Hello Blog Fans...very patient Blog Fans...
It has been quite some time since my last post. It's not that I haven't been writing...I just haven't been blogging. Well, that's not true. I did post to my other blog in April. Here's the link for those of you who are fans and missed that particular post...
http://thingsthatmakemeawesome.blogspot.com/
Now, brace yourselves. I have big news. For those of you who have been waiting patiently for the tune that goes with the words for the Christmas Song that I talked about in my last posting, your long, painful, agonizing wait is over. Back in July, we filmed the singing of our tune in Saltwater Sounds (where I work) and posted it on You Tube. Why? Why you ask...have I waited almost 3 months to tell you? Because the local magazine that nicely publishes some of my writing is soon to release it's fall/winter issue is coming out soon and included in the magazine (Bread 'n Molasses) are the song lyrics and the link to the video. The deadline was July for the info so we had to film it in the summer. I didn't want to tell people too soon about the video as it may have spoiled the experience for people who buy the magazine. BUT...the time has come to release the mind penetrating goodness that is
"Dressing Up Your Pet For Christmas."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzLs2rGPWI0
Behold the wonder, the joy, the silliness and the slightly amusing fact that my daughter looks a bit like she's singing for the camera against her will...
I will be back sooner than later, so until then, Merry Christmas!
Yours as ever,
Cinfully Silly
Showing posts with label bread n' molasses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bread n' molasses. Show all posts
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Saturday, February 5, 2011
A Christmas Tale in February
Howdy Hey Blog Fans
Before I start, I would like to say that I should have written this entry long before now as it has to do with the Christmas we just had...but I got distracted with other things...life and what not. So, if reading anything about Christmas in February offends you at very high levels, book mark this post for later seasonal reading or perhaps put a sticky note on your calendar in December as a friendly reminder to come back to this entry and read about a Christmas event closer to Christmas.
But for those of you bold enough to brave the festive waters of a Christmas past in February, here is a quick tale for you.
One day, about a week or so before Christmas while Sorcha was eating dinner and I was washing dishes, we started talking about Christmas songs I dislike. The list is many and my reasons lengthy, but what it boils down to mainly is that I am tired of the same songs every...single...year...As Sorcha and I attempted to dissect the reasons for the fury that explodes from my being when I hear "Jingle Bell Rock" we both had a delicious moment of sarcasm. In this nugget of silly wit the gem of new song involving pets and Christmas cloths was unearthed. It was a magical moment and I mean that sincerely. In 90 minutes Sorcha and I together wrote a new Christmas song WITH music and sung it proudly to a few lucky family members and friends over the holidays. (and I unleashed the tune on my own without warning at a friend's party on boxing day...twice...to a crowd bemused party guests) We have a wee recording device that usually lets you download your witty imaginings to the computer, but at the moment, it's giving me attitude and refuses to co-operate.
So for now...I can only give you the words to what I hope will soon be a new Christmas Classic. I give you...
Dressing up your cat for Christmas
Before I start, I would like to say that I should have written this entry long before now as it has to do with the Christmas we just had...but I got distracted with other things...life and what not. So, if reading anything about Christmas in February offends you at very high levels, book mark this post for later seasonal reading or perhaps put a sticky note on your calendar in December as a friendly reminder to come back to this entry and read about a Christmas event closer to Christmas.
But for those of you bold enough to brave the festive waters of a Christmas past in February, here is a quick tale for you.
One day, about a week or so before Christmas while Sorcha was eating dinner and I was washing dishes, we started talking about Christmas songs I dislike. The list is many and my reasons lengthy, but what it boils down to mainly is that I am tired of the same songs every...single...year...As Sorcha and I attempted to dissect the reasons for the fury that explodes from my being when I hear "Jingle Bell Rock" we both had a delicious moment of sarcasm. In this nugget of silly wit the gem of new song involving pets and Christmas cloths was unearthed. It was a magical moment and I mean that sincerely. In 90 minutes Sorcha and I together wrote a new Christmas song WITH music and sung it proudly to a few lucky family members and friends over the holidays. (and I unleashed the tune on my own without warning at a friend's party on boxing day...twice...to a crowd bemused party guests) We have a wee recording device that usually lets you download your witty imaginings to the computer, but at the moment, it's giving me attitude and refuses to co-operate.
So for now...I can only give you the words to what I hope will soon be a new Christmas Classic. I give you...
