Building fence and other stuff...

Easter Sunday we built a fence. Actually not in one day. It takes post holes dug, posts bought or found, posts pounded, cross pieces built, all before we stretched the sheep fence wire. Takes a lot of blood, from dozens of small cuts to the hands and wrists. Makes the hands ache and then shake later from squeezing pliers hundreds of times to close clasps. Not a "hey, let's have some fun today" project. But satisfying. And something better done in the spring after a few days of rain to make the soil soft, especially when you live on top of glacial till. Hundreds of feet of gravel left millions of years ago and topped with a couple feet of precious topsoil. Kinda puts things in perspective on an Easter Sunday, building fence does. It's not church, but it's of the earth, part of building a life, a home, a satisfied place for a heart to settle on.

Swans = spring

The Whistler Swans are migrating to Canada and paused, as they always do, to dance with the geese, pintail ducks, mallards, gadwals and coots at Lee Metcalf Refuge. A glorious site, reminding me that, yes, spring is come. And yes, the swan is an archetype. Not defined as such, perhaps, but classic none the less...

We know (some of us in more personally humiliating ways than others) the tale of the Ugly Duckling where the gawky plain Jane can grow up to be, say a beautiful and talented Meryl Streep! And lest we forget, there's the princess in the Russian ballet Swan Lake, unable to express true love because an evil spell keeps her in swan form by day. Then we have the leading lady of the romance of all teen romances, The Twilight Saga with Bella Swan. Bella is both Ugly Duckling and under the spell of an evil (being a vampire) but gorgeous prince... mmmm.

The trumpeter swan was on the verge of extinction until the mid 1900's. Yet last fall when the swans migrated south, we went to the refuge and there were at least three trumpeters hanging out with the whistlers. One had a sliding red collar around his neck. He'd lift his head, the sheath of plastic would fall down around his shoulders, he ducked his head underwater to feed, the collar slipped up behind his eyes. We watched for a long time and I swear, the handsome guy was playing the collar like an accordion. Just for fun!

I love archetypes, take great delight finding them in everyday imagery. To me, the swan has come to mean the return of spring or the coming of fall as Brett and I make our pilgrimages to the refuge and watch incoming feathered fowl. Swans are a set above, though, with their white cloak of purity, their living grace, gliding over mirrored water and strutting their stuff as they rise up, wings extended like angels. Yeah, there's much symbology a swan can wear with dignity and panache. And the proverbial swan song? They so pull it off with aloof yet spectacular beauty.  Yes, the swan is a true star...  of stage and screen, of air and water!

The "D" word

It's February and that means the month of "D" words comes to pass like the Ides of an ill wind. Words like Depressed, Droll, Dank, Deflated, Dark, Daunting... oh, man, could I go on. In sentences they sound less Dire. (Or maybe not...)

Even on Prozac I am Depressed, how Droll is that? With the days so gray and Dark and the weather not wintery chill, but Dankly Damp, I feel Deflated, Defeated and Dare I say, Despairing? But that is February for me. I remember noting some February's that tempers fray at the snap of a finger, kids mouth-off more, Detention Doubles and newspapers carry more stories of stabbings, literal, or just the plain old stabs in the back. Futility seems to be the sluggish (v/s running) theme. Deficit, Economic Decline, Debates... (I would feel less "D" overall if there were less Debates this month!!)

But spring, though not in a certain Pennsylvania groundhog's line of sight and certainly not nearly 'sprung', is in the offing. If we can gather around the hurrah's of more optimistic "D" words, like Dawn, Defiant, Determined, Dapper, Decided and Delirious (...which could go on either list, I guess) we shall prevail. Because Dawn's with sunshine Daily are on the horizon, making me feel a little more Dapper and Determined about Deciding to Defiantly survive another February. And if we get some real winter, I will Deliriously pursue Dancing Dervishes in powder snow with Jack Frost nipping at my nose (which he didn't do at Christmas, being on sabbatical.)

So here's to putting a big X through the month of February, except for Valentine's Day (wait, I don't recall a single one fulfilling my Deepest Desires, Depressing in itself) and Valentine's Day really only has the color red, balloons and candy going for it.

Wait, I'm feeling less Depressed... only four Days of Demoralized wallowing until I can Devour chocolate without Detriment to my Diet! Now I'm Delighted.

S-N-O-W!

