We’re almost halfway through January and I have been pleasantly surprised to find it, so far, a much more enjoyable month than the one I was anticipating. There have been a number of things that have made it so, and I didn’t want to forget about them, so I thought I’d make a little list, and share them with you. A few things that have helped me keep going this January.
clean air, clear skies
Top of my list is clean air and clear skies. It is so easy to slip back into taking this for granted once forest fire season recedes from our particular region, however the news coming out of L.A. this past week has reminded me, daily, to be grateful. The memory of what it feels like to be living under a shroud of forest fire smoke, particles of ash visible in the air or settling onto every surface, is too easily accessible. It is a tragedy that “smoke” has, in the past decade, become a regular term in the meteorological forecast, one that seems to come with more regularity than “cloudy” or “rainy” in our summer months here on the West Coast. I have been breathing deeply all week. Gratitude in, gratitude out. I’ve been thinking of friends in L.A. nonstop and am hoping and wishing for rain, calmer winds, respite from smoke, for safety and recovery for all those impacted by the fires.
new socks
This seems rather frivolous after the last one, but there you have it; some things in life are frivolous, some things are not. I’ve had a recurring conversation with several people over the past few weeks, about how the clichéd, boring gift of childhood Christmases becomes a true treasure in adulthood. Yes, I am speaking of new socks. I received three pairs and each one has made January mornings immeasurably more tolerable. I would never ever spend $50 on a pair of cashmere socks for myself but goodness is it a joy to have received them. Ditto for these fancy French socks with chickens on them. I am also pleased to report that these Happy Knits socks live up to their name. I was so pleased with them I stopped to take a photo.
unexpected art
Last Thursday, I had to travel to a library branch across town for a meeting. During the break, I was chatting with another librarian when she asked me if I’d seen the lichen cult. You know that feeling when you hear words paired together that make no obvious, immediate sense to you and your brain begins searching frantically to make them work into something you can comprehend? That was my reaction. Then I gave up.
“I’m sorry, have I seen the what?” I asked.
“The lichen cult bake sale,” she replied, as though the addition of those two extra words might help. Then, seeing that I was clearly still flailing, mentally, she helpfully offered up the following: “The art. In the glass display case.”
With a sigh of relief, I wandered a few feet over to the glass display case, where I took in the most delightful, whimsical, thought provoking display, and not just because it involved cake. The artist, Natasha Lavdovsky, has created a series of cakes made entirely from “ethically salvaged lichen that fell onto local sidewalks and roadsides during recent windstorms”. I love everything about this art. From how delicate and intricate the cakes are, to the crystal cake stands, lace doilies, stamped name plates and the commentary on the importance of lichen and symbiosis. I’ll share a couple of photos below, but they don’t quite do it justice, so if you live in or are planning to visit the Victoria area in the next little while, you can see the display at GVPL’s Bruce Hutchison branch during opening hours until March 5.
pomegranate seeds
Specifically, pomegranate seeds that someone else operated on and that are just sitting in a nice glass jar in the fridge, ready for you when you want them. Somehow over the holidays we fell into a little routine in which I would buy a pomegranate, leave it in the fruit bowl, and the next time I came into the kitchen my daughters would have removed all of the seeds from the pith and put them in a jar that would be waiting, ready to be added to salads, breakfast muesli, or even just poured into a palm to be tossed in my mouth for the little burst of tart, sweet, crunchy joy that only fresh pomegranate seeds can provide. Like jewels, little edible rubies.
mornings with nadine
We have two cats: Nadine and Cleo, and they are both charming creatures who keep us company, cheer us up and generally bring us much love and joy. However this item is specific to Nadine, as it is she who has initiated a daily morning ritual in which she waits until I have seen the youngest member of our family off to school and finished my breakfast, and then take my cup of tea back to my bed for a little while longer before I have to go to work. Without fail, Nadine follows me up the stairs, then climbs onto the bed, bumps my head with hers for a while in a way that forces me to stop looking at my phone and focus on her for a bit, and then when we’ve had enough of that, she settles down on my legs. I will say this has made it excessively hard to get up and go to work, but eventually I talk myself into getting up and bump her off me. Most morning she stays in bed, claiming the spot I have warmed, and I make the bed around her while she gazes at me as if to say “Why are you doing this? Why are you leaving me? We had a good thing going here.”
my crooked amaryllis
Last but not least, my crooked amaryllis has been bringing me joy. I first felt a pang of sadness when I pulled the bulb out of the box at the start of the month and found it had launched into growth while still trapped inside. I felt responsible for thwarting it in this way - by keeping it in its box too long I had prevented it from achieving its intended height and glory. My initial sadness/guilt has since transformed into admiration. This amaryllis is not giving up. It is committed to delivering some beauty to this world, to the best of its ability, despite its less than ideal start in life. (Am I imposing some vague incomplete symbolism, metaphor and/or aspiration onto this poor plant? Perhaps.)
I have been gently coaxing it into a slightly more upright position by propping its stem up on a series of progressively taller jars and bottles. I find myself whispering an affirmation to it each morning: you are still beautiful!
That’s my list! I’d love to know what simple pleasures have you encountered this month, if you’d like to share.
Sending love,
Rebecca