Two Bald Eagles

Two bald eagles have taken up residence somewhere nearby.

It is a little difficult to greet the realities of life, first thing in the morning.

I stand at a window, overlooking the harbour to see all the gulls in flight. Among them is the dark, large silhouette of an eagle gliding among them. The gulls, because of their size, can usually out manoeuvre the eagle, but eventually lose strength and become sitting gulls. There is one fewer seagull in the harbour this morning.

Out over the harbour, on the top of a tall fir tree, by the white clapboard church on the cliff, the eagle sits. A murder of crows now swarms below, waiting for leftovers.

My little Halloween visitors this evening will not hold the same horror of the ancient celebration, that I was met with this morning.

Let the Celebrations Begin............ Halloween Birthday

Daddy is feathering the wings. Mummy suffered glue gun harm sparkling the beak. There is a flutter when Halloween is the birthday. Six-year old to be, labels everything with her newly honed printing skills. Excitement on excitement as the big day approaches.

Little Super Girl whirls through all the action.

Far, far away, in the land of the rising sun, another mummy microsizes a Super Man costume, for her brand new tiny Super Hero. 

Grandma is kept well informed of all the doings, as she happily continues to stack winter wood at her house by the sea. She remembers the happy, but sometimes frazzling special days.

Home Again

The sun shines. The flag somewhat detached from the flagpole, flutters when the wind gusts. Moses lies on the porch at the south side of the house. I just took the tea bag out of my mug.

I am ready for the familiar rhythm of the house to begin.

Anyone who has ever heard me play the uke knows rhythm isn't my strength. I would give myself a solid D in simple strumming, but my style is unique. So goes the rhythm of my days.

What a time it has been. My older daughter has flown away to her home, to be missed until Christmas. Thanksgiving, a Swiss Chalet,  order in, delight is one more unusual holiday for the memory book. The birth of a beautiful baby boy, filling Grandmas arms perfectly, and the wounded body of his momma, the death of a longtime companion take up pages in the book as well.

When I have been away for a while, I bring home new insights from new experiences that in time will be woven into a tapestry of what it is to be me. This I know. The lives of those I love most give a priceless richness to the fabric.

Sweet Clara Died at Thanksgiving

My sweet little rabbit hound, Clara, died in her sleep, on my bed last night. I shouldn't really say little, as over her twelve years she became quite full figured.

I can't describe how my heart aches.

I have been away for weeks, helping to look after my beautiful new grandson and his less than hardy mummy. Mummy just had her gall bladder out and her pancreas is still making its presence known. She won't be able to lift her wee babe for a while yet.

I got a call that Clara had disappeared. In years past, she roamed far and wide with the best of them, in search of the elusive rabbits. Lately she has been a stay at home girl, making do with the less exciting odors in her smaller domain.

Without hesitation, I got in the car and headed home, knowing there were others to care for my daughter for a while. My friends had searched everywhere and more.

Clara had left the house early in the morning with determination. She didn't touch her homemade breakfast. She was in search of a good place to die.

My older daughter was with me. She came to Nova Scotia to meet her new nephew and to celebrate Thanksgiving with family. We had just given up hope of Clara appearing, when she stuck her head out from under the holly bushes beside the house. My daughter shouted and I came running.

It was clear that the dog was sick. She could walk, but I carried her in. She drank and drank and drank from her water bowl, but wouldn't touch a prime morsel of chicken.

Clara was no spring chicken. She knew more than a little bit about old age. I knew she was very unwell, but she had made miraculous recoveries before. This time it was not to be.

We spent the next day side by side. At night she lay on my bed. She died in her sleep.

I hope she is not resting in peace. That was not her thing. I hope she she is excited by all the new smells leading to new adventures with all the loved dogs that have gone before her.

Clara was a character who took a part of my heart with her.

                                                    .............................................................

As a postscript, I was sitting at my computer the day after Clara's death, where I look out over the Bay,  a Sun Dog appeared in the sky.  To be honest, I am heartbroken over the death of my friend. We had such fine times together.

I had left the house, suddenly in the night weeks before to be with my ailing daughter and her family. My friends took good care of my dogs. I hadn't had a chance to say goodbye. I worried that Clara believed I had deserted her. I am for the most part a hearth bug.

Clara was a very sick dog when I returned, too sick to actually interact.

When I saw the sun dog in the sky, I thought the universe was welcoming her blithe spirit. Now I choose to believe, she was saying I know. she would have wagged her tail if she could.