Tag Archives: blogging

Blessings to all

Yesterday, unexpectedly, several online friends sent notes, emails, Facebook messages.

“Where are you?  When are you coming back to blogging?  We miss you.  Are you surviving the winter?”

My heart lurched in appreciation for friends who reappeared out of the woodwork of the Internet with such kindness and concern.

I am rich in what really matters, it seems.  Caring friends and family who send snippets of love.

Yet my heart simultaneously sank.  May I share why?

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Blank check & best friends

A blank check could take one back to Nicaragua...

A blank check could take one back to Nicaragua…

The title which begs to be used is:  Blank checks are a girl’s best friend.

However, that would be totally misleading.

(Not that I’ve hesitated misleading you before…big grin…)

I have two stories to tell you this deliciously melting 42 degree (5.5 C) February afternoon.  Heavens, we haven’t seen 42 degrees since autumn, I swear it.  We’re now experiencing three blessed mid-winter days of slippery slidey icicle-melting delight before the weather turns ugly at week’s end.  At least that’s what those blizzard-forecasters are mumbling beneath their radar breath.

Heck, you should have seen us attempting to shovel four feet of snow off our woodpile this weekend!  You should have witnessed us buried in snow attempting to load the wood room.  It wasn’t pretty.

So, instead, I’ll tell you a funny happening.

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Solely for entertainment purposes.

Through the deck window before dawn this morning

Through the deck window before dawn this morning

We awoke to another eight, ten, twelve inches of snow.  Who knows without a ruler?

I offered to warm up and brush off Barry’s car before he left for work.  (He does the same for me many days.)

It’s zero degrees (-17 C)  again, supposedly dropping throughout the day.  I am blogging solely for entertainment purposes, aiming to ward off Cabin Fever.

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What do you do on another snow day?

Winter wonderland

Winter wonderland

1.  First of all, relax.  You don’t have to DO anything on another snow day.  The Universe gives you permission to relax and lie on the couch all day–in your pajamas–if you so desire.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Simply BE.  That isn’t so hard, is it?

2.  Watch the snow fall.  Snow descends from the sky in such fascinating different ways.  As previously discussed, when the wind is a’blowin’, snow sometimes falls down and then ascends up.  Sometimes it scatters sideways.  This morning, cuddled beneath the white comforter in my jammies, it seems the flakes fall tenderly.  Can you imagine tender snow drifting downward?

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The secrets we don’t tell

Flash of yellow in snow

Flash of yellow in snow

Snow continues to fly here in the north woods.  You think snow drifts downward, don’t you?  You think snow drops from clouds to earth.  Sounds logical, right?

I’ve learned that snow, in actuality, flies every-which-way.  It’s most intriguing when it flies upward.  You’re looking out your window and snow rises.  It’s aimed for the clouds. Go figure.

Later, you’ll realize it’s the wind.  Snow does drift down from clouds.  The wind sometimes tosses it back up.  It’s like a game of catch.  Who’s gonna catch the snowflakes, wind or cloud?  Grandfather Winter likes to amuse himself.

We started re-filling the wood room again last night.  Oh, so frigid.  We topped off the back row and half filled the second row.  Tonight we’ll haul logs again.  Actually, I haul logs and hand them to the chief stacker, Mr. Barry.  I wear my grandmother’s old 1969 snowmobile suit.  (It’s famous, you know.  Someone said so on Facebook.)

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I want to twinkle today.

The light of the world

The light of the world

“Do not try to save the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there patiently
until the song
that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself
to this world
so worthy of rescue.”

- Clearing by Martha Postlewaite

Bitter cold still freezes tears this morning.  Laughter ricochets off icicles.

I curl up on the couch on this day off work and ponder the dense forest of my life.  One hundred thoughts arise like one hundred trees, all competing for attention.

I’ve been waiting patiently and impatiently for the song that is my life to fall into these cupped hands for a long lifetime.  Sometimes I hear the tune, so very clear, like ice forming in the bay a quarter-mile away, and feel truly at home.  Other days one wanders lost in the forest, wearing fear or sadness like a winter parka, fingers icy in woolen mittens.

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Hitchhiker, near accident & birdseed



1.  It’s 4:30 p.m. and the sun arches its back into the horizon, preparing to depart from this earthly realm until tomorrow morning.

2.  We picked up a hitchhiker yesterday on our way up to Houghton.   A young 20-ish Michigan Tech student whose vehicle died.  He thumbed a ride to the auto store for repair parts and then shivered in the cold for twenty minutes before we picked him up.  Before stopping the car I hissed to Barry, “We don’t pick up hitchhikers!”  Fortunately, Barry didn’t listen to his wife and decided he was a young college student who needed assistance.  Afterward, I was proud that we’d helped a fellow human being–and hoped kind souls might assist our children, should they need it.

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On the first day of Christmas…

The beginnings of ice on the Portage Canal

The beginnings of ice on the Portage Canal

I am perhaps moving this blog in a different direction for awhile, my dear loyal readers.  Today I wrote three blogs and tossed two of them away.  Even though they were both engaging, they felt cumbersome.

I shan’t tell you exactly what’s different.

You can guess, if you’re so inspired.

Yesterday, Barry and I traveled to Houghton to begin our Christmas shopping.  We do not like to shop, yet we adore our loved ones for whom we shopped.

We paused for drink and dinner.

We paused and toasted the beginning of the holiday season.

Today is the first day of Christmas, December 1st!

Last night a coyote howled outside our bedroom window.  We startled in our sleep at the closeness of the yipping, the howling.

Barry simultaneously dreamed a coyote stalked his dream.

I haven’t gone outside all day–yet.

All day I stalked your blogs and read, and read, and read.

I feel like our lives intersect.

I feel like Christmas shall arrive soon.

Shall we be ready this 2013 year?  How are you preparing for the upcoming holidays?

What happened with you on the first day of Christmas?

Closer yet

Closer yet

Response to an angry blog commenter

The woods

The woods

Yesterday morning, still half-asleep, I read an angry comment from a blog reader.

Let’s call him Dan.  The poor fellow once found himself lost in the woods and wanted practical tips to aid him next time such an event might occur.  He discovered a blog post (written by yours truly in July, 2010) and proceeded to read for informative wise advice about What to do if you’re lost in the woods.

His response?

This was the WORST advice for being lost in the woods that I have ever seen. I was really expecting something helpful and all I encountered was: discover the inner rhythm of thickets. Seriously?! I have actually been lost in the woods and I wanted to find concrete tips for the next time I find myself in the woods and all you have done is waste my time with useless platitudes and adages.

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Fake it until you become it, eh?

Lately I’ve been enjoying rising in the dark, listening to the whistling teakettle and the humming wood stove, and writing stories.  Did you know the Native Americans reserved many stories to share only in wintertime, when wind whipped outside wigwams and snow froze tiptoeing foootsteps?

Grandmother Moon’s tears turned white last night and an inch or two of new snow covers our cars.  We’re both off to work early today, and tonight Grandfather Snow’s threatening an all-out November fit with several inches of his wrath.  Why are the heavens fighting?  A Native American elder might keep the kids entertaining for hours explaining the god’s drama.

My drama?  Thank you for asking.

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