My Way of Living:
Visual

Spring wishes for a Happy Easter to everyone.

I know, enough with the excuses, and sporadic postings, its’ about time isn’t it? But unfortunately it isn’t. My deepest apologies to those of you who are faithfully leaving me comments on my posts, I have every intention of getting to your blog and leaving you a comment in return. It’s just that my “sit-utaion” with the disk in my back is causing pain, and compressing my spine when I sit. Now I know, you’ve heard this all last week, it’s true… and it’s slowly getting better, just not fast enough for me. I now can dress myself, trust me that’s wonderful, help cook dinner, stand, and lay flat on the floor. I just can’t bend. We got 5 yards of garden soil yesterday, and I couldn’t do more then direct… for a gardener that’s heart ache, lol. But I did manage to stand outside for a little while. I just can’t sit for more then a few minutes, which means no computer. So bear with me, hopefully this will improve soon, oh I miss your blogs… and our conversations. And thank you so much for the get better quicker wishes.

We all talk about seizing the day living each moment to the absolute fullest, squeezing every drop out of life.but that’s sometimes impossible to do while living a real life. There are jobs, chores, obligations and emotions that demand more then their fair share of any conscious moment of living. If somehow you manage to live each second to it’s absolute fullest, my respect for you is enormous,… me I’m just trying to live in a given moment, appreciating it however brief that might be, and know I am being handed a gift so rare, that it should be gently cupped in my hands and looked upon with awe.

Yesterday was one of those rare days perfect warmish weather, birds chirping, sky a shimmering blue, the scent of spring keeping it’s promise.

My husband and I worked together in the back yard, we accomplished so much, my husband the muscle, me the cheerleader. We built a composter out of old pallets, and he moved the massive pile of leaves, dirt, and rotting garden treasures that was hulking in the corner, using it as the base for a new bed, besides the chain link fence. There will be pumpkins, squash, cucumbers, and zucchini growing in that this summer.

We built a raised wooden bed out of recycled materials for more veggies… well he did, I cheered him on. Go Gardener, go gardener! Of course there is little I can do, but my back is healing, and each day is a little better than the last.

It’s not so much what we accomplished, as the beauty of the day, the feeling of moving forward together after a winter of looking out on a snow covered backyard, planning, dreaming, wishing, seeing it come true bit by bit. A day to forget daily life, and live only in the feel of the sunshine on our heads, birdsong in our ears… and blue sky in our hearts. A day so rare, I held it in my hands with awe.

To those of you who are spring starved… don’t get too excited about these photos, they are all from last year, mostly taken in early April if that makes you feel any better.

Marriage is such a balance of

compromises, you love your partner and want to keep them happy, but still find a way to totally be yourself. Gardening is a balance of trying to achieve your dreams, and batting away reality when it comes too close. Who other then gardener will have the patience to plant a seed and expect it to flourish into a beautiful plant. My little condo garden in White Rock Working with a non gardener who just happens to be the muscle behind the dream is like giving directions to a tightrope walker who is blindfolded, listening to Mozart through ear buds. It doesn’t always work.

My condo garden in White Rock, is not the same climate as up here. My husband and I stand in our backyard, it’s barren to me only apparently, faceless, brown, ranked by towering fir trees. To him, it’s open, spacious. The yard slopes back down towards the chain-link fence, that serves no purpose other then to titillate Boots into thinking the grass is greener out past it’s boundaries. We stop, plan, draw on the grass, and dream different dreams. Apparently all of the beautiful gardening photos I’ve been pinning on Pinterest all winter, and carefully showing him have not had the desired effect of inspiring him to believe that this isn’t a lot of work.

Many of these trees, and plants I grew from tiny little 4 inch pots. He’s rightfully worried that I am taking on too much, and I know that I am… but I need to be able to look out the window and see something green and growing, like veggies in beds, when he thinks we should just go to the farmers markets.

Granted it was a smaller space, and we had more abundant water. He doesn’t want the back yard cluttered, while I envision raised beds, gravel pathways, outlined gardens with hand poured stepping stone paths meandering through arbours, raspberry patches, and water features. He sees mosquito havens, and rocks being flung by lawn movers into expensive glass windows. I see blooms, he sees bust… he’s the muscle, I am the muddy boot dreamer. Never the twain shall meet? We shall see if we can meet in the middle, and both of us be happy.

