Thoughts from Chickadee Lane

After yesterday’s (Jan 20) heavy snow fall, our yard has been transformed from dull grey into a winter wonderland filled with magnificent soft sculptures. Sharp edges are transformed into voluptuous curves of softness. The cedar hedge appears like a chorus line of Snow Whites dressed in flowing gowns. The oak tree branches become 10 times their size laden with white marshmallow-like snow fluff.   On fresh fallen snow there are a zillion tiny foot prints embedded in the snow. I don’t know about you, but I am often surprised by the many night visitors who wander through our yard in the moonlight. Their presence only revealed through fresh tracks in new fallen snow. Seeing these tracks - some tiny, some large, some focused with a clear destination, some wandering, I am filled with wonder and playfulness just knowing these creatures are around. And happy they stay outside! Out of our home and out of my car! (That’s a story for another day)   Google helps identify some tracks yet m...

Have you ever had the opportunity to sit and watch a toddler learning to coordinate their arms and legs? Recently I had just such a delight. Sitting on the floor with seven month old grandson Crew, we watched in awe as he tried over and over again to direct his arms and legs to get him where he wanted to go. Crew knew he wanted to crawl. However, as hard as he tried, arms and knees just would not move as he hoped and a face plant ensued.  Learning to crawl is hard work!  That was three weeks ago. This week arms and legs are moving at his command! He has accomplished the art of crawling!  Crew is on the move! It was fascinating to watch Crew try over and over again. When a toy was out of reach, you could see him pondering a way to reach the toy. Then wiggle and squirm until the toy was in his hand. Success. And a smile. Watching Crew, reminds me how wondrous it is - that deep within our beings there exists this innate drive to move, to crawl, to stand upright, to walk, to ...

Elizabeth and Orysia Why am I the last to know about me?” - the poignant question voiced by Orysia, a dear friend and kindred spirit, who is now living wth dementia.  I don’t know if this is the best place to start the story, yet it seems to be a good place to start.  Orysia is the first child born to immigrant Ukrainian parents who settled in Northern Ontario. An adopted Islander, (PEI) Orysia is a woman of many talents. Internationally known Akbash and Havanese dog breeder. Shetland sheep farmer. Scientist. Writer of both long and short fiction. Author of an award-winning book on livestock protection dogs. Writer in residence at the University of Tasmania. Traveller. Sister. Aunt. Cousin. And fun loving generous friend.    Once upon a time, we worked and played together. We played endless pranks on colleagues and friends, watched the sunrise over the Grand Canyon and enjoyed many beach walks while sharing our lives.    Orysia was a rock as my first m...

In these days of difficult news I feel called to write about something that brings us life. Or at least a breath of fresh air. Recently I have been in the presence of two astonishing creatures - Chandler and Echo, who manifest a serenity that resists all chaos, fear and anger's noise. At a recent Legion Convention I sat near Chandler, a six year old Service Dog trained for PTSD and Dave, a veteran living with PTSD. Amid the noisy chaos at the Convention Centre, I watched in awe as Chandler snuggled up to Dave. They are always touching. (See picture) Dave explained that when Chandler senses Dave’s anxiety, Chandler pushes up against Dave, letting Dave know that he is there. When Dave feels the PTSD anxiety he reaches out and touches Chandler. While Dave prefers to stay in the security of his home, Chandler gets Dave outside among people… just the place he needs to be. Then there is Echo - a seven year old black Labrador retriever Seeing Eye dog I met at a recent workshop. Led by h...

Rainbow photo from our back yard. It is with humility that I offer today’s thoughts from Chickadee Lane - a critique of the use of the word ‘guys’ to address all people - a bee in my bonnet, a thorn in my side. Some might say that I am the last one to critique how we use language. For with my Island accent I drive on ‘slippy’ roads and often drop the ‘g’ as "I am goin’ to town.” I who have confused every church music director by mixing up hymn numbers. I who can never quite understand when to use ‘I’ and when to use ‘me’. To the point that in my early ministry a women of the congregation, frustrated with my mixing up ‘I’ and ‘me,’ presented me with an English grammar book, “The Use of I”! And to you who read this blog, you already know I am not an expert in grammar and have never figured out when to use a semicolon.   Still… I am not a ‘guy’! My protest is about the use of the word ‘guys’ to address all genders. I am old enough to recall when male exclusive language was used for a...