Tag Archives: Cold

Gorilla House LIVE ART: November 20, 2013

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I began writing this post at 3:33.  Cool.

I heated up a bowl of cream of mushroom soup for lunch.  It was prepared the way Mom used to do it (apart from the addition of a can of water) when we were just wee things.  I sat at the large feast table by myself and pretty much ruminated the soup away, with thoughts of Mom and her love and care of me.

P11401590019_###After that, I spent the afternoon on my kitchen floor, working on a painting of a soldier and his daughter.  It should be finished this weekend.  Max and I took off for the off leash park and while my lashes froze during that one, I enjoyed getting up and moving after the intensity of my afternoon work-out. Painting is a huge work-out, the way I look at it.

I hesitated to go down to the Gorilla House because of the cold.  In the end, I made the trip out of commitment to myself and my friends who also attend every week.  It has something to do with the practice…the community…and the brain gym.

All of the driving concepts had to do with Mathematics… Game Theory and Deformation Theory (something to do with P).  HUH?    Math was a struggle for me in school…a struggle last night as well.  In the end, I thought simply of the relationship of a mother to her child.  Is that in any way mathematical?  Thanks to Rich for picking this one up at auction.  I was glad to see you, Angie. Be better. Thanks, Bruce, for the beverage.  Congratulations, Jess, on getting those cards done!

P1140177I finished writing this at 4:03…and that, with a consoling conversation with daughter.  I love you, Erin.

Every December Sky

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The calendar page turned…and it was December.  On December 2, 1979…I married.  The marriage, like snow on December trees, disappeared.  I am always and forever in a state of acceptance because my life did not turn out as I had planned or how I had predicted it would be.  I strive to practice happiness, however…to create daily, an experience of the full spectrum of emotion…even if that happiness is aroused out of the humming of an Advent tune on a sad day or the flow of purple satin under the nativity set on a frustrating day.  Somewhere, I find it.

I Will Feed You

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Front Yard Branches

Bare branches
chatter and sing.
“Be assured, little things,
that I will feed you.”
I pull my fingers
out of glove finger-places
to make fists of my hands,
clenching.
“Ahhh.  Warm!”
I remember your
small downy bodies
against biting wind.
“I will feed you.”
Enticing predators?

I think.

I ponder this while looking.
Eagle flies overhead,
south, following the river.
Snow on hills for miles.
Ice packs moving on the dark water.
Without a doubt,
“I will feed you.”

Find respite in the
umber branches of evergreens.

Narrative: First Snow

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Goose! Goose!

 

Perturbation of the air.
I pull my cold limbs
in
tighter to my body
nestle my nose into the
thick grey fur of my coat.
Something stronger than the
icy cold pulls me out of
slumber and I
sit alert, hot air blowing out
white marks on the crystal wind.

The cacophony
draws me to the
waddling birds.
I see only warm bodies
satisfying quiver
of life, my life
in the first snow.

Quiet.
Barely a whisper
walking closer
slightly below the bank.
They are unaware,
pecking at the cold ground.

It seems interminable.
The journey.
The walk; the stalking.
Feet sink in white snow.
Louder honking, honking, HONK
I pick up speed, stay low…
the cold air on my eyes.
I leap into the circle of voices
and all is a rush, a flurry
as the birds, as one,
reach into the white sky.

I turn into the
dark umber growth
on the ridge.
Hungry.

Wet Snow

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I looked outside this morning and for the first time this November, round molded snow lies over everything.  The world is white and blue and grey….neighbours brushing off their cars provide the  only splashes of colour, red injected onto an otherwise neutral day.  It all looks so heavy and cold. It looks wet…with that particular up-to-the-ankles-cold-wet. There is a sadness in me because of the loss of autumn this morning.  Autumn captures all of the colour and intensity that I love.

I look at Laurie-dog curled up on the computer-room couch and know that he too, is going to feel particularly indifferent to this new season.