It’s not bad enough that

I can’t bend over, or sit for any length of time. I walk like a little old lady with teeny tiny mincing steps… I’m a tall girl, over 6 feet… funny doesn’t begin to describe it. And I am hunched over to the right side like a overly extended question mark. It’s not pretty, I am sure. But to top it all off, my blow dryer, a girl’s very best friend blew up in my hand, just as I was doing tendonitis exercises with it. Good thing I wasn’t that near my hair, or that would have ended up fried too. Sparks were flying, a sad day in my sore back world. My shoulder tendonitis exercises may make me look like one of the village people doing the Y.M.C.A. dance, but they work… and multi tasker that I am, I thought to do them right in the middle of drying my hair. So in a way they saved my mane from catching fire, due to the sparks that were flying. Of course I cried, after all a blow dryer is a curly haired, tall girl’s best defense against looking like a upended frizzy mop… and I’ve been blow drying my hair upside down for decades, [to increase volume] but can’t do it that way because, hey, I can’t bend over due to my sore back… I was rather upset. It was really the final straw in a hurtful week, that seems to be continuing onwards… with some improvement over pain, but my Gumby bendability isn’t there. Let’s just say there is a lot of Bunny Dipping going on here. And that's not referring to chocolate, and marshmallows. Thank goodness for medications, is all I can say. Thanks to all of you who sent well wishes, and prayers for a speedy recovery, they are working well, and much appreciated. I still can’t sit for more then a few minutes.and I find the lap top is awkward to type on while laying down.so I am getting back slowly to your comments. But they mean a lot to me, even more so when I am laid up here, and antsy to get moving more. Owner of a new blow dryer, and less frizzy hair,

I coughed. Nothing fancy, just a simple cough. Then a ping in my back bloomed into searing pain, and suddenly I could barely stand up. By Sunday night I couldn’t sit, stand, lay down, or bend, not fun. They said it might be a herniated disk, has anyone else had this? Now here’s the funny parts — getting stuck on the X ray table, being unable to roll off due to the pain. Help, I’ve laid down, and I can’t get up! After the X ray, in the change room, looking at my jeans, my arms and my feet so far apart, wondering how on earth? Hanging onto the walls, and wiggling that’s how. Not being able to pull on your own socks… but I have discovered if you roll on your back, on the bed, you can do it.

I can’t stand for more than 10 minutes, so my husband is cooking, and cleaning… and here I thought this wasn’t such a good thing. Sitting is difficult, most of my time is spend flat, that’s best for the pain… so if I take a while to get back to your blog, now you know why. Hopefully things will be back to normal soon.

No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow.

So if you have to fake it inside because it’s not outside… yet.

Do what it take to make spring bloom.

I got a email last night from Heather at Life is a garden,… telling me that Google Reader is shutting down on July 1st. Now if you don’t read all of your 250+ blogs in Google Reader this isn’t going to keep you up at night… but if you do it’s a worrisome moment. What on earth would replace Google Reader, and how is it going to affect me? Well I have a short answer for myself, and maybe you also… it’s Bloglovin. I have signed up, it’s free [I think] and now if you would like to follow me on Bloglovin it’s really easy to do… there is a button on my sidebar. I love the way the layout shows a image from the blog post… I’m very visual so this makes me happy. And it’s blog oriented, so I can follow all of your blogs just like before. I can group my blogs into categories, and it’s easy to scroll through them. It’s not Google Reader, but then again, what is? Change is good, I guess, and I can import all of my files to Bloglovin… they make it easy to do… so if you are wondering where to go after Google reader shuts down, think about Bloglovin. Or if you have a better solution, please let me know. Here’s the link to the tutorials on how to do it. Speaking of change, does anyone else really dislike the new Pinterest layout? If you have a verified blog you can lead early by changing to the new Pinterest layout… I am so not loving it, I changed back, for now. I love the analytics parts of it, but not the layout. It’s too narrow, they have changed the display size, and the colors look off… Any comments? Or is this just me?

There is snow way

that I had anything to do with this huge dump we got yesterday… covering the entire Okanagan area in powder. Thick, white Greek yogurt snow flakes that unexpectedly started in the middle of the night and continued on through most of the day. Sure, I cut back the dead stalks of the perennials, and sure we raked the gravel off of the lawn, but this has nothing to do with that.

Even the weather forecasters who predicted a mere inch in higher elevations were surprised by the over 4 inches of the white stuff we got everywhere.

