Monday Meander
The last few weeks have been strange. I've experienced one of those passages of time where it feels like much and nothing are happening all at the same time. I've worked. I've had time off. I've spent a lot of time in quiet car rides reflecting, and I've been loud with friends at the same time. I've written. I've worked on my fretboard fingering. It's been bitterly cold, but there have also been moments of a slight thaw - where you feel like the seasons are finally working towards your favour. Sleeps feel a little more sound in your bones and core.
I had the chance to spend a few hours at the lake with Joel and Jill on Friday. As a winter project, Joel, Steve, Spencer, Jill and myself put some hours into a run-down shack that sits upon old Otter. Since its inception, one would think that fish would come out of a magical hole in the frosty centre of the shack, but that has not been the case. Instead, it seems to be a place of gathering and communion and fluid-filled fellowship. Secretly, I think all of us longed for a secret winter, tree-fort and that is what it has turned into - a place of togetherness and childish laughter.
The days are stretching out a little longer, and the dusklight glow seems to linger. People are becoming a tad more ambitious. Mud and dirt starts to show. Streets glisten at midday with actual water, and not just frozen, snow-caked asphalt.
It's all opening up.
I'm still at a bit of an impasse, in terms of longview life goals, but I'm making do with what I have and putting the golden-goose gifts to use. When I slack on my writing, I find ways to pick it back up. When I leave the blog for a few days, I get back into it. When I get cluttered in my mind, I do my best to clean things up. I had the chance to take a few naps this weekend (which is unheard of in my current rigamarole), and so I felt my batteries begin to recharge.
While house setting for some friends in North Grenville this week, I've spent a few days caring for some dogs - Rufus and Maui. With very different personalities, these two dogs have been interesting companions. They are not big barkers, but they pay attention and having never owned a dog, I appreciate the immediacy they bring to a home. At first, it can be a tad unsettling to have someone pay so much attention to your every movement, but unlike us, they are less secretive about their sizing-up process. They sniff and they lick and they will stare without ceasing. On the other hand, and very much like us, at the end of the day, they just want to be tended to, fed, watered, and cared for - and that is a centering feeling.
Here comes the change.
