Aside

garb(e) \ gärb\ noun  1. obsolete: fashion, manner  2. a: a style of apparel  b: outward form : appearance

Origin:  Middle French or Old Italian; Middle French garbe graceful contour, grace, from Old Italian garbo grace.

First use: 1599

garb transitive verb: to cover with or as if with clothing  First use: 1846

The things you see when you don’t have a camera

Note to self: endeavour to bring the camera on the walks.  The morning walk began as usual, dropped my basket of dishes and French press in the house entryway, attached Murphy’s leash and headed down the hill.  There is sun today to melt wherever it shines but ice in the wind coming out of the west.

At the bottom of the drive I stopped at my neighbour’s because, not 8 meters from me and under one of her numerous bird feeders was a beautiful red fox.  The fox stood still for long enough that if I had had my camera I could have taken several shots.  Murphy had no view because of the ploughed up snow by the driveway so I didn’t have to struggle to hold him and we stood in the road for a couple of minutes until it moved off to the nearby row of apple trees and crouched down.  I still had a good view so we stayed in place. My neighbour feeds the birds throughout the year in an over-the-top way so as well as having way too many birds than is natural in her bit of woods, her place attracts squirrels and mice in abundance and other critters and the predators to hunt them.

As I watched, a grey squirrel ventured too close to the fox and she leaped and grabbed and disappeared below the hill.  Half a minute later I could see her streaking for the woods at the bottom of the field, hopefully successful at reducing the squirrel population by one.  Good to see the fox looking so good after this long and cold winter.  Good hunting.

Malingering WInter

The morning walk of 13 March, before the plow truck

The morning walk of 13 March, before the plow truck

 

Malingering, according to my Shorter Oxford means    to pretend illness in order to escape duty, said especially of soldiers and sailors.  I have a new definition:  lingering in the vicinity with malicious intent, for example, this winter that is still here, lingering maliciously via a wintery mix, two days after the spring equinox.

Now, I’m a big fan of winter in general.  What’s not to like?  There’s the magic of snow falling, blanketing the world, forcing a slowdown, and bringing a quiet that is rare even here in the woods.  I think most people who don’t care for the vagaries of winter are those who have a hard time slowing down and those who allow the weather to limit their activity.  My days don’t change much through the seasons.  I walk twice a day, at least, every day because I feel better for doing so and the dog requires that routine.  Even though he could go for his own walks, he likes to know that I am on patrol as well.  Walking in the winter is actually easier because I can add clothes layers as needed to suit the conditions and I have excellent traction devices as needed too.

Garb for the super cold days, -25C and NW wind requires layers of wool, hat, hood and fur collar and headband as well as double mitts.

Garb for the super cold days, -25C and NW wind requires layers of wool, hat, hood and fur collar and headband as well as double mitts.

Dogs stay cleaner in a cold winter.  No mud.  This winter could have been better with more actual snow and less wintery mix, (freezing rain and sleet ruin good snow for snowshoeing) but it was nice and cold for a  prolonged time.  I have a trail we walk in the afternoon up the hill.  I go fast uphill and Murphy and I both love running downhill in the snow.  I run no matter the footgear, snowshoes, cleats or bare boots.  I run because it’s easier to get momentum and keep it and I figure if it’s slippery (which it usually is, especially where I have already compressed the snow) then the less time my feet are on the ground the less chance to slide suddenly.

 

Ice on a staghorn sumac.  Everything had an inch of ice on it for two weeks at the end of December.

Ice on a staghorn sumac. Everything had an inch of ice on it for two weeks at the end of December.

The crusty conditions this winter made running downhill more of a challenge.  The frozen trail was mostly a ribbon of mini moguls and stepping to the side could mean going through crust to softer deeper snow.  Concentration is key, but I get laughing as I run because Murphy is often right on my heels so I can’t stop.  I think he thinks it’s funny to run downhill in the snow, nearly on top of me.