Snow way I am showing photos of powdery white flakes, so here are some of last year shots of my golden bleeding heart, a tribute to a spring that was on it’s way and took a wrong turn ending up somewhere else.

It’s a snow job… and I had nothing to do with it.

Getting out in the garden

for the first time since last year is a wonderful feeling. And although some houses still have snow, we are fully brown… not much green in this country. Yet. There are some real signs of a early spring, and I’ve been able to clean up the front garden debris. Searching for old friends looking to see if they March 10th of this year, Otter Lake managed to overwinter, and still somehow being astounded that they did.

March 23rd of last year, Otter Lake It’s a cold place to spend the winter here, not as cold as some bloggers, but still brrr cold. So I am always amazed that the receding snow uncovers a green anything. Hardy perennials, and even a snapdragon or two have survived, and the buds on the trees are starting to swell. Over the weekend we visited Otter Lake, a wild, unkempt bull rush ringed lake, home to visiting, and nesting swans, geese, ducks, blackbirds, and many other birds we don’t get to see. This time last year, it was still heavily coated in ice.actually our first visit was March 23, of last year.

Last year There were masses of trumpeter swans last year, this year only a few. I don’t know if it was the time of the day, or the year.they might be found in a farmer’s field nearby. And we didn’t see any of the beautiful blue herons.

This year. Although the breeze was cold, it was fresh, and held a promise of spring coming soon. The blackbirds called, the ducks quacked, the sun shone. And all was well.

Hello old friends, it’s good to see you again. <ahttp://www.bloglovin.com/blog/4998331/?claim=r94kyp46xxg"" />

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Sunday morning may be

when the time officially changes, but Monday morning is when you are walloped by the reality of it all. It’s not during the weekend that you notice the change, it’s all along the week. The day you are slightly late to work, or a appointment, because your body is still in another time zone or just zoned out. Meal times seem to creep up on you, “oh is it time for dinner already, Bootsie” he uses it to his advantage, reminding us of meals now a full two hours before. It’s cat time… don’t ask.

We all seem to complain about losing that hour, no one likes it, everyone is befuddled.

So I propose that since most of us really dislike the feeling of a lost hour taken away suddenly in the dark of the night, that we lose it instead in minutes, in increments, instead of a full hour at one time. A minute here, a minute there, maybe steal 5 minutes when I am waiting at the red light. Or take a few away in the line up at the grocery store. Feel free to take a few minutes away during the time I am on perma hold, grasping the phone, and trying to tune out the tinny muzak…

Believe me, we won’t notice it at all, in fact we might be grateful. A new time of change… are you up for it?

Falling in love with you… blue muscari.

I could gaze into your blue depths forever.

But then, the vacuuming wouldn’t get done.

And the dust bunnies would take over the house.

And the Boo would be upset that he wasn’t fed.

And his meowing would disturb my reverie… Unless… he plays with the dust bunnies and forgets that he is hungry… Falling in love with you. Life… it intrudes sometimes, or is it just me?

Friday found us, both at

the Chiropractor, the L5? thingy, that place where your hips meet your back… Mine from vacuuming, see I knew housework wasn’t good for your health after all. Two most common reasons people hurt their backs vacuuming, and raking, the Chiro told us. Both which are in our immediate future, but what can you do. Maybe I can give up vacuuming?

It was slightly sunny, so we decided to hobble around the big block together… and call it exercise, I’m sure it’s a mile or two.

“You stop too many times” he told me… my reply “there’s a bird in the tree, I think it’s a robin, that would be our first official sighting.” I think of Connie from Far Side of Fifty and wonder if I should tell her about it. No, she is snowed in, wouldn’t want to make her jealous.

“My feet still hurt” I tell him, “I have Plantar Fasciitis… remember?” This is said to the man who runs 6 miles every other day, and never seems to feel pain. He responds with, I thought you got those shots in your heels…? "That’s why they hurt” I tell him, “slow down, this isn’t a marathon, I thought it was a meander, and isn’t that a pussy willow tree?” I limp down the steep banking, and yes indeed it is a pussy willow tree, life is good. Somehow despite the heavy camera, and sore back I manage not to fall into the ditch… now that’s a even better thing. It would be a long, wet walk home if I did.

We walk past one of my favourite red barns, no snow kitty today, and no cows. There are broken windows… I love old windows. Not particularly broken windows, just old ones.

