A good day..

Today was a good day. Not for any particular reason or special event that took place; just an ordinary day...but a good day.

Maybe we do not appreciate the ordinary days enough, and life is full of them. Days when it is enough that the sun is shining and the outdoors beckons. The housework also beckons but the fall days are numbered so the housework can be ignored for a day..or so. 

I headed down to the Grand River and the trails below the dam. 

The water was low enough that the full structure was visible. Many of the trees at the rivers edge are already bare and the usual complement of Canada geese were absent. The sound of the water was lovely but quiet compared to the spring when the river is in spate.

A little ways downstream the gulls were napping in the sun.

By the canal the banks are eroding and the trees are listing towards the water. There are beautiful sycamore and hackberry trees whose roots are now exposed and in danger of toppling into the canal. The turtles and ducks may enjoy these new perches but it is sad to lose such lovely, mature trees.

I tried to get a photograph of a kinglet but none of them would pose. This is the closest I got; a golden crown and flurry of wings. 

A raccoon was snoozing in a tree cavity; a nice warm spot in the morning sun.

These asters are a little less vibrant, but still lovely, and apparently of great interest to this tiny hoverfly. Their stripes give the impression that they are bees and have the ability to sting and therefore offers some protection from predators. The ability to hover is unique and comes from the fact that they have the most flexible wings of any flying insect. (All of this discovered after eliminating every bee and wasp known to man.)

What is left of this leaf shows its fascinating inner structure, ..and also looks a bit like a suburban street map.

This mushroom caught my eye. It is standing there all by itself like an open parasol, on a large horizontal branch, about 3 storeys up. 

Down below, a feather is caught on a log which is resting mostly underwater. 

The bittersweet berries are starting to pop.

Robins have having fun in a leftover puddle.

Equally busy was this large American Oil Beetle. They are a type of blister beetle, which is what you might get if you handle them.

This is the paved SC Johnson Trail that follows the abandoned Lake Erie and Northern Railway bed between Brantford and Paris. Being actual rail trail this section is raised trail that goes between the foot paths by the canal on one side and the river on the other.

I looked for the Bald Eagle in the tall dead tree but he was not keeping watch there. A kingfisher was flying low over the river looking for his lunch, and I startled some mallards who were resting near to the shore. The water was so clear that I could see their orange webbed feet paddling behind them.

Our tallest trees along the riversides sustained a lot of ice damage last spring, but several remain, stately towers, with deeply furrowed bark, a testament to their strength.

Blue jays are year-round companions; ebullient, busy and always noisy.

In a warm spot in the sun there were still Bladder Campions getting ready to bloom. 

I took a survey of the Woolly Bear caterpillars on the walk and based on the results, what the winter will look like is anybody's guess. Apparently the amount of brown is an indication of how mild the winter will be, and the amount of black closest to the head indicates how harsh the winter will be at its beginning.  Hopefully you tell which end is which. I guess we will see.

So...was this an unusual walk? Did I see anything extraordinary? No. I walked a path that I enjoy and have walked many times. I saw familiar sights and heard familiar sounds. Our days are often like this; full of familiar things and repetitive tasks. Perhaps so familiar that we do them by rote and they become mundane and the enjoyment leaches away. Our world is about 'busy' and 'more' and 'doing'. 

And some of it is necessary; we have jobs, social obligations and raise children. I think though that we need to include more 'free time' and 'less' and 'quiet'. We need time to saunter instead of run, be more content with what we have and more patient with the time it takes to accrue things, and spend less time doing in favor of time spent being. Unrealistic? Simplistic? I don't think so. These are the tools of healthy survival. Body, mind and spirit need a balanced life.

So...the ordinary walk becomes a time of quiet, a time of feeding the spirit and a moment of joy. I walked slowly to look at the leaves falling. I stopped to enjoy the smell of the poplars and listen to the chickadees. I pointed out the sleeping raccoon to another walker and enjoyed their delight. Small things, small moments. 

I think people equate big things with success and importance, when it is the smallest of things that can have the biggest impact; a smile, a thank you, a hug. Stopping a moment to sit in the sun, admire a sunset, or cherish a memory. Things that make a good day.

Making changes

My brain is hurting. I have been thinking, trying to work out how I feel about something and what the result of said thinking would look like. I want to make a change, a deliberate decision to do something in a different way. 

