Dorion, Brown, Van Gogh, Adams, Sudol, and a list of people too numerous to mention, are gifted artists whose works I both admire and draw inspiration from when I feel the need to be creative.  Their influences are not isolated to just me and my own aspirations of being an art aficionado though.  The amazing things this small list of artists I’ve mentioned can do with a brush, a piece of wood, beads, words in a song or poem, or even a camera can stir thoughts and emotions like little else can.  And as I mention the few artists I have, like me, I’m sure other names come to mind for you.  We all have our favourites.  Lately I’ve been admiring the work of someone who doesn’t often receive the acknowledgement they truly deserve.  There are even some who have become oblivious to the artistry involved and simply attribute what they see to science and a mixture of chemicals and light coming together to create amazing scenes for all of us to appreciate.  I’m not one to be quite so blasé.  And I’m certainly not one to down play some of the scenes I’ve been witness to, along with you, over the last few weeks. At the same time, it doesn’t sit well with me to simply explain away what I’m seeing as being Mother Nature either.  I know what I’m seeing is so much larger than my own existence.  The magnitude of gratitude I feel when I witness what I’m seeing is so much more than anything I can achieve as I try to create beauty and be industrious in my own life.  Nothing I can do is comparable to the things God can create for us to enjoy every day.

I’ve mentioned in previous columns I’ve been living vicariously through friends and family as they travel the globe and share photos and videos of their adventures with me.  Near the end of December I was beginning to feel a bit melancholy for the warmth and sunlight I was observing through their experiences.  We’d had quite a bit of a cold snap and each time someone came through my front door, I was reminded of someone stepping from a deep freeze into the warmth of my home.  I didn’t want to contemplate going outside much less traveling.  So when grey, cloudy days gave way to beautiful blue skies and sunshine, I felt uplifted and opened the curtains wide to let the sunshine in.  When I did, my eyes were opened to some beautiful experiences that erased any envy I felt towards those family and friends (ad)venturing in warmer locales.  Sure they might have summer like sun, warm and sandy beaches and incredible tourists views but they also have to contend with crowding, the hustle and bustle that comes with keeping an itinerary of things to do while traveling and also, being away from home is tiresome after a while. At least that has been my experience when I’m away for an excessive amount of time.  I miss home.  I begin to long for the scenes and images that help me feel grounded and give me a sense of belonging.  Lately, the most inspirational images I’ve seen are those where I’ve simply have been in the right place, at the right time, to see and enjoy.  Fortunately, a camera has been close at hand - even if it’s a camera phone - but other images have been captured forever with my heart.  And those are equally precious moments for me to appreciate too.  Sometimes a memory is just as priceless and inspiring as a photograph, painting or song is.

In December, before cold really began to shut travel down across the country, my family and I needed to attend medical appointments in Saskatoon.  We chose to stay at a hotel close to both hospitals we needed to visit over the duration of our trip.  Each morning really began once we threw the curtains wide open and let the scenes of Saskatoon flood our vision.  One morning in particular caught my attention and had me reaching for my camera.

I have long admired the architecture of the Bessborough Hotel. The intricacies of the design built into the outside of the structure fascinate me and I admire the details of the peaks and curves that have come together to create such a grand image on the banks of the river.  On this particular morning my appreciation was particularly heightened since frost had built up over night and now my image of the Bessborough was framed by ice build up on the window I was looking through.  The sun provided great lighting which allowed me to snap several photographs to further admire and appreciate later. 

A few days later we were back at home and the children and I were enjoying a long anticipated pot of tea.  We all needed that moment of tranquility so that we could slow down for a few minutes and just enjoy sharing company with each other.  As I took a sip of tea from my cup, my eyes were drawn to the sky in the West.  Shades of sunset were painted across the horizon in such a way I was struck by the beauty of colours.  At that moment, after I swallowed, my breath caught as a flock of birds flew over the house and away from the window.  It was just a beautiful contrast that lasted only a few seconds but my heart recorded every heartbeat of that brief encounter.  Suddenly, nothing my friends and family had to share about their journey compared to the scenes I was witnessing first hand from home.  A deep breath of peaceful satisfaction settled into me and kept my spirits flowing with a strong sense of well-being for the next couple of days.