This winter we had not enough snow that got crusted with freezing rain, frequently, so I walked shod with cleats mostly and finally found some kickass cleats that  allow me to tap dance on icy hills like our driveway this past December.  My new cleats, Katoohla Microspikes, are like tire chains for my feet.  They have come in really handy when I needed to climb the icy hill no matter the conditions to retrieve Murphy from his bark about patrols.

Several times a week Murphy doesn’t come home from the walk and instead does his patrol of the ridge: ruff, ruff, ruff, pause, ruff, ruff.  Repeat.  He’s a Great Pyrenees by temperament and he could do this all night long.  Slow to learn me, I only just realized that we have been playing a game of his devising.  I call it stalking.  I head up the hill and try to circle around behind and get close enough to him so that he has to acknowledge me and come.  He won’t come when I call because he is on a mission, eliminating all denizens from the area.  I usually fail at round one.  He moves farther away or goes silent.  I concede by walking back toward our dooryard.  In December I would do this so as night fell I could more easily see to get back in the near dark.  I have a headlamp but it is still hard to bushwhack in the dark with a small light.  Easier with deep snow to follow my tracks.

Anyway, once I start walking away, I make some noise and then stop.  Within a minute Murphy comes racing up to where I am, winner of the second round.  Sometimes he really surprises me by leaping out from thick trees nearly in front of me.  I yelp and he looks most gratified.  He gets cookies  and praise and leashed and we head for home.  Sometimes if it’s not too close to nightfall we stop and contemplate the universe.  When there is snow on the ground it’s more easy to see where Murphy sits to keep an eye on things below.  I’m sure he is getting most of his information with his nose but I mostly look and listen.  Crouched on the top of a frozen hill in the spooky woods in January I hear the wind waves in  patterns like the ocean waves.  Ah, to be a bird and be able to surf those waves.

Alas, wingless, bound by gravity, still there is fun to be had.  Now that Spring is here we occasionally get a slightly warming day with some melt between  the sub-zero and wintery mix days.  There are patches of smooth ice on the edges of the road still frozen on the morning walks.  I go cleat-less  and run and slide as far as the leash will let me while Murphy checks the pee-mail.  He gets to make his mark five feet up the trees courtesy of the snow banks beside the road.  Later, those that can perceive it will think a giant dog lives here.

There are lacy ice-edged, frozen puddles to crunch along and later in the day, if it warms enough, slushy snow to squash beneath my feet.  Running downhill then has a lot more slide to it.

While waiting for Murphy to catch me up on the trail loop I discovered a big old pine tree drum.  I was breaking dead branches off the bottom and the remaining bits have several nice tones depending on my striker so I stop as I walk by and drum on the hill sometimes.

It’s all fun and mostly I’ve had a good winter, even trapped by the ice storm over the winter holidays.  I got chains for my truck so I could climb the ice hill so no worries there. Still, I have about two days of wood left in the garage and I will need to move some of my last cord of wood that is stacked (and covered, luckily) outside.  I had hoped that more snow would be gone but now it looks like I’ll have to hack out the pickup and clear out the back so I can load wood and move it.

So for many, maybe most, winter is lingering with malicious intent, but I’m still playing here.  Yippee!

Impossible for me to capture the sparkle of the ice everywhere in December when the sun finally broke through the freezing rain.

Impossible for me to capture the sparkle of the ice everywhere in December when the sun finally broke through the freezing rain.

 

 

Renovating a down coat

Finished!  Even though it's not really cold I'm determined to wear my renovated down coat.

Finished! Even though it’s not really cold I’m determined to wear my renovated down coat.

Twelve years ago I bought an ankle-length, black, Calvin Klein down coat at my favourite store, Winners.  It was a good price, $100, but it was a bit of a splurge since I didn’t really need it most of the time where I lived on Vancouver Island.  I got it mostly because I was doing a winter rail trip from Toronto to Vancouver and I thought it would be a perfect, light-weight coat for those times when you want to get off the train in the middle of the night on some lonesome, frozen prairie siding,  just to experience the cold.   A few years later I moved to Maine and it became my coat of choice for the morning walks with the dog in winter.

Drool stains the lower part of the original waterproof/breathable fashion fabric.

