The Most Comforting Inn Of All

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"The power of finding beauty in the humblest of things,

make home happy and life lovely." 

- Louisa May Alcott

Shaking things up. 

     Sometimes one has to shake things up a bit. You know. Do something interesting.

Done up lounge by the sea. 

     I found a bark-laden historic building by the sea, a four-star hotel, at two thirds the price. I was in... barky being an attention getter. This used to be a country home home commissioned by a lieutenant governor located in the Saanich Peninsula. It looked all done up and conjured visions of high tea, gin and tonics by a fireside lounge, and elegant breakfasts. A bygone era caught in time. All terribly romantic.

     Gosh, I haven't a thing to wear. 

History still standing. 

     This is the third time I have done this. I love history and so anything vintage in Victoria catches my attention. The last time I did this it was in the heart of the city and I hastily departed at 6:00 am. I would not even stay for the "b" part of the "b&b" I was so needing to leave with cracks in the walls and rattling in the night. This time, it was not rattles.

     The gorgeous bathroom was enchanting, but

Barky being an attention getter. 

the big old tub was out of commission due to "old plumbimg", the curtain was torn in the bedroom, the lounge deserted, and breakfast was wisked away before I was finished. I know I could have stopped the latter, but the truth is by then I had lost interest.

     The upshot? Being home is the most comforting inn of all.
I light the fire, draw my bath, and linger over breakfast. A third world problem solved, I know, but one must draw comfort in the little things in our lives. Besides which, I have a lot of bark around here. 

Ease

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Self Portrait
(pencil)

There is a point in winter, in the stillness of the dark, when I forget this is not forever. The hours feel heavy and time slows. To deal with this, I have been keeping a daily appointment with myself which entails curling up with a good book and a cuppa. Under my blankie I enter another world. Not sure why I have forgotten how much I love this quiet pleasure because I emerge refreshed and in love with my day. Well done, I say to myself. Time well spent. Good job. 

Although it is February, here on the Southern Gulf Islands, the garden is waking up. The days dawn much earlier, and it's a surprise. Why I don't know given it's like this every year at this time. Today I cleaned some windows with an unaccustomed vigour as the sunlight poured in. Outside, crocuses are blooming as are the miniature daffodils. It's time. 

With this inner awareness, I cleaned out a little planter box near my kitchen garden and planted lettuce seeds. Of course, it's early. I'm well aware that winter likes to give a kick or two before departing. But the truth is, everything is on the move, meaning the kale and chard have yielded several salads this week and well... what more proof do I need? Gosh. Should I be mowing the lawn?

So the lethargy of winter is actually a rest. So is the reading. Resting is not something I do well at. Given that nature models it, I am trying to improve my sense of ease with the quieter time that is winter. However, before I read today, there are plants to divide and transplant. A cusp between stillness and movement. So off I go - before I sit with the final chapter.

Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

A hopeful place to be...

                

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers    
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without words
And never stops at all
Sweetest in the gale is heard

Sore must be the storm
That could bash the little bird
That kept so many warm

I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea
Yet never in extremity

                                - Emily Dickenson (1830-1886)