View from the window...on a bright morning

Such a peaceful scene out the window early this morning. There was a fresh inch or so or snow and it was cold enough that it sparkled. Everything looked new and untouched. 

The squirrels were snuffling in the snow looking for buried treasure.

There must have been a few seeds left undiscovered from yesterday.

The corn feeder was busy and it was being demonstrated that it  is indeed possible to hang by your toes and eat corn at the same time.

The sky cleared to a bright blue and as I walked around our block I could see that neighbourhood watch dogs and cats had already assumed their daytime guard positions,

alert and vigilant against intruders.

  Well, at least some of them.

It was a morning to revel in the sun on my face and the clean smell of the air;

 to notice small things like the lichen on the maple trunk, 

To appreciate the beauty of the snow flowers freshly decorated.

To see the tiniest of steps towards spring. 

To take a deep breath.

 

View from the window...on vulnerability

Yesterday morning I was awakened by the earth moving...or at least that is what it seemed like. There had been a tremendous thud somewhere close by and the house shook with it. It happened twice. Kinda weird, but not especially concerning. Why? We don't live where earthquakes are imminent, we are not under attack, and I did not think that the sky was falling. 

Then yesterday afternoon as I was once more rustling the branches of the family tree, 'there arose such a clatter, I arose from my couch to see what was the matter'. At first I thought that the blue jays were simply announcing their arrival, but there was a different urgency to these calls. It took a moment to realize that there was a Cooper's Hawk in the shrub. This I had never seen before.

I know that to feed the birds is also to invite peril. Hawks will patrol occasionally but rarely close to the house. I will maybe see them in one of the large trees out back, or rarely on a pole in the park or a rooftop across the street like last week.

 

This hunter was close to the house, in a shrub, then on the ground beneath the spruce patrolling the hedge! 

(another raptor lurking next door)

I thought that this was a pretty safe place. The tree is big, the hedge is dense, the house is here. The blue jay's warning scattered the birds and it went deadly quiet. I realized that while the boughs of the spruce are thick...safe, under the tree it is open and the limbs next to the trunk are bare...not safe. The cedar hedge is fairly dense...safe; the hedge is not wide...not safe. The house provides a degree of shelter...safe; the birds cannot shelter inside it...not safe. The hawk is a large bird so small tight spaces are safe; the hawk is a carefully designed and specially equipped hunter, and hungry...not safe.

(a Red-tailed hawk in the maple in the back yard)

It made me think about what things make me feel safe and what situations make me feel vulnerable. I thought about the fact that there is a difference between what is actual and what is perceived and how those can change in a heartbeat.

I have always felt safe at home, grateful for warmth and shelter. when our oldest son left home, that security was shaken some. He is tall, imposing. Suddenly I was alone in the house for the first time and I felt vulnerable in a way that I hadn't before. I hadn't expected that.

The number at birthday time keeps getting larger and the physical changes that accompanies this are not awesome. Now when I walk on the path, alone, as I usually do, suddenly I have an awareness of vulnerability that I did not have before. 

This plague that has been visited upon us all, has certainly shaken my sense of security. Suddenly no one, and nowhere, feels safe. except home if you haul up the drawbridge and stay inside. This is not completely possible or realistic as we have to eat and those able to work, must.

So, how to deal with this overwhelming sense of vulnerability? For some people, denial works; there is no risk, or at least not of the scope that is being presented. There must always room for healthy skepticism, but one that leads to deeper understanding not an ignoring of obvious evidence.

And I wonder at what point fear can become phobia. I don't want to be so overwhelmed that I can't leave the perceived physical security of my house. Even today that safety was violated by someone sending an email that looks authentic but isn't, so even home is not inviolable.

So...today I watched out the window. Did the birds return? Not yesterday, but today they are here. Is there still a threat? Yes. Despite continued vulnerability that is real, because the hawk could come at any time, they go about their business, being watchful, but aware that at this moment they are safe and life can go on as usual. Perhaps there is a lesson in this.

(Woodpeckers come readily to the feeder but spend a lot of time scanning the sky around them)

If we can keep our feelings of vulnerability from being debilitating, they can be useful, and keep us safe and moving forward. Perhaps they can even be a point of strength, because in our awareness of our fears and weaknesses we can be more aware of those same things in others. I realized how fortunate I am that in waking up to the shudder of the earth, my mind was not filled with fear as others in our world would be. 

 

View from the window...halfway there

The beginning of February marks our progress through the winter. Imbolc, a Gaelic traditional festival originating in Ireland and Scotland, celebrates a rough halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. Imbolc or Imbolg, means 'in the belly', and refers to the pregnancy of ewes which in the natural order of things, is a necessity for the arrival of spring lambs. It celebrates the fact that the 'dark' of winter is approaching an end, and that while not visible, life is stirring in the earth which will, before too long, produce green things.

