Things that deserve the stink-eye:

this sad (Calvin & Hobbes-like) snowman.

The neighbour kids—those adorable little Oilers fans—assembled a snowman, but climate change is why we can't have nice things anymore. It was 15 degrees Celsius in parts of Alberta yesterday (!) thus, his head fell off, as did his scarf, arms, and carrot nose (zoom in).

Years ago I would have rejoiced at another Alberta chinook, but the extreme temperatures this January are unprecedented. Sigh. It neared -50 C in Alberta just two weeks ago. As I look forward to real Spring, I wonder about drought and fires and smoke. You're not alone if you too feel the climate anxiety, or solastalgia, a term new to me, but so 2020s. 

Three!

Happy New Year (baby)!

Our third grand baby has arrived! 

I love being Grandpops to 

M (flower girl) & L (baby boy in the carrier)

plus that little one in the stroller 

on the right: welcome baby girl I. 

Fave Reads 2023

My reading criteria remains the same as last year—the shorter the better. Nevertheless, several longer books captured me this year. 

All my life, books have been my life-is-a-classroom seat-partner, ally, playmate, collaborator, pal, and sidekick. I can rely on them. They both calm my tendency to overthink and stir or stretch my thinking. I feel a little lost when they are absent. Perhaps among these faves is your newest companion? 

You might think
you know her story...
She never
wanted to be a 
pop star. I was
in Ireland reading
her unflinching,
humble, brazen 
life story when
she died.  This memoir
felt like a gift. 
Read more here. 

It's so beautifully-
written. It's as if it
were written all at
once by someone
with a broken heart.
An Irish girl
unlocks love from
grief and no one
is ever the
same again. 

A farmer friend asked
me to read this. The
title made me reluctant.
But this modest,
nostalgic and somewhat
broken young farmer
reminded me how
fragile non-corporate
agriculture actually
is in the 2020s, and also
how vital. Touching
funny, important. 

Like her other book,
(Quiet,
about introversion) 
Susan Cain asserts that
those typically moved
by pain & sorrow often
possess a sharpened 
perspective. Essentially
melancholy might
just be your superpower.

Much-needed in-
sight into 
"limiting" 
(not toxic)
masculinity
and how we boys
are sentenced by
patriarchal norms
into rigid roles
that undermine
becoming loving
and caring men. 

 

Word-of-the-Day

Although apropos, my word-of-the-day calendar seems out of sync with this particular Western-Canadian Winter: it was +4 C today. Climate change much? Yikes. 

And our December thus far? Mostly above zero temps without much snow. So...no skiing. No sledding. No snowmobiling. No fun. 

Yet. 

So are we Canadians bummed without snow in the Winter? Kind of. However, there's always something to celebrate. For example, those bastards commonly known as Canadian geese are still gone for the Winter whatever the temperature. Thumbs way up. That perk, my friends, is brumal. 

Let's be honest...

a chai latte is lit: warm, fragrant, spicy...plus it's even more delicious with my toddler granddaughter (she had a lollipop and we "read" the newspaper together). 

Where's your favourite coffee-shop? What's your signature order? And who's your favourite coffee-shop pal? 

Medicine

(ground) chicken soup

     Thanks to a good friend, my daughter, and my wife—and their kitchen fearlessness—I can now make a delicious chicken soup. It's pretty easy: I think the secret is the right combo of garlic and ginger. 

     So why was I intimidated? Probably because chicken soup has a legendary reputation: it's basically medicine, right? And we all need some medicine occasionally, especially at this time of the year. As winter here redraws the landscape white and shades the sky grey most days, we must find our medicines where we can, in the kitchen and otherwise. 

     Poet e.e. cummings described Winter as a "murderer" standing over a "snowstopped silent world." Yikes. There might not be enough chicken soup in the world for that mindset. As a Canadian in the North, I can appreciate, even respect Winter, but sometimes it messes with my mindset: ongoing darkness, roadway stress, vague dis-ease. 

     Yet my worrisome Winter mindset is just that: one perspective. It's reframe-able. It's the difference between distress and eustress. I find this language helpful. As you know, distress is longer-term stress with negative impacts, like a break-up, financial problems, or work-demands; but eustress is short-term and beneficial stress, like moving to a new community, or flying for the first time, or learning something new—it helps motivate us, builds character, inspires growth.

     If only the words themselves made it that easy, eh? Although the distinction provides perspective, too much snow can be less of an opportunity to go sledding down a steep hill and more of just much too much snow. Sigh. 

     Dear friends, I encourage you to consider how you react to the snow, (inevitable struggle) and to make, or find your medicine where you can.

More, please.

Every child matters. 

Each year I see more people in my community wearing orange shirts. Plus, Manitoba just elected Canada's first First Nation premier, Wab Kinew. I am so tired of people who ignore or make excuses for Canada's appalling history toward Indigenous peoples. 

Progress. More, please. 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

 

(aka frost warning solutions)

garden "ghosts." 

Seeds

Pádraic

This past July, I fell in love with Galway—an ancient arts and festival city on Ireland's west coast. 

Our walking tour guide began Galway's history with a special nod to Pádraic Ó Conaire—born in Galway in 1882—a writer and ally of the Irish language and independence. His statue is situated in the main square; due to politics, it has been revered and ridiculed, moved several times, and once beheaded. Despite everything it has overcome since its establishment the statue has persevered. Like Ireland itself, Pádraic has endured a lot, yet remains robust and undefeated.  

Speaking of enduring individuals, while we traveled in Ireland, Sinead O'Connor died. Coincidentally, I was listening to her memoir in her own voice: this experience felt so bittersweet, like a surprise gift I didn't deserve, and a poignant reminder of how much art means to me personally but also stirs and sustains us all. 

I feel compelled to share something from her memoir, Rememberings. She explained that when her career ended after SNL, she felt free! The music industry suppressed that she was a protest singer so they could market her as a pop star. She aimed to use her unparalleled voice to spread light through songs, but also shed light on darkness—a darkness she experienced personally as did so many in Ireland but a darkness no one wanted to acknowledge at the time—abuse, racism, greed. Her words: “They broke my heart and they killed me, but I didn't die. They tried to bury me, they didn't realize I was a seed.” Indeed.

Inn't?

My spouse and I tend to travel all over the world then return with photos of trees. (I recommend this practice.) These beauts are in Ireland's Blarney Gardens (which are sublime). 

Ireland is charming and friendly and indefatigable. I recommend its trees, its cliffs, its trails, its music, its dancing, its textiles, its Guinness, its cider, its stew, its fish, its friendly folks..."very good very good it's wicked inn't?"