Dressing Up Your Pet For Christmas
Dressing up your pet for Christmas
It's not an easy thing to do
They don't care what sweater
That you thinks looks better
Why are you even bothering with shoes
Dressing up your pet for Christmas
Dressing up your dog for Christmas
Don't dress him up as Santa Claus
Put him a fluffy beard
All your friends will think you're weird
He'll yelp if you put boots on his paws
Dressing up your dog for Christmas
Dressing up your cat for Christmas
She's not the mother of the Holy One
She's just way too hairy
To be the Virgin Mary
This won't be her idea of fun
Dressing up your cat for Christmas
Dressing up your pet for Christmas
They don't care if they match the tree
Even in something snappy
They'll still look unhappy
It's such a waste of money for me
Dressing up your pet for Christmas
Dressing up your fish for Christmas
He's not into cloths this year
You won't get him to wear a tie
He's too fast don't even try
He hardly even knows you're here
Dressing up your fish for Christmas
Dressing up your pet for Christmas
It's not an easy thing to do
They'll just eat the sweater
That you thinks looks better
And soon they will be chewing on their shoes
Dressing up your pet for Christmas
Dressing up your pet for Christmas
Dressing up your pet....for Christmas
And there you have it...a new Christmas song. My mother in law, who was one of the fortunate few to hear this song over the holidays actually caught herself singing it at work upon returning in the New Year! This song could be a hit for the ages...and if I can ever figure out how to transfer the recording to the computer, I will post the song so you too can hum a new Christmas tune that will drive you to the brink of festive madness.
Thanks for reading Blog Fans!
I remain as ever,
Cinfully yours.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
An Unexpected Tradition
Hello all. I probably should have written this entry around Christmas, but with one thing and another, I never got around to it. In November the editor of Bread 'N Molasses asked if I had a piece of Christmas writing on my person that I would like to submit for the Nov/Dec issue of the magazine. I said that I didn't, but I could send something soon.
It took me a few days to come up with a topic, but once I did, the poem came to me fairly easily. Every year in the fall since she was almost 4 my little girl has been cutting paper for Santa. She finds construction paper, or white paper and cuts into tiny bits and leaves it in a zip lock bag for the big guy. To this day, I still do not know exactly why she decided to this for him, but it's become as much a part of our Christmas as turkey and rum sauce (not together of course...). My heart aches at the thought of this lovely offering to Santa running it's course, but when it does at least it will last forever in our memories.
I wrote this with great love for Sorcha.
It took me a few days to come up with a topic, but once I did, the poem came to me fairly easily. Every year in the fall since she was almost 4 my little girl has been cutting paper for Santa. She finds construction paper, or white paper and cuts into tiny bits and leaves it in a zip lock bag for the big guy. To this day, I still do not know exactly why she decided to this for him, but it's become as much a part of our Christmas as turkey and rum sauce (not together of course...). My heart aches at the thought of this lovely offering to Santa running it's course, but when it does at least it will last forever in our memories.
I wrote this with great love for Sorcha.
Paper Love
Late September
3 months to go
Christmas thoughts come early
In her room
Small hands work busily
Cutting carefully
Clipping paper
Not wee fingers
Red, green, purple
White, blue, brown
Different shapes
Odd shapes
Placed gently into piles
Paper for Santa she says
So he can make crafts
And she smiles
A simple explanation
For a generous offering
4 years old
Anxious and happy
The bag of paper love
Sits next to the
Milk and Cookies
With a note explaining
Her gift
To him
Christmas morning
Soft running
On carpeted stairs
A note lies beside
The empty plate
She is pleased
Santa is happy
He promises to makes crafts
For his workshop
A tradition is born
Next September
A new room
Slightly bigger
Busy hands
Clip and create
A new bag of paper
For Santa
To be left
On a different mantel
With the same feelings
5 years old
Delighted at Christmas
At the missing paper
At the craft left by Santa
It’s a Christmas Tree
Full of colour
And joy
Like her
Christmas time
6 years
7 years
8 years old
His Paper waits
With his cookies
Genuine wonder at the
The Angel
The Polar Bear
The Rabbit
All created by Santa
With paper
With love
With the gift
From a sweet girl
Who wanted to give
To Someone
Who gives to
Everyone
And there you have it. And yes, for those of you who are curious, Santa left a picture this past Christmas (2010) with paper she had left for him in 2009. This past November we happily adopted a goldfish named Mushroom. Santa, through is magical and mysterious ways, must have found out about our new pet because below is a picture of the latest creation Santa left behind for Sorcha.
I can't imagine what he will leave next year...
Until next time, I hope everyone's year is off to a good start.
As ever,
Cinfully yours.
