The World at War (post 1)

This weekend our home ski resort is hosting the Women's Alpine World Cup event, where the best women skiers in the world will be battling it out for ultimate supremacy on the snow.
Olympian competitor, Christina Lustenberger, who was born and raised here in the valley, is fighting under the Canadian banner along with several of her teammates.
The Giant Slalom race will be held on Saturday, followed by the medal ceremony that evening in town, coinciding with our yearly Christmas Light-Up.

The next day's Slalom competition should be quite exciting, as the course is set up on a very tricky descent.
(Interestingly enough, we have skied those very slopes many times over the years and we are familiar with every curve, dip, pitch and roll along the way!)

Jenny and her Grade 5 class will be singing our National Anthem at the opening ceremonies early Saturday morning and we will be there to join in the song and cheer!
We had previously volunteered to help out with the race, but apparently they had enough regular help, therefore our resources were not needed.
Now we can observe the skirmish of skill and speed first hand from alongside the course!

If any of you want to see the race, I believe it will be televised world-wide over several networks.
You might just see us cheering our girls through the gates from behind front lines...

Preparation for Battle (post 2)

On the march.

The battlefield.

The above photo was originally taken upside down, as the placard was on the seat in front of me on the bleachers. A bit of computer photo magic, et Voila!

The Front Lines (post 3)

I was thrilled that my camera was able to capture these moments so well!

When the helicopter was at its zenith over the ceremony, I nearly fell over from vertigo! I am terribly afraid of heights and we were standing on the top seat of the bleachers. I could not believe I was able to catch the fireworks, as well. They came as a complete surprise.

Jenny is in the group of children singing in the front. At this point, the National Anthem was being sung in French.

I'll be back...

My Favourite Poem

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

McCrae's "In Flanders Fields" remains to this day one of the most memorable war poems ever written. It is a lasting legacy of the terrible battle in the Ypres salient in the spring of 1915. Here is the story of the making of that poem:
Although he had been a doctor for years and had served in the South African War, it was impossible to get used to the suffering, the screams, and the blood here, and Major John McCrae had seen and heard enough in his dressing station to last him a lifetime.

As a surgeon attached to the 1st Field Artillery Brigade, Major McCrae, who had joined the McGill faculty in 1900 after graduating from the University of Toronto, had spent seventeen days treating injured men -- Canadians, British, Indians, French, and Germans -- in the Ypres salient.

It had been an ordeal that he had hardly thought possible. McCrae later wrote of it:

"I wish I could embody on paper some of the varied sensations of that seventeen days... Seventeen days of Hades! At the end of the first day if anyone had told us we had to spend seventeen days there, we would have folded our hands and said it could not have been done."

One death particularly affected McCrae. A young friend and former student, Lieut. Alexis Helmer of Ottawa, had been killed by a shell burst on 2 May 1915. Lieutenant Helmer was buried later that day in the little cemetery outside McCrae's dressing station, and McCrae had performed the funeral ceremony in the absence of the chaplain.

The next day, sitting on the back of an ambulance parked near the dressing station beside the Canal de l'Yser, just a few hundred yards north of Ypres, McCrae vented his anguish by composing a poem. The major was no stranger to writing, having authored several medical texts besides dabbling in poetry.

In the nearby cemetery, McCrae could see the wild poppies that sprang up in the ditches in that part of Europe, and he spent twenty minutes of precious rest time scribbling fifteen lines of verse in a notebook.

A young soldier watched him write it. Cyril Allinson, a twenty-two year old sergeant-major, was delivering mail that day when he spotted McCrae. The major looked up as Allinson approached, then went on writing while the sergeant-major stood there quietly. "His face was very tired but calm as we wrote," Allinson recalled. "He looked around from time to time, his eyes straying to Helmer's grave."

When McCrae finished five minutes later, he took his mail from Allinson and, without saying a word, handed his pad to the young NCO. Allinson was moved by what he read:

"The poem was exactly an exact description of the scene in front of us both. He used the word blow in that line because the poppies actually were being blown that morning by a gentle east wind. It never occurred to me at that time that it would ever be published. It seemed to me just an exact description of the scene."

