My world on a Wednesday a gathering of scattered fragments, and moments bundled together into a small fraction of the day when life doesn't intrude. It's the microwaves turn to hum. Keeping time. With the drips from the roof. Handle spinning around like a carousal, the frothy milk threatens to bubble over the glass container. Homemade yogurt for breakfast tomorrow.
Hot pan, butter scented sizzle crowds the kitchen. Cat pushes past my leg, hinting, hopeful, long ago fed, big eyed stare, he wins. And accepts his treat with a smirk of feline triumph. Declines a cuddle, heads for the heat. Fickle creature. The sound of the Eagle's keening comes through the open door. Kitty plays the role of indoor cat for now, fly by dinners should be feathered, not fur. Through every window a scene of Winter's latest gift of snow lays. Like a discarded white jacket, one size too small. Bulging out over the landscape where it is torn. Leaving us longing for a fresh coat to cover up the disarray. January is a messy month. Camera clicks. I love that sound. It makes my heart sing. Dishes clink, light shines, fades, moves throughout the rooms. Candy hearts scattered on a painted board tempt. Tea brewed, poured, photographed, and drank in antique cups.
Days stretch, drips fall, light lengthens. For now it's enough to wait for the light. Dash outside to catch the sun. Walk the country roads, and catch my breath as the sun sinks far away. Coating the f olds of the mountains and their fog shrouded valleys in a shimmering light. A stunning patchwork quilt that tucks them in for the night.
Fields white with snow, shiver against the dark silhouettes as the light drops. Stoic and bare, the trees stand guard feet frozen into the soil, tips golden with delight from the long limbs of the sun. My heart sings Feet crunch the gravel. Headed for home.
Contains: 100% Canadian content. All images and text original to Jane Vandervoort