Late September
3 months to go
Christmas thoughts come early
In her room
Small hands work busily
Cutting carefully
Clipping paper
Not wee fingers
Red, green, purple
White, blue, brown
Different shapes
Odd shapes
Placed gently into piles
Paper for Santa she says
So he can make crafts
And she smiles
A simple explanation
For a generous offering
4 years old
Anxious and happy
The bag of paper love
Sits next to the
Milk and Cookies
With a note explaining
Her gift
To him
Christmas morning
Soft running
On carpeted stairs
A note lies beside
The empty plate
She is pleased
Santa is happy
He promises to makes crafts
For his workshop
A tradition is born
Next September
A new room
Slightly bigger
Busy hands
Clip and create
A new bag of paper
For Santa
To be left
On a different mantel
With the same feelings
5 years old
Delighted at Christmas
At the missing paper
At the craft left by Santa
It’s a Christmas Tree
Full of colour
And joy
Like her
Christmas time
6 years
7 years
8 years old
His Paper waits
With his cookies
Genuine wonder at the
The Angel
The Polar Bear
The Rabbit
All created by Santa
With paper
With love
With the gift
From a sweet girl
Who wanted to give
To Someone
Who gives to
Everyone
And there you have it. And yes, for those of you who are curious, Santa left a picture this past Christmas (2010) with paper she had left for him in 2009. This past November we happily adopted a goldfish named Mushroom. Santa, through is magical and mysterious ways, must have found out about our new pet because below is a picture of the latest creation Santa left behind for Sorcha.
I can't imagine what he will leave next year...
Until next time, I hope everyone's year is off to a good start.
As ever,
Cinfully yours.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Oh-Can-It-Fit Day
Howdy Hey Blog Fans
If you're a fan of my facebook album "Canada Day Through the Ages" then this story may interest you. I wrote a story for the current issue of Bread 'N Molasses (on sale now!) all about the dress Sorcha is wearing in the photos and how it has become to mean so much more then just Sorcha trying on this dress every Canada Day.
------------------
I had a dream recently in which I told someone in the dream that for my Bread ‘N Molasses article I was going to write about soccer. When I woke up I realized, no matter how certain I had been in the dream, there was no way I could do this. The World Cup News has obviously slipped into my subconscious enough for me to dream about it, but all I really know about soccer is that it seems necessary for a player to rip his shirt off when he scores a goal.
I also thought about writing an article detailing my recent trip with my daughter Sorcha to the West Coast. I thought about describing all that had changed in the 4 years since we’d moved away, but I wasn’t sure where to begin. It’s not that I’m against change, not at all. It’s just that so much changed so quickly. The community I grew up in no longer looked like my old stomping grounds. I was a stranger to the new box stores and large ever expanding suburban areas. I was but a ghost of what was once a quieter town.
However, while we were away, we made sure to honour a tradition held in our family every year on Canada Day for the last 7 years; the wearing of the Canada Day dress. This seemed like as good a topic as any.
In 2003, when Sorcha was 20 months old, we went to Ottawa for my sister-in-law’s wedding. A friend of my mother-in-law generously volunteered to make Sorcha a dress for the wedding. While on the hunt for material for this dress, she found a material covered in Canadian Flags and insisted on making Sorcha 2 dresses. Both dresses were beautiful. Sorcha looked adorable in her wee white dress covered in little blue flowers, but unfortunately the only time she wore this dress was at her Aunt’s wedding. However, the Canadian Flag dress got a lot more use and became much more to us then just a dress.
On Canada Day of that year, we attended a party at a friend’s place. While Sorcha tromped around the yard in her second new dress of the season, Canadian Flags waving from shoulders to knees, our friend Erin took her picture and sent me a copy not long after we’d returned home. It was adorable. She’d caught Sorcha in mid strut. She looked sure footed and proud. I love this picture and hung it immediately on the fridge.
The following Canada Day, the dress being a tent style dress, was a bit shorter, but still fit very well. I’m not sure what made me think to do so, but while Sorcha stood in the kitchen waiting for her close up, I grabbed her yard stomping photo off the fridge and asked her to hold it front of her while I took a picture of her in Canada Day Dress. And the rest is history. Since then, every Canada Day Sorcha puts on the dress and we take a picture of her wearing it while holding the picture of herself wearing the dress from the Canada Day the year before and in the picture of the picture she’s holding a picture of herself wearing the dress from the year before…you get the idea. Every year the roots to this tradition get longer, the history gets deeper, the little girl in the picture gets bigger, and the dress she’s wearing gets smaller. In 2006 it had become a very short dress. So short that shorts were now required under the dress. By Canada Day 2009 it was a full on shirt, but it still fit her.
