The Sea, She Calls to Me

I love to crush those little sea kelp bobbles under my feet. They make the most incredibly satisfying pop/crunch sound. I must have walked the beach a dozen times over the last three days, crushing every single one in my path.

I studied the sand and was amazed at all the stories it could tell. Man, beast and bird walked this beach before me and left their distinctive mark. Even the rolling waves left behind fine wavy lines along the hard packed wet sand.

The sun warmed my skin in the early morning hours, and the wind-swept fog fiercely blew in to add a bit of drama to the late day. The sun and fog seemed constantly at odds, yet they were so synchronistically beautiful in their unity.

After the stress of the weeks before, visiting my most favourite place on earth was a timely respite. I spent a lot of time on this beach thinking about what matters most in my life. How important connection is... whether it be to loved ones, or loved places, or cherished memories. I learned a long time ago that when I am really down, the one thing that brings me back is connection. I must connect to something ...anything that is meaningful.

And I must thank you all who connected with me last week and left such words of love and support as we waited for Ivy's test results. We now know that she will not need any further therapy. No chemo, no radiation.... in fact, she got to go home! And the prognosis is good. Tumours like this rarely return.

I am slowly making my way to each of you. Taking my time to truly catch up with you and see how you are doing this beautiful September. Fall is on her way, and I can't wait... my favourite season. I am ready to embrace the changes she brings.

Bittersweet

We went to see my brother and his family.... my mom and I. It's becoming a bit of a yearly tradition, this road trip. This summer there was the sweet, delicious charm of my two year old niece Sarai. And her new baby sister Ivy. Little Ivy.... what a beautiful creature she is.

We ate berries and other goodies from the garden. We devoured fresh peach pie. We lingered the afternoons away in hammocks and wished upon fleeting comets as we slept under the stars. We drew on the sidewalk and made friends with imaginary dragons. I held sleeping Ivy in my arms and wrapped myself in the absolute perfection of her soft scent, quiet breath, her peacefulness.

Everything was beautiful.
I'm so glad in that brief space of time I didn't know what was to come. It was three days of ignorant bliss.  I took for granted how good things really were. Or did I? I remember being very acutely aware of how precious this time spent with my family was. How I would always remember exactly how Ivy felt as she slept in my arms, how I would laugh later at the funny things Sarai said. But despite my gratitude, I didn't realise then how fragile life can be, and how quickly things can change.

A couple of weeks later, the world would turn upside down. Last Friday, to be exact... we found out that our little Ivy had a tumour on her kidney. A very large and aggressive tumour. How does this happen? How does a mass the size of a grapefruit grow inside a tiny perfect brand new 7 week old body?

It has been a week of little sleep, agonizing waits... for scans, and test results... and today there was surgery.

And I have to say, after so much angst and worry, I feel as though I am floating off my chair as I type this. Those incredible doctors (magic-makers, really) were able to remove the entire tumour today, along with her kidney... but it was completely contained and hadn't spread to her other organs.

RELIEF.

We still need to wait for test results to see what kind of tumour it is and what steps will need to be taken next...

But. She's ok. She's going to be ok. And the world is slowing turning right side up again. And those beautiful stars will continue to shine. Any wishes I have now have already been fulfilled. What a generous universe.

I think Sarai has it all figured out. She celebrates life every day. You should see this girl dance....

Please go here if you would like to see more pictures of my two favourite sweet peas. :)

Saltspring Island

Hello, my friends. How is summer treating you so far? I know that it is luring me away from the computer and enticing me to go outside and play.

My friend and I spent part of the weekend on Saltspring Island, which is just a short ferry trip from Victoria. It is an eclectic little island brimming with artisans and creatives of all types, and every Saturday in the summer, many of them gather for an outdoor market the central village. I drooled over beautiful pottery and jewelry, tried the most delicious pesto kale chips ever (never thought I would like kale, but I am determined to make my own now), and happily wandered about in the sunshine, soaking up the local sights and music.

When we'd had enough of the crowded spaces, we found ourselves snug inside the Tree House Cafe devouring a delicious and nutritious lunch underneath the branches of a giant tree. The entire cafe was built within this tree. What an amazing place...and the food was fantastic.

We eventually moved out of town and drove around the island in search of interesting things to photograph. As we traveled down pretty tree-lined curvy roads, we found other cosy cafes,  fields of sheep and lamas, ocean piers and funky houses. Almost every one had a sign out front...fresh eggs, natural honey, pottery, fruits and veggies, you name it. Anything you needed, you could find on this little island of abundance.

I found myself imagining what it would be like to live there. I think I could be very happy on an island like that...at least in the summer months. A weekend cottage would be oh, so perfect.
I look forward to returning for the fall fair in September, when I can dream a little more.

From Your Daughter...

He has a soft spot in his heart for crows.

He has a quiet, subtle sense of humour that cracks me up.

His idea of cooking is throwing every left-over from the fridge into the frying pan... all at once... almost always mixed with scrambled eggs.
But he can make a masterpiece of a pizza.

He taught me to ride my first big kid bike, how to get up on one waterski, took me for my first driving lesson (it didn't go well, but at least the car came back to the driveway fully intact), taught me all about the colour wheel, composition and perspective, and tried to teach me to draw, yet I still can't draw a stick man to save my life. Thanks for trying, Dad.

He is the most patient person I know.

When I was little, he used to set up a small easel next to his so I could paint with him.

He's a chronic whistler. He gets that from his dad. He listens to music as he paints, forever whistling along. The best part is when he fills in melody gaps in songs with his own little improvisations. It's really quite endearing.

He has an impressive knowledge of music and knows good music when he hears it...always open to what is new to his ears. What we listened to when I was young has had a strong influence on what I listen to now.

He gets giddy and child-like whenever he gets to purchase a new techy kind of gadget. Then he will spend hours meticulously learning every detail from the instruction manual.

There is no one on this planet I feel safer with to drive me from point A to point B in the snow.

I love you so much, Dad. Happy Father's Day!
xoxoxoxo

I'm Feeling the Flurry

June is blur of activity. One more week of craziness and then I can slowly settle into the quiet dreamy glow of summer. It's piano recital time. Not my favourite time. I feel like a nervous parent to each of my students as they prepare for their performances on Saturday.

These flowers remind me of all the smiley happy faces of family and friends that will make up our audience...faces peeping between other faces, eager to see their child walk to the piano, place their hands on the keys and share with everyone what they've learned this year.

Ooohh, I can't wait until it's over. It doesn't seem to get any easier each year, and I am learning to accept that. I am anxious because I am invested in these kids...and that's a good thing. It's well worth the butterflies.