relief

There is nothing quite like the injection of a shiny red umbrella into a grey February day.

old friends

It is interesting to me to think of the various people I know and the ways in which my relationship with each one of them changes over time. Immediately obvious would be the way that friendships wax and wane (I do strive against and lament the latter but it is a fact of life and can be beneficial in allowing room for the growth of other friendships). But beyond the obvious there is also the way that a relationship that never moves to the arena of friendship can still impact one's life at different times and in different ways. The following incident is what sparked my thoughts on this topic and illustrates most of what I am trying to say.

At the Ash Wednesday service last night I talked with (and received a ride home from) an old acquaintance. She has known me since I was an infant because she homeschooled her boys at the same time my brothers and I were homeschooled. This family was not in the immediate circle of my friends (the boys were not quite my age) but nevertheless, both being founding members of the local group, she and my mother knew each other quite well. We moved away from the city and years passed in which I probably never gave that family a thought. The time came, however, when I moved back to the city to attend Augustine. She was connected with the College as the part-time Professor of Art. I remembered her, of course, but was unsure of her memory of me (having changed much in the intervening years). She did remember me, however, and our relationship grew a bit and adapted to the circumstances. Once again, on finishing at Augustine, I moved on and for four years probably saw very little of her. But I was drawn back to the College this year to be the RA. Her position at the school has changed to one of lesser-involvement but I still have had occasion to chat with her at various larger events. Then she attends the church where we went for the Ash Wednesday service and because of that our conversation on the drive home followed lines which probably never would have come up in previous conversations. I also feel as though I am now in a completely different position in regards to our relationship from what I had previously held. Of course, growing up does that sometimes but I think because we have met--however briefly and perhaps superficially--within several different contexts, the relationship mirrors that breadth.

Having Wendell Berry in mind for several different reasons, this line of thought about the depth of relationship I have with this woman without ever having approached friendship (according to the terms to which I am used) makes me see the value in sticking close to one's roots. Yes, it does occurr at times that one who has travelled and moved around the world (to go to the extreme) still runs into someone from the past who knows them well and who also has moved around the world but I believe one's chances of this happening are reduced the further one moves from home. Perhaps the merit of such a relationship is overshadowed by the merit of seeing other cultures and forming new attachments but I am not sure of it. Forming new relationships is healty and good but I feel that no amount of new relationships can take the place of an old one. New acquaintances will never have known the old you. I am a homebody and have little desire to live with any permanence far from where I have grown up. Perhaps I shall in future but it is not my desire. Because of this it is hard for me to determine if arguments for the superiority of maintaining roots merely appeal to my own preference or if they truly have merit. And so the struggle for understanding and a coherent outlook continues.

good ice

I finally got around to skating on the canal late at night and it was almost everything I could wish it to be (my imagination is still a bit stronger than that but nevertheless, it was for the most part quite excellent). The contrast of this with my rather nasty last post is a good reminder that in some situations waiting it out is all that is required for the improvement of circumstances. Not that I need to learn the lesson of letting things pass (I should rather be learning lessons of getting on the ball) but I suppose I could always go for more patience and joy in all circumstances.

We got down to the canal sometime around 1:30 I should think and in the entire skate we saw one brief shadow of another skater and two people sitting on a bench. It was beautiful. we had the whole canal to ourselves, the ice was newly swept, and all this in occurred in the vast, dark stillness of a winter's night. A lot of my memories of the skate have a dream-like quality. The rhythm of the pace and sound of our skates was quite hypnotic and soothing but at the same time I finished the skate on a huge high in which I didn't think it impossible to float away, off into the night sky. Despite the fact that I woke up this morning still slightly tired and dehydrated I would gladly do it again any night of the week. Bring it on!

ice

It is frustrating that now the strike is over and I have more time, the weather has taken a little turn to the worse and now the canal is in poor shape. Oh well, it should get better soon I hope and once Winterlude is over, we can return to a happier time with fewer skaters to cut up the ice and get in the way. I really can be horrid at times. But I like people individually, just not always so much generally.

