And sometimes they run.

Isn't He Lovely.

Isn't she happy.

Back at the ranch.

It's a humble home.
Snow-surrounded.
It gives good hugs.


As much as I treasured my month in Alberta with friends new and old -- one of the best months de mi vida -- it's good to be back in the village.

The trees are weighted with what the blizzard blew in.
Friends and neighbours have welcomed me home. (More moose meat! Thanks, Elaine.)
I have a backlog of work to attend to.
And much shovelling.
The no-see-ums have proliferated.

My house has forgiven me for leaving it for so long, and I remember how much I love the way it fills with light, and holds it.

This is a healing place. Oh, yes.

But best of all is Greg.
Best of all is love.
Best of all is a future ringing with adventure and promise.

Take this morning: -22 discounting the windchill, and I ran. 10k in a parka. You think this is ridiculous? Ah, but you did not see the sundog: gargantuan, like parentheses filling most of the southern sky. Who could not rejoice in this?

I ran like a monster. I ran with music. I ran between the fields with nothing but acres of snow and woods on either side.

I ran because I am in love and he is a marathon runner, and when we ran together in Edmonton I felt like someone was squeezing the hell out of my neck the entire time and I really just wanted to drop but I couldn't -- although I did stop once to remove a jacket -- and we waited at crosswalks and held each other and kissed as traffic passed and I said: "Look, they're jealous because we're athletic and kissing."

Oh, the newly in love. I realize I am in danger of becoming one of those obnoxious people, waxing poetically (or not) about ... well, kissing at crosswalks.

Best is that he's visiting this weekend.
What will he think of my laidback, bare-bones lifestyle?
My appliances are not aluminum, or black. They are not even white.
I have half a TV channel.
Water is once again dripping from a basement pipe.

I want him to "get" it. I want him to know that all one need do here is breathe.

Best is that I know he will.

It's all easy.
It's all good.

I love the woods, yes, but it is better to love and be loved by a human being.

Greg Richardson.

Glory be.

Hootenanny.

I hope I can put a video up for y'all real soon. (You have to hear it to believe it).

Thanks, Ken, for hosting. xo

Happiness.

His name is Greg.
He lives in Edmonton.
I am bursting (in the very best way).
______________________________________________

Coffee Shop.

Place: High River, Alberta
Date: December 27, 2009
Characters: Shelley, Taylor, Kirby

What Christmas means to me.

 

A daughter kissing frost.

And a dead car in the woods.

Stamping symbols into the snow.

And mother-daughter moments.

Mother-son piggybacks.

Exploring.

And group shots.

Son and daughter, with skull.

Letting them make their way.

However long it takes.

Because it is so beautiful.

And quiet.

And to get lost

for two hours

together

in the woods

with the coyote

and grouse

is reason enough to rejoice.