Early Morning Mountains
Kathie needed something besides the ground to sleep on so she found this for a weekend to the mountains.
On the way it became obvious that a sway bar hitch was needed. As the roads became skating rinks at Hinton, traffic slowing to a crawl behind a smart semi driver, more than one slide and slip gave proof that this hitch more than paid for itself: without it we would have seen the ditch spinning out of control.
The unit had all sides, but the fantastic piece is this time of year the campground is deserted for the most part, and even after all the delays, we arrived, the third vehicle only in the campground. It’s mountain air, fresh, cool and quiet, next to a flowing river.
And me, the put it on your back or leave it behind, suddenly had on my back, well the back of my truck, a camper, not mine, to provide electricity, and warmth and comfort needed at these advanced years. And the freedom, freedom relative to the shakes, fatigue, weight loss, insomnia, and fear of the previous years … well the comparison is like night and day; death and life.
It took an awful lot of hard work to get this borrowed trailer ready for the trip, for use after being in moth balls for the last three years plus.
But here it is: all comfortable and well, pristine air in no short supply. And in the morning light, the views as always prove renewing. That’s something I’ve needed after the last 3 years. That was a darkside.
This post was delayed, due to to a memory error. I’d tell you about it but I’ve forgotten what it was, something to do with WP Memory Limit.
Yesterday, driving in the early morning heavy fog, the sun started to poke through just ever so slightly and this flew by.
I stopped, pressed for time or not, to catch the light.
Can you catch light, really? Waves or particles, with bare hands, and hold it tight to own it?
Never, but one can take the light of the world through the yuck of crude meanness and, as Leonard Cohen taught me to say, celebrate the light that gets in just because of the cracks. Actually Chet Hoversten taught me to say it, in more Lutheran theological language, which has served me all my life: the Grace of God is not earned, but enters our lives, in spite of and just because we are broken people, and this Grace and favour given as a free gift, never earned, not even for believing the right things, transforms our lives, sets us free, establishes that God is for us no matter what, and then this Grace allows us to surrender and ask: so with this absolute freedom, given by none other than God, what am I going to do (what are we going to do) with this … this freedom, this life, this Grace, this unconditional forgiveness:
Are we going to try to control it and foist it on others: That is to create our own hell out of it, just saying.
Are we going to try to codify it and foist it on ourselves and others: That is to create our own hell out of it, just saying.
Are we, am I, going to simply ask each morning and each moment, how can I extend this Grace unmerited to as many people as possible this day, this moment?
Photography is easier, and more difficult: you can capture the light, and then share it. And as many know the worst weather often creates light that is the most spectacular, by being specular, and it makes possible some great photography.
Now, I was running hard, and just had fun, so this is not the BEST photography, it’s just fun, to be enjoyed:
The fourth and final … and I had to jump out of the freezing, fingers throbbing cold, without even time to put everything back in the cases and move on, hoping there’d be another take for the light. But within a few km the sun broke clear through from 2 hours in the sky and all that was left was to make the next deadline.
And later that night, falling asleep in my chair more than once I put the exposure bracketed files together with HDR and tweeked. So this is light and software and playing around with reality.
Not suggested to be done with God’s light in our lives. It already had endless exposures bracketed for us to see, and assembly by software or however is simply not helpful, nor needed to notice the awesome, amazing Grace …
For each of us.
This second entry then is simple: these things I have helped to create, with labour and love, to help make my wife’s townhouse a place of beauty.
These are views of what is precious and dear, and to be optimized for function and effect, to become beautiful in design, economy of resources, elegant in its use, and wondrous in the juxtaposition of the required and the hoped for, the vertical and the horizontal playing to their fullest and the stunning emotional effect of good craftsmanship applied to wondrous materials.
If you are our friends or trusted acquaintance you will be invited to enjoy this space, these sounds, this light, this air, this efficient and effective use of humble and limited space.
This is made as a tour for Kathie’s mother, now in an assisted living apartment, not easily able to get out. She may yet make a visit, but for now you get to share in her virtual visit.
And of course it is made for our family and friends who have not yet visited and may not be able. We do not have world-wide contacts like our internet savvy and active sons; but quite a few of our friends will not likely ever set foot in Kathie’s townhouse.
So we begin:
At the entry
Moving inside the door on the new tile floor.
Stepping left to the half bath.
And a peak up the stairs, a farewell gift, Luke Rafin’s print.
Further up the stairs to the corkboards for unframed photos.
A close up of one pinned photo from Yellowstone National Park.