In fact, it was very nearly not published. Dissatisfied with it, McCrae tossed the poem away, but a fellow officer retrieved it and sent it to newspapers in England. The Spectator, in London, rejected it, but Punch published it on 8 December 1915.

Skiing for the Holy Grail

If there is anything as elusive as the Holy Grail, it's the alpine ski racer's dream to be at the top of the podium while proudly sporting a gold medal.

If not that, at least the dream of being draped with a silver or a bronze...

This year's Women's World Cup Slalom and Giant Slalom is being hosted by Panorama Mountain Village - my home ski resort.

I am a course crew volunteer and, in preparation for the races, I will be on my skis next weekend, and again the following weekend for the actual World Cup race event itself.

WoooHooo!

Look up, way up...

You Are 20% Left Brained, 80% Right Brained...

The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning.
Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others.
If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic.
Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet.

The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility.
Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way.
If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art.
Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy and sports.

Are You Right or Left Brained?

http://www.blogthings.com/areyourightorleftbrainedquiz/

Serendipity

I'm looking for the mushrooms.
They must be here somewhere.
There's been quite enough crap...

Oh...deer

I took this photo of a little four-pointer from our front window this morning.

Yes, The Phoenix

There is a certain beauty to the aftermath of a forest fire...

Buffalo Mountain Lodge

Watery Eyes

Val!
My copy arrived in the post!
I am now the proud bearer of your esteemed autograph.
Oh, and not to mention, the owner of your brand new book...
Water Ways is now resting upon my bedstand - beckoning.
I cannot wait to delve into those pages and drift into your life on the canals.
But not until I wipe away the tears...

Thank You

Ghost in My Mind

1. How old do you think you'll be when you die?
Much much older.

2. How will you die?
Not very carefully.

3. What will your last words be?
I should have been more careful...

4. What will your epitaph read?
"She hadn’t a care in the world."

5. Any parts of your body you wouldn't donate?
Yes.

6. What song will be played at your funeral?
"I Am An Animal".

7. Cremated, buried or "other"?
"A love born once, must soon be born again.
A spark that burned and died,
Leaving cinders to be fanned by the wind and thrown to flame.
Flames, like tongues, impassioned in a moment’s burst…"

8. If you could take one thing with you to the "next life", what would it be?
My sense of humour. Oh, and yes, my sketch book and a pencil - no eraser. (I know that's more than one...)

9. If you could take one person with you, whether they like it or not, who would it be?
Red.

10. Supposing they existed, do you think you'd end up in heaven or hell?
The suburbs.

11. If you could haunt any one place, where would it be?
My Grandma’s old farmhouse.

12. If you could haunt any one person, who would it be?
Eugene, are you there?

13. What type of ghost would you be?
Wispy – like mist on a zephyr.

14. You've been given the chance to send one message back to the land of the living. What does it say?
I’d do it all over again!!

Decadence and Dude Ponies

Bobby and Jenny outside the front entrance of the five-star Lodge at Kananaskis in the beautiful Kananaskis River Valley.

We were just setting out to spend the day in Banff after visiting with Lesley on her last night before she went back to Toronto.

Bobby and Laredo.

Jenny and Walton.

Looking through Lefty's ears.

Front to back - our guide Troy, Bobby, Jenny and two Muslim women who were along for the ride, as well. We rode a one hour loop around the marsh in Banff. The weather was spectacular and the fall colours were brilliant!

When All Was Said And Done

We were on holiday in Sandpoint, Idaho.

The latest bad news had already reached us.

A head count was taken.

All our children and loved ones were at hand - even the guilty.

But there was still time to enjoy the weekend we had planned.

What was done, was done and we had a deadline to keep.

So, why not all enjoy the time we had before returning?

This photo was taken in a wonderful, woodsy and tastefully decorated mall spanning the river Pack (not the most glamorous of names, but a name, none-the-less).

I will have to look up the history behind the moniker, one of these days...

We paused for tasty ice cream cones - of which I bolted with more enthusiasm than usual - then we took time for a photo shoot.

We also stopped to take in the local painter's art show - the talent is extaordinary in that valley.

