Dance in the Puddles

So, it's raining;
dance in the puddles.

Lady's Mantle

Lady's Mantle 

(Alchemilla mollis)

A cloak of tiny chartreuse stars

wraps round, downy grey-green leaves

bejeweled by rain.

Alchemy,

beauty's miracle.

Peonies in our Yard 2014

The peonies in our yard this year bloomed later

than usual but were worth the wait.

We enjoyed their beauty while it lasted.

After Tropical Storm Arthur went through

with its heavy winds and rain, 

there was nothing left but

petal confetti.  And yet, it too offered

loveliness.

I'm not complaining about a bit of plant destruction, 

especially compared to what happened 

across much of our province

because of Arthur.

A Perfect Rainy Monday

Raining...again…today.  I wanted to be outside raking winter’s debris from the yard, but it’s raining again today.  I look out the window and can see work, which needs to be done.  I can’t see past my list: rake, trim, stake and repair.  The list nags at my brain.

My internal critic wants me to be out there getting stuff done; ticking off another chore from the list.  It’s not a good way to begin the day.

But, what’s this in my yard?  

A pair of mallard ducks have landed.  They waddle up the gravel path to the paved driveway.  It, too, needs work, as the frost has pushed and heaved the driveway into humps and depressions where puddles of rainwater pool.  I wonder if the ducks are looking for a drink from a puddle, but no.

They are looking for something else, necks outstretched and clearly searching.  Ah, they’ve found it, but what?  I can’t see anything but dark pavement, but they are rushing to a flat spot near the puddles. They appear to be eating something.   Heads down, heads up and shake. 

I can’t see anything from inside and know if I open the door to get closer, they’ll fly.  I grab the camera and wind the lens out and watch.  Worms.  Thin pink earthworms are lying on the pavement after the hard rains.  And the ducks are eating them, bending down and sucking up the worms, like children sucking up spaghetti noodles, one at a time.  

I hear myself laughing. What a delight!

I laugh at the ducks.  And at myself for fretting over my list.  Everything has its time and its purpose. The world does not end because I can’t rake today.  

This day is already perfect, just as it is full of rain and worms.  The ducks are relishing the opportunities this day offers, just as it is. 

I will too.

words and photos are ©copyright 2009-2014 Carol Steel

Ride For Dad

My husband and two of his friends are participating in the motorcycle ride for New Brunswick to raise funds for prostate cancer research. 

They'll have fun today and perhaps a bit of wet weather, all for a good cause.  One of his friends raised over $1600. to contribute to the campaign.  Congratulations Bob.

Have fun riding with all the others from around the province and may the rain hold off until you are each back home.

I Miss the Sun

I Miss the Sun

On rain-dark days

I miss the slant of sunlight,

melting its butter

on the hardwood floor,

in the places the cat likes to sleep.

After days and days

of cold and damp,

I forget the light’s still here;

well, up there, above the clouds

just twiddling its thumbs.

And forget,

after days and days

of sun and heat,

I’ll be moaning for the rain.

Words and photo copyright 2011-2013 Carol Steel.

Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall

Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall*

My knees don’t like the rain, though they now give more accurate predictions of the weather than the meteorologist.   Aging is less fun as I pass the six decade mark; at least the physical aspects of growing older are less amusing.  Gravity is not my friend and some body parts are missing and others, wearing down.  Each day, I grow more curious about what will accompany me into the future and what I’ll relinquish.

And yet aging bears gifts.  I am more patient, more focused on fewer priorities, have a deeper wisdom and have let go of needing to force what I know into the ears of others.  And I have lived long enough to recognize there are cycles in my life.  There is a kind of balance between the dark times when all is painful and waiting and the fecund times when all is green and growing.  Life, all of life seeks balance. 

Me, too.