Drool stains the lower part of the original waterproof/breathable fashion fabric.

Fast forward to this year.  The coat still keeps me warm and is like walking around in a big sleeping bag but the outer fashion fabric was worn at the cuffs and

 no amount of washing seemed to be able to remove the dog drool on the sleeves where I get playfully grabbed or from the waist down where leaning occurs.  

I had two choices: replace the coat with a new one or make a new fashion fabric outer shell.  llbean makes a good substitution, a calf-length coat for $200.  I would recommend to a client that option since renovation is labour-intensive.  A new coat would have a removable hood, not a feature I really require, but would not have the extra tall collar that makes my coat perfect for wind-chill times.  I can pull it right up over my nose.  With a hat I’m toasty-warm.  And my coat is longer with zippers at the bottom of the side seams for walking ease.  I bought some dark brown polyester rain coating and started.

matching the new front placket with the old

matching the new front placket with the old

I opened both side seams from sleeve cuff to the zippers.  I have made vests from down jackets and re-covered vests as well so the optimum would have been to be able to remove the original fashion fabric, make a pattern from it and replace with the new fabric.  Alas, the fabric was sewn to the down casing making the channels so removal was not an option.  I made paper pattern pieces for fronts, centre back, side backs, side fronts and sleeves and assembled the pieces attached at the shoulders and draped on my form to see how the fit was.  I had to adjust a bit at the armhole, then I pinned the new outer shell to the coat at the collar and at all the channel stitching.

Pinning the new dark chocolate brown fabric on the partially deconstructed garment

Pinning the new dark chocolate brown fabric on the partially deconstructed garment

I decided to quilt the coat by hand for more control and so that I wouldn’t lose any loft with additional seaming.  I used some variegated silk thread warp ends that I got from the Sanderson Weaving Studio  on Granville Island.

The colours vary from taupe and dull purple to tan and pale green.  I started with  a sleeve, then quilted the adjacent front, then the other sleeve, it’s front and lastly the back.  I embroidered a decorative stitch around the pocket openings to strengthen that stress point.

While it was apart I replaced the walking ease zippers.  The originals never opened easily.  The main two-way separating zipper I replaced several years ago with a bigger sleeping bag-like zipper.  I also added reinforcement at the hems in the form of iridescent drapery fabric.  Hopefully that will contribute to longevity at the stress points.

Even using two thimbles my fingers are sore from all the hand sewing.  Except for the front zipper (which was basted then sewn by machine) and , the side seams, the new fabric was attached by hand for control and to maintain down loft.

Even using two thimbles my fingers are sore from all the hand sewing. Except for the front zipper (which was basted then sewn by machine) and the side seams, the new fabric was attached by hand for control and to maintain down loft.

It’s hard to tell from some of the pictures but the new improved coat is a dark chocolate brown.  The hand quilting  allows plenty of loft for the down.  I embroidered geometric lines and arrows down the front placket to obscure the places that covered the snaps.  I was going to heavily embroider around the lower zippers but decided they look fine without the extra embellishment. Besides, I was ready to be done and my fingers were sore from all the hand-sewing, even using my thimbles.

Hand pocket detaIl.  I wanted to reinforce around the pockets because there is so much wear there.

Hand pocket detaIl. I wanted to reinforce around the pockets because there is so much wear there.

Writing about this makes it all sound so easy, but making a pattern from a garment so loosely shaped is not easy.  Cutting out is always the worst part and I had a moment of wondering if I had enough fabric.  Usually I buy too much but this time I had just the right amount.  The bit of stretch in the new fabric worked well to help the new outer shell conform to the garment.  Overall I am really happy with the result.  Now if only the temperature would plummet again so I can wear my new brown down coat.  Looking good, because in my world, brown is the new black.

Styling in my renovated Calvin Klein coat.

Styling in my renovated Calvin Klein coat.

December, also ambivalent

It's just the tool shed but it looks good with the first dusting of snow.

It’s just the tool shed but it looks good with the first dusting of snow.

We made it through hunting season in November and I don’t have to walk around looking like a pumpkin with legs anymore, and now we’re well into December and it all comes back to me, the things to love and the things to, well, not so much.

