Online Friends

One of the best things about coming home from holidays and settling into the old familiar routines was that I now have a little more time again for one of my favourite past times, playing an online word game called Words with Friends.  And it's a good name for it, since some of the ladies I play with have become good friends of mine.

I play with as many as thirty players at a time and have become close with three of them.  Two live in Oregon and one in Alaska.  We chat on the message board that comes with the game and have found we have much in common.  I chat a little with most of my "wordie" friends but these three ladies have taken it to a much deeper level.

I have in the past cautioned clients about online relationships, especially when there is romance and commitment involved.  "You don't know until you actually meet the person if there will be a spark or not," I'd say.  And I'd still feel skeptical when these clients would insist they had found their soulmates and were very confident in the depth and intensity of the relationship.

And then my daughter found the love of her life on line!  Video chatting for months led her to believe she was in love with this man.  "What if everything really is perfect but when you meet him in person, he stinks?"  I was sincere in the question; video chat can't reveal everything!  Of course, eventually they did meet and it seems he didn't stink because they are busy making plans for their future together.

 

Now that I'm involved in some online friendships myself, though not with the benefit of video chat, Facetime,  or Skype, I can see how easy it is to feel you know someone pretty well after some deep conversations.  I'm really enjoying my new friends, one of whom calls me a sweet angel (little does she know!) because we have similar ideas about spirituality and prayer, and I'm grateful for the technology that allows me to form meaningful friendships with people who live thousands of kilometers away.

And I'm willing to bet that none of the three stink!

Reprieve

The lazy sunny days in Rockport have almost come to their end.  Today was to be the final day of sunshine, nature, sea breezes, and coastal wildlife.  I had mixed feelings about leaving.  It would be nice to snuggle in to my own favourite recliner, I thought, and it would be delightful to fondle Baxter and Daisy's warm, silky ears again.

But I wasn't thinking very happily about snow and ice, and definitely not looking forward to temperatures in the -10 C range.  Those are aspects of home I thought I could do without for quite some time yet.

And then, first thing this morning, a reprieve!  "We'll have to stay an extra day," my husband announced when I woke.  An earlier riser than I am, he had checked the weather forecasts along our homeward bound route and realized that a major snowstorm was going to hit South Dakota on Saturday, exactly when we would be on that state's highways.  We Canadians know that 25 cm or more of snow falling in about 18 hours means we're best off staying off the roads if possible.

And it is possible!  All we have to do is stay in this coastal paradise an extra day and we can avoid the storm entirely.  A few clicks of computer keys and reservations were cancelled and rebooked for a day later.

So what that means for us is more of this:

and this:

and this:

It means one more evening dining with this incredible view out the window of our favourite restaurant:

And, of course, to my delight, what it also means is one less day of this:

Hmm, wouldn't it be nice if that blizzard settled over our homeward route for yet another day?!  No, that's not fair to the people who live in that region.  I think I'll just be grateful for the extra day I've been gifted already.

Live Oaks

Live oaks are amazing trees, twisted, gnarled, and bent from withstanding hurricanes, salt spray, and constant,  unrelenting winds from the ocean.  They are everywhere in this part of Texas and are part of what makes it feel special for me.  I love trees; I would almost say that I need trees to feel at home.

One of the most special live oaks in Texas, possibly in the whole world, is located in Goose Island State Park, only a twenty minute drive from our hotel in Rockport.  What makes it so special is that it's more than one thousand years old.

Isn't it magnificent?  It has withstood all kinds of historic events and natural catastrophes over its long life span.  I've invited it to be my guest writer for this post  Here's what it wants to tell us:

Welcome to my home.  I have seen spring return more than a thousand times.  I can remember hundreds of hurricanes, most I'd rather forget, but I withstood.  There was a big fire once.  I hate fire.  

Around me are my offspring.  We are an old-dune woodland community.  We provide shelter and acorns for squirrels, jays, raccoons, bobwhite, deer, javelina, and most other members of our community.

 For most of my life I belonged only to myself.  Now I belong to you, or so I'm told. Hunnpf!  Branch breakers and root trampers the lot of you.

