To Anne … LoveUbecause … you are my Valentine

To Anne … LoveUbecause … you are my Valentine

So I must say, I have resisted a little, writing anything for Valentine’s Day, not because I don’t think it is a great idea to have a day set aside to celebrate the love we have and share with that someone special, but rather because I hoped that LoveUbecause would be a place where we could do that every day of the year.

But the truth is, I would be remiss to ignore the occasion, never mind  undoubtedly put a little arrow in the heart of the one I truly love, were I not to comment  - and that would definitely not be in the spirit of things. So here I sit late on Valentine’s Eve,  tap, tap typing to the rhythm of what has made my relationship with “my beloved” thrive for some thirty years now.

 Thirty years! Gone seemingly in a heart beat, fleeting moments, cherished memories, romantic dinners, little children, moonlight strolls, special holidays - come and gone like tomorrow was already yesterday, with an ease to be appreciated, and with a humility that only the relentless march of time can offer. It has been an enviable adventure!

Not that life has not had it share of ups and downs - most of which, I wouldn’t wanted to have missed -  for the good, the not so good, and always for the experience to live and learn. Yes, life has issued its share of bumps and bruises, but for the most part it would be dishonest not to say many were  of my own making – pushing some limits that perhaps had better been coddled, figuratively, and occasionally literally, sticking my chin out when there was a fist, or foot in flight and daring to try to live my dreams, when the unacquainted had  little resolve to make them happen, or more kindly, perhaps just flooded with  too many other dreamers  with which to contend,  and thus helpless to see them all through – but then that is the lot of the artist, writer and musician – success, vainly measured on an immeasurable stick of life, where really you must be content to have painted, sung, written and played, as the satisfaction of the performance and the appreciation of any audience is the true measure of the worth!

So my  Valentine, “how do I love thee? Let me count the ways …”, yes I could offer a verse, but I think you already know.  It would be for our children you have borne, the joy that we have lived, the hand to hold, the shoulder on which to lean and the anticipation of many more  years, love and memories to come!

But wait - tap, tap, tap – it is that rhythm again  -  the sometimes awkward  clack, click and rattle of me “marching to the beat of my own drummer”, as they say - you give the gift that many do not know - that many do not comprehend – you give me the gift of allowing me to be me – you never said “oh, maybe he will change - hopefully he will change “. You love me for who I am, and love me for travelling my own road - bumps and all - and I love you for that, more than I can ever hope to say. And as a writer, artist, your husband and more importantly, a human being what more could I ever really ask for?

Loving you always … your Valentine,

“A” the “O” in LVE!

P.S. to my friends, family and visitors, please leave a message for one of those you love … and …

  Happy Valentine’s Day!!!  

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Posted in About Love and Life, Holiday and Seasonal, Uncategorized, Valentine's Day, Write On and Read The Wall
Tags: celebrations, dreams, life, living, love, relationships, valentine

Loveubecause … a True Tale of Survival

 Guess I am fondly thinking about the summer ahead - thought I would share this with you …

Loveubecause … a True Tale of Survival

Survival – it is not always reserved for the biggest, the strongest, the boldest or most testosterone engorged. Just ask a dinosaur – oops, I almost forgot they disappeared from the earth a few million years back. The dragonfly, celebrated in native Indian and Japanese mythology, looked down upon and unjustifiably feared in some others, well that’s another matter!

No over abundance of testosterone here - I am secure in my manliness, so at the risk of the Arnold Schwarzenegger’s of the world dubbing me a “girlie man”, I shall admit I shed a tear or two the day we packed up and migrated from a bedroom community just north of the big smoke of Hog Town to the ethereal wilds of the countryside, north east of Peterborough.

Though filled with anticipation of new experiences and a more sedate lifestyle, leaving behind fifteen years of memories, the family home of once, newly minted children, many solid, long developed friendships and a wonderfully inclusive sense of community wasn’t emotionally easy.

Happily, any doubts were soon put to rest by the sheer beauty of our new found environment – a midnight blue sky, free from light pollution, bejeweled with a milky way of stars twinkling like diamonds was enough to leave me awestruck with wonder. We were greeted with crisp, fresh winter mornings. Evergreen trees, bedecked and weighted in newly fallen snow were transformed into a forest of mystic, bearded wizards with pointed hats, clad in virginal, sparkling white. Spring came and with it species of miniature, “dandilionesque”, yellow forest flowers I had never encountered before. Thousands of trilliums blanketing the forest floor with a multitude of subtle hues, ranging from startling, bright white to a dark, purpley crimson, were nothing short of stunning. A haphazard garden of early summer, wild, field daisies, all turning their bright yellow centered faces towards my back windows, apparently in expectation of some kind of performance, took my breath away.

Though I anticipated hordes of black flies and mosquitoes to dampen my enthusiasm in summer, few arrived, or made their miserable presence known. Instead, dense swarms of dragonflies and damselflies filled the air, gobbling up a multitude of unwanted pests. With the talent to hover like a Harrier jet, fly backwards and forwards, these keen-eyed insects have a voracious appetite and often each eat upwards of 600 mosquitoes a day. Dating back over 300 million years, 100 million before the dinosaurs, these marvels of nature are the first documented flying insects found in fossil form. Some giant species once had wingspans of 70 cm!

Named for their strong jaws and “teeth” (no, they don’t sting) used to gobble up their prey, dragonflies and their cousins, the damselfly, belong to the order of insects called “Odonata – a word from the Greek, “odon“ meaning tooth. And so it was that our small 17 acres of wooded, natural wonder was christened Odonata Woods, by my wife, “A”.

Yearly harbingers of lazy, warm summer days, these insects, barely modified since ancient times, could probably teach mankind a thing or two about longevity, survival and nature based technology. They are unavoidable reminders of nature’s genius, with immature nymphs possessing gill-like organs that allow them to live for months and sometimes years under water. Thousands of mature adults darken the sky during the mating season, often emerging in coordinated waves on the same day. They aggressively compete for mates, dive bombing through the air like Spitfires re-enacting the Battle of Britain.

Whether we are waiting for our winter tree wizards to conjure up spring, trilliums to celebrate its coming, or pungent, earthy smelling, dried, fall leaves to herald their passing, our multi-coloured, red, blue, green, black and orange Odonata friends are never far from our minds.

But getting back to survival - remember the big “blackout” a few years back? When power went out on the Eastern Seaboard and just about the entire north eastern half of North America a few summers back, we were quickly reminded how fragile we are. With no electricity, the ability to travel, communicate, pump fresh water and preserve food all quickly eroded.  I thought about the elderly, cooped up in apartments in the city, baking like gingerbread men in the heat. I quickly made a calculation of how long the supplies we had on hand might last and where I might get more when they ran out. I am sure the “lawn obsessed” in the suburbs were fixated on the potential of their lush, green, vegetative carpets wilting to more summer appropriate, dormant, natural, brown mats. I was more concerned for my horses and my farm neighbour’s animals and related businesses.  The potential for riots, looting and other disturbance in the big cities was a definite concern and no remote possibility. Our dragonflies?  It was one time I knew we didn’t have to give them a second thought! A true tale of survivors indeed!

“A” the “O” in LVE!

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Posted in Country Living, Uncategorized
Tags: blog, country, dragonflies, dragonfly, dreams, family, hopes, insects, life, living, love, odonata, story, survival, survivors, wishes