After passing through four years of depleted energy levels, depleted to dangerous levels resulting in back-to-back illnesses, I have come to a place of stillness and inner focus.  There is time now to spend loving my husband and family and friends, time to cuddle the cats and to garden.  There is time to stop for a while as my life comes back to healthier balance.  There is time for me to write, to stare out the window and to gestate inside.

My family genetics lead me to hope that I might live into my mid-nineties.  How encouraging that is in terms of becoming a skilled poet and writer.  There are still many years in which to learn the craft, to hone the skills, to practise and to write.

I’ve learned I can give myself sweet permission to do what I need and want to do.  So now, I write every day, sometimes wearing my magenta bathrobe until noon.

And I know that no matter what happens in my life, whatever it is, it will begin and it will end, just like the rain. 

 

NOTES:  *“Into each life some rain must fall” is a quote from the poem, “Rainy Day” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.   The line is also the title of a 1944 song performed as a duet by The Ink Spots, featuring Ella Fitzgerald and Bill Kenny.   Words in colour will link you to another website with additional information, if you click on them.

 

Another Messy March Day

 

Wordless Wednesday

Snow and Sleet and Rain

It's a bit of an everything day.  We started with drifting clusters of snow, flakes as large as eyes.  Then we had fine sleet tapping its fingers on the windows.  Next spits of snow coming hard and now... now we have dollops of rain falling and sliding in rivulets down the panes.  What's next?  Could be anything!

 

 

But still, we have to feed the birds.  Here are some of today's redpolls at the thistle seed feeder.  And they do not notice the weather.  They're just happy for a meal.

Playing in Puddles

Playing in Puddles

Saturday

Trees, distressed by rainfall shortage, are losing leaves, stripping themselves.  Leaves fall crisp and dry; skip chattering down the asphalt driveway.  The ornamental grasses at the edge of the garden are bronze, weary of searching for water.

All of nature aches for rain, wants to squeeze water from the grey sponge sky.  The soil is parched after weeks of inadequate rainfall.  A breeze shakes the leaves on the hedge; they make sounds like sheets of paper sliding to the floor.  A crow complains atop the neighbour’s poplars.

I close my eyes.  This heat-held air carries memories of Windsor, Ontario.  The fat damp air here is nothing compared to the suffocating humidity of Windsor in summers of my childhood.  I remember weeks upon weeks of stifling heat and humidity.  We played in the cool cement basement and sucked on pieces of ice to survive the heat.   And, waited for rain.

Rain.  The rain would come, heavy fat drops, a downpour, a deluge, complete with thunder and lightning.  After the storms, there were deep steaming puddles of water, warm as the bath on sidewalks and in yards.  My mother would put us outside to play; we, three small girls aged 2 to 5, dressed only in our underwear.  Our back yard would be full of screams and laughter of three little girls running, jumping and splashing in every puddle.  We played until the sun would return to dry the delight-filled puddles, and to begin again the work of building humidity.  We would return to days of playing in the cool basement.   And, to waiting for the next rain storm.



Sunday

This morning, I woke early.  Even before I was out of bed, I felt it.  Rain.  I opened the curtains and smiled to myself as the first sun peeked through the clouds; clouds spilling welcome rain.

I saw puddles in the driveway and on the street and remembered dancing in the warm rainwater as a child. 

Now, robins are here in the puddles, splashing and singing.

I remember how good it feels.

Red text includes hyperlinks that take you to other web pages where you can find out more.  All words and photos are © copyright Carol Steel.

Rain Music

Rain Music

Hostas cradle rain.
Droplets shimmer in the folds.
Clear, like tiny bells
glittering so perfectly,
you can almost hear them ring.

Photo is mine.

This is a Tanka poem for wewritepoems   Wewritepoems is a site that offers poetry prompts; click on the words in red to go there.

Rain

Rain

Summer rain slanting,
blinds my eyes, slashes my skin.
and I bleed water.

Photos are mine.

Robin

Robin

Only this robin
enjoys the rain, the sound of
a worm uprising.


