Sandra-Kay Austin

 Ready for a taste of West Coast Spring?  Enjoy!

Spring’s Promise

Two Juncos zoomed by, one chasing the other, and a smile came to my lips.  Spring. It surrounded me.  Its subtle scent of the wet season’s mould and decaying matter not yet dissipated by the sun, mixing with the faint fragrance of the earliest flowers dotting the resurrected swath of green spikes and ovals in my garden. I licked my dry lips and tasted the tart flavour of wood smoke from my neighbour’s morning fire that stubbornly insisted on hanging in the air.  Brilliantly coloured Purple Finches filled the evergreens above me, the males singing for all they were worth in hopes of attracting a mate or perhaps boasting that they’d already acquired one. A squirrel scampered energetically up one of the nearby trunks, chattering happily in the new warmth that was attempting to chase the coolness from my bare face and hands.  Spring. Nature shedding the past and clothing itself in the promise of wonders to come.

 “Look! There’s a hummingbird!” my husband exclaimed the next evening.
My face snapped toward the window.  Shifting slightly in my easy chair, I honed in on the dazzling green jewel hovering near the right corner. It moved slowly sideway along the glass looking inside at us and I chuckled. “Okay little scout.  I see you’re back. I’ll get your food made and fill the feeders tomorrow.”  Anticipation stirred at the tiny minute acrobat’s unspoken promise of our five resident families return from their southern vacation.

“It sure feels like spring,” I remarked to my husband, stepping out of the car the next morning. The shimmering sunlight still was foreign to my eyes after the rainy season and I blinked. When its warm rays began to seep through my black fleecy, one hand reached for the zipper pull as Allan’s hand swallowed the other.  I felt him tug in the direction of the grocery store.
My eyes zeroed in on the newly displayed flats of small green plants near the entrance.  Some with flowers open.  And lots of promising buds. The heavy automatic glass doors suddenly slid open with a protesting grumble. I quickly chased Allan’s broad back into the narrow colourful corridor. Bouquets of Daffodils and Tulips.  Potted Lilies and Hyacinths.   Their sweet subtle scent tickled my nostrils. Reaching up, I squeezed my nose to squelch a sneeze.  Soft background music drifted to my ears as I walked into the main room.  Drawn to a table of seasonal goodies by a spicy fruity odour, my nose twitched. Mmm, hot cross buns. The purple-foil-wrapped chocolate bunnies, bright yellow stuffed chicks, and foil-wrapped rainbow of candy eggs next to them brought a grin. Sure signs of Spring. And Easter! Buns with crosses, to remind us that Jesus died so that we might live in intimate relationship with God.  And bulbs, last year’s growth dead but leaves, flowers, and buds once again vibrant with life. How’s that for a picture to remind us that Jesus rose from the grave and is alive in Heaven now?  My grin widened.  And these cute bunnies, chicks, and eggs?  Symbols of abundant new life.  Reminders of the life that can be ours now and the one in Heaven that’s promised to those who love Him after they die. A new spring in my step, my heart singing with spring’s promise, Jesus words echoed through my mind:
*“…I am the Resurrection and the Life, Whoever believes in (adheres to, trusts in, and relies on) Me, although he may die, yet he shall live.”

 _{* John 11:25 Amplified Bible}

Had a recent event turn your thoughts to a weird thing lately?  I did.

The Weirdest Thing

The sun rose above the horizon and bright light streaked through the evergreens, revealing a back yard that resembled a boa producing factory full of green feathers after an explosion.  What a mess! The papers said it was the worst storm in thirty years and sure looks like it!  Wow!  Those boughs on the ground are huge!  I shuddered at the thought of having been hit by one when they’d been zooming down like javelins.  Thank you God, not even one tree down in our yard.  Not the best days of my life though.  Four days without power and Allan away. Sure was glad for the generator, even if it is stressful figuring out mechanical stuff.  I sighed as the enormity of the clean-up hit me.  Time to tackle it today. Can’t put it off any more.
Noticing that hungry birds were starting to brave the cold still air that had moved in after the rain and hurricane force wind, my gaze latched onto a small Redpole when the sunlight intensified its vivid rose head.  He’s sure beautiful in spring.  Wonder if he’s won a mate yet.  As if to answer me, he landed beside a dowdy brown female on the cement edge of the birdbath.  Good! One order of chirping babies on its way.  I chuckled and carried my coffee into the living room. “Feels like spring’s finally coming.  It’s even getting light earlier now,” I remarked to my husband, who was relaxing in his easy chair.
“Yeah, it’s nice.”  He glanced up and then looked down again. Sliding a finger up the small computer screen that he was holding, he moved a card to a top pile. “Soon we’ll be getting up in the dark again though.  Daylight Savings Time.”
My spirits dropped.  “Stupid time change,” I muttered.  “You just get used to enjoying getting up in the daylight and they take it away for a while.”

