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Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Spring has sprung!

We've been enjoying incredible weather over the last few days. I don't mind having so much paper work with end of year exams because I can bring my work out onto the deck in front of the house or to the veranda which overlooks the flower beds.

I've taken to sleeping with the windows open. The many migrating birds wake me up while it's still dark. Souris, our cat, licks my hair in an attempt to get me up for loving and feeding. Sometimes, I slumber on until it's light, sometimes I am grateful to get up and enjoy the sunrise and get a start on my day. Getting a start on my day means sitting down with a coffee to read, write, sip coffee (which I have decided not to give up just yet) and search the fields and hills for signs of wildlife.

Last night, as I walked a friend home from an after dinner stroll down to the river, I realized that from many houses in the village, people don't see the sunset or sunrise as we do. For many villagers, the sun just disappears behind someone else's house or garage without any fanfare at all. From our home, each sunrise and sunset is worthy of a painting, a song, a poem or at least a few silent breaths of gratitude for the promise of a new day or the survival of another day.

At the end of the day, I try to remember to ask myself "Did I live well? Did I love well?"

 I hurried home to catch the last rays of light dipping below Mount Westcott where the Ch√Ęteau Montebello has its golf course. In the morning, the sun rises from behind a mountain east of our home illuminating our master bedroom.

I am grateful for the view here. Before there were street addresses in the village, Mom had aptly named the house Hillview House. I like that name. It suits this house well. I truly believe this house has good bones just like Didier said that my 114 year old Krakauer piano had a good soul when he came and tuned a couple of months ago.

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