Friday, February 7, 2020

no small relief

It’s just after 6pm and I’m staring out the window watching the snow swirl. Baby brother Olaf is on his way here and I’m worried. I would have preferred that he stay home, even though I was excited about having him here. Carm is out to the grocery store getting provisions for breakfast. He doesn’t have as far to go, and I know he’s a careful driver.

I should put the blind down…

The snow arrived with a vengeance overnight, leaving drifts everywhere. Carm snowblowed in the afternoon and figured we got about 25cm, and since then we’ve gotten a few more. I shovelled some of the back deck, but gave up once my face felt frozen. I’m a lily.


In between practice with the dogs, I played with software. Carm wanted me to try editing one from our trip. Here’s the original, followed by the result. 




It’s just so much fun!

Carm’s back, laden with food and bad news about the roads. The oven is cooking some lasagne and the instant pot has ribs. Warm food for the arctic explorers. 

I’ll be pacing the living room, checking the clock.

… later...  it was was with no small amount of relief that I saw headlights turn into the laneway!


“I feel good with my husband: I like his warmth and his bigness and his being-there and his making and his jokes and stories and what he reads and how he likes fishing and walks and pigs and foxes and little animals and is honest and not vain or fame-crazy and how he shows his gladness for what I cook him and joy for when I make him something, a poem or a cake, and how he is troubled when I am unhappy and wants to do anything so I can fight out my soul-battles and grow up with courage and a philosophical ease. I love his good smell and his body that fits with mine as if they were made in the same body-shop to do just that. What is only pieces, doled out here and there to this boy and that boy, that made me like pieces of them, is all jammed together in my husband. So I don't want to look around any more: I don't need to look around for anything.”
~Sylvia Plath

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