It’s not quite spring, not quite winter… it’s the quiet moments in between, punctuated only by sweet trilling tunes of a blackbird’s song, and a breeze. Hobble along with me… the best is yet to be.

March comes in like a lion, and

goes out like a lamb. But during this unpredictable month, we can have frost, snow, sleet, sun, rain and hail. Almost anything Mother Nature can come up with will be thrown at us. I kind of like it, if you don’t like the weather, just wait a hour, it will change guaranteed. But it’s March’s lions and lambs that sometimes give me the greatest pleasure, and frustration.

March’s Lions: The early morning breaking dawn when Phil the pheasant proclaims his territory setting off a cacophony of carolling from various birds in a vain attempt to drown him out.

The sound he makes echo's through the trees, it’s not a nice quiet morning has broken sound, but a call to arms. That sets off the rivalling crows, and ravens, competing for territory in our front yard. First of spring, they start, “it’s mine, no it’s mine, it’s mine, not yours.” The treasure they are all fighting over, prime real estate in the giant towering fir trees. Right in front of our bedroom. Thanks guys… and they stop after we get up.

Just before we are fully awake, and wondering if we could doze for a few more minutes, the neighbour starts up his diesel truck, leaving it running for a hour, only to turn it off each time. Go figure?

March’s lambs Undoubtedly the nicest part of March is the return of the songbirds… there is a lilt to their trilling, it’s so beautiful and when we can hear it in between the crows, and Phil, it’s lovely. I was rather surprised last year to realize that they only sing during the mating season… it was beautiful background music, and during the summer I realized that our soft and charming wake up calls had disappeared. That makes what we hear right now, even more precious.

For those of you who mentioned wanting to see a photo of Phil, the pheasant, this is the best one I have so far. Sorry it’s no any better but it’s really far away, and through the window.

There are some things in

life that when you finally get rid of them give you a little spark of delight. Some for good reason, like a bad relationship, an old beater of a car, a ragged pair of shoes. Or a website? How on earth does finally cancelling a web site give me this type of oddly freeing feeling? I have no idea.but it does. Maybe because I am severing ties to something that became more of a burden, than a joy and I couldn’t let go of it. Or maybe because there are new and open roads in front of me that there didn’t seem to be before. New horizons, it’s up to me.

Having Muddy Boot Dreams blog tied directly to my business, was both a good and bad decision. Who knew that blogging would turn out to be so much fun, such a delight [at times], and inspiration [almost all of the time]. Having had to censor what I was writing because it represented my business, was at times stifling, a garden blogger was what I started out as. That square peg didn’t fit into my life, it was too constricting, too limited for what I grew into. Who can write only about plants, and gardens, never venturing past the garden gate. I’m not a niche blogger, I’m like a dragonfly, I like to sample all of the flowers in the garden, and then fly the fields.

I love to write about what I feel, see, experience… the swooping sound of the giant raven’s wings as it passes over my head, or how it feels to see more then one eagle at a time fly by me on the way to the mailbox. How the copper colored sky makes the purple swelling of the tree branches glow above the snow in the fields, and why I didn’t regret not taking the camera that time.

It means taking photos for myself, experimenting, learning, reaching past what were once boundaries… and loving it. Opening my heart, and soaring about my expectations… writing, and taking photos of what makes my heart sing, and hopefully entertains you. Now that’s a odd freeing feeling.

“You're going two miles over the

speed limit, you had better slow down, or you’ll get a ticket” he tells me, there are no other vehicles on the road except a semi that has inexplicitly cut in front of us. “Dad, I’m trying to pass this semi truck that just cut in front of us.” The one that is driving on the white line creating a blinding sandstorm from the now dried sand and gravel that snow plows had spread so abundantly. Slow down, he insists. I do, but not until we safely pass the semi, now wobbling from lane to lane, a huge dense cloud of dust behind us.

He checks his passenger side mirror without any pretence as we smoothly edge into the empty lane beside us. There is no one beside us, but he checks each time. “You’re a better driver then your sister, she goes way to fast.” Well, that’s some accomplishment I think to myself.

I recall many summer vacations spent as a child where I thought we were to be immediate victims of a head on crash, as the now elderly, but once impatient driver sitting besides me used to pass multiple vehicles with our truck and camper without a blink. On coming traffic be dammed. I can still hear the receding angry honking as he wound between slower moving tourists, sliding into a space at the last second, and the rest of our family collectively letting out our breath. It wasn’t as if he was doing anything that anyone else didn’t do. Everyone drove with a cigarette in their right hand, their finger used to twirl the steering wheel… windows wide open, left arm hanging out, bronzed, strong, and fatherly. They just didn’t know any better. Now we do.

