A Place Like This......

The Birdman of Montreal

It was a hard day walking in the streets of Montreal. The night before an ice-storm had descended upon the wintry city making it nearly impossible to walk the next day. That didn't stop us however. Following my mother's advice of "There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing." We donned our warmest clothes, parkas, boots,hats, mittens. All that was missing were toe picks. 

As we slid down the street I was really beginning to reconsider our daily walk around the city. We came upon a beautiful old cathedral built in the 1800's. We decided to stop there for a little rest and re-grouping. As I was headed in, the kids stopped.

"Hey Mom, look at this." Mimi yelled.

Fascinated by the story, I was called over to meet a man who lives a daily memory. For years, this man would come with his young niece to feed the pigeons in the Cathedral court yard. As the years went by their loving tradition became a memory that would last a lifetime. 

The niece became very ill and no matter what treatments they tried, nothing worked. 4 years ago his niece passed over. Every day in her honor, the man walks to the Cathedral to feed the birds. Always grateful for the time they spent together and for her short life on this planet. His story touched us so, that the children asked for a photo with the Birdman of Montreal. 

So here we remember this kind man's niece. This blog, A Place Like This is a testament and living memory of the moments that my we spend together passing fleetingly through this world. What memories do you share? You know, the ones which will last a lifetime. I always say to my beloved children, "Let your memories be your blessings." This life is short. May you make a million blessed memories. 

Living With Attention

Holstee Manifesto

Today I find myself in a very reflective mood. When 2011 started I made the intention to live differently. Not the resoultion making type of living different , no not that, I just wanted to live with attention. I wanted to live without missing any little details or to let my brain go off into auto-pilot, missing moments that I couldn't recall at the end of the year.  As I look back over the past year with all of it's celebrations,tribulations,challenges, and daily little moments I can say that this year I have truly lived and created life more, not in the amount of much, but in the knowing that I have lived fully. Serving as my mantra and guide for the year was the Holstee Manifesto. How do I feel at the end of my year of attention? That I have laughed harder, cried rivers, created with others joyfully, loved more, savored every bite, met many old friends in new ways i.e. blogging friends, I have travelled near and far to learn that we are unified in our differences. Life is short. I thank each and everyone of you who show up each time I make a post and share a part of your world with me. Here's wishing you a new year filled with many happy and creative moments and know that I'm so thankful for the time we spend together.

A Bright Light Remembered

In the past I've mentioned a woman who has inspired me to think about how each and every one of us can contribute. About a year and a half ago I planted 75 trees, 15 trees for each of my immediate family members to contribute to reforesting the planet.

Sadly I bear the news that Wangari Maathai  died of cancer Sunday in a Nairobi hospital. 

Maathai is best known for creating the Green Belt Movement, which has planted tens of millions of trees around Kenya, but she also personified a positive strain of environmentalism that stands out in a world where “woe is me” messages dominate. 

You can have a look at previous posts I've written about her here and here.

Her family, friends, and co-workers ask that you stop by the Green Belt Movement and/or her Facebook page to leave condolences.

In honor of her memory and to perpetuate all that she has taught, I ask you kindly to plant a tree wherever you may live. She shared that it is each of our responsiblities to care for this planet, and so we shall......

Even in death she lives but oh how I will miss her.

 

Go to the Valley

Yesterday started out white. When I went to bed it was a normal night and when I woke up I saw this lovely vision yelling loudly to come in.

 

I didn't really comprehend that there was a lot of snow on the porch. It wasn't until I let katten in and could barely get the screen door open that I noticed this.

 
Yep, a big dose of the white stuff. It was still snowing and I couldn't even see the street. It was so so quiet and had that wonderful fresh crisp smell. So it was time to get in my Nanuk of the North outfit and head out......

 
A path was forged by my loving husband who went to the hospital to work. (Our neighbor Laurie took a photo of his car slowly driving down the road at 7 am and posted it on Facebook.) The snow was so deep, a good 7 inches I figured, and it was still snowing.

