wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.


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After the Rain

This morning when I did my walk

I had to brave the rain.

I trotted like a racehorse 

Just to hurry home again.

Once in the door, my feet were wiped,

A towel rubbed me dry.

I lay down on my usual place 

And let out a big sigh.

Then came my treat, a nice warm throw

Just taken from the dryer.

The toasty warmth was better than

A rocker by the fire. 

I snuggled in and closed my eyes

The people smiled at me.

I didn’t move a muscle and

Was quite content, you see.


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I’m Dreaming of a …

December on Vancouver Island often means high winds and vigorous waves. Lately it has been blowing and raining buckets sideways so often that we are surprised if the sun comes out, and we wonder what that bright light is. Before we can point it out to anyone, the moment of sunshine is history, so we don’t get too excited about a peek at the sun.

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The road that goes along a spit of land below our house has wild waves on the exposed side and relatively calm waters on the inland side. Still, today it was choppy on the sheltered side too.

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We drove to town taking the long way around, passing by the beaches and the bird sanctuary you see below. For most of the year, the sanctuary is a marsh in places, but these past weeks the water level has come right across the road, making the marsh look more like a lake.

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The walking trail that follows the edge of the marsh has almost become a part of it. High boots are needed to walk there today.

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Driving on, we see that the second access to the ocean is even wilder than the first. Anyone foolish enough to stand in front of these waves would disappear in them and be tossed around like the logs that tumble around in the frothing surf and end up flung onto the high tide line.

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At most times of the year, it’s very pleasant to sit on a bench and watch the waves. The benches had no visitors today.

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Just when I was feeling sorry for myself about the weather, I dug around in my photo folders and found one of the winter of 2007. No flooding then, no high waves, but also, no power when the heavy branches broke and fell onto the power lines somewhere down the road.

The snow is pretty, but when you sing, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,” you have to be careful what you wish for. I don’t want a snow-laden bough to cut off the electricity to the oven just when my Christmas turkey is half done.

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So I think “Dreaming of a White Christmas” is okay as long as I don’t really wish for my dreams to come true.