Category: writing

Decision Made

~ V.J. Knutson ~ 38 Comments

Monday we were excited about the possibility, but then overnight doubts set in for me. He talked me through it, assuaged my fears. The house around the corner with the beautiful views also needs work.

We called the owner for another viewing. Ric was right. My concerns were not founded. I was in. But then Ric had a change of mind. We talked it out.

Disability limits my financial input. The burden is on Ric. I don’t want him to stress over a move. I tell him so.

“But the house would be so much better for you,” he says.

“I’m fine,” I tell him. “The most important thing is that we are happy, and we are, right where we are.”

“I’ll give it one shot,” he decides. The owner is asking an exorbitant price. We both agree not to stretch beyond what is practical.

Ric goes to meet with the owner. The dogs and I wait. I anticipate our bid will fail.

Backyard through screened door off kitchen.

The owner accepted our offer. The house is ours. Now we just have to get this one ready for sale.

Send energy. I’ll need it.

Unexpected Treasure

~ V.J. Knutson ~ 16 Comments

Summer arrives on its own schedule, painting the landscape a luscious green. The heat of the day keeps us tucked in a cool house, but not without restlessness. Ric offers a late afternoon drive and parks near a trail so I can wander in.

Tall oaks, beech trees, and maples create a canopy of shade. I stop to let my eyes readjust to the sudden change in light. A small creature whirs past, and I recognize the black stripes of a chipmunk.

Darn, I think. Missed it.

But the chipmunk, like me, is only seeking a cooler patch. Perched on a fallen log just beside the path, the small animal stops to enjoy a snack.

These tiny creatures never fail to delight me. An unexpected treasure making my day.



Early Morning Recharge

~ V.J. Knutson ~ 17 Comments

The dogs stir at the first hint of daylight. I rise with them, grumbling about lack of sleep, until the sun emerges full and bright – something we haven’t seen in awhile.

“I used to be a morning person,” I say out loud. I’m am feeling the unrest of being shut in.

Ric emerges just after 7:00 am and I’m tell him I’m thinking about taking the camera out.

I drive to the centre of town, where the main street bridge crosses the river. Immediately, I spot an unfamiliar shape at the water’s edge.

Back at home, I research and find this is a Yellow Legs, although not sure whether is a Lesser or Greater. Apparently, they migrate through here.

Further down the river a pair of Mallards hover over their newborns. The shadow of an eagle passing overhead sends the family scurrying for cover.

The air is still wintry cold, but my heart is warmed by the beauty of the day. At the end of the outing, I will have encountered many different species of birds, heralding the start of warmer days. With over 400 photos to process, I am bursting with renewed energy.

Thank goodness, I didn’t just go back to bed.

Ordering Thai

~ V.J. Knutson ~ 21 Comments

Actually, the dogs get out to circle the neighbourhood every day. Ric does the walking. He does the grocery shopping, picks up meds, and deals with all other outside matters. I stay home, guarding my high risk.

We do try to maintain some normalcy by ordering out once a week. In our small town the choices are: Chinese, diner food, or pub fare. My favourite, Thai, is only available in the city a half hour away.

“Let’s order Thai and drive in and pick it up.”

I feel like a kid playing hooky. Our closest city is a tourist destination, typically bustling with people. Not this day though. Police patrol to make sure people are obeying physical distancing laws. It’s as if we’re on the set of sci-fi film.

We order two days worth of food. Small things make a big difference in these days of isolation.

Stay safe all.

The Numbers Don’t Tell All

~ V.J. Knutson ~ 38 Comments

“We only test the front line workers.”

This from Public Health. My daughter has been sick for days with cough. Via video chat, her family doctor says she likely has COVID-19. She prescribed inhalers and cough medicine. It didn’t really help. So she called the doctor again.

“I can’t see you in my office if it’s COVID,” the doc told her, so she called Public Health.

I understand saving resources for frontline workers, but Amanda is a single mom of an eight-year-old and needs help. If it is COVID, I can’t risk being exposed, and her sister has two kids, one of which has asthma. My son said he’d go, but his wife has a sister with MD who they help out regularly.

This is painful.

A nurse friend told her to go to ER. There they did an x-ray and sent her away, saying it’s possible she has the virus, but more likely just Bronchitis.