As Canada Day 2010 neared, some of our friends anxiously asked if we were going to bring the dress with us on our trip out west to continue to the tradition, but more importantly, did I think the dress would still fit? Honestly, I really didn’t think it would. I had considered over the year making it bigger by adding a new panel of material to the dress, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be like cheating. If the dress in its original state didn’t fit, then it didn’t fit. We would figure out how to show this new development when the time came. However, on July 1st 2010, with a bit of struggling and mild squawks of protest from Sorcha that she couldn’t get one of her arms in one of the arm holes, we got the dress on. It still fit…sort of. It wasn’t much shorter then it had been the previous year as most of her growth had been in her legs and not her torso, but it was tighter across the shoulders. The button at the top of the dress refused to close and it uncomfortably snug under her arms. Sorcha suffered wearing it long enough to for the taking of the tradition photo and then politely asked to have it taken off.
This day has become very special to us because it’s not just about tradition, it’s about change. The size of the dress represents the physical changes in Sorcha and the backdrop of the photograph represents all of the changes our family has been through since we started this yearly snapshot. We’ve moved a lot. Between her birth and turning 5, Sorcha experienced 5 moves. Most of these moves are represented in the Canada Day photo because the first 4 photos were taken in 4 different apartments. The 5th photo was taken in the same on as the 4th; a big deal to be sure for us. When I clicked the button on the camera, capturing Sorcha in her dress in front of the same door as the year before, it was a very happy moment. The same place 2 years in a row showed continuity in our lives. Something we had sorely lacked for years. Last year, the 2009 photo was taken in a different location then the previous 2, in front of a different door, but it wasn’t a rented door it was our door. This was the first Canada Day photo taken in a house we’d bought. The photo now had new layer; home. This change in the photograph was an extremely welcome one and one we were never sure would exist.
Now of course, this year the photo was taken no where near that door, because of being, as I mentioned, on the west coast, but next Canada Day, or as we now call it, “Oh Can-It-Fit Day, we’ll pull out the dress and the camera and Sorcha will stand in front of our door. The wearing of the dress is a fun tradition, but the Canada Day picture to me represents the journey our family has taken to find a place we could call home. That journey is finally over. We finally have a home Sorcha can grow up in and grow of the Canada Day Dress in. The picture of Sorcha in or at least holding the dress will now simply show the passage of time. As I said, I don’t mind change because clearly it’s inevitable, but our home, our door is one thing I truly hope stays the same.
---------------
And there you have it!
Have a Cin-Fully lovely day.
If you're a fan of my facebook album "Canada Day Through the Ages" then this story may interest you. I wrote a story for the current issue of Bread 'N Molasses (on sale now!) all about the dress Sorcha is wearing in the photos and how it has become to mean so much more then just Sorcha trying on this dress every Canada Day.
------------------
I had a dream recently in which I told someone in the dream that for my Bread ‘N Molasses article I was going to write about soccer. When I woke up I realized, no matter how certain I had been in the dream, there was no way I could do this. The World Cup News has obviously slipped into my subconscious enough for me to dream about it, but all I really know about soccer is that it seems necessary for a player to rip his shirt off when he scores a goal.
I also thought about writing an article detailing my recent trip with my daughter Sorcha to the West Coast. I thought about describing all that had changed in the 4 years since we’d moved away, but I wasn’t sure where to begin. It’s not that I’m against change, not at all. It’s just that so much changed so quickly. The community I grew up in no longer looked like my old stomping grounds. I was a stranger to the new box stores and large ever expanding suburban areas. I was but a ghost of what was once a quieter town.
However, while we were away, we made sure to honour a tradition held in our family every year on Canada Day for the last 7 years; the wearing of the Canada Day dress. This seemed like as good a topic as any.
In 2003, when Sorcha was 20 months old, we went to Ottawa for my sister-in-law’s wedding. A friend of my mother-in-law generously volunteered to make Sorcha a dress for the wedding. While on the hunt for material for this dress, she found a material covered in Canadian Flags and insisted on making Sorcha 2 dresses. Both dresses were beautiful. Sorcha looked adorable in her wee white dress covered in little blue flowers, but unfortunately the only time she wore this dress was at her Aunt’s wedding. However, the Canadian Flag dress got a lot more use and became much more to us then just a dress.
On Canada Day of that year, we attended a party at a friend’s place. While Sorcha tromped around the yard in her second new dress of the season, Canadian Flags waving from shoulders to knees, our friend Erin took her picture and sent me a copy not long after we’d returned home. It was adorable. She’d caught Sorcha in mid strut. She looked sure footed and proud. I love this picture and hung it immediately on the fridge.
The following Canada Day, the dress being a tent style dress, was a bit shorter, but still fit very well. I’m not sure what made me think to do so, but while Sorcha stood in the kitchen waiting for her close up, I grabbed her yard stomping photo off the fridge and asked her to hold it front of her while I took a picture of her in Canada Day Dress. And the rest is history. Since then, every Canada Day Sorcha puts on the dress and we take a picture of her wearing it while holding the picture of herself wearing the dress from the Canada Day the year before and in the picture of the picture she’s holding a picture of herself wearing the dress from the year before…you get the idea. Every year the roots to this tradition get longer, the history gets deeper, the little girl in the picture gets bigger, and the dress she’s wearing gets smaller. In 2006 it had become a very short dress. So short that shorts were now required under the dress. By Canada Day 2009 it was a full on shirt, but it still fit her.
