Move over, Winter

It was one of those sublime long weekends that has taken me just beyond the realm of ordinary. I'm having a hard time resurfacing and accepting the reality of tomorrow.

It's not as though anything spectacular happened. It's just that as the sun finally made herself presentable, I felt the shift of seasons and found myself steeped in light and all things beautiful...

I saw sun sparkle and heavy fog over the ocean at the same time. Such an intensely dramatic juxtaposition. I was about to be devoured whole by that swift cloud of sea smoke, but then it collided with the sun and dissolved on impact.

Did you know that some dogs still wag their tails even when they are swimming? I was sitting upon a high rocky point, when a black lab on the beach below caught my eye. He was forever leaping into the water after his beloved stick, over and over again. And that tail never stopped moving... even in deep water! Why have I never noticed this before?

My dear friend invited me for breakfast. She created an exquisite piece of art on my plate... little crepe-like cups filled with berries, dusted with powered sugar, and adorned with tiny purple pansies. My heart broke a little when I had to disturb such beauty with a jagged metal fork.

The air was sucked clean out of my lungs when I set sight on the most incredible magnolia tree this afternoon. It was blooming in its most absolute prime. Not a speck of decay or wither. I think magnolias only look like this for a single day, and while I'm hopelessly charmed by flowers that have passed their prime, this tree had me completely under its spell.

I must remind myself that just because the weekend is over, that doesn't mean the beauty ends. It has no timeline or expiration date. It is a constant. And always available to the open hearted.

Beach Houses

Remember making forts when you were young?

On rainy days, every pillow and blanket that could be found in the house was utilized... especially the giant couch pillows. They made great walls. And even more fun than building them, was trying to climb inside them without creating an implosion. The most extreme care was taken not to disturb those fragile pillow walls, but, like a sandcastle destined for high tide, usually disaster struck at some point. All the more reason to build another, more solidly constructed one.

These driftwood forts seem to pop up overnight on my favourite beaches. I hardly ever see the same one twice, and when I find a new one, I can't help but want to climb inside, or at the very least, peek inside the windows. I think these are big-kid-constructed forts. Adults build them to try and reclaim their inner Tom Sawyer. Some of them are so incredibly elaborate. So creative. So deliciously playful. They make great shelters on windy days. They make great secret hideaways for romantics.

But as fast as they go up, they mysteriously disappear. Do some people find the same joy in destroying them as others do when they build them? Is it like squashing the sandcastle before the ocean claims it? And why do I never see a fort in the making (or destroying) in progress? Maybe the crows are building them in the middle of the night?

Let Me Be a Castaway

I wanted to ask... can I borrow your boat? Can I row out a little ways, just so I can see the view of the shoreline from out there? So I can release myself from the certainty of solid ground underfoot?

There are adventures to be had in little boats such as these. My inner pirate is swooning.

My brother once took the roll of captain and invited me on a watery magic carpet ride. It was dark. Just a sliver of milky moonlight led the path out of the safety and security of Secret Cove into deep open waters. The rough choppy waves seemed to take teasing delight in tossing our little boat to and fro... just past my comfort level. But my captain was steadfast.

He didn't tell me why we were headed into the black abyss. Perhaps I was a little too trusting. But I know my brother, and I am well aware that he is a magnet for all things adventurous.

He cut the small motor. And I felt small in all that expansive quiet. Vulnerable. But anticipatory. What wizardry was he going to pull out of his sleeve this night? He asked me then to put my hand in the water. And swish it around a little.

Well... a whole new world of spectacular opened up to me in that moment. The water began to glow. A brilliant green sparkle exploded in all directions. Fireflies of the sea were dancing in my retinas, burning a memory into my heart that still enchants me to this day when I reminisce.

Growing up in the dry, semi-desert interior, I was new to the marine world. I hadn't lived next to the ocean yet and I didn't know about bioluminescence. And for years after that experience, I still didn't know if it was a chemical reaction occurring in the water, or if it was a living entity. I almost didn't want to know... in the same way you don't want to know a magician's tricks. I loved the mystery.

I've been lucky enough to see this phenomena twice in my life... once from the surface, and once during a night dive which almost took my breath away in its dizzying magnificence.

Looking at these shore-bound boats, I can't help but dream of future adventures. I don't need to sail around the world to find awe and wonder. I prefer small expeditions. They can be just as unforgettable.

The Sweet Allure

There is a tangled weave of buds growing from my veins.

Momentary bursts of euphoria invade my consciousness,
fragmented and soft like a morning dream.

I'm longing for something, even if I'm not clear what that is just yet.

All I know for sure is that my craving for beauty is tangible. 

I want to touch it

breathe it

live within it

It must be spring.

Where Stars are Born

My living space is aglow with little white fairie lights. They hang from my window, tipped with little glass stars at the ends that catch my eye when they twirl and bounce the light. Would it really be so bad if I kept them up most... no, all of the year? Not all of them.. just a little string of white lights? They make me happy. They release a warm inviting light into the room that has the same effect on me that a good paint colour does.

Hmmm. But I guess they wouldn't be as special at Christmas, if I had them up all year.

I am in full nesting mode. It's as though all of my senses want to be coaxed and nurtured... whether it be the spiced gingerbread fog wafting from the oven, the soft fuzz of my new slippers under my toes, the hypnotic rhythm of the raindrops tapping at my windowpanes, or a cup of creamy nut oolong warming my hands and cheeks.... all of these simple pleasures entice me to stay in, to slow way down and to be exceptionally mindful. And most grateful.

I just want to be home. In my nest. Until the flowers come out.