People who first celebrated this festival lived by the patterns of the seasons. They were in tune with the natural progression of a life dependent on the living things around them. The spring sun and rain which brought seeds to life was equally as important as the winter which allowed the land to rest and revive. But survival through the winter was not a given, so having made it half way, was worthy of celebration, especially as now hope and anticipation were torches to hold against the darkness until the spring arrived.

And has this not been a truly dark and extraordinary time; a time of separation, isolation, tension and fear. A celebration which marks that time continues to pass, that life continues and that spring will come, is particularly reassuring right now.

I must note however, that Mother Nature in celebration of Imbolc, unleashed a particularly vicious winter storm on the Eastern seaboard of the US. Those folks may not be feeling especially thankful or even note that they have reached this day of import. While their resilience is well-documented, I imagine more than one citizen has turned his face to the sky and said, 'Seriously?!?!' It probably seems like just one thing too many right now.

Here today, the sky is blue  and you can notice that the days are starting to get a little longer. The outline of the branches in the maple across the street is changing. There are buds appearing. I see that the local squirrel population is goofier than usual. There are more high-speed pursuits in progress; instead of trucks in loose convoys, it is more like tandem truck-trailers, so close are some noses to certain tails.

For North Americans, today is the day that we hope our weather predicting groundhogs will tell us that an early spring is in our collective future.

What ever that outcome is, winter is not over. Mother Nature is capricious and unpredictable, so what might still come our way is unknown.  But it is half-way over. The earth continues to turn and the seasons will in time change. This is cause to celebrate.

From where I sit...again

 You never know what a day will bring. Sometimes a day can go completely sideways, like the other day. Sometimes a little thing, like a text asking how you are doing brings a smile. Sometimes something odd like a kitchen appliance becomes possessed. True story.

 We have hard water here which causes coffee maker issues by times. I tried to clean the last one and it burst a pipe inside and flooded the counter. So, new coffee maker. A red one; so pretty. There is new stuff on this appliance, one being that it beeps when it is finished brewing. Nice. Today however, it beeps at 2 cups, 5 cups and 10 cups. Hmmm, I suppose that as long as that does not interfere with the brewing this is okay. Although if it starts to beep through the entire cycle there could be a hammer in its future. 

(Sorry, long story there.) Lately, some days have brought nonsense on Facebook. Now this is so not a new thing, so if you are going to have an account there you have to understand how it works, then decide how to make it work for you. For me, I limit my 'friends' to family primarily, then generally look at pages that interest me creatively. You might think that this could work. Mostly it does. Last week however, I read two posts on a page that I follow. The page is written by the publicist of one of my favorite authors. Apparently one of her novels is being made into a movie and this fact, plus the name of the actress to play the part, was posted. Well apparently all hell broke loose on several continents. 

People seemed to feel free to criticize, threaten, and spew all manner of purely hateful nonsense on this page. I have an issue with all of this 'my right to express my opinion' excuse for attitudes and behaviour that are actually inexcusable.

I am not one who believes that 'people are basically good'. I think people are basically selfish, and have to learn to be different. We all have a frame of reference which predisposes us to think and respond in certain ways. These differ with each person and are as varied as our appearance is, from each other. This means we will see, understand, and respond to every single thing differently. 

It does not mean that discussion and understanding is impossible. 

These kind of disgusting comments do not lead to discussion or understanding. They are demands and threats and slander. But there is no reasoning with the unreasonable, no opening a closed mind that is blinkered by prejudices causing a tightly tunneled vision. 

No, this is not new, however I see an increase and I can't help but see a parallel to the completely unfettered and hateful comments that have been accepted and applauded from one of the highest offices in the world over the past four years. Lies spewing completely unchecked from a social media platform that have ensured a long lasting division between peoples, and leading to civil disruption and disobedience on a scale not seen in recent times. An example that has further legitimized the victimization of innocent people by stealth bombing with words. 

This is not a political statement. It is a statement of about character. It should be an expectation that those we choose to lead our countries should have standards and behaviour worthy of that office and our respect. A higher bar needs to be set for those that we allow to represent us at any level. 

We have accepted other less admirable traits as more important than being respectable; worthy of respect. And respect can be shown despite differences of all kinds, political or personal. We must show it and we must expect that we be shown it regardless of the person or situation. 

I will dismount from my soapbox now and put it away for another day.

From where I sit...

 I am not an especially politically motivated person. I don't even watch the news each day, particularly right now when the news is predominately distressing. I keep track of the broad strokes, rather than needing to know every pixel required to make each snap shot of the world's events. Some would be horrified by this philosophy, and that would be okay. I know my limitations and what is needful for me to maintain my own mental and emotional health in this time.

