still January

It’s still January and the expected snowfall arrived last night, covering the fields in a bright white blanket. 

Even though the day’s light is hidden behind deep cloud cover, the snow allows the day to seem a bit brighter. 

My wood stove is blazing for its morning burst of heat. My tea is ready and steeping nicely. By bleary eyes adjust to the day ahead. The short news report speaks ill of our planet. Killing ourselves and others with regularity seems to be our communal directive. Why oh why…I shake my head as fighting escalates takes lives and ruins homes and families around the world. I’ve seen evidence of this malicious human trait right here in my new community. The old guard, who were once the newcomers, treated me with suspicion and outright meanness.

 

The snow has created work for me. My first foray to the chicken coop was in my PJs with water and their feed bin in hand, through the snow in my sturdiest slippers. The hens burbled to me when I lifted their coop door, but didn’t appear. They will eventually. They don’t like snow and who can blame them in their pudgy bare feet? I lay straw down to entice them out into the yard, they don’t stray far these days. The smallest bit of sun has them resting quietly in its glow, often with their eyes closed and humbled.

It’s the new year and my receipts are arranged in piles to add up the damage that the past year inflicted upon my meagre pocketbook. My recent monumental move has thwarted my former success as an artist. 1500 km from all that I once knew makes me invisible and sales are down dramatically. It’s okay, the ebb and flow of my creative journey is a given. My time will come again. What this does do is pull me out of my habits. I am free to create what I wish now that I have an income that covers my basics. As meagre as that is it allows me to live quietly and peacefully alone here in Bear River. For now.

 

Its a quiet life, very few cars pass on the gravel road. Any neighbours I see are far enough away to not be seen. Across the river valley, miniature cars can be seen darting between the forest across the river. The road passes by an open area created by the hopeful vineyard across the way. Crows meander across the fields above and below me here… Eagles and gulls carry themselves gently on the wind, up and downstream. I watch, observe and am grateful for their muted company.

 

My studio is in rest mode. The piles of supplies are left stranded and seemingly in a discarded fashion. But no… studio time is approaching and with the freedom of no planned exhibits this year I can do what I wish. My mind is almost always creating, exhaulting in a play of light, pondering about how to do this or that in paper paint or on canvas on board, big small bright or dull…How to recreate the feeling, the textures, the shapes that have meaning and draw my attention. As I live my hurt and broken life alone now I feel free to accomplish the task of remitting those feelings to the greater world. We are all connected in our thoughts, emotions and reactions to life. By my race, gender, and monetary circumstance, I am more connected to some and less connected to others. But intrinsically deep down we are all just working it out for ourselves, aren’t we?

I hope to create something that resonates with a few folks enough for them to take them home and make them a part of their lives. If not, enjoy them online and make a connection.

 

If you’ve read this far along, thanks.

Karen