St. Valentine

Oh, tiny arrows, cinnamon-tipped, dipped in demerara sugar and crystalized honey
Beads of sweetness take flight
Arc and quiver and with sure fire aim,
Deliver up the promise of everlasting adoration: that love
That is not love beneath the tempest or alteration
But which in repose
Gladdens hearts quietly, without fanfare or agenda
Or need of candy coating

V. Day is not my favourite day - smacks off too much sickly-sweet gush and hyped-up over-commercialization. Fat little Cupid with his quick aim and what seems at times to be a warped sense of humour. Like Puck of the Greek gods.

Also it interferes with my birthday, making dinner reservations difficult to get and roses overpriced at double their actual value.

(Which reminds me that my red roses should have been white this year.

In honour of Richard III and York.)

Home of Richard III

Valentine's Day is for the kids. Cute paper hearts and pink cupcakes. Little girls writing BFFAE on envelopes and dotting their i's with tiny hearts. Little boys sending out cards with their messages of friendship delivered, somewhat incongruously, by transformers and robots.

But snark and cynicism aside, though I don't like the candy coating we have put on the day, I am a Romantic at heart and believe, really believe, that love that is true, love that is real, in whatever form or shape or time it may come, is as great a gift as anyone could ever have.

The Evil Clam

Today, Grace has commandeered my blog to share the premiere of her first cartoon movie. A slight name hiccup: It was supposed to be entitled The Evil Clam, but somehow the original name didn't get updated quickly enough for release.

We made slime today too. Frankly, I prefer the movie!

Wintry Afternoon

Peaks of sunlight; troughs the colour of brushed pewter. That's what the snow looked like late this afternoon. Out in the open, the wind had whipped snow into mighty boulders that stood stalwart in the middle of the fields, like half finished snowmen made by giant children; like a wintry version of Ozymandias, King of kings.

We skied diagonally from the north east corner, skirting the river, up to the south west corner, tracking the scratchy claw marks of wild turkey, some bunny tracks, and a pack of canine paw prints that could only mean one thing: coyotes. They must be camped out in the southern tree line, but we haven't heard them this winter. Perhaps they have other prey.

The dog leaped like she was eight years younger; the skis scraped across the diamond ice surface; and the sun dipped on the horizon, turning the world a dusky shade of blue.

A perfect afternoon.

Scrabble

Sometimes you win...

(Like I did tonight)

And then you feel smug and intelligent.

And sometimes you lose...

(Like I did last time we played)

Then you say nasty things and blame it all on your crappy letters because the fact that you were just beaten by an 11-year-old is just too much to bear.

(Even if it is your 11-year-old....which should make you feel warm and fuzzy and proud. Scrabble, however, seems to bring out those baser instincts.)

Kittens

First of all, there are kittens...

Then snow forts and hot chocolate...

And finally, books. As in, I have too many.

Snow White

I took the girls to Ottawa to see the ballet on Saturday. Snow White. They've been to the ballet before, but this time, they actually seemed old enough to really enjoy it.

I've never thought of myself as a fan of ballet, though love the symphony and the opera, so I went with a little trepidation as I have a tendency to grow bored.

But this time I loved it. Maybe because the girls are older and I din't have to spend the whole two hours whispering answers in their ears.

It's just started. The prince doesn't show up until later.

Yes, that is Snow White. No, her dress is not the same as in the Disney movie.

There is no talking. It's a ballet. They just dance.

I already told you - the prince doesn't show up until the end.

(Seriously, what is is about girls and princes?)

This time, I got to listen to the other mothers and grandmothers whisper these things while my girls sat in rapturous attention at the music, the sumptuous costumes, the stunning visual stage, and the talented dancers.

Before I get too smug though, all the other little girls were dressed in tulle and lace and silk and looked beautiful, and my girls are complete tomboys who think dressing up is clean pants and a hair clip.

Still beautiful though.

December

There are a few things I HAVE to do in December. Christmas Traditions.

1. Listen to Handel's Messiah. Just because.
2. Write Christmas Cards by candlelight.
3. Go for a snowshoe walk by moonlight (if there is snow).
4. Have a cheese fondue by the fire.
5. Enjoy a long Christmas lunch with a friend or two at a nice restaurant.