Many Blessings

Our little home performed admirably for our annual Christmas Eve celebration, a gathering of my brother's family and mine.  Thirteen of us seated around the dining room table, enjoying our traditional German meal by candlelight.  The dynamics of this group continually changing. This year, three little ones all under three graced us with their sweet energy.  Two other little souls patiently waiting in the wings.  Spirits of loved ones now passed infusing our evening, as well.  This Christmas Day I am counting my blessings, of which there are many.

Living in a Disney Movie

Looking out into the backyard, I feel as if I am watching a real-life version of a Disney movie.  The abundant and varied wildlife makes for heartwarming entertainment.  The antics of a grey squirrel chasing a black one up a tree, then along the top of the fence, are comical.  I can almost hear them laughing as they play.  Then there is the flurry of activity over the patio, as birds of all feathers take turns at the feeders. A kaleidoscope of blue, orange, grey, red, brown, white, and black. Dozens of birds participate in an enchanting ballet while flying a triangular route, from branch to suet to seed.  The sweet hummingbirds keep to their special feeder on the outskirts of the fray.  It would not be surprising to see music notes appear along with coloured banners strung from beak to beak.  As dusk falls, a pair of raccoons ambling across the lawn towards the house completes the scene.  Placing front paws upon the glass wall, they remain thus for quite some time, making eye contact with the two humans playing Scrabble indoors.  The blazing fire and candlelight in stark contrast to the cold outdoors.  Half expecting the raccoons to slide open the door and join in the game, this movie is one I will never tire of watching over and over again.

Sign of the Season

While preparing for our annual tree-decorating event at Boal Memorial, I paused by the front window this morning and gazed out over the frost-covered lawn.  Dry days, with unusually cold temperatures, has resulted in thick frost, creating an illusion of snow.  I stood there, the intense duality within me threatening to overwhelm - so much to be grateful for existing alongside deep sadness due to loss.  While breathing slowly and deeply into the scene before me, I became aware of one tiny snowflake drifting down.  Any smaller, and it would have been invisible to the naked eye.  A few moments later, another one appeared, followed by a third some seconds after that.  This delicate show continued for a short time - the tiniest of snowflakes floating down one by one, all well spaced apart.  And then, the display was over.  The first snowflakes of the year.  So subtle.  Easily overlooked, without any accumulation. Their appearance, however, was not lost on me.  On this significant day, it was not feathers that made me smile, but rather, a beautiful sign of the season. 

Coyote Encounter

What a glorious day for a run.  This morning, as I headed out the door towards the trail head of a sparsely-populated path leading into the canyon, I considered Saturday's run, when I ended up forgoing this route which I have run hundreds of times before. 
On that day, while approaching this path, I noticed a four-legged animal standing a short distance away, along the roadside.  At first, I thought it was a dog, a husky cross perhaps, but I stopped in my tracks when I realized I was staring at a coyote.   We sized each other up - me wondering what his intentions were, and he possibly wondering the same about me.  My first close encounter with such an animal was happening a 1/2 block from my home. 
As I moved closer, he retreated into the forest, whereupon I lost sight of him.  Hoping to get another glimpse, I wandered along the road, peering through the trees, but he was nowhere to be seen.  Unsure of what typical coyote behavior might be, I weighed my options - backtrack to the path and continue running into the canyon, or change to a less desirable, urban route?   I decided to stick to my original plan and ran back to the trail head.  However, as I started down the path, the animal crossed directly in front of me.  He then positioned himself at the edge of the forest, watching me. Perhaps we were just equally curious, but I turned around and finished my run along the neighbourhood sidewalks instead.  
I later learned that I need not have, and now know that if we ever run into each other again, we can both peacefully carry on our way.