Gazing at the calendar above the sink while cleaning up after breakfast, I frowned at the words on the March 11^th square.  Daylight Savings Time begins in USA and Canada. I cranked on the tap, swished my soapy dishcloth around the stainless basin, and watched the swirling suds disappear down the drain.  Too bad I can’t make Daylight Savings disappear like this.
As I was shoving a clean plastic container into a bottom cupboard, the old time change rhyme came to mind. ‘Spring forward in spring and fall back in fall.’ I wondered if the person who wrote it thought changing time was a nuts idea too. Lose and hour in spring and gain it back in fall!  As if you’re saving it to produce later when you need it!  A side of my mouth lifted.  Have to admit that in my younger years that would have been handy though. Always racing the hours to get enough done in the day with two toddlers, a family, and running a business. And it wasn’t any better with running the charity and living with a house full of teens and troubled people. Time sprinting by and me struggling to catch up.  A click from the dishwasher silenced its hum.  The sudden quiet in the room seemed to swing the pendulum and memories came of time slowing to a crawl during my years of sickness. I thought the hours would never end then!  Amusement crinkled my eyes.  Time is the weirdest thing!  It seems to change but it actually doesn’t.  Only our perception of it changes.  It just keeps marching on: bringing us the same number of seconds, minutes, and hours in a day.  We really can’t save it up for later, slow it down, or make it go faster when we’d like. And one day it is going to run out for each of us.  Makes a person wonder what they’re doing with it right now, doesn’t it?  And question whether we’re loving those close to us during our seconds, living well with those around us during our hours, and leaving the world a better place at the end of our day?

Storm damage in our area.

 Been thinking about love this month and thought you might enjoy this story about an unusual love and its surprising result.

Bound by Love

She nuzzled its chubby tummy, swiped her rough tongue across its silky grey neck, and touched her nose to its tiny one.  A weak squeak issued from the kitten’s throat.  Shifting her attention to the shivering black-and-white sibling next to it, she hooked the still-blind baby with a smoke-coloured leg and pulled it nearer to her chest.  After that, she sent a fierce warning glance to the dog watching from a short distance away.
I chucked when the Great Britton Spaniel stepped backwards.  Taking in her uncertain brown eyes as she approached me, my heart softened.  I knelt to gather her into my arms.
“I know, it’s the pits.  Tuffy lets me see the kittens and she won’t let you near them at all.”

 “Their eyes are open!” I gushed a few days later, as if personally responsible for this wonderful change.
Allan glanced over the top of his open newspaper. “Yeah. Looked like rats before but they’re getting cute now.”
They were always cute! I beamed at the four fat kittens and their stretched-out mother on the soft towel in the cardboard box.  Anticipation filled me as the grey miniature-of-its-mother-one tried to squirm over a feeding sibling. Just wait! They’ll be really cute soon! Walking around on wobbly legs and playing!
A few minutes later, I watched Tuffy free herself from her wee charges and jump from the box.  She rubbed against my leg and the faint scent that had recently been added to her familiar feline odour drifted up to my nostrils again.  Kitten or milk smell?  I eyed the new hollows in her sides as she walked away. Then, noticing that the dog was napping on the mat where she was headed, I suggested, “Cuddles, you might want to move.” My brow puckered when I saw that the cat was making a bee line for the dog even though she’d moved over near the wall.  She sure doesn’t want her anywhere around now that the kittens are here.  Just as I was about to intervene, Tuffy rubbed against the Cuddle’s legs.  With my mouth slight agape from surprise, I watched Cuddles gently nose along her bony spine.  After that the cat padded over to the door and grinning down at the dog with the sparkling eyes and stumpy waving tail, I assured, “Told you.  She doesn’t really hate you now.”

 Later that day wild mewing snapped my eyes away from stew that I was preparing for dinner. “What the..where are you taking…” I threw the spoon onto the counter and scrambled after the cat with the squalling kitten clasped in its mouth.  Realizing that she was running towards my bedroom at the end of the hall, I scurried faster.  My stomach lurched when the dog sat up in the bedroom doorway.  The cat reacted by halting a few feet from her, which brought the thought, don’t scare them! They might fight. Freezing where I was, the possibility that Tuffy might turn around occurred to me. Then she dropped the kitten on the linoleum. It uttered a loud squeak and my insides turned to jelly. When Tuffy started to nose the kitten towards Cuddles, my eyes widened. The little thing stopped against a dog’s paw, the cat looked up, and the Spaniel responded by dropping her head to sniff the complaining infant. I wondered if my eyes were deceiving me as the cat picked up the kitten, carried it past me, and returned it to the box. A shiver ran through me when she jumped out with another protesting infant. She’s introducing them!  Feeling like a spectator at a secret ritual, I stayed still while she brought each of the remaining kittens to the dog. Then, when she returned to the box and was settling down inside with them, the pungent scent coming from the stove drew me back.

 The next day frantic mewing pulled my attention to the box again.  Seeing that the cat was stretching near it, I inquired, “Need outside?” Her yellow eyes focused on me. Then, sauntering over to the dog, she gave her a lingering glance.  Whatever did you say to her? I wondered, as she went toward the door.
After a while it dawned on me that the cat had been gone longer than usual.  And the kittens are sure quiet.  Uneasiness stirred and I walked to the box.  “Cuddles!”  The dog raised her head, grinned at me, checked on the kittens nestled against her prone body on the blanket, and dropped her head again.  Right then Tuffy meowed.  Cat wants in. Now what do I do?  If I chase the dog, she’ll just come back. Instinct suggested that I let Tuffy chase her.
Dread made my stomach churn as I watched the cat go to her box.  I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. Maybe this is a bad idea.  As Tuffy placed her paws on the edge of the box and peered inside, my muscles tensed. Right after that my heart skipped a beat when the dog stood and the cat scrambled over the edge at the same time. The kittens! You’ll hurt them!  I giant-stepped toward the box, as the dog jumped out. She looked back and my gaze flew to the cat. I saw that she was regarding Cuddles but couldn’t read her expression.  Then she mewed as if to say thanks and relief made my knees grow weak.
While considering this odd babysitting arrangement that was now happening on a regular basis, I chuckled a few days later.  Gives the word ‘family’ a different meaning.  Those bound by love, not necessarily by biology.