We delved into a shop that boasted Persian rugs that were slung alongside Alpaca mittens and lambswool throws.

And the lovely butterfly kites that hung from the giant log rafters held Bob and Jen in amazement!

Although, I spent the day in a bit of a fog, it was a day well spent.

Thank goodness for our children.

They keep us grounded.

They keep us living for the small pleasures.

They keep in us the joys of our youth.

They keep us in mind of the future.

And, above all, they make us smile!

Happy Birthday

In memory of John Entwistle

October 9, 1944 - June 27, 2002

Reflections

Thank You!
Each and every one of you are so incredibly sweet, caring and, not to forget, wise.

I am feeling better each day.

There are lessons to be learned from this, although I am sure not all have revealed themselves yet.

Time will tell many things - as well as heal our souls.

For that I am glad.

I remain with Gene at his home.

I have a space to store my belongings and a place to surround myself with some of my special treasures.

He has been patient, kind and loving through all these trials.

For all that I am glad.

Beth is here, too.

She needs to be with family, but she also needs to know she did something unacceptable.

Many people have spoken with her and I believe she is slowly realising the depth of it all.

For that I am glad.

I miss Bobby and Jenny very much, as they are still with their dad.

They will be there until I am settled - whichever way that is possible for me.

Their father has offered to buy my portion of the house and he, as a carpenter by trade, will fix it up and do what he wishes with the place.

For that I am glad.

My sister will be arriving from Toronto next Friday evening and the kids are coming to stay with us for a few days.

It's nice to have something to look forward to.

For that I am also glad.

Although my immediate family is slightly scattered for the moment, and my extended family is spread from one end of the globe to the other, Family endures.

We love and support each other despite the miles that sunder us.

For that I am always glad.

Although stricken from my home, I still have access to a computer.

I have been able to continue to compose my thoughts and use words to comfort me.

For me, the written word is a friend, whether I do the writing or the reading.

For that I continue to be glad.

At Christmas my entire Family will gather.

Beth, Bobby, Jenny and I are flying to Montreal, where Mum and Dad will meet us and we will drive to the family home on the shores of our lake in the Laurentian Mountains.

The place of my roots.

For that I am glad.

My brother and his sons, my sister, and my other brother with his wife and children from Australia will be there, too.

We will be spending several days over the Holidays at a cosy country auberge near Mont Tremblant.

Our leisure time will be occupied by world class skiing

dogsledding over the hills

roasting marshmallows over a towering bonfire

feasting on Holiday fare

sleigh rides winding through the trees

skating on the pond

lounging before a cosy fire in the sitting room

and sleeping beneath feather downs as the stars pulse through the cold outside our window.

For that I am glad.

We have our health.

We have our wisdom.

We have our aptitude.

We have our friends.

We have our love.

For that I am glad.

Next weekend we celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada.

Trying To Make Sense Of It All

I am still trying to sort things out, both emotionally and physically.

At the moment I grieve deeply and can, at the least, simply be happy knowing my children are alive.
I might be hesitant to say well, due to the fact that I do not think any of us are doing well. We are merely coping.
My two younger children are with their dad and I miss them so very much.
I also miss my home, the cosy woodstove, the laughter, and the sunlight shining through the kitchen window.
Everyone at work has been very patient and understanding, even though I have been absent for several days.
Bobby has been having isuues at school, and past troublesome learning habits have, once more, reared their ugly heads. I must see that he is looked after.
Jenny is very resiliant, yet she is the one who carries the most anger over her dad's and my separation. Still, she is young enough to move on from day to day with the most ease of all.
Beth is with me. Where she needs to be. For now.
I am staying with my new partner in his home.

Most of my belongings are packed away in storage, but my two couches and some sitting room furniture are set up in an empty area of his room.

It looks quite homey, but I still feel out of place.

I need my own space - especially now.
As for Beth, I cannot forgive what has been done.
I love her, care for her, and will always wish the best for her.

I pray for Beth.
I pray for Bobby.
I pray for Jenny.
I pray for Gene.

(He has been so patient and kind through all this.)
I pray for George.

I pray for a simple Peace.

Happier Days

Despite it all...

I will not
Say
The
Eff word.