25

Turning a quarter century in less than a week I have been thinking of the number 25 more recently than is my usual wont. When I recieved a tag from a friend to do a list of 25 obscure facts about one's self I thought it would be fun. It turns out that I had more fun than I had anticipated and dredged up quite a few memories that had been lying still for some time. So because I feel as though it is a success, I shall copy it onto this blog.

25 random facts because I am a bored narcissist
Having been tagged by Ruth and having enjoyed her note, I decided that I would write one if I ever found enough free time while being in a narcissistic mood. I had thought the convergence of both these factors would be aligned something with the frequency of the emergence of those moons reported to be of a blue persuasion but, as it is one day later and I am writing this note, I now know I have too much of one or the other factor (or perhaps both) for my own good.

Those whom I have tagged fall into one of the following categories: those lucky few mentioned in the list itself, those who might be interested in writing one of these lists themselves, those whose lists I would be interested in reading, and those whom I have chosen at will to swell the number to the expected twenty-five.

So, without further ado, this is a list of twenty five of the more obscure--while hopefully interesting--facts about me.

1. I had a neon yellow fanny-pack and coveted those bike shorts with the neon stripe down the side when I was a kid.
2. One summer I helped my brother, Neil, and my cousin, Noel, build a three-level/storey high fort in our woods.
3. I broke one of my front teeth while playing pick-up hockey with my older brother, Neil; that same tooth was later kneed out by my younger brother, Stuart; and to complete the teeth connection with my brothers: my oldest brother, Tom, also broke one of his front teeth on ice.
4. I face-planted from the jogger into a (thankfully) plowed field as a result of a training accident at the horse barn. The driverless horse then continued his training mile and we caught him while he was turning to do the cool-down jog. It made me consider my expendability in that job. On the lighter side of things, apparently my glasses were stuck in the indent my face left. I would have liked to have seen it.
5. My cousin, Cindy, and I once set her bedroom rug on fire while concocting something derived from the contents of various bottles from the bathroom and inspired by the design of an oil-lamp. Not having learned a thing, I am still a pyro.
6. As they came out, I saved some of my baby teeth in a jar on my shelf. It might still be there.
7. I once found a vase in the middle of a bush while we were on a field trip to a bee farm (I think). Although the vase itself was hideous I thought it was awesome because I had found it so unexpectedly. I'm sure I made Mom keep it for longer than her inclination dictated.
8. I have been to Upper Canada Villiage (a small historic town set in the 1860's) annually on the first Friday after labour day ever since I was a toddler.
9. I would like to get a spinning wheel and take up spinning wool. Ideally I would like to be able to accomplish this before this coming September because when we re-visit UCV on our annual trip I would like to be able to inform the several Janices there (who all spin) that I have joined the club.
10. I have been knocked out many times. Several times involve a ball connecting with my nose (but thankfully neither ever broke), once a ladder, once the corner of a table, once some steps, and once when I tripped. It explains a lot, I think.
11. My cousin, Cindy, and I are born four days apart. My allowing her to arrive first was just the beginning of a long line of courteous acts on my part.
12. My middle name, Evelyn, is my Mom's first name although she goes by her second.
13. I hiccoughed in utero.
14. I used to be lactose intolerant but now I think it's great and should have rights too. To support this view I now consume as much dairy as possible.
15. My brother, Neil, and I used to share a set of cross-coutry ski boots (back in the day when our feet were of similar size) and would happily head out together for an afternoon along the trail each with one ski and one snow boot on.
16. I have created various objects out of gingerbread including: a replica of my co-worker's Jeep, several horse and sleigh sets, a snowmobile, a snowman, a christmas tree, and (of course) quite a few gingerbread houses.
17. I cried the first time Mom sang "Oh Susannah" to me (I was less than 6 at the time) but I tried to hide it because crying is girly.
18. At one time or another (hopefully still) I have known all the words to the following: The songs from The Music Man, Holiday Inn, Oklahoma, Guys and Dolls; most Christmas carols; many of the popular songs from the '20s to '60s that my Dad would play on the piano; The Messiah; the scripts of Peter Pan, Cinderella, The Great Mouse Detective, Pride and Prejudice (1995); and the text to that definitive children's book, Cowboy Dan.
19. I have been taken for a virgin buffalo farmer. Concerning which noun the adjective modifies, I leave it to others to decide.
20. I had scarlet fever and whooping cough as a child and now have only to die of consumption properly to round out my list of desirable literary illnesses.
21. I was once hired to play piano at the re-opening of the furniture store in Kemptville. As important as this sounds, in reality I was stuck in a corner with a little keyboard and given barely enough to cover the gas costs along with as many sandwiches and carrot sticks as I could stuff into my pockets on my way out.
22. One of my ancestors, on the boat with William the Conqueror just prior to Hastings, earned himself lands and the title 'Titchbourn' (or some similar spelling)--which were to be bestowed upon the first to touch land after that historic crossing--by cutting off his hand and throwing it to shore ahead of the boat. I like to think we descendents continue to display just such ingenuity all these years later.
23. I have a freckle on one of my teeth.
24. I have eaten several mystery meats, one of which was likely horse.
25. I once was part of a dance to the song "I'm from the country and I like it that way" (choreographed complete with rakes) performed on a hay wagon. That same day I dressed in a holstein costume for a Q & A highlighting the differences between dairy and beef farming. Classy, I know.