I like the snow and as I write this we’re expecting a decent dump starting late tonight.  I’m a night person so I often do a preliminary shovelling of my sidewalk (is it the only one here in Monroe?  Might be.) so that I don’t have to move huge amounts at any one time.  Snow falling is magic and December is usually about the first snows that everyone enjoys.  The snow in April is enjoyed by far fewer folks.

That co-dependant holiday is just around the corner and the millions who do the obligatory gifting are crowding the venues.  A bit closer to the day and you might wonder if no one ever eats  except two times a year if you dare the grocery store.  It took me a couple of times but if you live in Canada and go to someone’s house for Christmas dinner you still need to shop before the holiday anyway, because ALL the grocery stores are closed on Boxing Day.  Weird.

But my real love/not-so-much with December stems from my life with Mr. Ever-Vigilant/ Scourge of the Forest, Murphy.

Who me?  I'm a love puppy.

Who me? I’m a love puppy.

The temperature is cold enough that he has lots of energy to patrol and bark which it is in his nature to do.  The leaves are gone from the trees and the air is crisp and a good barking rhythm can carry across the valley quite nicely, reminding all residents of the woods that they might better avoid this particular stretch.

Until there is a good amount of snow on the ground to make the excessive (in my mind) patrolling difficult, nearly every day it is possible that Murphy will not return from our afternoon foray up the hill and instead will move back and forth barking.  I would take him in the truck to Northern Pond and do our walk there so he would have to finish with me but in December the ice is not necessarily frozen enough and I do not want to repeat the Reverse Lassie. (See my post, The Thanksgiving Song: https://garbethegoddess.wordpress.com/2011/11/24/the-thanksgiving-song/  for that story.)

Usually he waits for me to at least start the walk with him but today when I came out he was already in full voice.  I started up the hill directly because he was already too close to the neighbour who doesn’t like him patrolling and never forgets an infraction.  I try to get ahead of where he is going so that we can meet in the woods but Murphy was already across the right of way and in the woods on the other side.  There is a loop trail on the neighbour’s property where we used to walk with permission until permission was revoked.  One too many times Murph opted to return in his own time and swing through their dooryard for a friendly chase of a cat if possible, alas.

So today I ran down the snow-covered upper part of the loop to get ahead of him.  I was just looking for the place where we used to cross a little stream when Murphy can running full tilt toward me.  He was all, hey! cool to meet you here! and I was all, what a surprise to find you here too!  I gave him a couple of cookies from my pocket and hooked him up.  He thoughtfully chose to backtrack my trail since it’s good not to go right by the neighbour’s house and give her more fuel for the stories.  ( She never forgets an episode and still uses as an example something he did when he was a juvenile.)

Across the right-of-way we followed my trail up the hill above our garage.  With the little bit of snow it’s hard to see the lay of the ground but traction is not too bad because the moisture from the ground has frozen so some steps are into eight or so inches of ice crystals which gives some traction.  Still there are rocks and piles of branches and some ice so it’s good for the balance to walk such uneven terrain.

So far, I’ve managed to bring him home every time he’s gone on barkabout, but it interrupts my work and I worry that he might get shot by one of those Maine hunters who feel entitled to the deer and erroneously think Murphy threatens that or that he might end up in a trap somewhere where I can’t find him.

Note, the day after:  The perfect winter storm started late last night.  We woke up to 8 inches and I shovelled my way out to the driveway, then barefooted (no snowshoes) down the unploughed driveway with dog and shovel to clear a walkway for my neighbour who has a dodgy heart.  ( Her heart’s in the right place, it’s just not up to heavy physical exertion .)  We walked down the road that the snowplough had done already and the reason I didn’t wear snowshoes.

To get the full information Murphy buries his nose in the snow,

To get the full information Murphy buries his nose in the snow,

So it’s all good now.  Murphy  and I love to run downhill in the snow, me with snowshoes.  He steals my mitten and flips it into the air, a playful moment for a usually serious guard dog.  Snowshoes were needed for the walk up the hill but not so much that Murphy couldn’t offer to break trail for me, but just enough that he came home from the walk and now is out on his long lead, letting the nearby world know that this hill is guarded, go elsewhere if you are a ne’er-do-well.  Today December is good.