The garage, with new shelves and insulated to allow winter work in warmth. – The new shelves over the old freezer.
The side shelves and one bike hung, with Kathie’s tools well organized.
The kitchen, a new stove vent that vents into the garage to keep it heated in the winter.
The new kitchen floor, antique and bluish wood look linoleum laminated click flooring.
The corner with transitions and the tile baseboards.
The living room with Kathie’s sound system that allows one to feel the orchestra, or heavy rock or whatever the boys listen to when we are not anywhere around.
Set on a shelf built especially designed to house it and the old TV.
An orchid by the African mask.
One of my older sunset photos.
The stair pantry that makes use of otherwise lost space, accommodating the relatively smaller kitchen compared to the home I had built us, with enough space to allow gluten free baking items to be stored completely separate from others.
Further down looking up to all the storage gained on the walls of the stairwell. Not fancy but thoroughly practical, and within easy reach, for the table leaf and the gate for when the small dog comes to stay for a few days.
Dorothy’s paper tolling going further down the stairs.
The new shelves in the laundry room, for supplies …
And for sorting laundry.
And more storage.
The boys’ area in the basement, where friends come to visit and play and watch and listen and discuss.
Upstairs Kathie’s computer desk and work space, with vertical set of shelves, and a side shelf for her printer and filing cabinet to behind her dresser.
The shelves and photos on the walls.
One more, one of Kathe’s many favourites, an old pantry and a view out the window to the white of winter.
And an old shed.
Kathie’s closet with double rods, long clothes space.
And shelving …
And shelving around at the ceiling.
The deck from the kitchen.
Some of the new area more than three times the original, one new planter, and fencing replaced with the neighbours helping this past summer.
The new deck, step, one planter, and new fencing in the other direction.
The old space with the old BBQ and one of three planters for vegetables and flowers.
The two sheds that miraculously changed places one afternoon, after the fence behind the larger one was painted. (Miracles sometimes require an awful lot of work from human hands. But Kathie thinks its just ordinary for the sheds to fly to a new location. J )
The second planter on the old area, the table on the new.
The deck table, the last view until one comes to help mow, or weed or plant or enjoy the sitting.
The tour can only be better with more photos, perhaps some day added. Or by making an appearance in person. Teleporter terminals are not installed so plan on hours and days and weeks to get here, depending on which quadrant you’re reading this in.
There is little that marvels anyone anymore, and much that blows the socks off anyone who is willing to notice.
Life is …
Life is a complex series of time, space, particularity and inspiration.
Life is the most despairing series of events anyone can witness or experience.
Life is the most awe inspiring series of events that anyone can witness or experience.
Others determine so much of life, yet 90% of life is determined by our responses to what happens to us, and what others do to us, good and bad, and both good and bad simultaneous.
If you have never experienced that you are like the pastors who reported that their congregation had no alcoholics among the members, had not … and you can fill in the blank.
The truth is their congregation had its fair share, some said 1 in 10, but the pastor was too ignorant and proud to know the truth.
Ignorance does not determine that something is true. Perception by ignorant masses, small or great masses, does not create reality; it creates a falsehood built out of ignorance; and that is something to be feared more than fear itself.
Life in the face of all this is simple. Not simple on this side of complexity, but simpler on the far side of complexity. What is simple is that beauty is a given, and an option to participate in … or not. Just as Grace, Amazing Grace, is a given, and an option to participate in … or not. I consciously have chosen again and again to embrace beauty, grace, and Life as I trust it was given to be lived.
Beauty comes washing over us in so many forms, visual, in the dance of light and shadow, colour and surprise, drawing in, renewing of value, and a sending out to embrace the world, and therein to permeate others and situations with … with the essence of life: grace.
Dance the light, dance through the darkest valley of death that grips us all in the vice of fear and denial, dance in the detail and the relationships between waves and particles, between inanimate and animated, between the found and the created.
Beauty is also what one makes of space. My travels from North America to Europe, mostly Germany, and my childhood in Tanganyika, have left me desiring space abundant and a knowledge that space is often limited, precious and to be optimized for function and effect, to become beautiful in design, economy of resources, elegant in its use, and wondrous in the juxtaposition of the required and the hoped for, the vertical and the horizontal playing to their fullest and the stunning emotional effect of good craftsmanship applied to wondrous materials.
This first entry is a simple view to what and how I see my surroundings.
Simple homes in a simple neighbourhood, development at a standstill by the oil bust.
The view from up close to out there.
The quiet simple calm that comes between ferocious tempests.
This is my view … yet so much cannot be published.