Friday morning

Friday Morning

Blue mug of London Fog
Black cat purrs and
contemplates biting
CBC Radio on low

Notebook on desk
with stationary pen
Heart too full of the dark
This dawn.

This post was created as part of the Poetry Friday challenge, hosted each week by a different poet.  Today’s host, Jone Rush MacCulloch, used a couple of lines from one of my favourite Edgar Allan Poe works as inspiration.  Please enjoy her lovely poems on her blog and visit the other Poetry Friday participants via the thumbnails at the end of the post.

In Memoriam: For My Mother

CROUSE, Susan Anne (Adams)
October 28, 1948 – December 13, 2021

After a period of declining health, Susan Anne (Adams) Crouse passed away peacefully in hospital in Halifax, Nova Scotia on December 13, 2021.  First child and only daughter of Walter Richard Adams (originally of Montreal, QC) and his wife Emily (Bishop) Adams of Kentville, NS, Susan was born in her mother’s hometown on October 28, 1948.

Predeceased by her parents and her husband, Laurie K. Crouse, Susan is survived by her brother Neil (Mary Ellen) Adams of Almonte, ON; daughters Karen (Doug) McLean of Saint John, and Krista (John) Alford of Beaver Bank, NS; cherished granddaughter Emily Alford of Beaver Bank, NS; special cousin Juanita Bezanson of Port Williams, NS; and numerous relatives.

In her early life, Susan lived in several communities in the Maritimes, including Kentville, Fredericton, Rothesay, and Saint John.  She graduated from Netherwood School in the mid-1960s, and in 1980 made the Halifax area her permanent home.  Originally a legal secretary, she grew her professional skills and spent 20 years as a bookkeeper for businesses large and small.

A strong and resourceful single mom, Susan raised her two daughters while knitting them sweaters and mittens, canning pickles, creating handmade chocolates, and serving as a Brownie and Girl Guide leader.  But it was in her role as “Meema” to Emily that Susan really shone.  For Susan, there was no brighter light in the world than that of her granddaughter’s smile; Emily was someone of whom Susan was deeply proud and for whom she had an endless supply of unconditional love.

In her post-retirement years, Susan became increasingly reliant on her daughter Krista and her son-in-law John, who ensured that Susan had everything she needed.  Indeed, Susan’s apartment in Lower Sackville was an extension of the Alford home in Beaver Bank, with holiday gatherings and near-daily visits keeping Susan at the heart of their family.    She is very much missed by those whose lives she touched.


This post was created as part of Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life Challenge

You can view other writers’ contributions via the comments here.

And now it is December…

Confession: Despite my enthusiasm for all things Henry David Thoreau, he and I differ in our philosophies when it comes to the seasons (and especially those containing snow).

Live in each season as it passes—breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, & resign yourself to the influence of each.

—Henry David Thoreau, Journal, 23 August 1853

102 days, fifteen hours, 29 minutes until Spring!

—Karen J. McLean, The Write Kind of Life, 7 December 2021

We are expecting some snow this evening, but it is not supposed to amount to much: just 5-10 cm (roughly 2″-4″).  If it’s less than 15 cm (6″), it doesn’t really count as a snowfall, in my humble opinion, and it really doesn’t count as a “snowstorm” unless we are talking 25 cm (10″).  These are not definitions from Environment Canada, you understand.  This is just me. 🙂

I find Winter to be a most claustrophobic season.  It starts with the darkness.  At this latitude (45ºN), the sun came up at 7:52 AM, and it set at 4:43 PM.  It is lovely to see all the holiday lights against this background, but once they are turned out for the season …  Yeah.

And yet … There is still a coziness to it all, somehow.  Curling up with a book, a cup of tea, and one of the four cats and the dog is a very pleasant way to spend a day as Nature does her best to make time stand still.  The fresh snow absorbs sound (scientific fact), and so there is a certain hush, broken only by the sounds of the chains on the tires of snowploughs as they rumble down the roads.

The very best thing about Winter, though, is how much it makes this Canadian appreciate the Spring.

This post was created as part of Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life Challenge

You can view other writers’ contributions via the comments here.