Adventures in over-dyeing

Variations on a tweed.  Underneath, the fashion garment, happily dyed with chestnut.  Scraps, left to right, Kelly green, original, spruce.

Variations on a tweed. Underneath, the fashion garment, happily dyed with chestnut. Scraps, left to right, Kelly green, original, spruce.

Over-dyeing is a good way to have a new wardrobe without spending a lot of money, but it is fraught with peril and potential for ruin, much like life, and I’ve found it’s best if I have no preconceived notions about the results, also, much like life.  

I discovered that a large part of my wardrobe was all wrong, grey, black and fuchsia should have been rust, brown and salmon.  I started my forays into over-dyeing last summer.   At first I mostly dyed cellulose fibres and some silks using fibre reactive dyes.  There is a lot of guesswork: taking into account the original colour in whatever mix for a hoped for end result.

 I started keeping a dye journal with notes about the mix of colours, how much salt I used, length of time in the dye bath and then the end results.  With fibre reactive dyes the water stays coloured and there is a lot of rinsing out of excess colour.  It would seem like a waste so I sometimes threw things in the dye bath well after the mordant had been added and the original garments removed.

One happy result was a bright, jewel-toned, silk scarf that I originally bought at an artisan store in Victoria.  I used antique gold.  The fuchsia became a muted coral, the royal blue a soft marine blue, turquoise became teal and the purple muted to blend with the others.  That same dye bath turned a piece of bright pink velvet  to orange.  I re-dyed the velvet with more warm black to get a yummy rust that I was looking for to trim a vest I was repairing.

My experiments were all leading up to dyeing my wool garments.  Wool is a protein fibre and is best dyed with acid dyes.  My method is to use a pot of hot water on the stove which can be tricky because too hot and agitated and wool will felt and shrink.

Wool is a fantastic fibre.  It is strong even when wet and maintains its ability to provide warmth even when 50% wet.  It’s resistant to moisture and to dirt and if cared for well can last for years.  I have a heavy tweed jacket I made in 1993.  It was one of a three fabulous pieces of wool I bought at a surprisingly great fabric store I discovered in Cranbrook, BC when I was there visiting the in-laws with the husband.  I made the jacket in a Japanese hapi style with modified kimono sleeves.  The original lining was a dark purply blue, iridescent acetate with two welt and two patch inside pockets besides the two welt pockets on the outside.

The jacket has been re-lined twice since I made it and I had recently replaced the bottom parts of the sleeves and faced the lining edge to delay the next change of lining.  Meanwhile the discovery of the new, improved palette meant that the black, grey, white and thread of blue tweed was not in my preferred colours.  I changed out the black velvet trim for olive green velvet and changed the dark grey  knit I-cord ties to green as well to give myself some time to feel more confident with dyeing.

I put a scrap of the tweed in with some grey wool jersey garments and a TBS of kelly green because I was trepidatious about how the tweed would behave.  Unbeknownst to me, I now think that the jersey was not 100% wool because when I added the acid to discharge the dye it all went into the one scrap of tweed and no change to the grey skirt and shirt.  That’s why the scrap is nearly black.  It has enough dye for a couple of garments.  That didn’t make me feel any more confident.

The discharge with acids dyes if very cool.  Fabric is first pre-soaked with synthrapol, that releases any excess dye and thoroughly wets the garment.  Then into the dye bath for 45 minutes, swishing around and bringing up to a simmer.  Then, I add citric acid mixed in water and continue to stir.  Within minutes all the dye in the water has gone into the fabric and the water is clear.  A gradual cool down so that the wool is not shocked, spin in the washing machine and voila!

There is a fine line of how much dye to use.  Conservatively, less dye and possibly several times of over-dyeing would be most prudent, but I am impatient with that methodical process so I guess what would be best.