Change is such a part of our daily life that we sometimes do not even recognize it, we just adapt; weather changes, price changes, health changes. These changes are random and made by someone or something outside of our control, but still have to be accepted or dealt with in some way. Then there are changes that you consciously and deliberately choose to make, resulting in doing, or being, something different.

This can be problematic when you have done something or looked at things in a certain way for a long time; like me, for over 60 years now. Hence the thinking... which often leads to overthinking, then doubting,.. and the process coming to a halt.

Therefore in search of clarity, I headed for the Foulds Tract to walk; my favorite place to practice 'forest bathing' also known as  Shinrin-yoku, the medicine of simply being in the forest. This is a beautiful tract of mixed forest where I can generally walk alone and just absorb the quiet; slowly wander the path, and just breathe.

The pathway was littered with the golden leaves of the oaks in the uppermost storey and the elms and beeches closer to the floor. Many of the tall maples were still green so there will be more colour to come. The sound of the wind through the leaves was so lovely.

The sassafras tree, with its distinctive leaf shape, still stands guard at the entrance to the path but new trees are sprouting further along the way.

A solitary helleborine is still in bloom. 

I stood beneath the regal hemlock.

I received a glare from a garter snake whose business I apparently interrupted.

Robins were busily moving about the canopy, but I also saw one enjoying a bath in the pond. 

The witch hazel was in bloom and many of the branches were decorated with pine needles like Christmas tree icicles.

Tiny eyelash cup fungi, only millimetres in diameter, dotted this log,

while this sapling had larger unidentified orange decorations.

I returned to my car feeling refreshed and ready to put feet and hands to the decisions I had made. So...the holiday season is approaching once again. I decided that this is going to be a simpler time for my family. I am tired of the pressure and stress that makes this a lengthy time of anxiety. I am weary of media bombardment to buy, and the insidious subtle messages that the number and dollar value of gifts is the ultimate expression of love. And while I grew up with a strong religious significance to this time of year, I no longer espouse that in the same way. 

I think this holiday time is going to look something like this;

Gifts and gift-giving will probably take the form of donations of money, food or time to those who need it more or will use it to effect important changes in our world. I would also prefer to give the unexpected gift, the small token or surprise, throughout the year; the 'simply because' gift. 

Decorating will be more winter themed and intended to ease the darker days and colder nights. Apparently this practice is called 'hygge' (hew-guh) in Denmark. It is about taking simple moments and making them memorable, creating a sense of cosiness, comfort and contentment, and creating moments of intimacy and warmth. And, it is not about having fancy or expensive things. It is about being present where you are, with what you have, and recognizing or creating warm, special moments. 

I want to make the life I live reflect more of who I really am and what I think is important. Maybe it is a case of 'too soon old, too late wise', or maybe this is one privilege that comes with time. I don't know. I do know that what I do should reflect my values and I should be giving to my children my best and authentic self.  Perhaps it would be of value to put less emphasis on holiday family occasions being 'special' and more importance on the everyday moments that slip by so quickly.

I guess I think that not only do we need to be better stewards of our planet's resources, and soon, but we need to be better stewards of our personal emotional resources. Maybe Christmas lists need to include gratitude.

Musings on 40 years of marriage

October 14, 1978

I remember it as though it was yesterday and yet it is forty years ago. Some of the in between is a bit blurry in spots, but I imagine that is normal, and to be truthful, there are some moments best left unremembered. Marriage as an institution seems to be in an increasing decline, yet here we are, astonishingly,  many decades later.

I think it is a wonder that men and women can find lasting happiness together because we are so different; our emotional responses, physical makeup and ways that we think, are so opposite. Yes, this is a massive generalization but there are certain physiological facts which are scientifically proven. Men use more grey matter and women more white matter. This predisposes a man towards intense focus on information and tasks, while a woman's brain uses the white matter to connect many areas of her brain allowing her to multi-task more easily. Male brains process neurochemicals differently which is often displayed in a tendency towards more activity and aggression. Women tend to have a larger hippocampus and more neural connections to it, which translates to a greater capacity to absorb sensory and emotional information. And further, females have verbal centres on both sides of their brain, while males have only one which is on the left hemisphere. Finally, a difference in blood flow in the brain, means a female has more access to emotional memory and the ability to focus on it for a longer period. These are built-in differences, and only a few of the many, but they are hugely significant in their impact on relationships.