two of my favourite things

More Aurora

Many feverent souls
Strike rhyme on rhyme, who would strike steel on steel
If steel had offered, in a restless heat
Of doing something. Many tender souls
Have strung their losses on a rhyming thread,
As children, cowslips: - the more pains they take,
The work more withers. Young men, ay, and maids,
Too often sow their wild oats in tame verse,
Before they sit down under their own vine
And live for use. Alas, near all the birds
Will sing at dawn, - and yet we do not take
The chaffering swallow for the holy lark.

I wonder if this applies to me. Do I only feel the need to create because it is one of the things close to hand right now or is it really a necessity for me? I think ad hope that the latter is true. I do not aspire to be an Artist to the extent that she speaks of artists but my dabbling I believe has more to it than a slight fancy and convenience. Time will tell, I suppose.

New Year

Once again the alumni have gathered for an extensive New Years party. Today the last of them have left. It was such a good time that a let-down is inevitable so I am thankful that the bus strike (along with other things) has given me an opportunity to make myself busy. Although we're already several days into the New Year, I feel as though tomorrow is truly the beginning and all the little things that I have put on hold in order to join in and host the festivities will come crowding down as soon as I turn around. But for now I have one more night of postponing life.

like old times

Christmas has come and gone and I am back in the city for New Years. One of the highlights of my time spent at home was going back to a place I thought had been passed and gone forever. Not the place physically but a place of relationships. I went back to the barn for a visit and found Joan working there again (filling in for a few weeks) and began to work there again myself as much as possible (around family commitments etc). At first it was the same old catch up interaction that I have experienced every year since I left the barn but then we just naturally went back to the way we were for the years I worked there. I never expected to be able to do that and it made me really happy (and really sad that I am not there still). I love it when God surprises us with unlooked-for blessings. He is so good.

doggywog

I believe it was around this time last year that we welcomed Dundee into our home (literally at that point although she's an outdoor dog now). So to commemorate this anniversary, here's a picture of her taken last week.

struggling

It has been quite a while since I have posted a quote from Oswald Chambers. The end of today's entry from My Utmost for His Highest struck me especially because I often think about the reasons to read a book and benefits derived from such an activity:

The Author who benefits you most is not the one who tells you something you did not know before, but the one who gives expression to the truth that has been dumbly struggling in you for utterance.

This along with a line at the beginning of the entry reminded me of a comment a friend made last night while discussion types of artists. He said that artists are either Mozarts and Beethovens: either ideas/inspirations come easily or they have to be worked out with a struggle. I definitely see myself more on the struggling side of the line. Unfortunately, in a lot of ways, I would rather not bother with the struggle which is why this following quote is pertinent to me:

If you cannot express yourself on any subject, struggle until you can. If you do not, someone will be the poorer all the days of his life.