Piling up like nature intended, we are finally surrounded by white, perfect snow. There is a winter! I often reflect... and sympathize with the meteorologists who work on our local television stations. The poor sods get it wrong so often, and yeah, we see the map laid out in scientific grids, high pressure, low pressure, which is predominate, colored radar splashes. It is a science, I get that. But Ma Nature is gonna do Her thing, which is the essential fact, science be danged. But are we paying attention? Does everyone understand that the temperature of the ocean directly affects the weather? OUR weather! I watched the Disney movie "Oceans" the other day while I knit wool socks. The cinematography is mind blowing! That mysterious underwater universe is one we've barely explored, hardly understand. Us Inlanders think nothing of the ocean in our daily mind-meanderings. We should.

And so surrounded by snow today, falling, drifting, fluffing doves, finches and chickadees to unusual proportions, I'm thinking of orcas and dolphins and humpbacked whales singing. They're the cousins I long to meet, breathing the air I breath. And when the snow melts, runs into the creeks and rivers and finally the amazing ocean... it's the same H2O molecules collecting on the shaggy birch tree outside my window! How cool is that?!

A New Year... really?

I used to look forward to the clean, fresh slate of a new year. But lately days from the year before look much like the days to come. In reading The Social Animal by the great David Brooks (I mean what is there not to love about this brilliant, unassuming man!) I'm understanding that the human brain and our selves as individuals crave constant stimuli. Not just to form and reform new synapses but because our nature demands change. Which is probably why we can be revved up to high rage so easily by anyone's rant against government, banks, Europe, inhumanity to man, why we aren't sending rockets into space anymore... yeah, one can add just about anything to the list!! But our essence, as humans, as animals, is designed to take in input at astounding rates, according to scientists Brooks sites in his book. And our senses will reach out and snatch whatever data is out there.

So... in trying to create a New Year that does not meld into the last or the next, I am making it important to open my senses to the events, factoids and daily input of info around me that will carry positive, unique, imaginative and progressive stimuli to my amazing brain. After all, taking the cosmic view, today is less than a millisecond of time. A raging rant, a depressing doubt, an epiphanic event are so very fleeting. Yet they leave their mark on who one is at any miniscule moment in time. So turn your face with me to whatever is your current glowing, glorious sunspot; a child, a project, a date, a meal with loved ones, a conversation, an emotion... and never forget it will ink-blot you forever, for better or for worse. Happy 2012 to all.

And read "The Social Animal" by David Brooks. His words will reroute your synapses in aspiring, reaffirming and reassuring ways. I swear!

Christmas is for kids!

Kris Kringle originally walked the German countryside ringing a bell and passing out gifts, candies and cakes to the children. So, in honor of kids and good old St. Nicholas, give yourself the best gift ever. Tear the wrapping paper off your impish spirit because at Christmas you have permission to be a child!

Here's a few hints to get you started:

1. Start wetting the bed.
2. Steal mistletoe because people kissing is so gross!
3. Put tinfoil on your teeth and pretend you have braces.
4. Ask Santa for a pony.
5. Sing the "batman and robin" version of Jingle Bells until 
     your family goes crazy.
6. Suck the end of your candy canes to a point.
7. Make a wreath out of egg cartons and paint it with
     tempera paints.
8. Wear your hair in pigtails and sit on Santa's lap.
9. Start a snow ball fight.
10. Sneak a peak at a present under the tree, then rewrap it 
     so no one knows.
11. Watch "A Muppet Christmas Carol" and sing along.
12. At parties introduce yourself as Cindy Lou from Whoville.
13. Write a letter to Santa and send it.
14. Wear bells on your shoes.
15. Listen to "Twas the Night Before Christmas" backwards,
       you can hear the phrase 'Paul is dead'!
16. Outline the toilet in twinkle lights.
17. Make Froot Loop necklaces for everyone you love.
18. Put glitter on EVERYTHING!

A bit of Bailey's...

I used to love winter, growing up a skier and all. Not so much the older I get. I actually feel for the birds at my feeders, the horses hunched against the wind, cows all laying in a cluster to gather whatever body warmth from each other they can. And Christmas... I love making everyone I love gifts I hope they will love! Nothing like putting the pressure on 'cause I never start making this stuff in July when I need to to get all I want to get done, done! But today, I'm loving the sun. It's not even twenty degrees out, the fire's burning almost constantly since I refuse to shut the shades and keep the heat in 'cause the sun's out! When I go for a walk  this afternoon, I'll smile at the crunch of ice under my cleats, hope I don't fall and break a hip and turn my face to the sun that shines with as much warmth as Antarctic ice. But so what?  It's winter, we have it seven months a year! So I'll suck down a bit more Bailey's Irish Cream in my coffee and wrap up in an afghan when I come traipsing in from the cold. And sneeze and sniffle and thank the powers that be for a bit of sunshine and imaginary warmth on the fluffed birds and huddled farm animals. And froze-to-the-boney old me!