a reminder

drifting across the driveway, a reminder of a season long past . . . .

alleyway ceiling

walking through the downtown of peterborough and diving down alleys we found this beautiful alleyway with a wooden ceiling . . .

the tree by the lake

for years before my dad flew away, he used to sit on a bench near this tree . . . there's times i wish i could sit on that bench and tell him how amazing my life is . . . and have him know the people i know and love and who love me. and i wish i could have him sleepover in my home and know who i am as a person and so much more . . . but it's okay because he believed he would come back where his soul's work needed him to be . . . so i bet he's there right now . . . doin' good and having fun and being a crazy ass eccentric with a wickedgood hug ., . .

eye-level

visiting my mum down in cobourg. a city whose trees were devastated in the recent ice storm . . . but, astonishing beauty is everywhere . . . at times brought down to eye level . . .

end of day . . .

the sun setting at the end of my street 

and sending tangerine tongues of light 

through the ice-coated branches of the trees . . . 

exquisite fragility

winter - for all its blustery, stormy thereness is also a time of exquisite fragility . . . .

the christmas cardinal

the christmas cardinal has arrived!!!!

i wish a very happy christmas to everyone . . . 

fairy heart

winter grey scale

colour . . .

word of the day . . . .

early morning sky

the first day of my christmas holidays . . . sweet!

seasonal assemblage

crossing the bridge to east city on my way to spend time with longtime friend, patti peeters as she draws together a beautiful seasonal assemblage of boughs and plants and ornaments and … stuff . . . on my behalf . . .

the winter railway

no trains have come through for a while . . . 

the tree fairies

i popped down to pay a visit to the tree fairies who live just off my back porch.

there was no answer but i could smell their cooking . . . 

holed up for the winter i imagine!

snowfall

in the early morning stillness

there's a sweetness

about the cold

 thin air

a softness

early chill

in the bleak midwinter . . . wait a moment . . . it's still autumn!

red berries

music for a ferrwosty saturday . . . 

they hold so tightly

the trees themselves grasp at
the very faint colours of a late autumn evening . . .

two birds

as morning breaks, two birds warm themselves in the thin warmth of a late autumn sun . . .

sunrise through glass

the sunrise through stained glass in my dining room . . .

close to the ground

each a tree in waiting

rolling in

i got up and on my bike and rode to the highest hill i could find to see the morning sky rolling in . . .

brother sun and sister moon . . .

the end of a beautiful day . . . . looking west . . . looking south . . .

crystalline impermanency

the crystalline impermanency of a puddle in early december . . .

tentative . . .

rounding the point.

a beautiful soft fog . . .

trees reaching out oh so tentatively . . .

the subtleties of the passing of little people

in the subtleties of the passing of little people in the play area of my school's playground, little symmetries, little wonders!

touched by an angel

touched by an angel

we, unaccustomed to courage

exiles from delight

live coiled in shells of loneliness

until love leaves its high holy temple

and comes into our sight

to liberate us into life.

love arrives

and in its train come ecstasies

old memories of pleasure

ancient histories of pain.

yet if we are bold,

love strikes away the chains of fear

from our souls.

we are weaned from our timidity

in the flush of love's light

we dare be brave

and suddenly we see

that love costs all we are

and will ever be.

yet it is only love

which sets us free. 

maya angelou

night world

i slept nine hours last night - the first time i have slept through the night in months and months.

i dreamt.
and i remembered.

i was standing at the bottom of a hill . . . this hill . . .

in the day world, i rode up this hill with friends kris seiber and devon code sometime in october. 

it climbs way beyond what you can see. it's not far from bethany. 

it goes up . . .

and up . . .

and up!

in my night world dream, i stood at the bottom of this very hill, holding 

the front forks of a bicycle by the handlebar stem. 

it had no wheels, no drivetrain, no brakes, no seat, no handlebars. 

i knew that as long as i held tightly with both hands onto the handlebar stem that i would be safe.

it hovered and held me off the ground such that i could extend my body outwards and parallel to the ground if i wished - and i did wish that, so i did - 

and i glided upwards twisting my body this way and that, weaving up the side of the hill's body.

i woke and began this day by laughing . . . 

welcome!

snow. rain. green leaves. brown leaves

lots of in-between

and i like that sitting on the cusp moment

of saying welcome

even as i say goodbye