. And good thing it came as early as it did, as this might be the first time (ever??) I've finished a puzzle with this many pieces -- a thousand! 

For me, that's an accomplishment, albeit a somewhat meaningless one, as the puzzle will soon be going back into pieces and into the lovely box it came in. But really, with an image of Peggy's Cove, it stirred quite a few good memories along the way. 

Despite any readers who might be puzzled by enjoying such a pastime as this, you might like to know that I'm not alone. BC author M.A.C. Farrant wrote a book called Jigsaw, a collection of personal essays on the pleasures of, as she calls it, the verb: puzzling. 

And yes, there's a small disappointment owing to the fact that a single piece appears to be missing.

No amount of searching under the table managed to turn it up. 

Oh well, who ever claimed that anything fun has to be perfect.

Longer, lighter days on the way

It's now officially winter in the Northern Hemisphere, thanks to the arrival of solstice -- 'sun stop' the actual meaning of the word. 

While the sun certainly doesn't stop, the hours of darkness now ease, and by January we'll likely be noticing a slightly later sunset (and if you're among those who get up earlier than I do, an earlier dawn). 

With all the dark times we've recently been experiencing, this Solstice seems like a day for celebration, as I for one, am looking forward to brighter times.