Photo is mine.

Wet Beauties

Wet Beauties

Just as the peonies come into bloom, the weather turns to rain.  When the flower heads are full, the additional weight of rainwater makes the heads droop or makes the stems bend and break.

Yesterday, I went out in the downpour to capture photos.  I was afraid that following the days of rain, there might be nothing left but damp petals scattered on the ground. 

The photos with the raindrops are just as fine, perhaps more interesting than usual.

Our peonies are over sixty years old.  They were planted when the house was built.  When we moved here, we discovered them hidden under maples at the corner of the yard.  We transplanted them to a warmer spot behind the garage a couple years ago.

After a slow start, these peonies are healthy and thriving.  They are lush wet beauties in the summer rain.  We are lucky to have found them, a long lived gift from the first owner of our home.

Thank you...for the gift of wet beauties.

All photos are mine.

Home Again

Home Again

We sat on our swing seat in the side yard and talked.  I’ve been away for a week, visiting family and a new grandchild.  My husband stayed at home, caught a cold and flu.  While I was laughing and enjoying my grandsons, daughter and son-in-law, he was home sneezing, coughing with headache and sore muscles.

He is getting better so we sat outside yesterday and soaked up sunshine, the breeze and each other’s company.  We breathed the warm air, heard birdsong and chipmunk chatter, noticed the smell of grass, the shades of green and rose on the apple tree leaves, watched towels flapping on the line, saw falcons soaring high in search of a meal and heard leaves turning inside-out warning of rain to come.

We sipped wine, rocked slowly and noted the calm and green of our yard.  We avoided discussing all the work that needed care, chatted only about what we had each done over the week we’d been apart.   We talked.  We caught up.

I shared stories of being away, of a neighbour using a leaf blower to clean his deck four times a day, of another sharing his bagpipe lessons with the whole block, of geese crossing the main road to get from the harbour to the duck pond, of walks with family and of the pleasure of grandchildren.   He shared stories of driving new Canadians to the Legislature in Fredericton, of driving students to Safe Grad, of taking my mother on errands, of mowing lawns, then of becoming ill and of spending days and nights sweating and coughing…energy-less.

I told him about two hundred-foot Black Oaks and waking to nothing but sky and leaves outside the windows.  He told me about staring at the ceiling waiting for the next coughing attack.

We both shared stories of sudden rainstorms on sunny days—rain plummeting, bouncing up again from the ground, and of wind-driven rain in slanting sheets, then as sudden, sunshine glittering in the drops, and the light, the light fresh-washed and glowing.

We talked about missing each other.  We talked about love and about how much we need each other.  We talked about how we are grateful for each other.

We snuggled on the swing seat in our side yard and talked, happy to be home together again.

Photos are mine.

Christmas Rain

Christmas ... the rain makes everything sparkle!

Wedding in a Whirlwind...more

The wedding was planned, everything was ready,

then a post-tropical storm blew through the tiny village of Prospect, Nova Scotia.  An outdoor wedding set to happen on

the rocks at High Head, on the coast was saved from disaster

by the kindness of the owners of

Prospect Village Bed and Breakfast. 

Knowing of our dilemma, they offered their rear deck
for the ceremony.  They had also offered their living room but Melanie and Kelly were set on getting married outside,
in the wind and the rain.

The Prospect Village Bed and Breakfast had once been a convent for the Sisters of Charity, so came complete with cross and an atmosphere appropriate to the sanctity of commitment vows. 

(I'll tell you more about the Prospect Village Bed and Breakfast

in tomorrow's blog entry.)

Ann, Kelly's mother offered blessings as we stood in the storm.  She is on the right, out of the photo.  Mary Ellen, the Justice of the Peace wore a fetching pink rain coat and a sturdy black hat. 

We couldn't figure out how the hat stayed on

in the gale force winds!

