Monday Moanings - January 28, 2019

A Letter to my Seasonal Amour








Dear Old Man Winter,
I have been a big fan of yours since forever. I quicken to the first touch of your fresh breath each year and my heart warms in anticipation of your star crystals and icicles. I love the melt in your mouth taste of fresh snowflakes and the squeak of wintertide footsteps on super-cooled ground. And that polar vortex thingy ya got going? Well, that's just so special!








I remember with delight the screaming joy of hurtling down snow-packed slopes on my red "flying" saucer or sometimes even the big old wooden toboggan with my Dad or sister on board for ballast.

Me and my red saucer 1959

And honestly, nothing can top one of your bright, crisp snow sparkling days set underneath a sky so blue that it is beyond words.

I love the cocoon you encourage me to burrow into when the weather outside is frightful; thick fleece and hot tea by a crackling fire, so warm, so safe and oh so very content.

Indeed I have loved you all my life, BUT here's the thing dear old, yet somehow ageless friend bounding with ceaseless energy, I am not six or sixteen or even six and forty anymore. Though I still revel in the gifts you bring, at least at first, you must know that snow and ice now present a great threat to life and especially limb.

Age has brought me a huge fear of bone breaking tumbles, occasioned by the meeting of slower reaction time with a slippery slope. Also, my senior arthritic hands can never come to terms with your new-fangled polar vortex. So, I think it's time for you to go.

I still love you. I will still eagerly await your return, same time next year. Just remember to schedule your departure for no later than January 28th.







Have a great trip back south of the equator. I'm sure they'll be thrilled with your early arrival! They could really use a cooldown.

Hugs and kisses,
April

p.s. Our snow blower is busted and in the shop. BACK OFF!

p.p.s. Snow-covered solar panels can't enjoy your brilliant sunshine.  BACK OFF!

©2019 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - January 24, 2019

Send me Away!

A cesspool of naughty microbes has bubbled up inside me. Sneezing, wheezing, coughing; streaming, sputtering, choking.
Please, oh please send me away to someplace warm and sunny by the sea.

It doesn't have to be for too long. I think a week and a bit will be enough to achieve the necessary attitude change. How about ten idyllic days with wonderfully warm sand underfoot...

... salt water bubbling between toes

... a white sandy beach interrupted only with thatched roofed palapas strung with hammocks.

Some fruity drinks with exotic names like Bahama Mama, Pina Colada, Mojito, Margarita, Mai Tai,  and Sangria too.

Surely such libations would do much to counter the uninvited pestilence that has invaded my respiratory system. All that vitamin C would do wonders, as would warm salt air breezes and spectacular sunsets.

The polar vortex that was the unwelcome guest earlier this week stepped out for a couple of days but is due back tomorrow.

Send me away!

©2019 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - January 21, 2019

It wouldn't be winter in southern Ontario without a refreshing visit from the Polar Vortex and my goodness, this stopover is nothing short of bracing. MINUS 17 Saturday morning, -20 Sunday morning and nostril-sticking, lung-icing -27 this morning. Then there is the wind. Just a tolerable nipping in light snow on Saturday, rip-your-face-off biting yesterday and today - oh, merely a lacerating swipe.

The birds are devouring seed at a great rate. Good thing I put out extra suet and peanuts.

On the other hand, there is brilliant sunshine today and also yesterday. So now that it's a balmy -19°C, the man is outside clearing off the solar panels.

Meanwhile, our intrepid canine Sophie was making snow angels...

...until announcing that it was too cold.

She's found the best spot in the house and the best antidote to a polar vortex.

I'm going to follow her fine example.




©2019 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - January 14, 2019

Scatterbrain

I am so scattered today, unable to settle on anything. Like the chickadees and nuthatches at my birdfeeders today, I'm flitting around, in and out, over and under. There is no root cause that I can see, no smoking gun, just a jumble of knotted strands of life threads that for some reason have taken over all matter of brain function.
I'm heading out on a hike in an attempt to clear the clutter.
In the meantime enjoy this day with the birds...

Black-capped Chickadee

Red-breasted Nuthatch

Downy Woodpecker

Hairy Woodpecker and Black-capped Chickadee

Black-capped Chickadee

Mourning Dove

©2019 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - January 10, 2019

Correspondence Day

Winter is back!  After a brief sojourn in rain and slush and muck, our land is blanketed in white once again. The temperature has sunk to -10°C (14°F) with a wind that will rip your face off. The good news - the sun is shining! Still, it's going to be an indoor day for me.

