Lori

insert your own snow pun

Although yesterday’s predicted snowpocalypse wasn’t as exciting as I’d hoped, I’m not going to be one of those people who sneer, “Duh, it’s Canada. It snows. Get over it,” because I understand the advance buzz about these storms makes life a little more exciting and I’m all for that.

We weren’t buried alive in snow, but we did receive a fair amount – I’d guess between a foot and a foot and a half or whatever that is in metric. (Must remember to study up on the metric system soon because I “teach” it to the kids next month. Maybe they’ll know it and can teach me.) Anyway, I can’t gauge exactly how much snow fell because I’m doing all my guesstimating from inside where it’s warm and dry and requires slightly less shovelling.

Exhibit A: snow drift on the deck, taken during the storm yesterday afternoon –

 The table on the right that’s almost covered in snow is quite a tall table, so I’d guess the drift is a good two and a half feet, maybe three feet there. No, I will not go measure it.

Exhibit B – snow drift at front door, taken this morning –

Note the impression of the door panels in the compressed snow. Very classy.

Exhibit C: Murray met by wall of snow at back door, taken this morning –

Poor guy. Nowhere to look but up.

Winter Nature

Winter Nature by Merritt Gibson and Soren Bondrup-Nielsen. Illustrated by Twila Robar-DeCoste. From the back cover: “Though often associated with hibernation – for bears and humans alike – winter can in fact be a time of observation and discovery in the outdoors. Winter Nature provides the interested walker, skier or snowshoer with a guide to the mammals, birds, trees and shrubs found in the Maritime provinces during the winter months.”

I liked this book a lot. For one thing, it’s beautifully made, as are all books produced by Gaspereau Press. For another, I love nature guidebooks since they help me feel like slightly less of an ignoramus when I’m out and about and am able to identify the odd thing here and there. Even better, it’s a guide to local animals, birds and trees  – things I have a chance of actually seeing. The best part, of course, is the amazing range of knowledge on the part of the co-authors. It’s amazing. I can’t imagine ever knowing that much about anything. About anything useful, anyway.

The one thing I didn’t love about the book was the illustrations. Robar-DeCoste is incredibly talented and the drawings are amazingly detailed and accurate, but I find I need colour photography when it comes to distinguishing between different types of sparrows, say, or the dormant branches of trees. It’s still a good resource, just not quite as useful as it might have been with photos. Just my opinion.

Anyone else share my love of nature guides?

product shown is not actual size

The late January sun slices into the kitchen at just the right angle to make a foot wide sunbathing area for the dogs, which they politely share:

 It doesn’t last long so they soak it up while they can.

While I was transferring that photo from the camera to my computer, I came across this unexplained bit of weirdness:

I don’t know what it is exactly, who made it or who took the picture, but I’m guessing it’s candy. Some kind of candy sculpture. I shudder to think about what might be holding the pieces together.

This photo is what I get for leaving the camera within reach of the short people.

A Broom of One’s Own

A Broom of One’s Own by Nancy Peacock.

From the back cover: “An encouragement to all hard-working artists, no matter how they make a living, Peacock’s book provides valuable insights and advice on motivation, craft, and criticism while offering hilarious anecdotes about the houses she cleans.”

Since I was feeling particularly in need of encouragement this past week, I turned to this book, which has been, ironically, gathering dust on my desk for quite a while as I waited for what seemed like the right time to read it. What I should have realized is that any time is the right time for nice, sensible advice on how to balance what you want to do (write, for instance) with what you need to do (make money).

Despite having two well-regarded novels under her belt, Peacock was unable to make ends meet by writing full-time and continued to clean houses for fifteen years. Her mixed feelings about this (annoyance with being treated like dirt by snooty clients as well as gratitude for the ability to work on her own and set her own rules) make for interesting reading and reminded me to try to see the good in those activities I’d rather not be doing.

While I wouldn’t characterize her anecdotes as “hilarious,” (they’re often slightly depressing since people can be gross, rude, entitled pigs), I will say the book is an entertaining mix of  memoir, observations about writing, and nitty-gritty details about what it’s really like to clean a house that is not your own. Definitely worth a read.

kiss the joy as it flies

I just finished:

Kiss the Joy As It Flies by Sheree Fitch.

From the inside flap: “Panic-stricken by the news that she needs exploratory surgery, forty-eight-year-old Mercy Beth Fanjoy drafts a monumental “to do” list and sets about putting her messy life in order. But tidying up the edges of her life means the past comes rushing back to haunt her and the present keeps throwing up more to do’s. Between fits of weeping and laughter, ranting and bliss, Mercy must contemplate the meaning of life in the face of her own death. In a week filled with the riot of an entire life, nothing turns out the way she’d expected.”

I’m not sure what rock I was living under when this novel was released by Vagrant Press in 2008, but the first I heard of it was about a month ago as I packed it up at the library to ship out to a patron who had put it on hold. Ooh, I thought, what a great title. And it’s by Sheree Fitch, the incredibly popular and prolific author of kids’ and young adult lit. Very interesting. So I bumped that patron off the hold and took it for myself. Ha. No, I didn’t. Sometimes it’s tempting, but your friendly neighbourhood librarian would NEVER do such a thing. We’re big on freedom and fairness and all that crap, you see.

So, having waited patiently for my turn, the book came back, I dropped what I had been reading and started in. The first thing I noticed was Fitch’s poetic prose – not surprising from a poet, I suppose – and her eye for detail. Mercy notes the “high-pitched, train-whistling congestion” of her doctor’s chest, for example. At a yoga class, she watches how “Twenty people floated to the front of their yoga mats like synchronized swimmers in the belly of a pool.” And of her landlord and his wife, Mercy reflects, “They’d known it was Harold’s last Christmas even then. Doris had shiny puddles of grey under her eyes…Harold’s face was the yellow of dried mustard, and his eyes were bulging out of their sockets like the eyes of a seal, glazed over with morphine.”

I liked the basic concept too: woman receives threatening medical news, woman freaks out, woman makes last ditch effort to resolve some issues she’s been letting slide, woman learns a few important life lessons in doing so. Mercy comes across as a relatable character, with just enough personality quirks to seem real, but not so many as to make her outlandish. Her life is not unlike yours or mine – frequently disappointing and infuriating with just enough moments of happiness to keep her going.

My only criticism is about the last few chapters, which seem like a bit of an afterthought. A much anticipated trip to Africa lasts for one tiny chapter (compared to the doctor’s appointment at the beginning which carried on for six chapters) and the trip feels a little forced, as if its main purpose is to get Mercy out of the country so it can be all the more dramatic when she’s summoned back for an emergency.

I also have a bit of an issue with the “One Year Later” epilogue. For fear of ruining it for you, all I’ll say is, bitter hag that I am, I can’t stand happy endings in which everything conveniently sorts itself out and everybody’s just dandy. I start rolling my eyes and muttering darkly about unicorns and lollipops and fireworks and it’s all very unattractive.

So, final word: would I recommend it? Absolutely. Great writing, intriguing story and, as far as the ending goes, chances are good you’re much less pessimistic than me and will love it.