Of course, I think this depends on the quality of the sentiment struggling to be expressed...

frozen chicken wire

from the bit of ice storm we had last week

Once more unto the quotes, dear friends...

I realize that I have been behindhand in writing out some of the quotes that I have been gleaning from books and because I am also slightly behindhand in the gleanings I feel a remedy of one might help the other. I have finished re-reading Emma and part of the time I had my quote/note book (I would combine the two words but am prevented by the difficulty stemming from their similarity) with me and so gleaned a few felicitous quotes. I love Austen's style and, although many of her turns of phrase are only seen perfectly when viewed in full context of the plot and what has gone before, I did manage to find some quotes that are quite as good when lifted from the pages and set by themselves.

Having been attending, for the past few months, country dances in my small town, I am finding that I understand and have experienced many of the feelings described as surrounding such events in Austen's work. I believe that I may have posted something further on this topic earlier so I will suffice it to say that now that I am in the habit of attending these dances I gladly put myself in the place of the young people mentioned in this quote:

It may be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have been known of young people passing many, many months successively, without being at a ball of any description, and no material injury accrue either to body or mind; - but when a beginning is made - when felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly, felt - it must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more.

Being, as I am, interested in linguistics, grammar, and also the imagination, I laughed at the following quote:

Such an adventure as this, - a fine young man and a lovely young woman thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggesting certain ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain. So Emma thought, at least. Could a linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematician have seen what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, and heard their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been at work to make them peculiarly interesting to each other? - How much more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and foresight!

Finally a quick quote that mirrors what I often experience:

Emma denied none of it aloud, and agreed to none of it in private.

I know this is not a good thing but there you have it.
And there you have three lovely quotes from one of my favourite authors.

Oh, I'm just booking

One of the aspects that I have enjoyed most about this section of my life is the oodles of time I now have to dedicate to reading and discussing books. Any books that I want. Books that I have been meaning to read for ages. Books that I have been acquiring at an astonishing rate at used book sales and the like. This is indeed a recipe for true bliss. The one problem, the fly in the ointment as it were, I am now facing is that my desire to read books has outstripped the time it actually takes to read them. As I am reading (or contemplating reading) one, another pops into my head as a great one to read next and I'm off again. If I read several at the same time I don't feel as though I'm getting through any of them fast enough (and often the less-interesting at the time fall by the wayside and never get read when perhaps I would otherwise have been interested at a later date). But if I read one at a time I feel as though I would find it too narrow to accommodate my ever-changing tastes. So instead of savouring whatever it is I am free to read at the time I spend energy looking forward to what I will be able to read next.

But, to state the obvious, this is a wrong view to take. The goal is not to rush through as many books as possible merely to be able to check them off the list. That I do believe in this viewpoint is evident from the fact that I enjoy re-reading a good book, even sometimes on multiple occasions. I know I should take the time to taste each book as I'm chewing them. I would ideally like to remember enough about any book I've read to be able to discuss it reasonably well with other readers (my poor memory for details often gets in the way of this but I do believe it is something that should be worked on and not merely used as an excuse for lack of intelligence). I do know that there are too many books out there to read within a lifetime. Skipping from one to the next is not the way to garner any enjoyment from them either. It's strange because I generally already have this outlook on most aspects of my life. I realize that I am not able to take every career path of which I can think. I realize that there are pros and cons to everything; things that I would like and dislike in every possible situation and that the best way to go through life is to enjoy whichever situation one finds oneself in at the time. But why is it so hard for me to find a similar contentment with books?