Some years ago someone came and patched my cracks, trimmed my dead branches, killed my pests, and healed my fungus rots.  Was that you?  I'm feeling much better, thank you.

I am tired now.  You may leave me in peace when you are ready to go.  Please leave my home as you found it.  I have important things to do.  The seasons are changing again and I must get ready.

Thank you, venerable oak.  There are lessons for all of us in your wise words.  If we can learn respect of nature from you, maybe there's hope we can improve in respecting each other as well.

This Is For The Birds

One of the reasons I enjoy holidaying in the coastal areas of Texas is the amazing bird life.

These fellows are down at the Rockport Beach every time we go down to watch the dolphins in the channel and to bird watch. This part of Texas is actually known for the numbers and species of migratory birds who winter here.

This handsome fellow is one of the varieties of pelican that you see almost everywhere down here.  And here's a sunset shot of him (or one of his many compadres) against the breakwater.

Perhaps one of the most interesting things I've observed is that herons nest at the tops of trees.  I tend to think of herons as wading gracefully through shallows and reeds, elegantly stalking their next meal of fish, frog, or other small water creature.

 But here's photographic evidence that they are also treetop roosters and nesters:

These birds are resting at the top of a closely grouped stand of live oaks in an area along the shoreline designated and protected solely for their nesting purposes.  We often see them settled in for the night around 6:30 or 7:00 pm, just as we're on our way to a later supper at our favourite restaurant.

Nature is absolutely incredible and there' always something new to learn.
(All photo credits: the Squire)

Cacti and Salt Grass

I'm sitting poolside at one of our favourite hotels in Rockport, Texas.  We decided that a little break from snow and ice was in order and so, thanks to a daughter who was willing  to beagle-sit at home for us, here we are on an entirely different country mile that still somehow feels like home.

Yes, here we are ...  as far from snow, ice, and cold as you could wish without encountering the blistering heat and humidity of Mexico or other tropical locations; the Squire can't tolerate those climates.  We're enjoying temperatures in the mid 20s, salty sea breezes, and sunshine almost everyday.  One of our favourite activities is sitting quietly near the yachting channel down at Rockport Beach and watching the wild dolphins play and catch the fish disturbed by the passing of the boats.

We're enjoying coastal Texas with its magnificent live oaks, cacti and salt grass, and incredible bird life.  If I could chose an alternate place to live, coastal Texas would be my first choice.  The palm trees and cacti everywhere offer a strangely familiar, welcome-home kind of a feeling.  I've always enjoyed the beaches and beach towns in Manitoba, especially Grand Beach, Gimli, and points on Lake Manitoba.  Some of my happiest childhood memories center around days at the beach with Mom and Dad and those wonderful picnic lunches we enjoyed after brushing wet sand from our hands. The feeling here is much the same.

There's a special kind of soul freedom to be found in connecting with nature in such environments.  I can't tell you if everyone experiences it; perhaps it's different for everyone, but my soul soars here.  It's an environment very different from the one I was born and raised in but its differences speak to me as strongly as the familiar aspects of home.  I love to drive along the coastal flats and marshes observing and photographing bird life, live oaks, and the great variety of salt grasses and cacti.

Were I able bodied, I believe I would like to be a nature photographer.  Since I'm not able to leave my vehicle and tramp across rough terrain loaded down with photography equipment, I content myself with what I can do from the car, with a lot of help from the Squire.  The smell of the salt air, a marine breeze in my hair, and no fear of encountering snakes ... actually it's perfect for me.
(All photo credits: the Squire)

Junk Drawer

I'll bet almost everyone has a junk drawer somewhere in the house.  Mine is in the kitchen but I see no reason yours couldn't be in the bedroom or the bathroom.  Maybe it's not an actual drawer but a closet shelf or the top of the frig.  The principle is the same.