Sometimes we see things outside our picture window that we don’t expect to see.  For me, it was in a moment when a large flock of sparrows, chickadees, nuthatches, a wood pecker and a couple of blue jays came for brunch at the bird feeders situated outside the windows of the house.  We have a mountain ash full of berries that the Grossbeaks devoured while I’d been away in Saskatoon so I’ve been very conscious of keeping the feeders full and providing suet and seed bells to attract the birds.  My Mom had related she’d witnessed the birds startle and fly away several times over the course of a couple of days.  And she’d been near the entry way door when she heard a commotion so opened the door as the birds vacated the feeders.  She said she heard someone shooing the birds away.  When she looked out the door, despite having a clear view up the street, she couldn’t see anyone but she heard someone’s voice, raised at the birds as the last of the flock disappeared.  It’s true, as the birds feast, they can be loud in their excitement.  I have gotten into the habit of cracking my bedroom window open so I can listen to them.  And it’s a good thing my mother told me about the birds being scared away or I might have spit out my teeth as I heard the birds being ordered to “be quiet” and “go away!” They left in a cloud and, as I slid my window closed, it was quiet outside. The voice came from up the street but my lilac blocks me from seeing who might have been speaking and I didn’t recognize the voice.  It did sound annoyed and it triggers a memory.  Suddenly an anonymous letter we’d found in our mailbox several years ago makes sense to me.  In it a list of complaints were listed including noisy birds “ruining” the ambiance of being able to enjoy the outdoors.  I didn’t understand the letter and threw it away thinking it was a practical joke.  Now I think someone using the walking path or a neighbour further up the street might have actually left the letter in the mailbox.  But who would care what pattern is used to cut a swath in the grass during summer when mowing my lawn, or where I place the bins for recycling and garbage?  These were complaints listed in the missive that also didn’t make sense to me.  At least not then.  And now that I spend most of my time at home I simply can’t imagine life without the entertainment of my feathered friends who chatter outside my windows and allow me to observe them up close through panes of glass. The birds teach me about patience, and I observe their “pecking” order as each vie for their place at the feeders.  I admire the way they co-exist with one another and I’m struck by their beauty and the colourful personality of each individual bird.  For example, one of the Nuthatches visits the seed bell and attacks it so hard the bell rocks wildly back and forth as the bird feeds.  I sometimes wonder how the bird doesn’t throw itself off the bell, it’s movements have it rocking so wildly.  And then it just stops, staring at me, as it rides the seed bell like a pendulum on a clock. The bird looks at me as I look at him.  He flies away and, when the bell sits quietly on the end of the rope it’s hanging from, another nuthatch comes along.  It hangs upside down and moves all over the bell as it feeds.  This one doesn’t appreciate the motion the other creates so as soon as the bell starts rocking, the mild mannered bird leaves.  The first bird doesn’t seem to notice or maybe it prefers to eat alone so it doesn’t care.

Between the frost on the windows, the colours of the sunrises and sunsets and the birds,  there are a lot of opportunities for me to capture the world around me and appreciate what I see through words and photographs. Just when I think there couldn’t be anything more beautiful to see, I am proven wrong.  I wake up to experience the breath taking beauty of the trees covered in hoar frost.  The phenomenon lasted for a couple of days and gave plenty of opportunity for all of us to enjoy the gorgeous tranquility of winter splendour decorating our environment and putting on its finest display.  On Saturday my boys came through the front door full of stories of their trip returning them back to Prince Albert.  They’d seen deer and played outside as the hoar frost gently fell from the trees - they’d tried to catch it on their tongue. So many tales to tell and as they talked, I made a pot of tea.  The children are growing up so quickly and my heart gives a little pinch in my chest as I observe the changes in each of them.  My babies will be four this year.  I was just holding them in my arms, tubes and monitors on their little bodies, as I fed them with a syringe for the first time.  Now I look at them all, chatting away as their voices piggy back each other, telling me what they’d seen.  They only stop speaking long enough to take a breath or a sip of tea, refilling cups as need be.

I can’t help but appreciate all of it.  This is the life God has given me - it was created just for me.  Yes, there’s been some tough times as of late and we are making our way through it.  And I’m reminded that we have those tough times for moments like these, when we slow down and appreciate the beauty of the life that is around us.  We might not understand everything as it is happening. But we are grateful for the moments anyway.  At least I am. My eyes sweep from the bird bell were a nuthatch is silently swinging, looking at my children and I through the window, to the animated faces of my boys regaling my daughter and I with their stories.  She has a quiet smile on her face as she holds her tea cup in her palm, her fingertips barely touching the handle as she listens and nods her head.  My son picks his cup up, takes a sip then cradles the China in his palm. And I see I hold my cup the same way.  I smile, sip my tea, and say a quick prayer of gratitude and thanks.  I’m so grateful to our Creator and the life He gives me to live and appreciate everyday.  Sometimes the greatest pieces of art that touch us in the most moving of ways aren’t considered art at all - but they’re priceless and beautiful just the same.

Take care and have a great week, everyone.