Isabel Designs

Icicles (photo by Noella Cotnam)

Last year at this time we were just getting our electricity back after an ice storm blackout that lasted eight days. This was the second catastrophic ice-storm I’ve experienced, so I was somewhat ready for the mayhem that ensued, but really, it’s hard to be ‘that’ prepared. Thankfully the kindness of friends and strangers abounded. We were able to find a hot shower, a hot meal, and even internet access within a short driving distance.

I have to say that the ambiance of candlelight and the radiance of a fireplace really were a wonderful prelude to Christmas. ‘All is calm’, albeit not so bright when everyday conveniences were unavailable. It gave new definition to the saying, “let’s make the best of it”.

When I was a youngster our family hosted big family dinners at Christmas. I’m sure all of these gatherings were special, but one really stands out in my mind: it was the year the power went out in the neighbourhood. The turkey had been cooked earlier in the day, but the trimmings were only half done when the house went black. As barbecues and Coleman stoves were being set up, candles were lit, and cousins, Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles gathered in the family room. It was then that a lowly guitar player strummed out the chords and everyone sang carols together. We were connected and engaged in a way we never had been before. It was special – memorable.

Anytime we are pushed out of the ordinary, there resides the possibility of the extraordinary. Whether it’s a blackout, a layoff, a heartbreak or something else that comes to challenge you at this time of year, I hope the awesome power of peace and joy reveals itself to you. Look for it. It is waiting to be found.

Merry Christmas.

Nancy & the High Flyer

If ever there was a guaranteed recipe for feeling like a kid again, it’s this: sunshine, wind, and a colourful piece of nylon with strings attached. If you can find a sandy beach even better, but a big green meadow will work just as well. Stir up these ingredients and you’ll find yourself flying a kite and feeling like an eight year old. That’s probably just how old I was the last time I held the reigns of a kite, and it is as amazing to me now as it was then.

It wasn’t my idea to fly the kite. I would have been content to sit on my beach chair and catch rays all afternoon. My friend Chris, on the other hand, had the kite out of the package and in the air before setting up her chair! I was simply flabbergasted at how easily the kite propelled into the sky and danced effortlessly on the wind. I certainly don’t remember it being that simple to launch a kite when I was a kid. When it was my turn to take the reigns, all of my ‘adult’ inhibitions fell to the ground and I felt like it was me up there, soaring and swaying above the clouds. Quite simply, it was fun.

Riding High

So next time you’re feeling tired after a long day, or you need to release a little stress, consider taking the kite-flying challenge. You’ll be glad you did.

If you need more details on how to fly a kite, check out this step by step on eHow.

Strings Attached!

Garden Flowers in June

If my mother was alive, she’d be seventy-three years old. She’s been gone eight years, and I still miss her. The first few years after her death, I would visit her grave site often. Somehow it gave me comfort though I never understood why. I knew she wasn’t there. Perhaps seeing her name spelled out on the granite stone helped me believe it was real.

Though my stops at the cemetery are less frequent these days, the visits I have with my Mom still happen regularly. I hear her voice encouraging me when I’m feeling uncertain – especially when I’m trying to learn something new. Just as she had said in past, “don’t underestimate yourself”, and “you can do it” still help me to believe in my abilities. As I get older I realize just how special it was to hear those words from her. 

When my mother was diagnosed with cancer, it felt like our whole family got the disease too. The reality of her prognosis was devastating, but it also became an opportunity for all of us to savor the important things in life, like saying ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’. Today I send out birthday wishes to the Universe, along with a song that I gave to my Mom years ago to try and say how I felt – and still feel. It’s a Natalie Merchant song called “Kind and Generous”. Listen Now on Grooveshark. Read the lyrics here.