As Canada Day 2010 neared, some of our friends anxiously asked if we were going to bring the dress with us on our trip out west to continue to the tradition, but more importantly, did I think the dress would still fit? Honestly, I really didn’t think it would. I had considered over the year making it bigger by adding a new panel of material to the dress, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be like cheating. If the dress in its original state didn’t fit, then it didn’t fit. We would figure out how to show this new development when the time came. However, on July 1st 2010, with a bit of struggling and mild squawks of protest from Sorcha that she couldn’t get one of her arms in one of the arm holes, we got the dress on. It still fit…sort of. It wasn’t much shorter then it had been the previous year as most of her growth had been in her legs and not her torso, but it was tighter across the shoulders. The button at the top of the dress refused to close and it uncomfortably snug under her arms. Sorcha suffered wearing it long enough to for the taking of the tradition photo and then politely asked to have it taken off.
This day has become very special to us because it’s not just about tradition, it’s about change. The size of the dress represents the physical changes in Sorcha and the backdrop of the photograph represents all of the changes our family has been through since we started this yearly snapshot. We’ve moved a lot. Between her birth and turning 5, Sorcha experienced 5 moves. Most of these moves are represented in the Canada Day photo because the first 4 photos were taken in 4 different apartments. The 5th photo was taken in the same on as the 4th; a big deal to be sure for us. When I clicked the button on the camera, capturing Sorcha in her dress in front of the same door as the year before, it was a very happy moment. The same place 2 years in a row showed continuity in our lives. Something we had sorely lacked for years. Last year, the 2009 photo was taken in a different location then the previous 2, in front of a different door, but it wasn’t a rented door it was our door. This was the first Canada Day photo taken in a house we’d bought. The photo now had new layer; home. This change in the photograph was an extremely welcome one and one we were never sure would exist.
Now of course, this year the photo was taken no where near that door, because of being, as I mentioned, on the west coast, but next Canada Day, or as we now call it, “Oh Can-It-Fit Day, we’ll pull out the dress and the camera and Sorcha will stand in front of our door. The wearing of the dress is a fun tradition, but the Canada Day picture to me represents the journey our family has taken to find a place we could call home. That journey is finally over. We finally have a home Sorcha can grow up in and grow of the Canada Day Dress in. The picture of Sorcha in or at least holding the dress will now simply show the passage of time. As I said, I don’t mind change because clearly it’s inevitable, but our home, our door is one thing I truly hope stays the same.
---------------
And there you have it!
Have a Cin-Fully lovely day.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Winter Wonderment
Hello to you Blog Fans.
It's been a while since I've posted something on this blog. (too busy being awesome!) But once again, the monthly Words on Water at Saltwater Sounds has brought forth from me a piece of writing I like enough to post online. The theme for this month was "Winter". Here in the Miramichi we've had very light winter. It's been cold sure, but we've had very little in the way of snow. The day before yesterday it was 8 degrees and raining! But tonight we are getting a lot of snow and it's my favourite kind of snowfall; soft and beautiful.
I give you...
Winter Wonderment (which I dedicate to my Sorcha)
When I was a little girl, the most exciting event that could take place in my life, aside from days like Christmas and my birthday, was a snowfall. I grew up on the rainy west coast in Victoria and a snowfall, even if it was only a few cm, was a big deal. If it fell on a school day, waiting for recess was agony! The snow could be gone by 10:15 if it was suddenly sunny or rainy! What if we didn’t get a chance to play in it? Usually the snow was there for first recess, but by lunch time recess, usually due to melting and 100 kids making snow balls and snow men during first break, lunch time snow play was a desperate undertaking of rolling a snow ball from patch of white to patch of white over churned up muddy green, giving our snowmen a very hairy appearance or getting a snowball in the face a muddy experience. If our magical snowfall fell on the weekend or during holidays, my brother and I would spend hours in the yard building, running, piling, sliding, freezing and waiting for my Dad to offer to pull us around the yard in the almost pristine sled.
Some years, we would only get one snow fall or we wouldn’t get any at all. Some years, the snow lasted for a couple weeks and the novelty of the snow would actually wear off and we would want again for the comfort of our green.