 The Bible says that love is patient, kind, self-sacrificing, and always endures everything. It believes the best of the other and never comes to an end*   Even a dog and cat, two completely different species thrown into a family unit, figured out that love is the glue that makes good things happen in families.  Makes you wonder why quite a few of us humans still don’t get that, eh?  

_{1Cor. 13: 4-7     (Amplified Bible)}

Come.  Join me on a wintery walk into the next year.

Tracks

The slender fir trees underneath the mercury-coloured sky waved a gentle greeting when I gazed through the sliding glass door.  Sitting down as close to the door as my knees would allow without touching the cold glass, I set my steaming coffee down on the kitchen table near my elbow.  A warm smile sprung to my eyes. Well. Good morning to you too. The grey fluffy-ball-with-a-black-head outside the door regarded me as if in response and then hopped over to the bedraggled potted snapdragon a few inches away.  I wrapped my fleece robe more tightly around my legs and lifted my mug of pungent coffee.  Flavoured liquid-warmth filled my mouth, awakened my oesophagus, and pooled in my stomach.  Ah. The small Junco started to eat the few seeds that had stubbornly been clinging to the plant and I thought about getting some cereal.  Suddenly, the bird jumped down onto the snow-covered deck. My brows lifted a bit when it hopped to the corner of the enclosed porch and disappeared behind the wall.  Why didn’t it just fly?  Puzzled, I studied the evenly-spaced bare-sapling-looking marks that remained along my edge of the snowy rectangle of deck.
A few minutes later I elbowed my empty mug aside, placed my bowl down on the table, and glanced out into the yard again.  The very recent line of holes that resembled a white oblong bead and black pearl necklace stretched out from the deck stairs to the low feeder in the middle brought my nose closer to the glass. I craned my neck.  Then, deciding that the little red squirrel that often kept me company during breakfast was gone, I picked up my spoon.
The dark sky over the distant trees grew lighter as I munched my milk-covered flakes  Suddenly, as if the light had reached down to shake the closer firs behind the garden, a mixed flock of feathered creatures erupted into the air.  My spoon paused. The majority zoomed to the feeder hanging above the squirrel’s and I realized, they look twice their size with their feathers so fluffed out. Wow it must be cold out there. I frowned at a rusty-breasted black-headed Towhee when it claimed the feeder by intimidating a smaller Chickadee. Then several tiny Chickadees flew to its rescue, the overwhelmed Towhee shot out of the feeder, and my heart clapped.  After it settled on the ground and began to pick at the tiny black seed-dots that had fallen onto the well-scratched snow, I scooped up another spoonful of cereal.  Just as I was popping it into my mouth, a suspicious set of larger-than-squirrel-holes near the eating Towhee snagged my attention. Oh Oh. Raccoon.  Wonder what it was into this time?  My gaze followed the dark circles across the yard until they vanished into the dead and dying stalks of the garden.  A slightly smaller set of prints over there caught my eye then.  The neighbour’s cat. Hunting here again.  A sigh escaped.  Well, it’s gone now so just finish eating and get out for your walk.

“Nice out today, even if it is minus eight.  You just have to dress for it,” I said, watching snowflakes swirl and land on the country road ahead later.  One avoided the brim on my cap and landed in my left eye. I blinked it out before my fleece-covered ears picked up my friend’s slightly-muted reply that she’d added a vest under her jacket.  I watched her adjust the heavy wool scarf that was concealing her mouth. Hearing her call to the brown and white dog romping through the spotless ditch a short distance away, I instinctively checked over my shoulder.  The only disturbances to be seen on the straight snow-covered road were a pair of partly covered tire tracks, two sets of side-by-side footprints, and a set of dog tracks that kept veering off into the ditch.
Turning back, my gaze followed the tire tracks until they faded into two smudged streaks and melted into the white landscape. A gust of wind from the sea swished through the white-iced evergreens down the road, causing the trees off to the side to take turns bowing as it came towards me.  Before it could reach me, I dropped my head to protect my eyes and pulled my collar up over my already chilly cheeks.  The blowing horizontal snow hit me. Then the air returned to a filmy curtain of large flakes and I noticed the line of double crescent-shaped indents that was crossing the road.  Deer.  And hardly any snow in them so just made.  Memory stirred, leaving me a bit uneasy.  I scanned the area. Tossing a grin at my friend’s profile, I mutely remarked, good thing it’s just deer tracks today. If she’d come with me yesterday, she’d never want to walk here again!  Thinking about the new cougar tracks that had been on top of yesterday’s deer tracks brought on the sudden urge to look over my shoulder.
Shortly after the winter-postcard-scene behind me eased my nervousness, curiosity drove me over to where the nose-to-the-ground dog was stopped. I swiped a tissue across my dripping nose and considered the messy splotch of sunken circles interrupting the snow where the road and the ditch fused.  “Rabbit.”  Taking in the double trail of intermittent circles of four that were between the forest and there, my gaze moved to the sleek dog’s retreating back.  Good. Go back to her.  Don’t follow the thing. 
The playful wind threw a cloud of snow into my face right as I was falling in beside the bundled woman and her thigh-high frolicking pet. Raising my gloved hand, I brushed it away. Then, a soft swishing sound pulled my gaze over to the closest evergreen boughs that were drawing back as if they’d just been tickled. Spotting the dark eagle perched on a high snow-whitened branch, my breath caught.  Cool! I love being out when it’s like this! Easier to see neat stuff like this.  And tracks really stand out so you know who’s been here.

