In the Depth of Winter

In the depth of winter, I finally learned

that within me there lay an invincible

summer.

~ Albert Camus

International Women's Day Centenary 1911 - 2011

On the Centenary of International Women’s Day, I’ll share this story of a very special woman in my life.  Wendy Steel is an artist and art teacher, a uniquely talented woman.  Wendy is also my sister.

After suffering a debilitating stroke in 2003 and losing use of her right hand, Wendy relearned to paint with her left.  She has become a magnificent role model for anyone struggling with disability following a stroke.

It wasn’t an easy transition.  When Wendy had her stroke, at age 51, all the specialists warned that she would never again be anything more than bed-ridden and severely disabled, unable to speak nor to communicate nor to look after herself. 

They didn’t know Wendy! 

She spent the first three months in hospital … fiercely, stubbornly working at regaining physical and mental skills, forcing her mind and body into remembering and re-learning abilities and capacities necessary to care for her self. 

The dire predictions of the neurologist and other specialists were wrong!  

During an additional year and a half of out-patient Occupational and Speech Therapy, supplemented by Physical Therapy in her own home, she succeeded in regaining much of what she had lost.  In spite of her persistent language problems and the permanent loss of the use of her right arm, she lives a healthy contented life with the support of her love, her life partner Brian. 

She jokes that, before her stroke, she was “brilliant” and now though part of her brain died in the stroke, she still feels smart and capable.  She is indeed!

During the 2003 - 2004 years, Wendy relearned to paint with her left hand.  She now works in India inks, occasionally acrylics but primarily in her favourite medium, watercolours.  She produces paintings of extraordinary depth and whimsical delight, cherishing the self worth that being able to continue as a prolific artist offers to her.  Wendy’s art work can be found all over the eastern regions of Canada and United States. 

She cherishes life in all its varied manifestations and is grateful each day to be able to get “into the painting zone” and to forget her aches and pains and challenges as she creates.   Wendy again enjoys a flourishing career.   Her work is vibrant, full of the joy of life in all of its forms and possibilities.

She is grateful to be alive and in turn ensures that each person who crosses her threshold knows that she is grateful for them in her life.   She values and cares for them deeply. 

Life is precious.

Life is Like Knitting a Pair of Mittens

Knitting begins with the spark of an idea.  I see a fine-looking skein of yarn – soft, fresh smelling, nubby and squishy, silent except for the crinkly paper band – and am enticed to create something practical or beautiful or both.

I explore my yarn stash.  Every knitter has one: secret heaps of multicoloured skeins yearning to be wound into tidy yarn cakes or efficient balls, longing to be knit into useful warm socks, sturdy comforting sweaters, striped or cabled scarves, gorgeous expansive shawls, practical protective hats or cozy sensuous mittens.

I choose mittens.  Where can I find a pattern - in a magazine, seductive with glossy photos, or in a book admonishing advice, “knit a swatch first”, or online at my favourite yarn shop’s website?  What size needles do I need?  What do I already have?  Will they work?

I begin, knit, make mistakes, unravel, and knit again.  Adjust my pattern instructions, fiddle with my knitting, measure, fine-tune again and knit.  Click, click, click of needles.

A bit like life, isn’t it?  All of this organizing, venturing, creating, retreating and progressing with detours and adjustments.

Finally I’m finished.  The mittens are lovely, soft, thick, warm.  I like them so well that I wear them in the house for a while, enjoying the pleasantly subtle waxy feel of the thick fuzzy strands.  The woolly earthy fragrance reminds me that these homemade mittens embody relationship between my handiwork and nature’s offerings from alpaca or sheep, goats or angora rabbits.

These mittens are charming and imperfect, not quite the way I had imagined, but delightful, comforting and useful just the same.

Learning from my mistakes, I note improvements for the next pair of mittens, eyeing the tantalizing textures and beckoning hues of the yarn stash … ideas sparking!

Beside the Fire

Winter is the time for comfort,

for good food and warmth,

for the touch of a friendly hand

and for a talk beside the fire:

it is the time for home.

~ Edith Sitwell

Photo is mine.

Wool Sweaters

When the bold branches

Bid farewell to rainbow leaves

Welcome wool sweaters.

~ B. Cybrill

Photo is mine.

Christmas Cactus

My Christmas Cactus plant is off kilter.  It didn’t bloom at Christmas time, but is in full flower now at the beginning of March.  It flourished when it was ready.

Christmas Cactus is thermo-photoperiodic, affected by temperature and by the proportion of daylight hours to hours of darkness.

It sets buds when the day length is about equal to the night length and the temperature is consistently cool.  The Christmas Cactus requires long, uninterrupted dark periods (at least three weeks) of about 12 or more hours per night in order to bloom. 

At this mid point of Maritime winter, we are exasperated with excessive snow and interminable darkness.  Are we thermo-photoperiodic too; are we, as equally, affected by the proportion of daylight to darkness and by temperature?

Might we too benefit from the long periods of chill darkness to focus inward, to become contemplative?   This season offers myriad moments to seek within ourselves, to discern that which is being drawn to the light.  Do we flower when our fertile meditative selves reach the creative balance point between darkness and light?  Do we too become more vibrantly alive as we move from extended coolness to consistent warmth?

The days grow longer and the sun warms; we are drawn to the potency and power of that change.  Thoughtfulness buds, renewed creativity opens and peaks.  We feel it inside ourselves, compelling us.

What flowers within us?  What new part of ourselves do we birth out of our darkness?  What part of ourselves will we nurture to full blown splendour in the invigorating light? 

How is our pulsing inner creativity being stimulated?  When are we ready to bloom?

What Kitties Know

What Kitties Know   (continued  #4-#6)

4. Kitties know that it is always better to ask openly for something you want;
5. Kitties know that early mornings are the best times to feel full of get-up-and-go;
6. Kitties know that it is important to stay on top of the daily news.

                               Kitties are Good People