I lived alone with my baby in an off-grid cabin on a remote island off the coast of British Columbia. Now I live alone on Prince Edward Island with my seven year old daughter.
"Don't wish me happiness I don't expect to be happy all the time....It's gotten beyond that somehow. Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor. I will need them all." Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Tuesday, 8 March 2016
It's been raining a lot but since it is spring I have gone back to work. The little angel is dressed in a pink raincoat and pink rubber boots. This makes it easy to spot her amidst the green of the forest. We walk to work in a drippy rain which soon turns to a pouring rain and than alternates to a rain. I gather limbs and rake sticks amongst the trees listening. I find pleasure amongst them and they enrich me like a conversation with a good friend. Soon I am wet. My wool sweater and long wool skirt are soaked. But I am warm. It is my hands that will get cold first as I am wearing cotton fingerless gloves. I watch my daughter gathering cones off a fallen hemlock branch. She fills the pockets on her raincoat with them. I think about what we can do with them later. I find fish bones under trees, seagull feathers and the skull of an unknown songbird which I carefully set aside to bring home. We look at the bark on a Western Red Cedar. "It's a raincoat I tell her for the tree." I marvel at the ability of the local aboriginal's who long ago wove water proof poncho's and hats from this bark. Eventually we walk home. I hold the little wool mittened hand in my mine and feel joy. We linger. We wade through puddles and stop to nibble on primrose blossoms. The rain stops. When we get home I chop wood and than kindling. The little angel helps me put it in the wheelbarrow and than I haul it to the woodbox on the covered deck and than we play catch with a ball. We go inside and I look out the window - it's raining again.