What would happen if someone came across the tracks that you left behind you last year? Would they conclude that something only interested in meeting its needs no matter the cost to others like a destructive raccoon or predatory cat had been there? Would they think that something totally occupied with scratching out a living like a bird or squirrel had left them behind? What about something like a dog that’s mainly obsessed with play? Last year’s trail is what it is.  And we’ve begun to leave marks on the fresh snow of another year.  So what kind of a trail are you leaving?  I’m hoping that people can already see a few footprints of kindness and caring on mine. What about you?  After all, how else will anyone know that a human being trying to make the world around them a better place passed that way?

 ‘Tis the season.  Bright lights, upbeat music, cheery people, and Christmas glitter.  But what if life has thrown you a curve ball and you don’t feel like celebrating?  Maybe reading this will help.

A glow in the Darkness

“You’ve had a really hard time of it these last three months,” she said in a voice softened by sympathy.  Dark hair swinging forward to hide rosy cheeks, she dropped her gaze to the card clutched against her winter coat.  “And now…with your mother’s death just a few weeks before Christmas…”
I stepped back with a tiny smile and invited the petite woman into the warm living room.
Walking through the doorway, her blue eyes flew to the brightly lit Christmas tree a few feet away.  Surprise sprung to her face. “You’re still celebrating Christmas?”
My mind reeled.  Of course, I’m celebrating Christmas!
 
How could I not celebrate Christmas? Not celebrate Jesus’ birthday? That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Why, He’s the reason that mother is in Heaven now! He was *The One born to offer people eternal life in Heaven after death.  *He lived and died on earth to show us how we can have an intimate relationship with the God of Love. *He rose from His grave and returned to Heaven to prepare a place there for those who love and believe in Him. He is the reason that I know where Mother is now!  Yes, I’m sad because I love her and miss her. Our long telephone conversations in the morning are gone. Her sweet smile, dark brown eyes aglow with love, gentle pats on my hand, and the warmth of her frail eighty-seven-year-old body responding to my hug when we‘re together are only a memory now. Yes, my eyes will probably tear during Christmas Services because she no longer sits beside me.  And my heart is likely to ache when our extended family opens gifts together and her delighted “ooh!” is missing. *But I’ll have the comfort of knowing that our separation is only temporary.  *And when I consider the wonders that she is experiencing in Heaven now, joy will lighten my heart.  Of course I’m celebrating Jesus birthday! His birth changed everything for me!  Because He was born, hope and joy glow in grief’s darkness. 
 
 Whatever the circumstances you find yourself in this season, I pray that God would reveal the true meaning of Christmas to you.  Merry Christmas my readers!  I hope that you’ll be celebrating Jesus’ birthday too!
 
_{John 3:16, 1 John 4:9&10, I John 5:11&20, John 14:1-3, John 11:25&26, 1 Corinthians 15:20, 2 Corinthians 5:8, Revelation 21:4&10-Revelation 22:5   The Holy Bible}

Been surprised by something this past summer?  Come, discover my summer surprise.

Mother of the Wind

The strong wind sucked the exclamation of surprise right out of my mouth.  I braced my body against its assault. Squinting at the objects floating in the azure sky above the sparkling bay, I thought, this is cool.
“Let’s walk out the point,” my husband said, a gust of wind overriding the thud of his closing door.
I tore my eyes from the spectacle in the sky and realized that Allan’s tan-coloured baseball cap was trying to fly away.  My lips immediately formed a warning.
With a grimace, Allan clamped a fist down on his head. He yanked the hat off, tightened its back strap, and pushed it firmly down on his head with a confident “It’ll stay now.” His eyebrows rose and fell like wings in flight.  “I sure hope I don’t get a headache. It’s so tight.”
“Better that than burn that shiny dome of yours,” I teased with a grin. My hand slipped into his and we started to walk past the vehicles squashed door-to-door on the right side of the narrow dirt strip. When a slim blonde girl in a wet suit padded past us like a sleek black cat, I returned her nod. After that it dawned on me that a car was crawling along behind us and I pulled Allan in between two parked vehicles. Wow, this is a busy place.
 
My gaze followed the dust from the passing car when the wind snatched it and pushed it to shore. What a stunning view! I snapped a mental photo of the scene: the brilliant blue ocean divided by the thin finger of land, the pale sandy shoreline behind that quickly gave way to green, the streak of concealed river that wound its way through that and the steep emerald hills, and the glimmering snowcapped mountain that towered over all.  Looking right, where thick forest flanked the strip of sea, I exclaimed, “Look! They’re on this side too! It looks like they’re using parachutes to water ski or something.”
Allan continued to plod into the wind. “Yeah,” he muttered absentmindedly.
I smiled when he stopped and removed the cap from his camera. My eyes moved left when he pointed it in that direction. For some time I studied the world’s second largest granite monolith. It squatted above the inlet as if it owned it and my mind searched for the information that I’d read in the guidebook.  It’s fondly called, ‘The Chief’…oh, and it’s a place of spiritual significance to the local First Nations.  Let’s see.  What else?…Oh. I know. Its sheer rock face was first climbed in 1961 and the mountain is a favourite of rock climbers and internationally recognized for its variety of climbs at every skill level.
 