As a teenager and in my early 20’s I got my fill of snow. I lived in Ottawa and in the winter there was no shortage of it. Much like a lot of Miramichi winters, the snow would last for what seemed like forever. Having to wear clunky boots, scratchy hats and bulky coats is never a strong desire for a teenager. I was never one for really caring about what I looked like in my warm finery, but in early high school my brother said that one of my hoods made me look like ET and I became quite self conscious about my winter gear for years. During this time in my life participating in outdoor winter fun was never something that brought me joy. I didn’t really like skiing, skating on the Rideau Canal was a bumpy affair that left me sore and sledding always made me miserable because I was extremely good at getting snow up my sleeves. Spring brought a sort of freedom; I could stop looking like an alien and feel more like the awkward teenager that I liked only slightly more and I could stop making excuses for why I didn’t want to participate in anything wintery.
My husband and I moved from Ottawa to the west coast after we married and rain or snow, dreary grey or bright white made no real difference in our lives. Rain in the winter was the norm, and snow was never a treat. It was just weather. However, when our daughter was born, we started to feel the tingle of magic wonder that a snow fall can bring. We pictured ourselves bundling up our wee one and teaching her how to make a snowball, or a snow fort, showing her how to make the perfect stereo typical snow man and sharing in the beauty of a soft snowfall at night.
Sorcha’s first experience with snow occurred when she was 17months old. We’d had a fairly heavy snow fall and I’d been stuck inside for a couple days because I didn’t have tractor tires on her stroller. However, once it melted off the sidewalks, I took Sorcha up to hill to a community park. Once out of her stroller, she stared around her at the whiteness mixed with green. Without hesitating she bent down and put her mitted hands in and immediately put one hand in her mouth. Being the wonderful mother I am, I didn’t scold her, but quickly took a picture of her first taste of cold white snow; she wasn’t impressed. I let her run around in it until she found a broken bottle under a tree and we went on home. Soon the snow was gone and it brought a quick close to Sorcha’s first experience with snow.
Shorty after Christmas of 2003, when Sorcha was just 2, we got about a foot and half of snow in a couple days; a huge deal for southern coastal BC. In a freshly purchased pair of used purple snow pants, Sorcha took her first walk falling snow. She laughed as the snow flakes tickled her lashes and marveled at the different pattern every snow flake seemed to be. The snow was barely covering the grass at this point so no attempt at a snow man was made, but Sean rolled a couple snowballs for her and Sorcha had great fun throwing them at me. The next day the snow was deeper, but joy and the novelty of snow were quickly replaced with dismay and frustration as Sorcha struggled to wade through the wet, heavy snow that came up over her wee knees. Tears signaled the end of fun thus ending Sorcha’s second experience with snow.
The following winter we got more snow then we’d had in years and it lasted for over a month. We had moved to a different place by then and the complex offered a huge park area for playing and running around in. Once again bundled up in her purple snow pants, Sorcha and I went out for fun in the snow. She was a bit taller, a bit stronger then the year before so the slog through the snow was more enjoyable. It was a lovely day for being outside and together, Sorcha and I built her first snowman. He didn’t have a hat or scarf as it was a communal yard and more then likely they would have been stolen from the poor guy within the hour so we settled on creating a snowman with a half classical whimsy about him. As we were building him near a tree that had shed everything for winter, sticks were easy to find and we used them for arms, a smiling mouth, nose and sticky up hair. For the eyes and buttons we collected pieces of bark from the gardens under the windows that hadn’t been covered with snow yet. When we were finished, we stood back and assessed our creation with satisfaction. Both of us were hot from the rolling and packing of snow, our long hair was coming out from under our hats and our hands were starting to go numb due to snow soaked mitts; but we were pleased. Sorcha beamed at her first snowman and I was happy to have shared another first with her. We stumbled back inside and right after we stripped off our wet snow gear, we went to the living room window to see if we had a good view our new winter friend. The view from our 4th floor window was perfect; there he stood, under a tree, leaning slightly back and smiling right up at us.
One morning, a few days after we’d built our snowman, I went to the window to see how our snow friend was fairing. He was still there, arms spread wide, big happy grin smiling up at me. As I sat there sipping my coffee, I saw a guy cutting through the yard most likely taking a short cut to get to a walking trail beyond the property. And from our window, I watched in absolute horror, as this person made a B-Line for our handsome snowman, walked over him and crushed him to the ground. I was shocked and angry! Why would he do that? Did he think he was a big man because he wrecked this happy creation? Had he been attacked by a snowman as child and now all snowman in his path were the enemy? It wasn’t as if there was no space to walk around it. He had clearly done it on purpose! Now you may be thinking “What’s the big deal? It’s just a snowman.” But to me, he was so much more then that. I’d found my childhood joy in snow again and created something special with my daughter who had discovered her joy for snow by creating this iconic winter being. My first thoughts after the initial shock had worn off were “How am I going to tell Sorcha? How will she take this?” I was guessing the news would not be welcome news because this was a girl whom the day before had had a near meltdown when she couldn’t get her socks on right.
