From Tidings
by Richard Jackson

1. The Annunciation
Like a sentence you discover and read after too
many
years, after you think the world's heart has turned
to dust, the air shriveling from your lungs, though
you cannot understand some of the words
for they seem like stars with no owners,
something like the ache of flowers for their seeds,
and you begin to realize it is a sentence
that celebrates what you could only imagine
like the canticles of mountain streams,
despite the black hearts perched, years later, on
branches,
despite the moon thinning with hunger
then bloating like a starving child,
despite the tracer rounds streaming
like dandelion seeds the Child will blow across His
room,
this sentence with its riverbed of stars,
this sentence that carries you too
the way a leaf is pulled downstream, because this
you begin to realize, is not the song of a seed
fallen on stone, not some light scorched
into the dunes of the sky, but a phrase
whose wings fill the room, and you,––
you are that word which had remained
unnoticed in this sentence, and you begin
to speak with that light that quivers
like a branch, your own lips slightly moving
like a petal the bee has just left,
and you begin to realize you have lived
your whole life in this sentence
gradually unfolding towards its end,
the way the moon now ploys the sky,
}the way what you once thought was a mere star
now turns out to be a galaxy.

The First of December has me pausing, to slow down and reflect. I’ve been reminded of this lately in the readings and podcasts I’ve been taking in. They have me thinking about how I’m approaching this season and how also how I’m responding. One podcast that has struck a chord with me is The Calm Christmas podcast by Beth Kempton. She has collected such a delightful variety of readings, reflections, ideas and recipes to put focus on for a slow approach to the upcoming holiday. It really sits well with my soul.

This poem comes from another collection of advent readings I am participating in reading each day. I had to read it a few times to really make sense of it, but the phrasing felt so rich. My eyes continually travel back to “something like the ache of flowers for their seeds”- what a strong image for the gardener in me. For those interested in this faith-focused advent reading, Biola University puts out a project each year of art, poetry, scripture, song and reflection that has always resonated with me strongly.

Beth Kempton’s prompt for December 1 was to “take a walk, whatever the weather”. Our weather was not particularly inviting with a gusty, grey mood to the morning, but I’m glad I followed her cue. I found myself enjoying the surprisingly mild air and looking for wintry bits of foliage to collect. I came home with a pocket full of branches adorned with clusters of white berries to add to the greens I’ve been decking my halls with.

However your start to December is looking, I encourage you to also take a moment and follow Beth’s prompt- welcome the month in with a slow walk to enjoy that winter air.

Pied Beauty
Gerard Manley Hopkins

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brindled cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscapes plotted and pieced-fold, fallow, and plough; 
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow, sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

June is always a lovely month to me. The earth begins to burst once the rains come and everything starts looking green and lush. My garden has been both a delight and a frustration at times, but mostly it brings me joy each day. There was also a hopefulness I felt this year that went beyond the garden- we received our vaccinations and began to look forward to what the summer months would bring. This poem stuck with me recently as a way to celebrate June and the awakening of summer.

In terms of my art, I’ve been on a bit of a sabbatical. This year has been beyond tough on my mental health. I’ve felt the need to step back, after pushing myself to create in the winter months. I have really just needed to focus my creative energies on other things such as the garden so I can hopefully recharge for the days beyond summer. It’s always a tricky mind game to step aside from creating for a while- there’s a sense of guilt or shame about not working that sets in, especially when I’m at home, but I know the break is good for me. I need people time and we will be getting so much of that this July and August!

Speaking of people time, I was so thrilled this June when we could have our first family bbq together with family we had not seen in months. We ate and hugged and cried a little and delighted in just finally being together after such a long, dark year. I know more are coming and it thrills me to no end.

In the garden, it’s been a real dry year, but we received one good rain which is when I grabbed my camera and ran out to take some photos. The garden is having quite a few successes this year- tomatoes are doing fantastic. Chamomile, Cornflower, and Calendula are all blooming beautifully (the 3 C’s I’ll definitely plant again in future years!)

The vegetable garden (or potager, as I like to call it) has had a bit of preventable failure- my brussel sprouts got eaten by worms, my peas got eaten by birds, my kohlrabi got eaten by ants… but some things seem to be faring better. Peppers, beans, carrots, garlic, and ground cherries are looking healthy. Not to mention all of the abounding veggies over at my community garden plot- I don’t have them pictured but over there we have corn, beans, squash, onions, beets and potatoes that are all looking so good.

As the school year came to a close for Marko, we decided a getaway was in order. It’s been an incredibly tough year for him as a teacher and he was just exhausted by the end. We took a few days to travel up to one of our favourite spots, Prince Albert National Park. We hiked and explored and found some great beaches to take a dip in the lake as the heat wave picked up. It was so refreshing!

Wild roses line the shores of the lake. They are some of my favourite prairie flowers.

Summer clothes shed on a beach blanket can only mean one thing- someone is swimming and that someone was me. The water was so clear and cool on a very hot day. Butterflies seemed to dance around in clusters on this particular beach, so I named it Butterfly Cove.

Treasures found along the way- Northern Bedstraw always guiding my path with its sweet scent.

On the way out of the park, we caught a glimpse of wandering wildlife. Always a treat to catch a mama and her cubs (from the safety of a car, of course!) And just like that our trip was done and we were ready to embrace July!

This journal has been long neglected and I’d like to come back to it. I miss the structure of having a space to post the happenings in my life, in my garden, and in my daily work. I’ve decided I’m going to attempt making journaling in this space a habit once again, if for no one but myself (But as most things go in my life, it may be a sporadic habit that moves with my feelings).

I’ve always been a reflective person and it helps to ground me. Sometimes I get caught in only looking ahead which feeds my anxiety and worries about the everyday. It can be easy to forget who you are by avoiding looking back. This whole past year has seemed to be one long season of looking forward, waiting for the days when we can be together again and for a sense of normalcy to return. In the waiting, I think I may have forgotten how to be present. I hope journaling will bring me back to that state of mind.

What better way to start than with the month of May. May has quickly become my favourite month of the year. The sense of anticipation of spring has built up for so long during the winter and suddenly it’s a rush of growth and blooms as the trees and wintering plants burst to life. Another habit I’ve been attempting to cultivate is capturing the moments as they pass in an artful way (i.e. using my camera, not my phone). I’d like to share a few of those moments with you.

What is it about the first of anything? It’s always so thrilling and memorable. These were my first ever tulips. I planted them in fall and had been eagerly anticipating them all winter. They weren’t perfect or even that large, but they sure were glorious.

This year, I went all in on seed starting. My little sunroom was overflowing with little seed starts. It was a bit overwhelming, but I hope all worth it! So far, the garden seems to be doing alright, with a few exceptions where a certain neighbourhood cat has decided the bed would make a good litter box. It’s been a full on war against this roaming beast.

As the earth warmed up and animals found their mates, there were many days spent out in the wild, soaking in the sun and finding scenes of wonder. My favourite neighbours joined in on some of those adventures and we discovered so much delight together.

A little bit of work was done in between all of the explorations…

… but time was mostly spent out in the world and wild, after so much time spent at home by ourselves.

And also, of course, all the time in the garden. This space is one that feeds the soul. We are now halfway through June and the garden already looks so much fuller. I’m trying to take photos as I can, but it’s growing so much, it’s really hard to keep up! The first blooms are out and it’s starting to look so lovely- can’t wait to share in the next monthly update (hold me to that…).