Facing into the wind again, I eyed the activity at the end of the spit and then started toward the cluster of rubber-clad bodies gathered at a picnic table near the one small building. Man it’s windy here!  The words from the guidebook, ‘Squamish’ means ‘Mother of the Wind’ in the Salish language’ popped into my head. Then my tearing eyes honed in on the free-standing white sign propped near the shack.  Looks like someone’s selling help in case of emergency or equipment failure. I studied the row of large oblong items perched on the sand past the building. Glancing at a wet-suit-clad group close by, I questioned, “Are you sure it’s okay to go out there?”
Allan gazed at me as if I’d suggested that someone might be charging for the sunlight on the point. He scanned it. “I don’t see anything to say we can’t. Maybe we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

A few minutes later, I swallowed the sea-salt-flavoured sandy saliva that had accumulated in my mouth and watched several bronze rubber-clothed-athletes suspended beneath gigantic nylon rectangles glide across the water a short distance from me. My mouth curved in appreciation as they swung up into the air, landed smoothly with their mini surf boards again, and slid away across the sea.  Suddenly, realizing that two rectangular black chutes were on a collision course, I tensed. When they missed each other by inches and the men below let out whoops of laughter, my dry throat coughed up a chuckle.
“Enjoying the show?” a deep jovial voice asked.
A bit surprised, I turned to regard the middle-aged man who was approaching.  Muscular and wearing a wet suit. Must be one of them.  I nodded with a friendly smile.  “This is really cool!  We’ve never seen anything like it before!”
“It’s called kiteboarding.”  He pointed out at the water, where a man who appeared to be in his thirties was gripping the long white strings below a red kite and zooming in our direction.  “Watch this.”
My eyes widened when the kiteboarder jumped gracefully into the air, flipped completely around in one smooth motion, and landed with the agility of a panther.  Boy is he ever good!  The sun-or-wind-burned man zipped away toward The Straight again and my gaze returned to the man beside me.
“Good thermals today,” he explained, with a knowing grin. “Squamish is known for them. People come from all over the world to kiteboard here.  This year the Kiteboarding Nationals were held here.”
My peripheral vision picked up a girl entering the bay. I watched her glide almost right to us, leap into the air, thrust her legs out straight behind her body, and splash awkwardly head-first down into the water. Must still be learning.  When she surfaced with a sputter and a garbled giggle, I smiled.  After that several bright kites that had followed her into the bay pulled my attention from her frantic swim to catch up with her board. The new arrivals successfully executed a sychronized jump and I could almost feel the delight that sprung onto their tanned faces.
“Are you going to try it?”
Me?  My face snapped to the weathered face next to me.  The sincere expression on it evoked a laugh.  “No way!  Not at this point of my life.  I’m just happy to watch!”

I wonder.  How about you?  When someone else is soaring in life and you aren’t, does it make you happy? Or, does it fill you with envy? Watching someone else soar is a great spectator sport – if you’re wearing ‘I’m-so-happy-for-you-glasses’!

Been stepping out to have fun this summer?  Here’s a story that’ll take you along on one of my stepping-out-evenings.

It Only Takes One

Stepping to the left in time with the music, I lost my balance. The strong arm muscles that my raised arm was resting on tensed.
“You okay?” my husband asked, moving that arm sideways to pull my body up straight again.
I nodded with an apologetic smile and followed his lead to step back. Dumb muscles.   Wish they’d just stop doing their own thing! My memory suddenly skipped back to my many years of immobility and struggling to walk with aids. Be happy it only happens sometimes now. Celebrate! You’re dancing! Taking the next step, I feared my heart would burst with joy. So what if you can’t remember most of what you learned at ballroom classes thirty years ago!  So what if your body refuses to move the way it did then! You’re dancing!
Chin up, I weaved through some embracing swaying couples near by, sliding heart-first into the romantic fifties tune the four-piece male band was playing. My feet glided through a familiar series of slow-slow-quick-quick backwards foxtrot steps after that and my nose caught the salty scent of sweat trying to sneak into the woodsy floor-wax-and-perfumed-soap-smell of the dim hall. I glanced at the three grey-haired couples on my right that I was passing. They seemed to be in competition for a square of hardwood floor, which brought a twinkle to my eye because the floor was empty a short distance away. My soft silk skirt swished against my calves as I stepped back to open into a promenade, placing my right foot behind my left.  As I was stepping forward, an elegant lady in jewels and a long red gown danced into view right behind them.  My throat caught in a squelched chuckle. And I wore dress jeans the first time I came! How was I to know that people would actually dress up to come to a weekly senior’s dance in Courtenay?

“Better sit down for a bit.  My hip’s seizing again,” Allan said, before the band could begin the next song.
The feeling that the world had flipped upside down rushed through me. How strange is this? I can still move and he has to sit down? His warm hand closed over mine and he started through the waiting dancers.  My ears perked up when the air started to throb with a Spanish piece. “Nice timing, it’s a cha cha!” I teased. “I know you love them.”
A few minutes later, the lilting strains of a waltz filled the hall. Dancers began to sway to its sleepy cadence and Allan shifted in his chair. My eyes crinkled.  Yep. I can always count on you for a waltz! “Want to dance now?” I asked tongue in cheek, smiling into his blue eyes when he turned to me with raised brows.
The sensation of ‘being home’ swept over me as my husband drew me into his arms.  Together, we launched our bodies into the swells of the three-quarter-time waltz.  Rising and falling gently, twirling slowly, and sedately zigzagging, I danced around the floor. An older slightly-stooped woman in a couple who were rocking back and forth to their own one-two-beat smiled at me. I quickly returned her greeting before following Allan’s directions to spin under his arm and then begin a series of alternating backwards steps that would take us in a line around the edge of the dancers. My eyes latched onto a stylish couple doing complex patterns in the center. I watched with appreciation until a couple dancing beside us blocked my view when Allan turned me. Regarding the petite woman’s face, a friendly smile sprung to my lips. Her brown eyes met mine, widened, and darted away.  Ouch! I thought, feeling as if the air had just been sucked from the room.