A number of years ago, I was introduced to the “auction” when a neighbouring craft and gift shop went out of business and sold all of it’s contents. I still remember the excitement of winning the bid on a ‘job lot’ (which is auction lingo for a box filled with miscellaneous stuff, kind of like an adult surprise bag ). With a friend, we quickly decided that this was an experience we wanted to repeat. That summer we found a few auctions to attend and enjoy together. There was one particularly disappointing day, where after waiting for hours and hours, the items we were interested in sold to a bidder willing to pay more than we were. On our way home, we noticed a sign for a yard sale and stopped in. It was the end of the afternoon, and I now know (being more yard-sale savvy) that the owner was tired and didn’t want to have to put his things back away. As we poked around at the contents on the tables, I found some cute wicker baskets and when I asked how much he was selling them for, he replied $.25 cents. I felt like the lady in the Ikea commercial… “Start the car!!” I thought for sure his wife would come out to yell at him and correct him on the price. 

Each yard sale morning is spent wondering around the country side discovering unexpected treasures. Each experience has found one of us particularly excited about something we have found for an unbelievable price. I have honed my bartering skills, something I learned watching my Dad when I was little. Lately, I’ve been searching for old jewelry beads or parts that I can use in my creations. 

I was bitten that afternoon by the yard sale bug. I have never since waited through a day at an auction. I have however, willingly and eagerly gotten up extra early on Saturday morning to venture into the thrill of the hunt.

A recent yard sale find!

The bracelet my first boyfriend gave me after our first kiss, the keys to the car that declared my ‘roll down the window and crank up the music’ independence, and the love notes exchanged between me and my first true love, preserved in shoeboxes and Tim Horton cans, are evidence that I am a sentimental pack rat. I don’t apologize for hanging on to these things. They help me remember special moments in my life. They remind me that I was here. 

Sunflower Angel

Up until recently, I still had the big green trunk that my Dad passed on to me when I was thirteen. It held precious things like ticket stubs from concerts and movies, letters from high school friends and sweethearts, and the high-heeled pink shoes that my sister made me wear to her wedding. I also stored college art projects and theology essays, the ones that got A’s, so I could remember those achievements. It held photo albums filled with the escapades of friends that still make me laugh out loud when I look at them. The trunk was ruined in a basement flood a few years back, so I had no choice but to part with it and the majority of its contents. One starry summer evening, when the flames were burning high in a backyard campfire, I put the trunk in the fire, and ceremoniously gave its ashes to the wind. It was a good lesson for me to ‘let go’ of some of these old things. Let’s face it – I’ll never wear those pink shoes again!

Today I received an email that filled me with a sense of hope and newness. Today I witnessed a great blue heron walking along the water’s edge, and felt the morning sun flood its light on my face. These were not yesterday’s memories. This is my now. I know all these things will be added to my storehouse of treasures, to be called forth again when I need them, or least expect them, but living in the moment, feeling them for the first time over and over again, is really where it’s at. I am here. 

When I was a little girl, I was always drawn to my mother’s jewelry box. It was fun to try on her pretty things and play grown up. My favorite thing to do was open up a purple velvet case, that Mom always kept separate. Inside were what I came to name, her wedding pearls. It was a necklace which had been a gift from my Dad and which Mom wore on her wedding day. Luckily for me, it was my ‘something old’ and my ‘something borrowed’ on my own wedding day. As an adult, my memories are more about peeking in the velvet case, than seeing the necklace on my Mom. As my daughter prepares for her Prom, we have been hunting through an enormous number of stores looking for just the right outfit. As she tried on her dress with the necklace she had planned on wearing, she disappointedly remarked, “I don’t think it looks right”. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it earlier, maybe it was a divine reminder from above…. In any case, I offered for her to wear Grandma’s wedding pearls. It has been a long time since I opened the purple velvet case. The mystique and memories are always vivid. To my delight, they are the perfect compliment to my daughter’s dress, and the glow of happiness at the privilege of wearing them was evident. For me, it’s never about the actual value of an object, but the sentimental value that wraps itself around an object over time. Now my challenge is to make earrings to match!

memories from childhood