This was the weekend.
Me, her and the BBC miniseries.
I brought chocolate as well.
This is what the lake looked like when I got up this morning/afternoon:
Could've been the Grand Canyon out there ... Zero visibility past the shore.
But even though I couldn't see them, I knew the mountains were there.
Which got me thinking.
I know the mountains are there because I've seen them in the past.
I can count on them being there.
I've driven around them, hiked up them, and taken a gazillion pictures of them.
So, just because I can't see them TODAY, doesn't make me doubt their existence.
The nature of a mountain is that it is solid, and (mostly) unmovable.
I can depend on that.
That's, like, a character trait of a mountain.
And, if say, I brought a friend from the Prairies to join me for a weekend at the lake, and it was all cloudy like this, I'd have to tell her, 'even though you can't see them, there are mountains all around this lake. Over there. And over here. And at that end. And they go up this high.'
And I might tell her about my Teapot Hill hikes. Or I'd show her a photo album full of photos.
And I'd explain how those mountains take on different appearances during different seasons. And how even though the colours and shape and impact those mountains have on the lake alter through the seasons, they never change and they never leave.
You can have confidence to know they are always there.
And if you're from, say. Saskatchewan, you may not have any clue what I'm talking about. You've never experienced anything larger than a parking lot speed bump.
So I'd have to say, 'Well, hang around for abit. The mountains will be revealed eventually. They don't stay hidden forever. We can go for a hike as soon as this blessed, never-ending rain stops. The best way to get to know something is to spend time on/with it. So, let's explore. Drive up some mountain roads. Walk along some paths. View them from this angle, by the shore. View them from the top at a look out.'
My enthusiasm for the scenery, my love for the view, my positive experience with the landscape, my history, my knowledge, my invitation, is probably what's going to inspire her to hang out and see for herself just what the heck I'm talking about.
And what's also cool? Is that if my Farm Girl friend were to talk to, say, Drew or Danica about mountainsin general? Well, she would hear totally different 'selling points' because their experiences and love of mountains? Is about snowboarding. And winter. And SunPeaks. And fun. And laughter. And exercise. And freezing temperatures. And quad chair lifts. And, and, and...
This whole mountain thing is a metaphor.
You've likely figured that out by now.
Clearly I'm talking about the new iPhone.
And how everyone should have one. Even if you're not tech savvy, it will CHANGE YOUR LIFE. Just ask people who have one. They'd love to share their passion for it with you. They'd love to share their life-changing experiences as a result of that phone, with you.
That was a metaphor too.
The thick cloud cover didn't last all day.
All of a sudden, there was a lifting.
And all that was left was the mist.
So, still wearing what I'd slept in (which, uh, wasn't much. And not very, uh, current in style [OKFINE. I was wearing my red and black striped Mickey Mouse maternity shirt that I wore when I was pregnant with Drew and short stretchy pants] with neon orange & grey runners with Heel-Spur-gel-pads added, plus a long purple knit sweater. My face hadn't been washed. Teeth were unbrushed. Hair ignored. No hair had been removed from my chin. Nor my legs.
Was a vision.
But I wanted to capture the effect of the fog clearing and the mountains appearing.
It was quite something.
Obviously anticipating that no one would be outside on a day like this, I slipped out the back of the cabin and limped to the lake.
It was breathtaking.
And so worth the walk.
When I moved from the lake shore to the creek shore?
A neighbour came by to check on the water levels, just as the rain started.
And I felt so ugly/vulnerable/embarrassed. And wet.
I know what I look like when I make no effort. It is not pretty. Not even a little bit. And when I'm wet. Whoa Baby. Shield your eyes. Just walk away.
He didn't leave.
So, I turned and said, "Hi? How're you?"
HOW'S THAT FOR SMALL TALK?
And from there, we just dived into the deep end and talked about death, divorce, the nature of God, the impact of loss, the acute sensitivity that comes from deep pain, the beautiful, healing nature of the lake and mountains. The call of God.
The whole time I kept my camera in front of my face, (because, Face. Shudder.) and because the mist was swirling and alive and it needed to be captured.
We parted when I was good 'n soaked.
And walking away? I knew that had been a divine appointment.
And the rain?
Which DRIVES ME MENTAL when it falls on my head, was adding some magical beauty to the colorless foliage on my walk back across the lawn to the cabin.
And the lake? Looked like this minutes later:
So we put on the DVD. And immersed ourselves in grey.
(which was dark and grey and sad and difficult to watch in places. This? Was not the BBC we were expecting. There was absolutely no shaggy haired man in a white puffy shirt walking through the mist getting ready to declare his love or give a kiss. Oh no. It was not.)
So, even though it did have a satisfying ending, we needed more. (We are girls after all...)
So we watched this:
which managed to have two happy endings.
So win/win/win for us all.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. First walk with my camera (walking across the lawn to the shore is so a walk. Quit judging.) since Christmas Day at Crescent Beach. So thankful I was able to see beauty in grey.
2. A completely and utterly laid back weekend.
3. Two phone messages from two different doctors regarding a lab result and an xray. Yes to bone spur - its a big one. I'm to expect pain for about 3 more months and should try to keep off it. And yes to bladder infection. It's a very rare and difficult one to combat; there's only one antibiotic in the world that will clear it up. (Hahaha. OF COURSE. I'm betting it will cost $5000.) So I should come in again to pick up a prescription. In the meantime, I should drink cranberry juice.
So thankful for doctors, medical equipment and meds. SO thankful I live in this time and in this place.