Delicious Days.

Yesterday was one of those delicious days. The definition of such a day being, balmy temperatures in the midst of a prairie winter. I explored Saskatoon with my hood down, face uncovered, and sweating in my down jacket. No mitts! It was wonderful. It was also really nice to explore a couple areas of the city on foot - it is impossible to really get to know a city in a car.

There are trees here, full of red berries all winter long, which bring me a little hum of joy every time I walk by or under one. All the other trees may be bare and dry, but these are there, full of fruit, red against the white - a gentle but stubborn FU to winter.

Besides the respite from the cold, thus far in the semester, I am much less busy than the fall's mad pace. Enjoying time with Tim, and to myself, has been lovely. Nights of Scrabble, crib and madeleines. Nights of movies out and in. The Saskatoon Farmer's Market on Saturdays and visits to winter festivals with ice sculptures. I have had time to enjoy cooking again - for me, the joy is found in the process more than the result. For cooking, unlike just about everything else, I have nearly infinite patience. there has also been time with family and the beginning of new friendships. Delicious days.

I finally went to Collective Coffee (great space, solid coffee) and found out about this really cool co-work space/community/organization called the TwoTwenty, which I am determined to get involved in somehow. In this new city - there is still so much I don't know and I am still finding my place in it.

P.S. To my B.C. friends and especially Atangardians, I miss you everyday. I love you guys!

The Cold.

The whistle of the kettle. The hum of my AeroGarden. Footsteps in the apartment above and the scurrying of their small dog for a treat or some indoor exercise on these cold days. These are sounds of my house. My little burrow, half in the ground, a basement apartment with windows in each room to let the light in.

It is much colder here. Nearly everyone who hears I've recently moved from BC winces and asks how I'm adjusting. This question never phases me and I answer that it's fine, I grew up here and so it really hasn't been a shock. The thing is, the cold is easiest thing to adjust to. I actually take pleasure in meeting it head on. Unlike other things, like making new friends and dealing with bureaucracies, the cold seems very surmountable. I wear layers; leggings and jeans, gloves and mitts, headphones (serving as earmuffs) and a toque and a hood. I walk quickly. And despite the bitterness of the air and wind on the very coldest of days, I can not help but stop and appreciate how beautiful winter is here. The white sun is blinding reflecting off the snow. The conifers still have their needles to protect them, but other trees collect a layer of snow to shield their bare branches. The mist rises from the river where the unfrozen water water meets below freezing temperatures. Facing this winter - even just to walk to school and back, makes me feel strong. Though this is certainly taking it too far, I must admit that as I walk, I compare myself to pioneer women.

There is also inspiration in this extremity. Something about the juxtaposition of cold to warm and blinding sun to early dark. In the quiet, among the soft sounds of my apartment and in the less hectic schedule (for now) of this semester, there is space for words and art to resume. Exciting, and intimidating.

On the way home from school.

Little Things.

My home right now is a collection of little things. Pieces that are slowly coming together to make a home. A blue and white porcelain cup with my toothbrush and toothpaste in it on my white enamel sink. It's a small sink, with no counter to clutter with make up and hair elastics or necklaces, taken off before bed. These days, it is one of two adornments, one from Beth or one from Tiff. Reminders of these dear friends, carrying something with me that has passed from their hands to mine.

My apartment is one of twelve in an old building on the same street my great grandma used to live on. I like that. Though there are things in my apartment that don't work so well, namely the water pressure for the tub/shower, there are other things that are old and sturdy, like the painted white doors. There are also things that are charming, like a collection of interesting faceplates for the light switches, the archway details on doorways between rooms and all the exposed pipes carrying hot water to the radiators in the apartments above. 

There are funny things too, like the man next door who snores every night and goes to bed by nine. What makes it funny and not nightmarish is that it doesn't stop me from going to sleep. I hung my first piece of art and I now have a table and chairs. Little things. 

My neighborhood.

New.

It is beginning to feel real.

I have moved. Having stayed in one place for a over 5 years, I had forgotten how strange it is to move. How disorienting it is. A life somewhere is built, put together piece by piece. Yet, in the time it takes to drive a U-Haul trailer from BC to Saskatchewan, I live somewhere else. It takes longer than a couple weeks for that to truly translate.

But, piece by piece, I will build a new life here. One away from Atangard, away from the rain and the ever-green grass and mountains. Having moved from place to place quite a few times, I know that I carry with me the places and people I have left behind; that they are not behind me, not really.

And so, Saskatoon. A city with a river. With all the adjustments that moving brings, this time is a little different. It is the first time I have moved back to Saskatchewan after a long time away. I wondered if it would still feel like home, moving to a different city than the one I grew up in.It did. This landscape is home to me, just as much in winter as in the summer. The skies are just as vast and beautiful and it feels just as good as it ever has to be back on the prairies. They welcome me back with unabashedly open arms, just as they always have. 
A few resolutions for this upcoming year:1. When I find a recipe I love - write it down on a recipe card! This will mean much less scouring the internet to find that recipe I made one time.2. Write more letters.3. Search for peace in meaningful way.

Happy New year's everyone! I hope yours was lovely.Beth