The junk drawer, wherever it may be, reveals a lot about us: what we save, what we forgot we saved, what broke but can't be thrown out, what we can't find any other place for, how thrifty we are, even how optimistic or pessimistic we are.  The optimist saves things knowing deep in her heart that she will be glad she did so; the pessimist saves the same things, knowing deep in her heart that if she throws it out, she will regret it within the week.  How nice that, for once, optimists and pessimists can agree on at least part of something!

In a typical junk drawer, people stash: frequently used tools and things, like scissors, bag clips, twist ties, magnets, letter openers, pens and tape. Most small objects, such as safety pins, thumbtacks and toothpicks, things that might get lost in the big wide world, get rescued into the junk drawer.  Mine is also home to receipts, shoelaces, stray items of plastic cutlery, a few straws, post-it notes, felt pads for cupboard doors, a stapler, decks of playing cards, scraps of paper with phone numbers not attached to any names, and corners of envelopes with addresses that I'm sure I will organize someday soon.

Were I to tackle cleaning it out, I know I'd be delighted at some discoveries, amazed at others, and likely feel pretty foolish when I realize what I all thought worth keeping.  And isn't cleaning out the junk drawer one of the tasks we dread most and put off more frequently than any other?  It certainly is in my house.

When I actually do achieve some order in my junk  drawer, I know three things will happen.  I'll agonize about choices: am I choosing new homes for some of the items I find or will I actually throw some things into the garbage!?  After enough vacillating and after too many items are returned to the drawer, I'll grow uneasy, wondering if my OCD tendencies, those intense desires to keep everything, are within the range of normal, or do I need professional help?  Is my inability to make these simple decisions a sign of declining mental health, or just a normal human response?

And the third thing, you ask?  Within 24 hours, the squire, in search of that particular doodad that he knows is in there, will be upset that I tossed something so important.  And in his rummaging search for that critical item, the whole drawer will be a mess again within five minutes!

Hmm, maybe I'd stand a better chance cleaning out my purse .... God help me!

Snow Culture

It's snowing today, a soft gentle fall of thick fluffy flakes.  Occasionally when the wind picks up a little, it becomes more of a driving snow, on the verge of stinging sleet.

Have you ever stopped to think about the many words and phrases we have in our Canadian culture to refer to the chief feature of winter, snow?  And just think of all the related descriptors: sleet, slush, pellets, flakes, snowbanks, windrows, snow slide, blizzard, white out, snow ball, snow man, snow plow ... the list seems endless.

Then there are all the products related to the white flakes that boosts our economy in the winter months.  Blankets, parkas, mittens, toboggans, sleds, snow shoes, snow shovels, snow tires, earmuffs, snow blowers .... another apparently endless list.  And the arts get in on the act as well with photography, painting, writing, and music describing or relating to snow.  It seems everyone, even people in snowless regions, know the words to White Christmas and Jingle Bells.

And consider all the words, products, and arts related to the season of snow: winter, cold snap, frosty, icicle, ice skates, ice scrapers, snow mobiles, frostbite, mittens, scarves, snow boots, skis, wood stoves, and hot chocolate, to name just a few.  We Canadians "get" all of these.  We understand terms like cabin fever and snowbound.  We know what weatherstripping is for and why chains are an essential part of long distance truckers' gear.

All this is on my mind today because tomorrow my Australian future son-in-law arrives at Winnipeg airport.  He has visited here for a few weeks once before, in the fall.  His experience of very cold doesn't go further than night time temps of -5 Celsius.  He has never stepped on an icy sidewalk or road, climbed a snow bank, shovelled a sidewalk, or felt near frostbite on ears, fingers, or toes.

 

He thinks, and I really hope it lasts for him, that snow is magical and beautiful.  I fear that, once he lives here permanently, he might become a little disenchanted with the white stuff and all it brings with it after he's experienced shovelling two feet of snow with no place to put it, digging a car out after it slid into a snowbank, or postponing our plans because of blizzards, or hazardous ice conditions.

We're well rounded people, we Canadians, and especially we Manitobans, with our summer and winter weather extremes.  Hank is well versed in dealing with very hot conditions but he has an education awaiting him ... starting the minute he steps out of the Winnipeg airport!