Let us add to these preexisting conditions, two very different people. Lynn, my husband, was born in rural Quebec. He spent his first years on a farm with his twin in the care of his grandparents, while his parents worked in Montreal. He is the oldest, by some twenty minutes, of his four brothers. His father made a final break from the family when Lynn was fourteen, leaving him to accompany his mother to the hospital for the birth of his youngest brother. When we got married Lynn had just finalized a divorce from his first wife who had run away with his best friend. He had debts, emotional baggage and was 30.

I was born the last of six, into a devout church going family. I was born and grew up in a suburb of Toronto. My dad worked in downtown Toronto and my mom took care of the home front. The church was our social centre and my parents were always involved. I was only four when my first sibling got married, so Robert and I, the youngest, grew up as a kind of second family. When we got married I was immature, naive and had just turned 21. 

I got to thinking about those bits of advice that come when you are preparing for marriage and wondering which ones have stood the test of forty years. They follow in no particular order.

"Let not the sun go down on your wrath"; a Biblical quotation meaning 'don't go to bed angry'. The implication is that you need to get issues squared away before bedtime so that they do not become more deeply entrenched, or go unresolved. Here's what I have learned; this is hard, it takes work and time, and is generally learned the hard way. Lynn has always been better at saying I'm sorry and usually first.  While sometimes an issue can and needs to be tabled for a future time, I would talk myself out of discussing hurts; I shouldn't let this bother me, it is not really important, I won't let this bother me, etc.. This practice usually ended up in a meltdown of huge proportions at some point, being wrought upon a generally befuddled and totally confused husband who either thought that the issue was settled, or never knew it was a issue in the first place. I took too long to learn how to handle conflict and I regret that. You have to set guidelines early in your marriage so that you have a framework to help you always be honest in your feelings, but able to express them without doing harm to each other. This becomes increasingly important when you have children, who will need to see that it is possible to work out differences, but also need to be confident that parents disagreeing need not lead to divorce. And lastly, your bed needs to be a place of solace, comfort and rest. Sleep is survival!! 

"Love is a commitment, not a feeling." Here is what I learned about this one; feelings are fickle and untrustworthy as a gauge of love. Certainly that is where relationship starts, with bated breath and sweaty hands and pounding hearts, yet there will be times in a relationship when you do not feel loving or loved. Lynn and I had a long distance relationship for a long time; he lived in Sudbury, and I lived in Rexdale. It was wonderful, filled with longing and sweet letters. Then we got married. I was not aware that I had a temper until I had a husband. Suddenly life takes over and there are long work days, money worries and misunderstandings. I am certain that it was built into my moral compass that divorce was not an option, so over all these years and through many challenging and difficult times, it never occurred to me that there was any way but through it and onward. I know that longevity is not necessarily a measure of the health of a relationship, because I have seen that 'peace at any price' has a tendency to give one partner emotional power over the other. And I also know that for my mom-in-law, that final departure, was the one meaningful gift that Lynn's father gave her.

When the feelings go awol, then the commitment takes over in the form of loving action. My parents were not demonstrative with each other or with us, which is not a criticism, more a comment on what was patterned for them as 'behaviour befitting'. I learned that a hug has a power to speak and heal. I learned that encouragement is important and I need to be my husband's biggest fan. I learned that compromise is important and no one is diminished by it. I learned that marriage is never 50/50; it takes the most you can give all of the time. I learned that showing respect builds self-esteem in the one you show it to. While I have measured short many times, Lynn has been there with a hug, a word, a quiet acceptance or an unexpected flower. It is hard for him to tell me what he feels but he has shown me in myriad ways. Is he flawed? Of course, but not in any ways that are truly important. 

"Make laughter the sound track of your marriage." I don't remember being given this particular piece of advice, but I think it reminds us that joy and laughter can be the glue in any relationship. A sense of humour celebrates life's happy moments and can help us get through some of the less pleasant ones. Laughing together at each other's foibles and mistakes gives acceptance and encouragement. Lynn and I have dissimilar tastes; we prefer different TV shows, authors, music and food. We have learned to give each other space to enjoy those things, but there are lots of things to enjoy together, and we do. The best time of day though, still remains, the moment he comes home from work. It is the sigh of the day, he is here and the world rights itself.

So I guess,from this pinnacle of forty years of living with the same man, I would say; it is possible, it is worth it and I am thankful. 

p.s. I am also grateful for the examples of successful marriages in my family that showed me how it is done, even if I was not always paying as close attention as I should have been.