One thing that keeps me balanced is a daily dose of fiction. A recent favorite has been the work of Steve Berry and I'm on my second read through of one of his books. He writes against a framework of real places and documented historical fact, then adds the 'well, what if', and lots of other excitement. There is also a strong component of philosophy, some religious and some political, which challenges and provokes the characters and the reader.

The backdrop in this book, is the history of Napoleon and how he achieved the control of so much of the then known world. This is used to illustrate the interplay of those with vast sums of money, nations with vast amounts of debt, and the what is needed for effective political control of a people. It discusses how war is an effective tool that stimulates an economy, brings a people together with a common goal, and also allows a measure of governmental control not allowed in a peaceful time. It also demonstrates that times of peace do not appear to achieve the same goals. 

It talks about the need of a 'creditable threat' as a necessary impetus to bind people to a common purpose. This book was written in 2009, so the events of 9/11 are used to illustrate that 'terrorism' provided such a threat, and how it caused a whole chain of events based on the prevention of/preparation for, this threat. 

It was impossible to read this exciting story or think about these ideas without putting them in the context of our present world condition. You might think that a global pandemic what constitute a 'creditable threat'. Apparently not. Here in Ontario, we are in lockdown. No one is enjoying this, yet by and large, while griping and complaining, we are compliant. For a common goal. Those who have not been are paying a price, both monetary and physically, being now visited by this plague.

We are several generations past the last Great War. There is no collective memory of the sacrifice needed to end a threat of this nature. So, at this time what seems to be primary in most minds is their own comfort and their own 'rights' as opposed to any responsibility to a 'common good', which is going to be needed for us to come out the other side of this with our families intact.

As I look across our border to the south, I see this played out in a dangerous way. One of the most powerful men in the world could have treated this pandemic as the enormous threat that it is. He could have set a precedent of people over politics. He could have set a precedent in the innovation and research needed to overcome such a powerful enemy. He could have united the people in the common need to survive and bound them together as one in a way never before seen. He could have been, and set, an important and historic example. 

However, instead he found a more 'creditable threat'  to use as a weapon and energize people in a destructive path; 'difference'. Us and them. Black and white. Police and citizen. Red and blue. Immigrant and 'American'. Every word and action was intended to polarize; to create, emphasize and deepen a fissure in the people of America. 

And it worked. There is such a chasm been created, that concepts like 'unity' and 'peace' may only find rocky soil to try to find root. There remains in parts of government an astonishing denial of scientific and historic fact. A seemingly insurmountable task is set before the newest man sitting in that powerful seat of authority. 

Most Canadians have family and friends, work colleagues and acquaintances on the other side of our border. They matter to us. Your survival as a nation is important to us. 

I wish every success to the man who must now face the those turbulent prevailing winds and bind a fragmented people together.

View from the window...Why can't we be friends

The view outside our window has a basic sameness each day. The trees, the houses across the street, the apartment building in the distance; they remain fixed. Yet within this framework life unfolds differently each day. 

Sometimes you notice something small like a change in the outline of the roof on the apartment building across the park. Yesterday a smooth unbroken line; today uneven dark bumps at the corner. I take a photo so that I see what is there. 

Turns out to be a few pigeons... well, actually, more than a few.

I expect that if this becomes a regular perch, the superintendent of the building will be getting a phone call. All that billing and cooing (and other things resulting from a lot of big birds overhead) might not be welcome come the spring.  

It reminds me of my love/hate relationship with house sparrows, who similarly haunt the neighbourhood in large groups. Now, the front yard has had many evolutions over the years. This one year, I rescued the framework of a gazebo and reconfigured the panels to form a long trellis. I planted some climbing roses to grow up and cover it and then I thought it would be a good spot for my collection of birdhouses. 

Great, right? If you look closely there are sparrows and a cardinal perching, and a blue jay on the tall crook beside. So folks started moving into the bird houses and I thought, well, this is sweet, all chirping baby birds....

And then, it was baby birds falling out of nests, 

and dead baby birds in the grass, and squabbling in the neighbourhood. I found out that sparrows are a heartless lot; if they want your nest box, they will pull all the nesting material out and take over. They will pull out your baby birds so that they can house and have their own baby birds. The drive to survive, I guess. 

So then they take over your yard as claimed territory. I didn't mind being a landlady but I put seeds out so that I would see a variety of birds. The sparrows became aggressive and bullied others away. So I then filled the feeders with seeds that were specific to the birds that I wanted to see. False advertising; they adapted! I took perches off, but that also made it difficult for cardinals. 

So... I evicted them.

From the front yard. And moved them to the back. It took them a little while to adjust and they still like to hang out front.