Perhaps this book-ADD stems from the very fact that I have a new-found freedom to read anything. When I was younger I was limited first by age/comprehension, then by resources (I had completely sucked dry the content--this word obviously excludes the multiple trashy series fobbed off on kids--of the children's section of our local library by the time I was twelve), and time (working almost full-time while in High School), and finally at the time when I entered the English program I made a pact with myself that during the school year I would only read assigned books. This is one of the first opportunities where none of these limitations apply and I haven't found another way to narrow down what I am reading. I'm not sure that I want to place limitations but I do wish to start enjoying and remembering whatever book I do happen to have in hand at any particular moment. In general I have a decent attention span, I just need to find it in this aspect of my life.

so happy together

After a hiatus that lasted for months (with occasional, slight reconciliations that only served to highlight the estrangement) I am finally on good terms once more with my camera. I spent the better part of a week back at home and, other activities being suspended while the outdoors outdid itself in its decorations, I spent a fair chunk of the time out and about the house (obviously said in a Canadian accent. How else would I speak?). I think I took around 300 pictures. In looking over them I realize that, as is usual with me, of those pictures approximately thirty percent are of my wonderful puppy, and the rest are of plants/trees/sky/ice/snow etc. Oh, there are three pictures of people on the camera from the week but they were not taken by me and are an unfortunate shade of yellow because the lighting inside was not great. We got a new car this week and, instead of taking a picture to show what it looks like, I instead have several pictures of the icicles dripping from the grill and the hood. I'm hopeless. I have determined to have my camera about me more now that I have resumed my former relationship with it and hopefully this will result in more pictures that other people would want to see, pictures that will be helpful to posterity.
But all this aside I shall post some of the pictures that are not helpful to posterity but that I really like for their picturesqueness.

still life

long roads

Yesterday was a day marked more with discussion than rest but in its own way that discussion was refreshing. I spent most of the afternoon (when not playing a horse in a little girl's game) discussing aspects of running a household with my mom and a mother of ten. In so many ways they posess a wisdom that only comes through experience. I have always tried to learn things without having to do it the hard way and it is true that there is a certain amount of preparation that is possible before going through what they experienced but at the same time I doubt I will ever be able to arrive at the place where they stand without having personally travelled along a similar road to get there. What will life bring?

I'm sinking

I was checking my blog archives (that word gives the illusion in my mind of a much larger body of text than it actually describes) today and have come to the conclusion that my blog is much less interesting these days. It seems as though the less frequently I post, the less interesting my posts become. So this is my way of attempting to rectify the situation: writing a boring post. Good job Janice.

However, I would prefer to think of it as a pledge to try to write better and more frequent posts in future. Wish me luck.

writing

It has happened to me a few times that I have written something and then, on returning some time later to the same work, have completely forgotten about it. Not merely forgotten in the way that one occasionally forgets the ending to a book one returns to after a time of absence from it before re-reading but rather forgotten that it had any connection with me. I have occasionally accused my broter of the authorship but eventually have to believe that it indeed was my own fingers that typed (I would say penned but if that were the true case the handwriting would be a dead give-away) the piece. I find I sometimes forget these things I have written more than things I have merely read. I say this because often when re-reading another's work I have the feeling or knowledge that I've read it before but occasionally my own writing appears as untouched territory to my eyes. It makes me wonder if perhaps I write in a trance or if another part of my brain is working than the comprehension or memory retaining section. The creative process is fascinating--as is the root of that word: the Latin fascinum meaning a spell. The process also certainly may be considered inexplicable. I wonder if others have similar experiences with their writings.

first snow

Two days ago we got our first snow of the year. Well, not counting all the piles of snow that fell in the first half of this calendar year. I suppose I should more accurately have said the first snow of the season.

Yesterday morning I resumed a bit of my photographic habits and stalked around the building looking for good pictures. I was checked a little by the idea of our friendly neighbours not appreciating my taking pictures with their building in truth innocently as the backdrop but possibly construed as the subject. Images of being dragged into a room with a table and a glaring light and having my camera smashed to find the film (my interrogators, of course, are unfamiliar with the new digital technology) and trying to explain in simple English that I wasn't trying to spy on them danced in my head.

None of that happened but it made my adventure feel a little more aventurous. I succeeded in my goal of capturing a few good pictures and so returned, safe, to my room. Here is possibly my favourite from the bunch: