The Yarn Harlot writes a post every Canada Day, and I will not even try to disguise the fact that I am influenced by her. She wrote today about how it is to be served by our country’s health care system and I think she did it fairly and accurately.* It strikes home for this knitter. I echo her gratitude to live in this place, at this time, by the sheer luck of ending up born here. Not a perfect place, not by a long shot, but so much to be thankful for. A year ago, I wondered if my life was to be utterly changed – I wondered if I was losing many of the things I dearly love, such as getting out in the wilderness, the ability to work, giving up my body. Like so many predictions and prognosis’, it hasn’t worked out that way, at least to the extent I expected. I am still out wandering in the woods, my body is (fairly) intact, I continue to do work that satisfies. Even a decade ago it would have been a different outcome. My life has changed, but whose has not? I can complain about aging, but hey, at least I am here to complain! There is an old Buddhist story about the Buddha advising a woman who was maddened by grief from the loss of her son. He told her to gather a mustard seed from the home of any family not touched by illness or death. As she travelled from place to place, unable to find such a home she realized that illness and death were known by all, and her madness was eased. I think that other religions have a version of this story as well.
(*The Yarn Harlot also writes about Pride and I say, you go sister, well said!)
From a flying trip up north this weekend. This is a shot of Williston Lake, an enormous man-made reservoir near Hudson Hope. We did a hike up Butler Ridge, really it is less a hike than an old ATV trail. Steep but rewarding.
Our lunch spot. The beautiful girl in the photo above this is our niece Chloe who graduated from high school. We are very proud. She is a very strong hiker too – poor woman, she had to put up with me yapping on about all the best hikes we have done over the years. Nothing like other people’s stories. She tolerated them graciously.
The hills above the Peace River. We are looking towards the foothills of the northern Rockies. Those are canola fields ripening, this area is the “bread basket” of the province.
No knitting or weaving today, everything is a work in process. It is kind of hot, the wool sticks and isn’t that fun to work with. Maybe in the cool of the evening…
Happy holiday weekend for all those who get one.