My heart still reeled from rejection when we returned to our eight-person table a few minutes later. Eyeing the two solitary glasses on its grey top, I wondered, what’s wrong with us?  Why do all the other tables have to be full before people sit with us? We’ve been coming for months. They should recognize us by now. And we’re friendly…we’ve introduced ourselves and talked to people. I plopped down on my chair with a tiny sigh.  What more can we do?  We’ve arrived early hoping that someone coming in would join us and stayed afterwards to help clean up and get to know people. Picking up my plastic glass, I soothed my parched throat with a swallow of diet cola. I guess coffee break time at the last dance said it all, didn’t it? I mean really…we’re first into the break room, sit down at a table, and they all sit at other tables with other people. Talk about feeling like you have the plague! Aren’t we good enough for them? My slumped shoulders straightened.  You’re as good as they are. And you paid your two cents to be here just like they did! Forget the getting-to-know-people-thing.  You’re out with your husband, the band’s good, and you love to dance!

Sipping my drink, I tapped my foot and studied the short chubby sax player who was pouring his heart into a soulful solo. My focus shifted to the long-haired guitar player when he let out a saucy series of notes and then moved to the seated keyboard player and the vocalist as they took up the melody again. No wonder we heard that most of the musicians who play here used to be professionals. Snow on the roof now and still love to play! How cool is it for us that so many worldclass musicians choose to live and retire in the Comox Valley? Happy boisterous voices and laughter erupted behind my back and my spirits plummeted.  The contrasting silence at our table seemed to amplify the sadness in the blues melody so I turned my attention to the dancers again.  When the beat quickened to a lively jive, I watched a slim hippyish-looking couple choppy-legged-swing-in-and-out to their own beat close by. Then a touch on my shoulder got my attention.
“Would you like to come and sit at the back with us?” the blonde woman asked.
I stammered, “Why..why we’d love to!”
“Oh good.”  Her face relaxed. “I think our husband’s talked before. We were just sitting there and thought, ‘we should ask that couple up there to sit with us.’”
Getting to my feet, I felt as if my heart had just been tied to rising balloons!

All of us have felt like outsiders at some time: longing to feel we belong but not wanting to intrude.  One night one woman’s kindness and courage changed that feeling in us. Not only did we connect with that couple then, but her action broke the ice and others lost their reluctance to join us at tables at subsequent dances. I wonder. Have you put your courage and kindness into action lately?  Sometimes it only takes one caring person to change things.

My son’s fortieth birthday last month reminded me of an unusual accident that occurred just before his birth. Thought you might enjoy the story.

Crunch, Thud, Thwack

The soft swish from my moccasins on the chipped scratched linoleum in the living room brought a song to my heart.  A real floor! Not just rough planks that I can’t even clean properly! And you can see your face in it now. Yeah. Well worth a good scrub, some wax, and raw knees. My gaze rose to the bulb glowing steadily in the ceiling. Electricity again!  How great is that after all the flickering lantern light? I grinned at the metal stove sitting against the wall in the nearly empty room, the music in my heart swelling. And oil heat!  No more buckets of water freezing right by the stove at night. Or wood fires to constantly feed. Yeah. This place is great!  It even has running water most of the year! My eyes skimmed over the faded flowered wall-paper, paused on the battered closed door to the bedroom, and skittered past more wallpaper to the other door.  Three large rooms!  A mansion compared to our small one-room cabin. Overcome with joy, I roly-poly-bear-danced my way into the kitchen, where the heavenly aroma of home-made bread baking pricked my appetite. No way!  Even if you are eating for two.  You can’t eat again! I padded over to the old electric range.  Reaching around my swollen stomach, I pulled the two large golden-brown loaves from the oven. Perfect.  Easy to keep an even temperature now. No oven-next-to-the-flames-with-only-a-burned-out-firewall-between-thing going. Thank you Lord for sending Allan steady work so we could rent here before the baby comes! Setting the loaves on the cooling rack, I glanced at the clock.  Eleven o’clock. Good, he’ll be home soon.  I’m beat!

My eyelids drooped and the steaming tea in the large mug on the bare plastic tabletop before me blurred and disappeared. Jumping awake when the kitchen door flew open, my gaze snapped to the rifle hanging above it. The 303 settled back against the wall with another thud and I regarded my husband’s face.
“The highway’s flooded!  Got to get a flashlight and warn people!” Allan gushed.
Everyone’s going home from the sawmill! A chill gripped my heart. I placed my palms on the tabletop and pushed my bulky body up. One am. Good.  Not many other cars this late. The square of window near me brought a flicker of relief when it revealed a black void beyond our yard, where the Yellowhead Highway crawled along the North Thompson River. A drawer slammed and I realized that Allan was holding the large flashlight and turning back to go outside. “Wait! I’m coming!” Hurrying to him, I stepped out of my moccasins.  Jamming a foot into a fleece-lined rubber boot, my hand grabbed the warm coat dangling from the hook above it. I swung my stomach left to get the smaller flashlight from the drawer and then swung the other way to step into my remaining boot.  A surprised ‘uh,’ came out when I started to side-step across the floor like a drunk.  My eyes met Allan’s, just as he grasped my arm. Stop looking at me like that! I gave him a determined look. “I’m coming! I can help warn people.” After tucking the flashlight under an arm, I hastily fastened the coat’s top two buttons and yanked the pieces of material below towards each other.  Waddling through the door then, I struggled to see past the still-exposed gold smock stretched across my beach-ball-belly.

