Time for Paige

My blog coach has pointed out that there are no pictures of Paige on my blog. There is lots of mention of that darling little girl but no pictures. So I am writing a short entry just about Paige. Can't wait to see Paige at another book launch. Can't wait to see all three of my girls. Meg has always gone out of her way to get home for my launches. This year she is squeezing a wedding into the trip. Looking forward to the busy time ahead. Paige is now a delightful , funny and unpredictable three year old. I expect she will keep us entertained.

They're Here!

Yesterday's blog entry got delayed until this morning as I had a glitch of some kind with my computer which resulted in a migraine headache that sent me to take refuge under the covers. I am feeling a bit better this morning, but still a bit foggy. The sun is bright and beautiful out side though and I hope to rally. I am so pleased to announce the arrival of four boxes of my new book The Memory Chair and a plethora of bookmarks. Again a dream that starts with an idea, a few words and lots of time and attention has resulted in a book I now hold in my hands and slip in to the bookends with the three others. How very happy that makes me! Happy and determined to keep forging ahead with the work in progress and the work that simmers on the back burner.

The March to Spring

After sleeping a bit longer than usual (I'll blame the time change) I am ready for the day. I am getting very anxious to hold a copy of The Memory Chair. I will only have maybe ten more writing days left before going to Alberta for Emma's sixth birthday. The book I am working on continues to take shape and I look forward to sitting down and just letting it. Maybe April will give me a few more writing days but I can see that they might be limited. May, of course starts out with a busy tour week and then garden time will be upon us. I can not quite get my head around Emma turning six. I'll have a really hard time with sixteen. But I know just how quickly sixteen years go by. It has almost been sixteen years since we last had Zac with us. Spring approaches and as it has been every year since loosing Zac I feel that in my very core. As the days get longer, the sun stronger and season gradually comes upon us I feel such a range of emotions. This year we will throw a wedding into the mix. We already have our anniversary and Meg and Ashlie's birthdays. There has always been the mix of joy and sorrow in April. I have been loving the snow , my daily trips up the wood road and I will continue to have that luxury until the snow melts and the road becomes a muddy , slushy mess. I will embrace the spring, engage in all that this one brings and reflect on what the spring of 1999 took away. I will spring ahead and march to the music that has been given me.

Zac's Treehouse

What a beautiful structure. Burton commented this morning that he doesn't know what to do with Zac's treehouse . He doesn't want to cut the trees down because of the amount of nails a young Zac used to build his masterpiece. Zac had no restraint using whatever he could find in his Dad's basement. We still come upon light fixture boxes, army ammo boxes and many other items that Zac and his brothers used for their wide range of imaginative play. He tramped every inch of the woods behind the house and across the road. I never walk by this treehouse without a sense of the little boy who built it. My answer to Burton's question this morning was "We will just leave it. It will stand there long after we are gone" Yesterday as I reached the edge of the field approaching the house I thought about how much I hate it when my woods road walks or these days my snowshoe treks come to an end. It is as if I have to come back to reality from a magical place where I can let my worries and heartaches evaporate into the wide blue sky above the trees. As I stepped out into the open field it came to me that the end of every walk serves to reinforce that important life lesson; we must enjoy what we have when we have it. Years from now someone may question the array of old boards and tin that are nailed so haphazardly on to some trees at the edge of the woods. They will not remember the wonderful boy who put them there but I always will.