Over-dued and re-lined.  Both outer wool fabric and lining were originally grey.  THe velvet trim was hot pink.

Over-dyed and re-lined. Both outer wool fabric and lining were originally grey. THe velvet trim was hot pink.

My first acid dye bath was teal and I dyed two soft light grey wool garments i’d made in 1989, a tunic and a vest.  I like the result; the colour is dark and mottled.  I could have used less for a more even look.  The vest originally had a fuchsia quilted flannel lining that was finally looking shabby so I replaced it with a soft moss green flannel (overdyed, originally grey) and trimmed with the rust cotton velvet.

Finally I felt confident enough to attempt over-dyeing my tweed jacket.  I removed the lining and partially  removed the collar, soaked the fabric in warm water and Synthrapol, then immersed in a dye bath with 1 TBS of chestnut.  The result was way better than I expected.  The white threads became chestnut, the grey a dark brown and even the black threads toned down to be more espresso than real black.  The overall feel is that the jacket is now a brown tweed.  Success! What a surprise.

The jacket, re-assembled with a new lining, re-lined pockets and new trim and ties.

The jacket, re-assembled with a new lining, re-lined pockets and new trim and ties.

I then dyed a black and white Harris tweed vest and some assorted wool scraps with spruce (sort of a greenish blue, unlike teal, which is a blue-ish green) and re-lined that vest as well.

I was on a roll so I thought, why not try to dye some of my knit garments?

I had a heavy pullover made of two ply worsted yarn from Briggs and Little in New Brunswick that I made in the 70’s.  It originally had a turtleneck that I changed to a mock turtle that was not good looking.  It looked like it would accommodate the neck of a gridiron linebacker.  I unraveled the bad neck treatment and decreased the stitches and converted to a crew neck then did a dye-bath with kelly green and some gunmetal to tone down the brightness.

Detail of cabled pullover with a ball of the original colour yarn.

Detail of cabled pullover with a ball of the original colour yarn.

My guessing turned out well.  I didn’t want the lighter, natural strand of yarn to be bright kelly green and the amount of gunmetal ( a purple-ish, blue/grey) was enough to darken but keep the overall colour green.  I  hanked up a couple of small balls and dyed them as well as a matching toque.

Then I dyed a variegated mohair shrug that had a bit of fuchsia that I didn’t want and a dark cranberry sleeveless cardigan.  I used spruce and gunmetal on them, maybe a bit too much gunmetal but I still like the result, especially the cardigan that is a very dark grape and seems to have lengthened a bit.

My leave and vine sleeveless cardigan, dyed with spruce and gunmetal.  THe yarn ball is the original colour, sort of.  The yarn is Malabrigo merino from Uraguay, hand dyed and spun so there is a lot of variation in the dye lots.

My leave and vine sleeveless cardigan, dyed with spruce and gunmetal. The yarn ball is the original colour, sort of. The yarn is Malabrigo merino from Uraguay, hand dyed and spun so there is a lot of variation in the dye lots.

It’s a learning process.  I make notes in my little book and maybe next time I’ll try the gradual dye thing and not go for the finished colour in one go.  I DO like the vest but I think it’s a bit dark.  Still I can wear it now and it was all wrong colour-wise before.  so the adventure continues and the future is uncertain from this perspective but I have a lovely renewed brown tweed jacket that ought to last another 20 years and should not need a new lining for at least five.  I hope.

It's roomy, the pockets are capacious and it is warm.  I can fit it over several layers and it is new and improved with great colour and the best lining I ever put in.

It’s roomy, the pockets are capacious and it is warm. I can fit it over several layers and it is new and improved with great colour and the best lining I ever put in.

Ambivalence about November

DSCN3141

I have a love/hate relationship with November in Maine.  November has long been my favourite month.  I love the ice in the wind presaging snow, the bare trees revealing their spooky branches against the grey skies, and I love Thanksgiving, the best of all holidays that is all about food and no co-dependent expectations.

Alas, it is also deer hunting season so the woods that are normally the domain of the wildlife and Murphy and me have hunters with guns who think that the deer belong to them, as if they are anyone’s.  We wear our blaze orange to signal that we are non-combatants in the deer war but I worry that Murphy will encounter some stranger in our woods and be misunderstood in a deadly way.