They are not as territorial now, which allows other birds to be more comfortable in the front yard. We put up another birdhouse with a 'front door' sized for wrens or chickadees, and we have had both move in. Each spring though, there are sparrows who try make it their home but without success.

I have noticed some interest from the nuthatches so maybe they might be this year's new home owners. I read though that they prefer tree cavities so that may be a fond hope. 

So while there is no chance of being rid of sparrows, I will hope to remain good neighbours from a distance...at some distance...well, maybe just not in the front yard?

 

 

View from the window...the saga of the simple request

 The sky is a glorious blue and the sun is shining on a lovely fresh layer of snow. Furred and feathered things abound in the yard; a beautiful day.

As I sit with my coffee admiring the view, my cell phone rings. 

'Mom, I need a short document printed. If I send it to you in an email, could you print it off for me?'

"Sure, no problem"; a simple request.

The email arrives, and I ask the printer to print it. It says, 'do you know that your magenta ink cartridge is empty?' I figure this is not a problem as I want a black and white document printed. The printer says, "I don't want to print anything when I have an empty cartridge. Change it ok?' I press ok. I lie. I check the settings so that it says 'black & white',  and 'greyscale' for good measure. The printer refuses to print as apparently magenta is needed to print black. Sigh.

Plan B presents itself in the form of my husband's work area downstairs. He is, like many, working from home. Today however, he is 'working from home' in Cambridge and Guelph. I phone my husband and ask if he could print off a short document. He would be happy to, except, his printer is now at home with his computer and he can't use the other ones at the office because they are at home with other employees. Now, I am here with said printer but it uses a completely different operating system with a language that I do not speak, so doing something wrong on it would be a big problem. Sigh.

Plan C. I am still without a cooperative printer so I decide to order cartridges from the local Staples online, then go pick them up. I go to their site, and having kept the original box, I enter the number in the search box. It answers me with one option, a set of black cartridges. Black is not the new magenta. I figure it is lying to me so I approach from a different angle; the printer brand name. This gives me dozens of printer model numbers, none of which I recognize as mine. So I re-enter the part number leaving off the suffix letters. Eureka! A set of coloured ink cartridges now appears. And why did I not get this result the first try? Because the number which is in large letters on a brightly coloured background, on three sides of the box, and the top, is not the order number for replacement cartridges. That number is in small print on the back of the box. This makes no sense to me. Sigh.

So, I order and pay for my item. They issue an order which I save, and it tells me that when I arrive for pick up to call the number listed below, which happens to be for a help line to head office.?? They tell me that they will confirm my order by email, which in short order appears. This one has an order number and a phone number which is local. It tells me that I need to bring this email and have ID ready. Well, I cannot print it off because my printer is on strike. So I take a photo and figure that I can show this to the helpful employee who will bring me my order. 

Within a half hour I receive an email telling me that very efficient employees have already picked my order and it awaits me. I get ready to go and greet the outdoors, and in an effort to be a good global citizen, I carry with me my spent cartridges for recycling. My faithful chariot, which has sat unused for many weeks, and has every reason to be grumpy, starts first time and purrs contentedly. 

I drive over and park in a numbered spot, dial the required number, wait through the announcements and listen as a patient employee tells me that the store does not open for another half hour...which I would have realized had I read the remainder of the sign with the hours clearly posted, instead of trying to figure out what the X6 was at the end of the phone number. Sigh.

I phone my ever helpful husband who gives me an errand to fulfil that will help him out, and he refrains from pointing out that reading the whole sign may have been helpful. 

Second attempt. I arrive once again, dial the number adding the 6 appropriately, now that I know what to do. A chirpy voice asks for my order number. My order number which is on a photo on the phone being used to speak to said chirpy voice. She says, 'you can do it while you're on the phone', which I apparently cannot do. I tell her I will call back. Sigh

I pull out of the spot and park elsewhere to retrieve the order number. There is no pen in the car. I only brought my wallet, phone and keys, so no purse which may or may not, have contained a writing instrument. So...I drive up the street to purchase a pen. I take some money into the store and the cashier says, 'what, a new one?', after I refuse her pen. So I go back to the car to get my phone because apparently you need a phone to buy a pen. I grab the Kleenex box because there is, of course, no piece of paper in the car, go back inside, use the pen at the lotto ticket counter, and copy the order number from my phone onto the back of the Kleenex box. Sigh.

Third try. Park car. Phone number, press 6. Hold. Give space number. Give order number. Wait. Show ID. Pick up bag, correctly filled; thank goodness as hysteria may have ensued, and departed. The used cartridges? They returned with me as this type of recycling is not happening while the store is closed. Sigh.

'Son? Your document is printed... No, problem, a simple request.'