Kelly and Melanie with Zara in the background taking pictures, as Mary Ellen conducts the ceremony.  Kelly started out with a jacket but was soon soaked through,

then opted for just his shirt. 

What the heck he was wet anyway!

Kaleb is opening the ring box and we are crowding around trying to ensure that the box and the ring don't blow away. 

Shortly after this photo, Tim almost left the deck

in a particularly strong gust of wind.

We have these wonderful wet photos taken from the inside of the Prospect Village Bed and Breakfast courtesy

of the warmth and generosity of the owner,

Rosalee Peppard Lockyer who created pictures for us.

Melanie and Kelly exchanging vows.  I am not crying,

just trying to wipe away salt sea spray and rain

from my eyes.  Kaleb is trying not to set sail across the deck.

Doesn't my little girl look happy?

Rosalee was thoughtful to invite Susan,

Melanie's step-mother inside

to watch the wedding, as she wasn't feeling well that day. 

We were so glad she could be there too.

Rings safely landed on fingers, vows repeated, prayers and blessings offered, we were set to go.  Rosalee opened the back door and hugged Melanie and actually offered to let us come into her beautiful home for a glass of wine.  How wonderful!  And brave!  We were all soaked.  We declined her generous offer and soggily climbed into cars to return to Melanie's and Kelly's place for a wedding dinner of seafood and steak, laughter and gifts, photos and music, and of course, a bit of wine.

Blessings on you both as you begin this

new form of your relationship together.

May there be truth and understanding between you.

May you enjoy length of days, fulfillment of hopes,

peace and contentment of mind.

May God bless you and keep you always.  Amen.

Words in red will take you to another site with additional information, if you click on them. 

All photos are mine and Rosalee's. 
 If you want to learn more about the Prospect Village Bed and Breakfast,
please click here http://www.prospectvillagebb.ca/  and if you want more information
about the talented Rosalee Peppard click here  http://www.rosalee.ca/



Wedding in the Whirlwind

Melanie and Kelly love the wind and rain; get plenty of both where they live on the south shore of Nova Scotia.  Their first date was a walk out to the waves and wild water at High Head, so they wanted to get married at that same place.

The weather didn't cooperate...at all.  The wedding day dawned in the torrential down pour and gale force winds of a tropical storm passing over the Maritimes. 

Still, they were cheerful and determined to make the best of the situation.

A small wedding with only immediate family began at their home with photos and laughter and searches for the rubber boots and rain gear...

yes, they still intended to walk to High Head.  

Gary and I went on a scouting mission to check out the wedding site:

the waves were 50 feet high

and the pathway was largely under water. 

What to do?  The owner of the Bed and Breakfast where we were staying

offered her back deck

as an alternative wedding spot.  It was 30 feet from the water with

not quite so much danger of someone

getting washed away during the ceremony. 

We booted up and left for the wedding.

In this photo, you can see the effects of the wind

but the driving rain doesn't show very well.  

(I'll post more photos on that in another blog entry.)  

We came around the corner of the

Bed and Breakfast to face the water and the wind and the rain. 

Everyone was immediately soaked to the skin! 

But cheery and happy.

The Justice of the Peace (pink) had to have help hanging on to her papers,

so she could read out the marriage questions and vows.

Back at the house, everyone changed into dry clothes. The bride and groom stayed in their wet ones until after they had signed their papers and lit their candles. 

Note: wet hair and happiness!

These are a few of the photos from the wedding in a whirlwind.  I'll be posting more over the next few days and will share a story or two about the B&B, the location

in Nova Scotia as well as the wedding itself.

Melanie and Kelly love the wind and rain. 

They got married in a whirlwind of water and wind.

Congratulations and blessings to them both!

All photos are mine.  If you want more information about the Prospect Village Bed and Breakfast,

please click here  http://www.prospectvillagebb.ca/  or if you want more information about the owner, Rosalee Peppard, a talented singer and keeper of Maritime oral "herstory" click here  http://www.rosalee.ca/