I will surround myself with warmth - fleece, blankies, and tea - while I have a poke around my inbox. Would that it were an actual box, with real letters in it, handwritten missives telling of concerns, questions, well wishes, and interesting tidbits of life; something like the red box of government papers sent to the Queen daily.

I don't want to sit in front of a computer screen tapping out individual elements of the English alphabet to make words, sentences, paragraphs. I want to sit at my writing desk today, pen in hand, fine paper before me and do that old-fashioned thing. I want to form flowing cursive script on cream coloured pages with torn edges.

I don't want to use emoticons, however yellow, cute, funny, clever or animated, to convey some kind of emotional state. The honest moments and movements of my heart need words, real words born of thought-FULL-ness; words that don't always come easily, that often struggle to be a handhold, a hug, a substitute for eye to eye, heart to heart communication.









If I find that writing takes too much time, there is a Plan B. Another old-fashioned instrument lies within arms reach, the one invented by Alexander Graham Bell (and Yes, I do still have a landline!). To speak and talk in real time, with a real person - what a concept! It is so much more satisfying and effective than a ping and flash of words across a smartphone screen. And there is far less chance of miscues and mix-ups occasioned by the plethora of abbreviations.

This is not a rant against tech. I use it - no kidding, eh? I appreciate its speed, efficiency, and encyclopedic (though not always accurate!) data. And yes, at some point, I will end up keyboarding some of my cursive paragraphs. The information superhighway is unlikely to get buried by an avalanche of paper anytime soon.





BUT I don't want to sacrifice the irreplaceable skill of written, hand-written, words on paper and that two way street of listening and speaking that is person to person conversation, especially in matters of the heart, in those relationships that matter most.

The kettle is boiling, my pens are fueled up with ink. WRITE!

©2019 April Hoeller

Monday Moanings - January 7, 2019

The massive undoing of Christmas as it is on display in this house lies before me, a task that brings me no joy. The Christmas Magician who worked so hard to pull the feast and festivities out of the ordinary hat now must become the Christmas Undertaker directing the interment of wreaths and garlands, trinkets and treasures, and umpteen baubles and bells.

January is such a downer! 

Unless...

...one follows the Julian calendar...

... then today is Christmas Day!

Just for today let me set aside the undoing of Christmas to stand in solidarity with Eastern Orthodox brothers and sisters.


Let me rise to belt out one more rousing chorus of Hark the Herald Angels Sing!




In celebration with my daughter-in-law and her family,
        let there be one more lighting of the tree and the Christmas candle,

one more heart to heart and hand to hand.

Let there be one more

Merry Christmas!

Srećan Božić

Hristos se rodi

©2019 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - Friday, January 4, 2019

Returning to Regularly Scheduled Programming...

It is indeed January and here I am back home on the blog for January - albeit a day late. "Thereabouts" is the surely the adjective of the week. Nothing seems certain except that somehow it is 2019 and I am here sitting in my wagon ready to push off into the new month and new year.
               Well, sort of ready.
                              Maybe just thinking about getting ready...

and facing backwards.

That season we were in such a rush to get to, in such a frenetic flurry of frolic to celebrate, now seems to be the season we can't get rid of fast enough. It's a shame really. I mean not even the Wise Men have shown up yet and we're being pushed to kick the family and feast to the curb.



But in my house, the creche, the tree, the lights indoors and out, stay up and twinkling until Epiphany (January 6) and then a couple of days more in honour of Orthodox Christmas (January 7).




















The only elements of our faith-full celebrations that have been tucked away are the menorah and the dreidels. Hanukkah enriched our house from December 2nd to the 10th.










Though slow to step up to the plate, a week from now I too will join the throngs of those batting Christmas out of the house, out of sight, undoing much of what was done in December.

From twinkling lights to festive tables;

from Christmas trees to crystal stars...

... and crafted angels;

from creche to shepherds and a trio of late magi, who I'm sure will show up at the appointed time;
from dancing rabbis and candles,

from cookies to waistbands; all in their own way must give way to the new year.

Empty of the razzle-dazzle that powered December days, a hodgepodge of resolutions -

 to do more, to do less; to be more, to be less

- rush in to fill the void in life's fuel tank. 

January is just one big correction after another.

©2019 April Hoeller