Musings – Page 4

Aha!

I have begun to finger this out. Yes. I said finger. That was not a typo. This site will be conducted in a manner as though you were sitting with me drinking a steeped tea, regular. (One milk, one sugar for you non tea drinkers out there.) As though we were talking face to face. Cause, this is how I talk. I finger things out. So, in my attempt to not be a technosaur, I am navigating my first website as I navigate my life….ready, fire, aim.

There will be mistakes, there will be emails to my friend Dara to help me, even though I think in hindsight she has already perhaps sent me a link with a tutorial on how to do this. I might crack and go read it, but for now, I am tinkering, I am fingering, but most importantly, I am moving forward….doing.

Dead trees standing.

As kids, my sister and I made countless trips with our parents or grandparents through Alberta to BC. I confess, I often had my eyes in an Archie comic back then, unaware of the majestic surroundings on either side of the station wagon. I would be prodded to enjoy the scenery, and I would look up every once in awhile and try not not puke because of the curvy roads and comic books being experienced simultaneously.

I never truly appreciated the emerald lakes, the sparkling blue rivers or all the mountain animals decorating the rocky outcroppings that would spark the story of “Falling Rock”. We would listen politely as Mom or Gran would tell us about the little Indian boy who was going through his rite of passage when he was becoming a man. The same little boy that was sent away to survive for a summer on his own, but failed to return to his tribe. Ever since then, travellers were asked to keep an eye open and “Watch for Falling Rock.” I always imagined how heartbroken his mother would be in his permanent absence. Now, as a mother, I don’t want to imagine that heartbreak.