Her doctor called two days later to say she has infection in her lungs. She’s now on antibiotics. Too early yet to know if it’s working. The ER doc called again to check up on her. She tried to sound hopeful.

Amanda is tough. I have no doubt she will pull through. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions. This disease is terrifying.

How many others are there like her – sick, but untested?

Her nurse friend says many. They see it everyday.

The numbers we see on the news don’t tell the whole story. Stay home, and stay safe.

Feathered Elegance

~ V.J. Knutson ~ 18 Comments

Rumours of the Tundra Swans in our neighbourhood lure us out. They migrate through here in early spring and linger for a week or two. We head to the drive along the river where the Common Mergansers are currently doing their mating dances.

Caught this female in the midst of the ritual. Love the hairdo.

Further downstream, we spotted a newcomer to town: Hooded Merganser.

Such a beautiful bird.

The swans were nowhere in sight, so we decided to drive to a nearby town. On the way, I spotted a few large white birds on a local pond:

Elegance with feathers.

( For Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt: elegance.)

Sculpting

~ V.J. Knutson ~ 15 Comments

The best openings are the one’s we carve for ourselves.

We spent New Year’s Eve reminiscing about eighteen years of togetherness. Stayed up past midnight, and talked about our future. Hope coloured our words.

Sculpting has been on my mind – not literally, but in the sense of chipping away at the outer facade to invite emergence.

Ric has shed fifty pounds of excess weight, and I am now joining him in that quest. We are entering this new decade with renewed vigour. There is much we still yearn to sample.

I’m lining up my tools, examining the material before me: changes lie ahead. Bit by bit, I will ply my craft, shed the excess, intuit the contours of this life I’m co-creating.

Emergence takes time, commitment, and a willingness to be open.

(Image taken from The Grand Trunk trestle. This town we have settled in stirs my impulse towards the creative. So grateful to be here. Hope it inspires you as much as it did me. I will be back Monday with a new weekly challenge.)

Wintry Rebellion

~ V.J. Knutson ~ 8 Comments

Tracks on ice remind me that even in the depth of winter there is movement. I am conflicted by the onset of cold: resigned to spending more time indoors, and already feeling the restlessness set in.

Art projects line up, encouraged by the many related gifts I received for Christmas. Writing calls to me too – so many unfinished works vying for space.

Perhaps it is the confinement itself that I fear, having known what it is to be truly homebound, and never wishing to relive the experience. I have come to love the outdoors; have embraced nature as my sanctuary. Can I tolerate the separation?

Ice crusts, encloses,
yet passion flows – fire carves
path – driven to thrive.

( Happy New Year all! Image from personal collection.)

Grateful for Openings

~ V.J. Knutson ~ 12 Comments

“I bought a turkey roll and frozen stuffing,” Ric announced after a recent grocery shop.

I might have raised an eyebrow.

“Thought we could have it on Christmas day.”

“We’re going to visit Mom on Christmas day,” I reminded him. “At the nursing home.”

As a blended family, Ric and I surrendered Christmas day a long time ago. As long as Ric’s Mom was alive, we’d pick her up and spend the day at a casino, usually ending up with a tuna sandwich in the restaurant. After she passed, Ric and I went alone. Then we started going south, avoiding the day altogether. But when Ric gets something in his head….

So turkey went into the oven as we headed out the door for the forty-minute drive.

What are you doing for dinner? A text from my younger sister.

Ric’s cooking here if you want to come.

They never come. My family of origin doesn’t do holidays anymore. It’s just the way it is.

We’d love to come if it’s not too much work.

We visited Mom, and our eldest daughter showed up with two of our granddaughters. We exchanged gifts and ate goodies, and then moved on to visit my older sister – also in the nursing home. More gifts passed hands.

I texted D as we headed home. Fog had set in. She was worried about it.

Back at home, Ric busied himself with prepping the rest of the meal, and I rested. At five, the doorbell rang. There was my younger sister and her husband bearing gifts.

I can’t remember a Christmas dinner tasting so good. Maybe it was the conversation, or just the sheer joy of sharing it with family.

It’s never too late, I realize, to start new traditions.

Tonight my heart is filled with gratitude, and I am hopeful.

(Thursdays are currently dedicated to gratitude. Image from personal collection.)