candlelight

Shawn and I woke up early yesterday, before it was light out, well-rested. I'm talking really early - 4am early. It may have been the storm. Outside, the wind was rushing and howling by so loudly, it sounded as though the windows and door were open (which they weren't). But we both got up and actually had a cup of coffee, before the power flickered and went out. Plunged into darkness, I felt around for the bottom shelf of the bookcase, where we keep our tea light candles and lighters (exact location noted specifically for this type of situation. there was a time the power went out for 3 hours and I was alone and I couldn't for the life of me find where we kept our candles. Not fun). Soon, our apartment was glittering with little dancing flames. I suggested to Shawn that I read to him, something he rarely has the patience to enjoy except in such situations. And I love reading out loud and being read to. We lay beside each other on the bed, and I held a candle in a little brass holder with round cross cut-outs. I read from the light coming out of those holes. "A Wilderness Called Home: Dispatches from the Wild Heart of Canada", by Charles Wilkins. I read of his travels all over the Eastern half of Canada by boat, on the Great Lakes and the Atlantic. Something about the dark, flickering half-light, made it easier to take myself to the places he was describing, viewing Canada from the deck of a ship, often at night or the wee hours of the morning. A yearning for exploration danced in me with the candlelight. To totally absorb myself in a wild and rugged landscape, with no agenda other than to experience oneness with it,  and write and paint what I find. Anyway, after about 15 minutes of reading, Shawn had dropped off to sleep. But I wasn't tired. I moved out into the living room, softly illuminated. The wind roared outside, trees groaning and creaking as they were forced to bend with it. Eastre slept on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, soft body folded into a bun shape. When I went and sat beside her, she opened one eye and let out a soft trill of greeting. I pet her for awhile, and she snuggled her head back into her paws and purred. After a while I moved over to the yoga mat already set out on the floor and did my yoga routine to the sounds of the storm. It was slowly lightening outside, but still dark enough to need the candlelight. After yoga I padded around and blew out all the candles and crawled back into bed with fubman. My body felt spacious and loose and euphoric from the stretching. We slept until 10:30.

When we woke up again, the power was back on and the sun was shining. The wind, although still gusting along energetically, was not nearly so loud and intense. After our morning things, Shawn left to go work at a client's and I fooled around on the computer, until the power went out again, at which point I bundled myself against the wind and went for a jog out in the brightness. When I got home, Shawn followed soon after, and we went to North Chestermans. So windy was it as to be unbearably cold on the beach, but we found a little nest on a sand dune scattered with bleached seagrass that was sheltered somewhat, and stayed and talked for a while, watching mountainous humps roll into Cox Bay. Pity they always break so far out when they're huge. To the naked eye from the beach they look about 5-6 feet when in reality they're more like 10-20. You can only tell they're big for how high they rise up over the horizon. We always park at our friends' house  now when we go there - we know a couple of people who live in a house right ON the beach, with a private beach trail. They own a dog named Pandora who is part wolf, and she is the most gorgeous, friendly, crazy dog ever. She is in love with Shawn, and vice versa. Her owner is thinking of having puppies with her, because of how beautiful she is, and I think if this happens, it would KILL Shawn not to have a puppy of hers.

Anyway, after our little outing Shawn went to work at Tony's and I frittered away at home, not doing anything much. And that was my day. Voila! There eet ees!