“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”
~ Marcel Proust (paraphrased)
Christmas carols playing softly, housework done and order restored, I open the front door to let Maya out, hoping she goes about her business quickly. It’s so cold out there.
I stand on the front step as she sniffs around looking for the perfect spot; my glance lands on the calendula blossoms in my front flower bed. Frozen, bowing slightly under the weight of snow, they’re still brilliant in their colour.
After what feels like a frozen forever Maya turns toward me. I encourage her to make quick tracks: “Let’s go! Treat!”.
I give Maya her reward and grab the kitchen scissors thinking I’ll hide out in my woman cave and work on a few more calendula photos for the rest of the morning. I snip a couple of stems and bring them indoors where they quickly thaw and grow limp. I try different things with them but they’re really not much good for anything in this soggy, floppy state.
So I try something different, something whimsical, and it seems to work in a crazy sort of way: upside down, off kilter, convoluted, the way this week feels. I decide to embrace it.
Later, news of the sudden passing of a former coworker’s husband–the second death I’ve received news of on this day–and a reminder of how everything can change in an instant.