Friday, December 26, 2014

Friday Ramble - Last of the Year

How right to start this last ramble of the year with sunlight falling across the winding Clyde river in the eastern Ontario highlands near Hopetown. Ice and snow are slow in forming here - the river is old, and her currents run fast and free, looping through woodlands, down valleys and through farm fields. The Clyde is a wild spirit of the first order, a veritable crone among waterways, and she withstands freezing as long as she is able to hiss and roar and tumble along her way.  

In the depths of winter, I park myself on the bank and listen as the river sings her way along under the ice.  At times, she seems to be singing a duet with the wind, and there's a kind of Zen counterpoint at work, two unbridled entities utterly independent in their contours and rhythm, but meticulously interwoven and seamless in their harmonies.  Putting all notions of complex orchestration and conventional choreography aside, there's lovely music in the air on icy winter days. The sound of moving water  has always been a leitmotif in this old life, and I often think that my existence can be measured in rivers, currents and intermittent streams rather than cocktails, jewelry, pairs of shoes and coffee spoons.

This is the right place to stand on the trailing edge of the calendar year. In springtime, I watched as willows on the farther shore leafed out and turned silvery green, looked on a few weeks later as the river overflowed her banks and asserted her claim to the fertile fields on both sides.  In summer, I counted bales of hay and captured images of deer and wild turkeys feeding at dusk.  In autumn, I watched the sun go down over the same willows, so golden of leaf that they too seemed to be made of falling sunlight.  In the now, snow frosts every twig and tree, and light shining through them dazzles the eyes.

This is where I came with Spencer to collect my thoughts when my husband was diagnosed with cancer a few weeks ago, and it is where we come now to replenish the energies and inner directives needed to get through chemotherapy and radiation.  There have been times lately when we thought we were unraveling, but the river works her magic, and she knits us back together again, every single time. 

Thank you for sharing Friday rambles with me this year - may we share many more rambles in the shiny new year that is waiting for us all, just around the bend.

6 comments:

Kameshwari said...

Friday Ramble has become my end of the week morning meditation. Even if I arrive at the Ramble in the late afternoon, it somehow sets the tone and the pace for my weekend.

Here in New Mexico, I'm not within easy walking distance to rivers or streams like I had in my Wisconsin life. These posts of photos or word essays have a way of creating those magical waterways for me.

Thank you for these meditative journal entries. See you at the next Ramble, next year.

Tabor said...

Nature is always restorative no matter what time of year. We can be alone and yet not alone.

Barbara R. said...

Thanks so much for your gorgeous photos and your words that touch my heart! Barb

Paula said...

I so enjoy the easy beauty of your writing. And so sorry to hear of the new challenge in your life. I hope you can meet it and the new year with courage.

Jennifer said...

It was just this time of year when my husband was diagnosed with cancer 3 years ago. I will be holding you both close in my thoughts and hoping for the same good outcome for you. Please know that you are not alone and that you are cared for.

Guy said...

Hi Kate

Beautifully written as always, I want to wish you all the best in the New Year.

Regards
Guy