Category: Notes

  • October

    October

    Beauséjour, MB – Alexandra Lucas

    October

    Autumn is always an exciting time of year for me. When we were kids, September meant brand new supplies for work and creativity — new paper, binders, notebooks, and all the mark-making implements that went with them. It meant new beginnings, regardless of what had gone before, and they held limitless possibilities. September was also a month of birthdays — my sister’s, my cousin’s, and my mother’s.

    Ah, but October! It arrived with a hush and a promise of unfathomable magic.

    It would bring crisp mornings. Deep red, yellow, and orange leaves were everywhere. It brought ripe berries shining from leaf-lean bushes, and woodsmoke drifting in the air. Thanksgiving arrived on the second Monday of the month.

    But the last week was the best of all.

    It began with my father’s birthday, then it was mine, and then it was Halloween.

    My birthday began by watching the teacher write the date on the board and it glowed with a magic like no other date. It was my day at last. You know, it still feels like that every year, only now it glows from my phone.

    One year, my mother made an orange cream cake with my name on it. To this day, it stands out from the parade of chocolate cakes with witches and pumpkins.

    The year I turned seven, we were in the middle of moving. We went out for dinner and I was allowed to choose the restaurant. I was positively giddy and chose Woolworth’s lunch counter with the orange drink fountain at the end. I even had fries with my toasted bacon and tomato sandwich.

    And then we went to the carnival!

    Later, I was blowing out the candles on my birthday cake with the doll I’d won at the carnival — the doll that probably cost my parents several times its worth in tickets for darts to pop balloons. But there is no price on how thrilled I was to do it myself.

    Three days later, it was Halloween with caramel apples — still warm — waiting at the corner house if you got there in time. And really, does it get any better than that for an October kid? I can tell you now, it does. My first grandchild arrived in October.

    Today, October feels just as magical as it did all those years ago. I hope your birthday month is every bit as lovely.

  • To Forgive, Sublime

    To Forgive, Sublime

    Ambiance photo by AI

    To Forgive, Sublime

    Step two should be obvious? Did I actually say that?

    Well, that planned routine I started last week held up about as long as smooth hair on a humid day. What was left out of the equation was what comes naturally with treadmill activity. Does it make sense to have a nice shower before jumping on the belt that has me moving at just below a full jog for 45 minutes? I can tell you now the answer is no. 

    An evening shower it is!

    My mother came to mind with that decision. Many decades ago, we had a conversation about her predilection for candlelit baths before bed. I was young and foolish, so pointed out the irony of sitting in a sea of old skin cells (and heaven only knows what else from the day) in order to feel relaxed and cleansed. She showered after that. Not my proudest moment.

    Of course, this whole situation has led to hours-long airing of the bed linens, which defeats the purpose of having them coordinated with throw blankets and accent pillows.

    And we will not speak of hair styling. Or makeup. 

    Suffice to say, I have forgiven myself. Not everything works according to plan. In fact, it has worked for the better in the long run. I have freedom to choose without the guilt of my 20s or the judgement of my 30s. Instead, I have greater access to my creativity and that is sublime! One could say, I am allowing myself more grace.

    Note: If you look closely at the shine of the tea kettle, you can almost see the reflections of two buxom ladies in floral dresses. As for ambiance photos that are meant to relax, what’s going on with books sitting in a pile by an open flame? They are causing me anxiety. It was fun at first, seeing what AI can do, but it always ends up not quite right, like an apartment hallway at 7a.m. in a Stephen King novel. A bit unsettling for no discernible reason. I leave that with you. Of course, if you’re on mobile, you’ve been spared.

  • To Air is Human

    To Air is Human

    Photo by Pau Casals on Unsplash

    To Air is Human

    It’s shortly past nine in the morning and I’ve had a cup of tea, added some CSS styling on the site, and done Wordle. Other than that, nothing really. I’m still in my pyjamas, my bed is not made, and my hair may require a towel if I have to answer the door. I’ve quickly checked to see if there are any deliveries scheduled today that require me to look presentable. Yes, really. And no, the bed isn’t made. I like to think it is gently airing and cleansing itself while I type this post.

    Since I live alone, the truly concerning part is I could still be in this position at midnight. I find it easy to get completely absorbed in a project and sometimes even forget to eat. That’s when it hit me. I need a lady’s maid.

    How do I make that happen?

    Anything is possible so I reflect for a moment. Who better to take excellent care of me than me? I know what I like, my strengths and weaknesses, and exactly how to set up a routine that works for me.

    So why haven’t I done it? Well, I’ve been luxuriating in living alone.

    When I had my first apartment decades ago, the fridge had chocolate milk and the cupboard had a box of Honeycomb and a couple of silver wine goblets. This is no different. However, it’s only fun for so long and I’m now at the point of having to adult for the second time in my life.

    Step one is making the bed immediately after a morning shower. I may actually style my hair instead of air drying and being surprised.

    Step two? Once the first step is accomplished, step two should be obvious.

  • One Small Step

    One Small Step

    On a Cape Breton Beach 2018 – Alexandra Lucas

    One Small Step

    Thresholds are interesting in themselves. They are the gatekeepers of entries and exits from where we live in the present to somewhere else in our future. They have an architecture all their own.

    Depending on what lies across it, a threshold can bring feelings of exhilaration or terror. Think about stepping through the door of a plane at 30,000 feet even when parachutes are secure. It’s that moment of crossing, stepping through change from one place or state to another that seems to defy space and time itself.

    Commonplace is such a threshold for me. It is a life-crossing and a map-making expedition through past and future.

    Some of the things I want to explore:

    • Writing about the world as I see it and imagine it in short stories, poetry, and a novel.
    • Playing with new ways of making art through different surfaces and media.
    • Lassoing the family history information and assembling a book for print.
    • Organizing and labelling all the photographs — negatives and prints — so they can be easily found and identified by those who will eventually inherit them.
    • Trying many new ideas to make my lifestyle healthier, more interesting, and more fulfilling.

    I think of it like a gap year at the other end of life. True, it might be a couple of decades, but it might be much shorter. It’s best to travel light — some bootscraping from the past and a bit of bootstrapping into the future.

    It’s a bit daunting to be honest, but now that I’ve found the  Wokingham Borough Council fitness videos  on YouTube, I’m feeling rather fearless.

    Perhaps there will even be some ballroom dancing along the way — or not.