I heard Sorcha getting up, and quickly got her ready for the day, keeping away from the window as to not bring the thought of anything snow related to her mind and went to have a shower. When I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard “Oh no…” from the living room; Sorcha had seen the carnage. She ran to the bathroom and said “Mummy? I think someone wrecked our snowman.” Bracing myself for the onslaught of weepy tears I sighed and said “Yes, sweetie…a man walked over him…I’m sorry…I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you’d be upset”. But she didn’t get upset, my 3 year old daughter took the news with the ease of someone much older and said “Oh, that’s ok Mummy. We can build a new one. Don’t be upset.” I was so proud of her. I had imagined hours of comforting talks, hours explaining that sometimes people do mean things without thinking or caring about how it will make others feel, but instead, she put it out of her head, moved on and left me in a haze of wonder. She and I didn’t make a new on that year, but I think her father and her did. (A bit off any possible path to keep the new one from harm.) I picked up the pieces of bark that we’d used to help create his face and put then in bag for possible future use. They are still in that bag, all these years later, in a drawer of an end table in our living room. Every time I look at those pieces of wood I’m reminded that people don’t always behave how you’d expect them to and that cold winter memories are usually very warming and that sometimes, with Sorcha’s help, a bit of snow can still be an exciting event in my life.
It's been a while since I've posted something on this blog. (too busy being awesome!) But once again, the monthly Words on Water at Saltwater Sounds has brought forth from me a piece of writing I like enough to post online. The theme for this month was "Winter". Here in the Miramichi we've had very light winter. It's been cold sure, but we've had very little in the way of snow. The day before yesterday it was 8 degrees and raining! But tonight we are getting a lot of snow and it's my favourite kind of snowfall; soft and beautiful.
I give you...
Winter Wonderment (which I dedicate to my Sorcha)
When I was a little girl, the most exciting event that could take place in my life, aside from days like Christmas and my birthday, was a snowfall. I grew up on the rainy west coast in Victoria and a snowfall, even if it was only a few cm, was a big deal. If it fell on a school day, waiting for recess was agony! The snow could be gone by 10:15 if it was suddenly sunny or rainy! What if we didn’t get a chance to play in it? Usually the snow was there for first recess, but by lunch time recess, usually due to melting and 100 kids making snow balls and snow men during first break, lunch time snow play was a desperate undertaking of rolling a snow ball from patch of white to patch of white over churned up muddy green, giving our snowmen a very hairy appearance or getting a snowball in the face a muddy experience. If our magical snowfall fell on the weekend or during holidays, my brother and I would spend hours in the yard building, running, piling, sliding, freezing and waiting for my Dad to offer to pull us around the yard in the almost pristine sled.
Some years, we would only get one snow fall or we wouldn’t get any at all. Some years, the snow lasted for a couple weeks and the novelty of the snow would actually wear off and we would want again for the comfort of our green.
As a teenager and in my early 20’s I got my fill of snow. I lived in Ottawa and in the winter there was no shortage of it. Much like a lot of Miramichi winters, the snow would last for what seemed like forever. Having to wear clunky boots, scratchy hats and bulky coats is never a strong desire for a teenager. I was never one for really caring about what I looked like in my warm finery, but in early high school my brother said that one of my hoods made me look like ET and I became quite self conscious about my winter gear for years. During this time in my life participating in outdoor winter fun was never something that brought me joy. I didn’t really like skiing, skating on the Rideau Canal was a bumpy affair that left me sore and sledding always made me miserable because I was extremely good at getting snow up my sleeves. Spring brought a sort of freedom; I could stop looking like an alien and feel more like the awkward teenager that I liked only slightly more and I could stop making excuses for why I didn’t want to participate in anything wintery.
My husband and I moved from Ottawa to the west coast after we married and rain or snow, dreary grey or bright white made no real difference in our lives. Rain in the winter was the norm, and snow was never a treat. It was just weather. However, when our daughter was born, we started to feel the tingle of magic wonder that a snow fall can bring. We pictured ourselves bundling up our wee one and teaching her how to make a snowball, or a snow fort, showing her how to make the perfect stereo typical snow man and sharing in the beauty of a soft snowfall at night.