I drive with both hands on the wheel, 10, and 2, eyes on the road, checking the rear, sides, and front continuously.and it’s barely enough for him. We’ve lived here for over a year, and he still gives me directions on when to turn into our little town… Somehow this isn’t what I imagined as a child, riding shotgun in the pickup truck, watching my big strong Father drive the road. I glance over to the passenger seat, taking in the older, frailer man he has become… and I slow down even more. If it makes him feel safer, it’s worth it to me.

Bet you thought this was going to be about the TV show, but it’s not. We have our own real life Bachelor going on in our backyard right now, and it’s so much more exciting, without the backstabbing, and nastiness. The other day we were treated to front row seats in a drama that decided who was king of the backyards.

There is only so much territory for the male pheasants, and a limited number of hens, whom they like to gather into personal harems, these guys really play the field…

We’ve named the winner Phil… it seemed to fit, Phil the pheasant. The two boys went at it, jumping up into the air with legs, and feet fully extended to do the most damage to the opponent, there was much trilling, and cawing going on. They were loud, and not ashamed to be caught fighting it out, but still smart enough to stop the fight when one of them heard a noise that might mean a predator was nearby. It was like a commercial break. Lots of plumping of feathers to make themselves look larger, pecking, clucking, screeching… eventually Phil the smaller bird won, and the loser skulked away. Phil stood on the fence and crowed, we applauded.

No photos, sorry, I didn’t have time to grab the camera.

Yesterday morning, Phil, and his newest lady love started on the overnight fantasy suite part of the date… in our backyard. Hey guys, get a room! Lots of cooing, fluffing of feathers, and whole lot of “ come here often gorgeous” silly hen that she was, she fell for it… wonder if I should let her know that Phil is courting a few other damsels, about 4 others… I am sure the Bachelor will find his lady loves, and sweep them off of their feet… and maybe Sean will find true love also next week, but until then we are rooting for Phil, he’s more entertaining. “Ladies… this is the last rose of the night.”

Oh do I have a thing for lemon. I Love lemon scent, flavouring, and now lemon yogurt donuts.

Lemon yogurt donuts with lemon glaze… sigh.

I’ve probably already chosen some donuts for my Pinterest Picks… but who cares.

Because they are that good. Really. Truly good. A lot of the baked donut recipes were tasting kind of eggie… even the chocolate ones. But with the addition of yogurt they tasted so much better. I used homemade regular yogurt, and added lemon juice myself to the batter. Just so you know.

And I think I might be adapting other recipes with the addition of yogurt, even the chocolate ones. Seriously, my husband who is NOT a lemon fan, loved them. I’d have saved you some, but they disappeared too fast.

Maybe next time.

That’s one of the nicest things about photo archives…

A picture is worth a thousand words… that try to remember.

Just when did the snow go away last year?

These were all taken on March 8th of last year.

Looks like the snow is long gone here, but last year it stuck around longer. Bring on spring!

Funny thing happened the

other day while I was cleaning up some cupboards, and came across a photo of snowdrops that I had taken played around with some textures, and text added that read, “If winter tarries too long make your own spring.” Oh, that’s nice I thought, so I decided to try and find out where that quote came from. But when I Goggled it, my blog post that I had written last year when we first moved here came up.

Seems like winter was really hanging on then also, and apparently I was finding it hard to deal with it then also, nothings really changed has it? That’s one of the things I love about blogging, if I remember to reference the weather… or what is happening, it’s interesting to go back and see how things were.

I don’t know who originally wrote that quote, but I do like it, to me it means take charge, make some changes, don’t let life dictate what’s going to happen.and for goodness sake get outside, no matter the weather.

Bring on your spring Winter is trying to stay, it’s there in the big patches under the trees, hiding on the shady parts of the roof and lingering in the piles of snow. It’s funny to be out raking the front yard between the patches of snow that cover the garden beds… but we all, and that includes the Boo, have spring fever. Any outdoor air is very welcome.

So I am making my own spring, by getting some pretty little blue potted muscari that will be moved to the garden when they finish up. It was the last pot in a sea of daffies so it looks like someone else has the same idea and got to them before I could. I choose potted bulbs to bring on my spring this week, what have you been doing to bring on spring?