Looking buff in his hunting vest

Looking buff in his hunting vest

The thing is, that Murphy is a Great Pyrenees mountain dog by temperament and, ever vigilant, he is serious about keeping all unauthorized intruders from our hill of woods.  Worse, with the cooler weather he has more energy and the bare trees and drier air allow for barking to carry nicely across the valley.  All summer he stays out all night because it is cooler and is quiet but come November, when I tie him outside after his dinner, he barks non-stop until I decide that neighbours need a break.  It’s my compromise, he gets to bark some but not past 8PM.

Then, there is the chance now, until there is a lot of snow ( another reason to wish for lots of snow) that Murphy will not come home from the afternoon walk in the woods and instead do his bark about thing.  Basically he stays at the top of the ridge and roams from one end to the other, covering 100+ acres, barking.  Ruff, ruff, ruff, pause, ruff, ruff.  Repeat.  I’m fairly sure that he could keep this up all night.  It’s the Pyr way of avoiding actual close-up repelling of evil-doers.  Any bad-ass predators will hear him and hunt elsewhere.

So, a couple of times a week I get an additional walk, near dusk, up the hill to entice him home.  He won’t come if I call him of course, because he KNOWS that what he is doing is far more important than any agenda I might have.  Ah, the independent Pyrenees.  So I try to position myself so that he will be moving toward me.  I act suspiciously, make random noise, stay still.  When he is within twenty feet or so I address him conversationally and usually he’ll come over as if to say, hey, Lynn!  You’re in the woods too!  I hook him up, praise him for his excellent job patrolling, give him a couple of treats I happen to have in my pocket and suggest that it might be time to come home.  So far I have always succeeded although a couple of times I’ve walked back in the dark with  the dim circle of my headlamp lighting my way.

Smarter than the average human am I because I have learned not to call out to him as I close in because, like as not, he’ll go into silent running mode and it is just not possible to find a dog that isn’t barking.  Yet another thing to be ambivalent about because if he’s quiet the neighbours aren’t alerted to him on patrol.  It’s a fine line I walk between allowing enough activity within his genetic parameters to allow for well-adjusted dog behaviour and controlling enough so that he complies with societal regulations.

We, that is, I, bend the rules.  After all, I’m the one who has to live with the Captain of the Palace Guard.

Happily on holiday at New River Beach, NB

Happily on holiday at New River Beach, NB

Diet and exercise: mind, body, & spirit

Luna moths in June are a wonder of nature

Luna moths in June

Does it really matter what we eat and whether we exercise?  From one point of view, we’re here to have an experience in the physical world.  Does it really matter what that experience is?  In a way, I think not, with no qualifiers.  There are as many ways to perceive reality as there are beings to perceive.  It is not for me to say you should eat this or get up and walk every day so you’ll be ‘healthy’.  Maybe you don’t want to eat mostly plants and no chemicals and would rather sit around all day watching crap TV, or reading or playing games or whatever.  It’s all ok.

But. The reality is that there are lots and lots of people who aren’t happy, and more than that, are depressed or anxious or filled with fear.  That doesn’t seem like fun to me but they continue to be depressed and unhappy and fearful even when taking so-called anti-depressants.  These drugs don’t really work because they don’t change the underlying situation.

Thoughts have power.  We imagine, we think, we become what we believe.  This is a world of free will.  We  don’t have lots of control because there are so many others with their own input but we do have control of how we feel about things.  The problem is that if we are used to thinking and feeling down and fearful those patterns will continue unless we interrupt them.  I learned in my hypnotherapy studies and related readings that neurons that fire together wire together.  Thought patterns and habits that are repeated become habitual.  The opposite is also true: use it or lose it.  In other words, when you stop thinking a certain way, you can really change the kind of neural connections that you have.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about fear, anxiety and depression.  I have a friend who is struggling in some murky waters of fear and anxiety.  Anxiety can be crippling and support can be hard to find since the symptoms are so ambiguous.  While talking with my friend it has occurred to me that anxiety and fear are a form of pain.  In hypnotherapy we learn that as much as 75-80% of experienced pain is actually remembered pain, not current.  The expectation of what pain will feel like magnifies the pain.  That’s why pain meds don’t really work long-term and why hypnotherapy can be so effective for pain management.  With several techniques the remembered pain is peeled away until a much smaller and manageable pain is left.

