A week ago I started a “looking back” series, where I post pictures from years ago – those that are special to me but not necessarily great. Here are a few more.
Sleeping grape vines, January, 2016.
These are from our first year in Penticton, before I decided to take a job in the Northwest Territories the following year. Like this one, that winter had been very mild, unlike the ones awaiting us in NWT.
Mountain snow melt, February, 2016. Pacific Ocean off Vancouver Island, March, 2016. Arrowleaf Balsamroot, commonly known as the Okanagan sunflower, April, 2016.Grape vines, July, 2016. From a mountain hike overlooking Okanagan Lake, October, 2016. In the distance you can see Kelowna. This area was recovering from a fire that had occurred ten years earlier; unfortunately it burned again during the severe fires of 2023.Tamarack glory, October, 2016.
Four months later, in February, 2017, I took on the adventure of working in the Northwest Territories after deciding we would keep our home here in Penticton. We were about to become very spread out over this huge country!
Ever hard to see because they are so small and have such fantastic camouflage, they also have the additional advantage of being amazingly quick. They will bolt at the slightest movement from a human, so getting photos can be a challenge.
While walking today I came upon a number of them scratching in the dirt along with their buddies, the mallard ducks. The instant they heard me they scattered, running and flying for dear life, but after I stood absolutely still, they returned.
As quietly as I could, I crept closer while fishing my cell phone out of my pocket; unfortunately, I had no other camera with me.
In the front left corner you can see a couple of ducks; the quail seem to get on well with them and I often see them eating and hanging out together. The ducks are much larger but of course they’re all vegetarians!
I find them so cute with their little head feathers and the way they constantly chat with each other. I’ve noticed that the ducks seem to be more contentedly verbal and relaxed when the quail are nearby, too. It’s very true that all of us do better when we have a friend or two.
Two years ago, I learned that a former spouse had passed away. He’s the subject of most of the early posts on this blog as I worked through my very short, very difficult marriage to him. By any definition, he was a full narcissist and therefore a problematic person with whom to try to have a relationship.
I was surprised to hear from his daughter who let me know about it; she didn’t provide any additional details. It was very kind of her to do that as I know that she had had very significant issues with him as well and had stopped communicating with him just after I initiated divorce proceedings.
Learning that he’s gone produced a bit of a reaction – it has taken me two years to write about it – with some feelings anticipated (relief, solace), and others not (anger, guilt). His departure has meant that I no longer need to worry about how he sometimes tried to track me down online, at work or through my family or friends, even many years after our divorce.
I suddenly began to feel a lot more secure. But then there was the guilt around being relieved at another’s passing as well as a real freshening of the anger I felt at the stalking and the need for additional safety precautions as well as for what he did to my finances and the time it took me to recoup.
This experience as well as my experience as a combat veteran has lead me to conclude that often, the fallout from traumatic or extremely difficult experiences doesn’t go away completely. These experiences lessen, they lighten. I can forget about them for long periods. The anger drops off. Even the details can become hazy. But disappear entirely? Nope.
There was the death of the marriage; in this case, it was stillborn even though it took me several months to put all the signs together. Then there’s the death of the former spouse, with its odd sense of unclosure closure. It’s a very mixed bag. Because regardless of what the experts say, some things just don’t fold neatly into a drawer that can be closed and locked forever. They grow smaller and smaller all the time, but you can still see their smoke on the horizon, no matter how far away you are.
A beautiful photo from James Elkington at Mountains, Myths and Moorlands. James has many beautiful pictures on his site; please click the link above to see more of them.
In the Net! - Pictures and Stories of Life 