As I stepped out of the soft porch light, Allan’s strong flashlight beam cut into the weakly illuminated night. Glancing at the half-hidden crescent moon, I reminded, “My boots.”  My gaze dropped to the warm cap I’d knitted when he squatted to tie the laces. “Thanks, I murmured, stepping ahead with a crunch as he rose.  I felt his big hand clasp my free one. Then, I started to chase the short triangle of light along the melting-snowpile-edged driveway.
Allan swept the beam across the water-covered pavement as soon as we reached the two-lane highway.  ”No wonder the truck had trouble. It’s deep.” The light jumped forward.  ”Look at that!”
My eyes rounded. Taking in the black crack that ran almost the breadth of the road, I wondered, did we have an earthquake?
“Hit that at highway speed and you’ll crack up!” Allan followed the unexpected hazard over to the opposite shoulder and stooped to look over the edge. “The whole road’s undermined,” he said grimly, walking back. He motioned north. “You go that way. Wave the flashlight if you see someone coming. We’ll send them to the closest phone to call the RCMP.”
I know we can’t afford a phone yet but this is nuts, I thought, stumbling off in that direction. I plodded along the faded-yellow dotted line until my boots were as heavy as sledgehammers and my back was threatening to collapse.  Looking over my shoulder then, I saw Allan’s dark far-away form. Oh, he must have turned off the flashlight to save the batteries. I flicked mine off too.  Then I turned back to check the straight stretch of road before the bend.  When two small glowing dots suddenly appeared on it, my heart fluttered.  A car! Get the flashlight on! I fumbled with the switch, pointed the light that way, started to make sweeping horizontal motions, and shuffled off to the shoulder. The lights grew steadily larger and closer. What are they doing? Can’t they see me? Perspiration popped out on my forehead and my hands grew clammy.  I desperately checked the flashlight.  Working. Realizing that I could make out the dark shape of the car behind the lights now, my pulses started to race. I waved the flashlight wildly.  Stop! The sedan zipped right past and the bottom fell out of my stomach.  No!  You’re going to… A loud thwack sent a shudder of horror through my body.  Frozen to the road, I watched the car’s lights begin to spin in my direction, sweep slowly across the bush behind the house, and stop.

Washing out the coffeepot later, the grin in my eyes spread to my mouth.  I guess they were just tired and not hurt, like they said.  Listen to them snore! And I was feeling bad because we could only give them a cheese sandwich and a pallet on the living room floor.  Better than their other choice of being hungry and sleeping in the car for a couple days anyways. After all it’s not so much what you give when someone’s in need but that you gladly give what you can, isn’t it?

PS  Around two am the next morning, we left the two mechanics from Victoria a note to lock up whenever their car was fixed and they were ready to leave.  After two and a half hours travelling to the nearest hospital in the car our neighbours insisted we take instead of our old truck, our son safely entered the world.

Received an unusual gift lately?  Thought you might enjoy hearing about one of mine.

So Ugly It’s Cute

“You need this.”
My eyes widened as my friend thrust a hard object into my hands. Why would I need a gaudy ceramic frog on a Lilly pad?
“Stick it in your garden.”
“Oh!…Okay.”

Standing on the back deck examining my friend’s gift early the next morning, a smile pulled at my lips.  Knock-your-eyes-out-blue.  Bulging eyes and ear-to-ear grin. So ugly it’s cute.  Yeah.  You should live in my garden. Sunlight seemed to be pointing out a section of long narrow flower bed and I considered it.  No.  Not there. The flowers are too tall now that it’s summer.  You won’t show. I instinctively ducked when a shimmering green blur zipped past my head.  My gaze followed the Rufous Hummingbird to the feeder a few feet away; where it hovered near the yellow bee guard, darted in, stuck its long tongue through a hole, and zoomed away again. Okay.  Back to the frog.  Where should it go? As if laying claim to the feeders and grass in the center of the yard, a flock of Juncos fluttered down and started to peck.  A twinkle came to my eye.  Yeah I know. That’s your section. Looking down at the critter in my hands, it dawned on me that competing for attention in this yard wouldn’t be easy.  A barrage of angry chatter hit my ears just then to prove the point. Scanning the tall fir trees behind the garden bed on my right, I spotted the resident Red Squirrel. Well hello little buddy.  How are you today? When he didn’t come to check out what I was doing it occurred to me that he must be watching something else. All of a sudden, he skittered down the bare grey trunk, leapt off the tree, and chased an interloping squirrel around the corner of the house.  I’d like to see you chase this away, I thought with a grin, stroking the frog’s smooth skin and peering around again. Now where should I put you? Near that rock?  Peeking out from under the rhodo?  Oh, I know. On that paving stone by the garden shed.  You’ll look as if you just hopped out of the flowers.

The sun was still trying to reclaim the morning and the scent of rain-scrubbed air overpowering the usual odors of evergreen and sea salt when I padded outside again. My eyes slid across the wet grass to the gardens; where raindrops clung to the edges of broad leaves, rested in long puddles on narrow leaves, and pooled in the centers of green spikes.  Hey! What happened to my frog? Racing across to the poor thing that was upside-down and almost buried by flowers down the slope, I felt a wave of frustration. No squirrel did this! Dumb raccoons! Can’t put one new thing out here without them putting their grubby little hands all over it. I set it gently back in place on the stepping stone. “Don’t worry little frog.  They know what you are now.  You can sit here in peace until it’s time to go inside for winter.”

