It may be snow white up here in NWT, but for that reason, I think it’s time for a Friday flower.
Lavender in the drying process.
The photo above, taken a couple of years ago, is of a bunch from one of my lavender pots. Lavender is said to bring luck. In ancient times, it was burned in bonfires to ward off evil or to entice good fortune.
Despite its reputation as an “old lady” flower, I have always loved it for its fragrance and pretty purple flowers. Dried, it can last a long time; I like to keep it in my closet to repel moths, and outside, it repels mosquitoes.
Large lavender bush.
And, as if that’s not enough, lavender scent will help you to sleep, and more deeply, as well.
It’s certainly one of nature’s beautiful presents. Do you grow lavender?
Isn’t our natural world magnificent? It’s amazing to see that green tint in the water, and that hue certainly contributes to how cold it looks. It’s cold here in NWT, but that somehow looks colder!
After all the recent nasty weather, I hope that wherever you are, you are warm and comfortable.
Up here, we drive across frozen lakes. Temporary roads are created, ploughed and come complete with signs. There is a government department in charge of these winter roads, as they are called.
Below is a photo taken from one of our drives on the Yellowknife – Dettah road.
Yellowknife – Dettah winter road.
Using these roads is an interesting northern experience that can’t be duplicated in most other places in the world.
If you’re interested, here’s a winter road website.
Last week, an interesting thing happened. I came home from work, dropped off my bag and proceeded to clear the latest snow deposits from my steps. For good measure, I added some salt, as there were a few small ice patches here and there.
I was looking forward to a lovely meal from my wonderful M. He was making chicken pasta with mushrooms, and the aroma, particularly upon entering from the frigid outside environs, was especially enticing.
My snow-encrusted doorbell, bathed in the glow of my porch light.
I went inside again, dropped off the shovel and picked up the garbage to take it outside.
As I turned to go down the steps, I managed to find and slip on the only bit of unsalted ice at the head of the stairs, and slammed my teeth together as both feet went out from under me and I whacked the edge of the first step on my way down.
Sliding and banging, I managed to hit the edge of all seven of them with my back and ribs, accompanied by glancing butt hits on the stair treads.
When I came to a stop, I could tell there was some damage, but I wasn’t sure which part I should moan about first.
My M came bursting through the door, as he had heard me fall.
Back inside, I started to note the injury: bruised ribs and spine and an overall sense of having been jarred, hard, especially my teeth. And later, I discovered a broken tail bone. All things considered, it could have been worse. But the thing that sticks out the most is how I tried to grab the doorbell to save myself. What the hell was I going to do with that??
All’s well that ends well, I suppose, especially on the part that ends with my rear. I’ve always been a bit of a pain in the ass, so I guess it’s only fair that the sentiment has been returned, literally.
How karmic.
Happy weekend, and may you always land on your feet. 🙂
I grew up next to the Atlantic Ocean. Its profoundly salty tone and scent suffuses all aspects of life within and nearby with an overarching awareness of the primordial melting pot that connects all of us.
For me, this picture from photographer Vincenzo Mazza activated a strong sense of home, which is unusual as I’ve never felt much homesickness. I left “home” at a very young age and have spent the vast majority of my life in many other places. Home became more about my life’s people than about a place. But the ocean has a way of imbuing your blood, I think.
I have visited Iceland a number of times, and its ocean geography does remind me of “home.”
South Icelandic coast, a rugged and beautiful place.
This is a very familiar sight to me. Deep, serious winter snow. Blowing, swirling, wheeling, billowing wildly, settling uncomfortably only to be on the move again.
I find that this photo, by photographer Arthur Stanisz, captures the disquiet and restlessness of a winter storm. The mountain acts as a sort of monochromatic canvas, a supporting frame amid the curtain of darkening, louring skies.
This storm should be respected: stay inside with a good blanket and some hot chocolate.
It really looks as if the federal government is going to tighten our pandemic travel rules, a lot. The prime minister is being pushed that way, and, I think, is leaning that way. That means no travelling at all, either nationally or internationally.
Although I’ve hit a bit of a patience wall, I’m in favour of it. I want to do what’s in the best interests of the vulnerable. And the sooner we hunker down, the more we can control this wretched virus, and together with the vaccines, that means …
One of my favourite Penticton restaurants.
… going to a restaurant! Inside!
What else?
Meeting with family and friends! And being able to hug!
This is a picture of a former Canadian politician, Tom Mulcair. That’s not the point, though: it’s a crowded room, and there’s not a mask in sight.
No masks! Hot, soggy, fogging-up-the-glasses uncomfortable. If I never have to wear a mask again, I’ll be very thankful.
I hope to say good-bye to these soon.
And lastly, but definitely not leastly, just being able to live without covid. Without worrying about loved ones, without thinking of all the safeties you have to do to go to the grocery store, … without worrying about my son, the paramedic.
I was lately reminded that nothing lasts forever, including a pandemic. So yes, this, too, shall pass.
We have to continue to be patient. And safety conscious. And thankful for essential workers of all kinds.
If you’re interested in seeing them for yourself, there are many choices. Here’s the site for Yellowknife, NWT tourism: https://extraordinaryyk.com/
Thinking about travelling somewhere makes me wistful. Not that I need to (or want to) travel right now, but the idea of that freedom … I hope that we will soon have this pandemic under control, and such things as seeing the northern lights will become possible again. This weird perception that I’m “unfree” is strange. I’m not, not at all, but I feel an illogical and strong sense of entrapment. This must be my limbic brain kicking in. New normal? Hah! New abnormal is more like it.
In the Net! - Pictures and Stories of Life 