Dancing to Ern's Waltz

I must start this entry by saying that the only thing I hate about snowshoeing on days like this,is stopping. I set out about an hour ago with a bit of heaviness in the pit of my stomach. If asked why, I could probably give about four or five reasons for feeling that way today. Luckily, I am clever enough or at least know from experience that the best way to combat those feelings is to get out and have a bit of a talk to myself. I zigzagged and trudged my way through some absolutely breathtaking openings in the woods behind my house, stopping often to gaze up at massive trees firmly rooted and stretching toward a vibrant deep blue sky. The snow creates a magical setting where creations every bit as captivating as any that grace the art galleries and museums of the world have been fashioned by the thick blanket of white falling on whatever lies beneath, giving the sculpture beauty and mystery. In that beautiful place my mind went to the funeral of the 98 year old father of a dear friend and former colleague of mine. She has been a woman of great influence in my life. Her gift of music was so freely and generously given as a teacher, a choir director, and a mother that shaped and encouraged her talented daughter, musician Stephanie Mainville. I learned more yesterday about where that amazing woman originated. Her father made choices in his 98 years that took him from a harsh and crippling beginning to a triumphant and inspiring end. The gratitude and admiration for the course one man took resounded in the testimony of his grandson and the strings of his granddaughter's violin.During the tribute to Ernest his grandson told a story of a Chinese holy man who after being given lodging and shown compassion by a peasant, gave the man a blessing before departing. His blessing was ; Grandfather die, Father die, Son die. The man upon receiving the blessing asked angrily what kind of a blessing that was. The holy man replied" Would you rather it in a different order? "I wept today when thinking upon those words. I know the sorrow of being given loss in a different order. I think too of a family today that six years ago was also given that loss out of order. We dance a dance in this life and it is seldom of our exact choosing. We must take the music that plays for us and dance the waltz as best we can. That is what Ernie did and all I can hope for is, that someday the same can be said of me.

Right Here ,Thank-you Very Much

I often hear the Proust Questionnaire on Shelagh Roger's CBC radio program, The Next Chapter and the question I always answer the quickest is 'Where would you most like to live?' I always answer" right here". I can honestly say I think that all of the time but I think it most strongly when I am on the woods road behind my house. Each day I go through the same ritual once I get a ways up into the woods. I start with petitions , or prayers you might say laying out what I am concerned about or most burdened by, asking for guidance in situations and making some special requests . I then move to listing my thankfuls for this day. This place and this walk always tops my list. I follow them with being thankful for my beating heart and the fact that I'm breathing and able to make the climb up this steep and winding road. This place tops the list and I truly would want to live nowhere else. Today the snowshoeing was perfect. The last few days going off trail was next to impossible but today after yesterday's milder temperatures , a bit of melting and then cold temperatures again, the top layer settled and could better support my weight and I was able to wander off trail. Nellie, my little grand dog enthusiastically comes with me everyday ploughing through the deep snow while Biscuit, our big (and somewhat lazy) dog usually stays behind. Today Nellie was able to run along without sinking too far in the snow.So maybe someday I will be asked the questions from the Proust Questionnaire or be a guest on The Next Chapter. But until then I at least know how I would answer one of the questions. Absolutely and without question, I would most like to live, right here , thank you very much.

Lakefield Elementary

Yesterday I visited Lakefield Elementary School. I spent the afternoon with two Grade Four classes. On many of my visits I attempt to learn the kids names but when it is more than one class and my time is limited I don't take the time to do that. I did meet Megan, Sarah, Quinn, Benjamin, Logan, Owen and Isaac and a room filled with eager and interested readers and writers. Thank you Ms. Millett for sharing my work with your students and for inviting me to come and meet them. One of the classes read The Year Mrs. Montague Cried. They had lots of questions and insights. Mostly I talked though and they listened and what great listeners they were. Their teacher remarked that I must have had their attention because no one asked to use the washroom. I know as a former teacher that is a good yardstick (or should I say metre stick)Here are some of their questions. Who is on the front cover? What day did you say Zac died? How did you publish your other books? How old were you when you started writing? Did your husband go to Afghanistan after 911?Is that Taylor on the cover? What day is the 4th book coming out? Where do I buy your book? Was Corey real? How many books a day do you write? Do you think you will write a story about your daughter's wedding? Do you have other awards? Can I keep the paper?(I had just read them the first two pages of The Memory Chair that I had printed off my computer)What advise can you give on editing? (teacher's question)When Ms. Millett read it to us why did she cry? Can you be an author and a publisher? What is an Epilogue? Do you write every day? Did you write this morning? I love those last two questions? They remind me of questions like did you eat your breakfast? , did you brush your teeth?, do you eat fruits and vegetables everyday? Questions about doing things that are good for you, things that keep you well, things that help you grow. For me writing is all that. I love how the boys who asked those two questions understood that. I love just how much they all, got it.