Sorcha’s first experience with snow occurred when she was 17months old. We’d had a fairly heavy snow fall and I’d been stuck inside for a couple days because I didn’t have tractor tires on her stroller. However, once it melted off the sidewalks, I took Sorcha up to hill to a community park. Once out of her stroller, she stared around her at the whiteness mixed with green. Without hesitating she bent down and put her mitted hands in and immediately put one hand in her mouth. Being the wonderful mother I am, I didn’t scold her, but quickly took a picture of her first taste of cold white snow; she wasn’t impressed. I let her run around in it until she found a broken bottle under a tree and we went on home. Soon the snow was gone and it brought a quick close to Sorcha’s first experience with snow.
Shorty after Christmas of 2003, when Sorcha was just 2, we got about a foot and half of snow in a couple days; a huge deal for southern coastal BC. In a freshly purchased pair of used purple snow pants, Sorcha took her first walk falling snow. She laughed as the snow flakes tickled her lashes and marveled at the different pattern every snow flake seemed to be. The snow was barely covering the grass at this point so no attempt at a snow man was made, but Sean rolled a couple snowballs for her and Sorcha had great fun throwing them at me. The next day the snow was deeper, but joy and the novelty of snow were quickly replaced with dismay and frustration as Sorcha struggled to wade through the wet, heavy snow that came up over her wee knees. Tears signaled the end of fun thus ending Sorcha’s second experience with snow.
The following winter we got more snow then we’d had in years and it lasted for over a month. We had moved to a different place by then and the complex offered a huge park area for playing and running around in. Once again bundled up in her purple snow pants, Sorcha and I went out for fun in the snow. She was a bit taller, a bit stronger then the year before so the slog through the snow was more enjoyable. It was a lovely day for being outside and together, Sorcha and I built her first snowman. He didn’t have a hat or scarf as it was a communal yard and more then likely they would have been stolen from the poor guy within the hour so we settled on creating a snowman with a half classical whimsy about him. As we were building him near a tree that had shed everything for winter, sticks were easy to find and we used them for arms, a smiling mouth, nose and sticky up hair. For the eyes and buttons we collected pieces of bark from the gardens under the windows that hadn’t been covered with snow yet. When we were finished, we stood back and assessed our creation with satisfaction. Both of us were hot from the rolling and packing of snow, our long hair was coming out from under our hats and our hands were starting to go numb due to snow soaked mitts; but we were pleased. Sorcha beamed at her first snowman and I was happy to have shared another first with her. We stumbled back inside and right after we stripped off our wet snow gear, we went to the living room window to see if we had a good view our new winter friend. The view from our 4th floor window was perfect; there he stood, under a tree, leaning slightly back and smiling right up at us.
One morning, a few days after we’d built our snowman, I went to the window to see how our snow friend was fairing. He was still there, arms spread wide, big happy grin smiling up at me. As I sat there sipping my coffee, I saw a guy cutting through the yard most likely taking a short cut to get to a walking trail beyond the property. And from our window, I watched in absolute horror, as this person made a B-Line for our handsome snowman, walked over him and crushed him to the ground. I was shocked and angry! Why would he do that? Did he think he was a big man because he wrecked this happy creation? Had he been attacked by a snowman as child and now all snowman in his path were the enemy? It wasn’t as if there was no space to walk around it. He had clearly done it on purpose! Now you may be thinking “What’s the big deal? It’s just a snowman.” But to me, he was so much more then that. I’d found my childhood joy in snow again and created something special with my daughter who had discovered her joy for snow by creating this iconic winter being. My first thoughts after the initial shock had worn off were “How am I going to tell Sorcha? How will she take this?” I was guessing the news would not be welcome news because this was a girl whom the day before had had a near meltdown when she couldn’t get her socks on right.
I heard Sorcha getting up, and quickly got her ready for the day, keeping away from the window as to not bring the thought of anything snow related to her mind and went to have a shower. When I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard “Oh no…” from the living room; Sorcha had seen the carnage. She ran to the bathroom and said “Mummy? I think someone wrecked our snowman.” Bracing myself for the onslaught of weepy tears I sighed and said “Yes, sweetie…a man walked over him…I’m sorry…I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you’d be upset”. But she didn’t get upset, my 3 year old daughter took the news with the ease of someone much older and said “Oh, that’s ok Mummy. We can build a new one. Don’t be upset.” I was so proud of her. I had imagined hours of comforting talks, hours explaining that sometimes people do mean things without thinking or caring about how it will make others feel, but instead, she put it out of her head, moved on and left me in a haze of wonder. She and I didn’t make a new on that year, but I think her father and her did. (A bit off any possible path to keep the new one from harm.) I picked up the pieces of bark that we’d used to help create his face and put then in bag for possible future use. They are still in that bag, all these years later, in a drawer of an end table in our living room. Every time I look at those pieces of wood I’m reminded that people don’t always behave how you’d expect them to and that cold winter memories are usually very warming and that sometimes, with Sorcha’s help, a bit of snow can still be an exciting event in my life.
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