Category Archives: friends
When the world falls away, what else can you do but pause a moment to think of your own little world?
We are in a haze at the moment, with smoke from forest fires to the west and the north drifting into our valley of paradise. Depending on which way the wind blows, the smoke hangs on one side of the valley or the other.
When I got up this morning, everything but our little domain had disappeared in an eerie sort of brownish fog. I could see the vegetable fields, and the farm market at the end of the street, but the town and hills beyond were gone. There was no sign of the lake and what was usually beyond seemed a figment of my imagination. In the air was the scent of ash, charcoal – like the melancholy smell that signifies the end of an evening bonfire.
I suddenly felt a rush of gratitude. Here I was walking casually with Ella, having just stopped to nibble berries from our bushes in the front yard. I watched the young crew picking cucumbers and zucchinis from the fields to be sold at the farm market. So peaceful. But with an underlying sense of foreboding.
I was struck later in the day too, by a story shared from someone I know of their recent tough family times. They were stoic, and gave the advice “Hug your loved ones. Hug them hard.” I was heartbroken for them in their difficulty and also inspired by their ability to carry on. Using love as a force in life, a way to sustain oneself, is quite possibly the best diet you can adopt.
I’m using today as motivation to focus even more on the value of my time to sit and share a meal. The simple moments around a table are the perfect time for us to soak in the love and be grateful for our blessings.
There but for the grace of God go I.
I’m sorry to be a complainer but I hit the wall today. Not once but twice I walked with Ella in the pouring rain. This was no pitter patter, it was a steady downpour. The ground was already waterlogged so there were rivulets and puddles in the mud. Even the birds took most of today off, not chirping their usual spring notes. My gumboots worked overtime. In short, it was a miserable day.
Ella is the best companion in the rain. With a fur coat like that, she doesn’t care if it’s wet. The rain really does run off her coat like water off a duck’s back (they don’t call Labradors water dogs for nothing). Not only that, but the wet weather seems to make all the smells in the field even stronger. She trots around our usual route with an extra skip in her step, like someone turned up the volume. She was definitely soggy by the time we got home, though.
Simon, our other dog, is not so keen to be in the rain, especially at the grand old age of 14. His hair is shorter than Ella’s so he gets cold, but he has never been keen to listen to me. As a result, he’s torn between just going out for a moment and wandering off into the field alone. His compromise is usually to dash out and wander back at a good pace, but not before finding a really mucky spot.Usually Ella’s good temperament can win me over, but a second soaking in the afternoon was past my limit. As I muttered my way along the only thing that kept me going was the thought of spending the evening with another liquid. I can highly recommend this remedy. An evening with neighbours having a couple of glasses of wine and sharing homemade pizza was just what the doctor ordered. By the time I got home a couple of hours later, the rain had stopped and the skies had cleared, and not just in my head. There were even stars in the sky as I let the dogs out for an evening stretch.
Forget the fact that most of the neighbours were too young to know what I meant by “pizza wine” when I brought what I thought was a ubiquitous bottle. They were intrigued when I told them it would look great with a candle burning in it. We all toasted to everyone’s good health, and I felt not nearly so soggy.
Tomorrow will be a new day.
It’s a sad night. We reached the bottom tonight. There is no more.
We ate the last of the wonderful Beaver Dam confections from Le Chocolatier. I did dloublecheck in the box, just to sure there were no more. I felt a bit like Winnie the Pooh with a pot of honey, and my hubbie looked at me with the same expression. We were sorry to be empty handed.
I’m sorry if I misled you. Perhaps you thought I was talking of a more serious matter. Well, in our humble abode the end of a delectable delight is a tragic event. We really do revel in a nice treat and these little morsels are the perfect blend of comfort food and decandence. Chocolate, caramel, pecans, pretzels… it’s so easy to lose yourself in The rich creaminess and exciting crunchy goodness. Thankfully there are enough in a box to share, because my hubbie loves them too. One of the lovely bonuses to having such a good buddy with whom I’m in tune is that I don’t have to worry who eats the last one – we can share.
It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn’t use long difficult words but rather short easy words like what about lunch? – Winnie the Pooh
The really sad part is that we have to go all the way to Canmore to get more. Since we don’t plan on heading that way in the near future, I may have to contact Chief Confectioner & Chocolate Dude John Spear to see if we can order more via post.
Ah well, I’m off to bed now. Tomorrow will be another day. I’ll take Pooh’s attitude and look for the good in things.