The view from Healy Pass on the BC/ Alberta border.  Love of the world can lighten heavy spirits.

The view from Healy Pass on the BC/ Alberta border. Love of the world can lighten heavy spirits.

So fear and anxiety are sort of soul pain with life and those fearful and anxious pathways become worn in and familiar and at the same time dreaded  so that each subsequent anxiety event is made greater with the anticipation and remembered feelings of fear.  A person might resist but I wonder if resisting might just create more fear and anxiousness with the buildup.  The hard part is that most of us identify so closely with our mind that we can’t separate enough to see/know/perceive that we are the rider, not the ride.  One moment of noticing the negative pathway can make a difference.  Interrupt the thought and reframe.  Subsequent interruptions will be faster until the pattern has changed.

Most of the inner dialog started when we were children.  I know that we all learned, ‘sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me.’ but that is not true.  Words have power.  Negative words repeated and repeated to young impressionable children sink in and become core values that limit that person.  It takes work, but those erroneous values can change.

I was fortunate in my childhood because I had a godmother who loved me unconditionally.  I knew that she thought I was fabulous.  I would not have survived my miserable teens without her in my life.  I felt understood and loved and accepted for myself.  To this day my godmother Mary is the single most important person in my life.  I would hope that everyone has at least one person that shows that kind of acceptance.   It is the basis of self-esteem, so important for healthy navigating of a life.

Ultimately the goal for everyone is to enjoy being themselves and to be interesting to themselves.  Being creative or helping others is a way of getting out of oneself but eventually everyone needs to love and care for themselves.

Returning to diet and exercise, it’s my experience that all dis-ease has an emotional and spiritual (invisible) component as well as a physical one.  We are beings of energy and all our cells have a consciousness.  It makes sense to me that the energy of the food going in will directly impact the cells that receive the food. Organic, life-sustaining food that produces viable seeds for the next season is the only choice when you look at the universe in a soulful way.

In the years since the development of low-fat foods and diet this and that, there is an obesity epidemic.  I read recently that diet foods actually cause weight gain (!!!??) and eating good fats  helps metabolism  and targeting healthy weight.  There is more heart disease and diabetes than ever even with all the new drugs.  The cholesterol lowering drugs, statins, have not helped heart disease because cholesterol isn’t the major cause of heart disease, lifestyle and diet are.

I recommend drcate.com for some interesting and not widely known things about cholesterol, statins and heart disease.  Also, listen to her interviewed by Sean Croxton of undergroundwellness.com  for  clear information about diet and cholesterol.  Cholesterol is the body’s delivery system, how we get fats and nutrients to various parts of our bodies, especially our brains.  Statins don’t just block receptors, they instigate a metabolic change and we are only now learning the full effects.  Some of those effects can be so subtle at first that they are attributed to aging and some of those changes are irreversible.

It’s the responsibility of the individual to attend to her own health and well-being.  I learned when I had cancer that I could control what I ate, I could learn  about my condition and so make informed decisions, and I could chose a fabulous team of health care people to help me journey through cancer to health.  I addressed the spiritual and emotional components as well as the physical.  It all INTERESTS me.

The scent of roses is heartening and can lighten and uplift a somber mood.

The scent of roses is heartening and can lighten and uplift a somber mood.

In his book, Secrets of the Talking Jaguar, Martín Prechtel tells about the Mayans of Santiago Atitlán who believe that we are obligated to the Gods to be sweet and tasty so that they can appreciate life through us and continue to send us life.  I think that, as well, we are obligated to be sweet and tasty to ourselves, creative and interesting.  In our creativity we joyfully honour the creative source and love the World and create it anew each day.