 
Down the road and over the hill, between the trees,

 
 and eventually through the tall tall grass, lies the valley.

 
 
A place where many generations have sled in winter and played capture the flag in the summer.  

 
 
 
When I first got to the Valley, there were only a couple of friends. As we caught up with our lives and what was going on, more and more people came. Though I've made it sound like a nature preserve of snowboarding/sledding bliss, the truth of the matter is, that this valley is our neighbors backyard. Many thanks go to our neighbors who embrace all of us trudging up and down their hills, laughing and screaming with delight, as we make these moments into memories.  Be well and happy snow days.

 

New Year Gratitude

 
I want to wish each and everyone of you the happiest of new years. I am grateful for your daily visits and for the life we share together between our blogs. We have enriched eachother's lives, shared in triumphs and sorrows, watched children and beloved pets grow, oh yes, and the three C's...Craft, Cook, and Create our lives in the little snapshots of living we post on our blogs.

This year instead of launching into the making of lists i.e. what I accomplished last year, what are my goals for this year etc. I've decided to let each day unfold as it wants to and be thankful for all that lands in my way.

I've had a daily gratitude practice for years but when Stephinie suggested that we follow the leadership of a very special 15 year old, I had to heed the call. For the next 365 days, I will photograph and note something I am thankful for each day. Please join us over at the 365 gratitude flickr site as we join in gratitude for this year of 2011. All I can think of is how contagious thankfulness is.

I was given this book as a gift this holiday season and I find it wonderful to read out loud and share with family and friends.

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you for coming to this place, our place like this, and for sharing your kindness over the years. I'll leave you something today which inspired me. It's all of 1:34. Be well and see you tomorrow on the journey of 365 days of things to be thankful for.

~ Visiting about "What do we know?"

Today I'm visiting over at The Yellow Door Paperie. Mary has so graciously asked my views on gratitude in her Tell Me A Story series.

Before you head on over I thought I would leave you with one of my favorite poems by Mary Oliver. Be well and have a wonderful day filled with much to be thankful for.

 

 

 

Gratitude

What did you notice?

 

The dew snail;
the low-flying sparrow;
the bat, on the wind, in the dark;
big-chested geese, in the V of sleekest performance;
the soft toad, patient in the hot sand;
the sweet-hungry ants;
the uproar of mice in the empty house;
the tin music of the cricket’s body;
the blouse of the goldenrod.

 

 

What did you hear?

 

The thrush greeting the morning;
the little bluebirds in their hot box;
the salty talk of the wren,
then the deep cup of the hour of silence.

 

 

What did you admire?

 

The oaks, letting down their dark and hairy fruit;
the carrot, rising in its elongated waist;
the onion, sheet after sheet, curved inward to the
    pale green wand;
at the end of summer the brassy dust, the almost liquid
    beauty of the flowers;
then the ferns, scrawned black by the frost.

 

 

What astonished you?

 

The swallows making their dip and turn over the water.

 

What would you like to see again?

 

My dog: her energy and exuberance, her willingness,
    her language beyond all nimbleness of tongue, her
    recklessness, her loyalty, her sweetness, her
    sturdy legs, her curled black lip, her snap.

 

 

What was most tender?

 

Queen Anne’s lace, with its parsnip root;
the everlasting in its bonnets of wool;
the kinks and turns of the tupelo’s body;
the tall, blank banks of sand;
the clam, clamped down.

 

 

 

What was most wonderful?

 

The sea, and its wide shoulders;
the sea and its triangles;
the sea lying back on its long athlete’s spine.

 

 

What did you think was happening?

 

The green breast of the hummingbird;
the eye of the pond;
the wet face of the lily;
the bright, puckered knee of the broken oak;
the red tulip of the fox’s mouth;
the up-swing, the down-pour, the frayed sleeve
  of the first snow—

 

so the gods shake us from our sleep.

 

~ Mary Oliver ~