A Long Winter's Nap

I had planned to lay my writing down for a long winter nap, and resume in the spring. However, spring has come early to our farm. Perhaps thoughts of spring have come due to experiencing the intense sun during a winter holiday, triggering my brain to expect to see spring around the corner.

The family on a hot winter holiday, January 2013.

One look into our greenhouse and frame garden convinced me that the plants have started to feel the faint stirrings of spring, the time to write is now, the rest was long enough.

The greenhouse garden.

The winter crop growing in the cold frames.

I had considered not reviving the blog after the winter, but letting the story die. I think that I have paid a price for my writing and it has brought considerable hardship. Writing, despite what most people believe, can be dangerous. Journalism is a good example; the Committee to protect journalists reports that 971 journalists have been murdered since 1992 and 232 are currently in prison. There have already been 6 murders in 2013. Many more are harassed and threatened.
It is the losses in life, accepting the challenge of not winning, and embracing the immensity of  defeat; these experiences bring the greatest gifts. The most significant is the strength to rebuild our life with independence, resilience, and a creative force. As in any sort of death it is helpful to have support. Over the last few years we have had a lot of good company that brought joy as well as practical support. Friends from all over the world, my father's family in Switzerland as well as our Canadian family, guided us with their wisdom and love.

Spring will find us on this currently unnamed farm, with plans for the purchase of animals to fill up the barns, the deer will have to give way to the cows in the pastures that surround our home.

 Death, the passing of an era, leaves it's mark.

Don't expect the end to be beautiful in any way.

It is challenging, fear breaths deeply at this time.

All that you ever were will be thrown before you.

There is a rushing current, a pull to embrace the end,

or the beginning.

There is a lot we do not know.

With all our wise trappings we still live in ignorance.

It is the beginning of time, each death reminds us of birth,

the passage, short or immeasurably long.

Bringing with the years a horror, where some wish a swift passing.

Or a joy of a life well lived.

All of this with the simple but profound breath,

the precious drawing in of air.

Part instinct, the rest desire.

We all share that.

So finally there is a unity, an undeniable bond between us all.

At birth, and then once again at death.

A winter sun, January 2013.