Tilting my face up to feel the warmth of the spring sun after the longer-than-usual colder-than-usual winter, a small sigh of gratitude escaped through my lips.  A flash of ruby drew my eyes to the humming bird feeder that I’d just taken from storage, filled, and hung on the pole off the back deck.  Good.  You found it. Better get the rest of the stuff outside now. My mind sorted through pots and containers as I ambled over to the white garden shed and pried the warped plywood door open. Oh!..what’s… Suddenly, I felt as silly as a farmer afraid of a pea. The frog! It’s just the frog. A chuckle bounced around the hard walls and evaporated into the musty air.  Noticing that it was perched on the shelf just inches away as if it was going to leap past my shoulder at any second, I grabbed the creature’s cold round tummy. “Okay.  Okay, you can leave first.”  I forgot I even had you, I admitted to it with a grin, carrying it outside. The vivid memory of it being thrust into my hands popped into my head.  When a picture of my friend’s face followed, my heart grew as warm as the summer sun.

Friendship.  It begins with a smile, grows with love, and endures through time.  When’s the last time you gave someone a friendly smile? Maybe we should all be handing out more of them.  Who knows.  We might end up with a treasured friend and a blue ceramic frog to bring them to mind and make our heart smile.

With today’s world news being as bleak as it is, thought you might enjoy this story from way back when my children were young.

All the Ice

The front tire dropped into the hole and the seatbelt cut into my lap. When my bottom smashed down on the seat right after that, an “uh,” came out.  The Land Cruiser bounced as the tire crawled back out and then the vehicle jerked to the left. Ow, I thought, feeling my hip slam into the hard door.  Expecting to be thrown around again when the back tire hit the hole, I braced myself.  Good.  Managed to miss it. I gazed into the back.  Two wide blue eyes and two laughing blue eyes met mine.  “Still with us?” I asked my 6-year-old son, Kevin, and his four-year-old sister, Tammy, who were facing each other on the bench seats beneath the side windows.  My smile grew when my strapping son nodded as if he’d just survived a moon launching and his little sister giggled as if she was half way through a ride on a roller coaster.  My serious sensitive guy. And my spirited little imp. I eyed the protective straps criss-crossing their chests, saw that they were still secure, and turned around again.

Squinting past the blue hood that was overly bright in the summer sun, I watched the Toyota eat up a short patch of dried dirt and dive into the shade of the huge fir branches. Thick growth slapped the doors and side windows and I cringed.  My eyebrows rose and my eyes darted sideways to my husband, who was wrestling with the steering wheel.  I stated the obvious, “The road’s getting pretty narrow.”
“We can make it.” He tossed me a determined smile.
The pleasure on his face warmed my heart.  Yeah, this is fun. I straightened and prepared to jolt into another hole. But it’s kind of nuts too. Driving up a road like this just to find out where it goes. I grabbed the dash when the four-wheel-drive started to whine its way up a steep incline that looked about as used as a rusted metal ramp
Allan grasped the gearshift’s ball-handle.  Jerking into a lower gear, he remarked. “Don’t think we’ll have to make a road anyway.  We seem to be heading up.”
My mouth twisted, remembering our last venture into the wilderness and its two-hour sweat-session of building-a-rock-and-stick-road-in-the-bog-to-get-through-and-home-again. I just hope we end up somewhere where we can turn around easily.  Inching our way around in the width of the road takes forever. Branches scraped the roof and I surmised, “It doesn’t look like anyone lives in here.”
Allan shrugged. Jerking the wheel to the right so that the left front tire would crawl directly up on a large boulder, he reminded, “Didn’t look like it when we found that old guy with the mine either.”
I smiled. Yeah.  That was sure interesting. Didn’t know us from Adam and you’d have thought we were long-lost relatives or something. Even made us tea.  And the stories he told! I hated to leave. Absentmindedly gazing at the slight slash in the evergreens ahead, I wondered what we’d find this time.  We’ve sure found some neat things! Like that old couple on that ranch way back in the hills.  And that beautiful secluded little lake.  Oh, and the extinct volcano. And the old logging deck high up where you could see all five mountain ranges. My eyes snapped up to a bough when it bounced.   Just a raven.  Not like the time we came around a bend and saw the five-foot-tall migrating Whooping Crane.  Now that was really something!

“I’m hungry,” Kevin complained.
My mind shot back, you’re always hungry. “We’ll be stopping for lunch soo…”
“Mommy look!” Tammy squealed.
I turned to her and her expression of pure delight registered.  Right after that, surprise ripped through me.
Tammy bubbled, “Mommy!  Look at all the ice!”
“Don’t move!” I gasped.  “Allan stop!”   The vehicle ground to a stop and I gaped at the 6-inch tree trunk that had pierced the window right beside her blonde curls.  A chill of horror shook me as my eyes followed pieces of shattered glass down the side of her small body.  Then, it dawned on me that there was no blood.  Thank God!  She could have been killed! Or disfigured for life!

A flash of time and my world could have changed from smiles to tears.  For many in Japan caught in the aftermath of earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear threat, life will never be the same.  They have lost loved ones and friends.  And since that can happen to anyone, maybe it’s time for us all to take a new look at our priorities.  Once past, we can never recover time.  Maybe we should be spending more of it building memories with those we love?

Clearing debris from the road.