WINTER'S REALITY AND SUMMER'S DREAM

My Studio and the Well - Wish it was a Wishing-Well

          Snow gently fell during last evening and it is still snowing - flakes the size of tiny polka dots swirl with gusts of wind across the yard and through the bare trees - Nature's winter wonderland dance. I took McGee (puppy) for a walk but because I'd just finished soaking in a hot tub of water, the claw feet almost turning red from the heat and my hair still wet, we didn't stay outside very long - the last thing I need is a cold. I'ts very quiet outside; winter's white shroud thickening, each footstep soon covered up as quickly as a wave erasing our existence while meandering along on a sandy beach. 

          I'm most definitely in the winter of my years, bones creaking and cracking like frozen trees shivering against each other. Aches and pains in every joint with each bend or stretch; I should have been kinder to this body. But then, who knows, life might not have been so much fun when I was younger; I think carefree is a myth. I can't say the future looks bleak because there doesn't seem to be any real future, only day to day living; staying alive a constant thought. Being physically active has always been important and still is. Creaky bones and achy joints have certainly slowed me down and as I run down the road to tire out McGee, I find it's me after the Sherman-speedy-shuffle, out of breath and wanting to sit down for a rest, the big-eyed puppy looking up as if to say, "Is that all you've got old man."

          My art studio is patiently waiting but it's not too likely that I will ever use it again - the sign hanging under the window says, "FOR SALE". It was merely a shell, used mainly for storage when I bought it and had it skidded down the road about this time of year. I built a loft and installed a window, so while I was working on something and my mind began to drift, I would often look out through the sumac trees, where often delightful pretty songsters would flit and a pesky squirrel would sometimes sit - its big soft eyes looking back at me.

           Many things I'll never do again, like hike the West Coast Trail, sail the Northwest Passage or hug a tree jutting out over the North Pacific at Haida Guaii. However, as the snow drifts and swirls outside, I dream of summer, when my Daisy and I once again take to the road in our Hippie Hangout and cross this fabulous country. Perhaps hugging that same tree on Haida Guaii will become a possibility...cheers, eh!