This time last year

Today is my berfday!  I call it a berfday, because birthdays remind me of childhood.  Balloons, cake, presents, fuss.  Of course I don't call it a berfday out loud.

This time last year I was here:

and often here:

and frequently here:

and all over here:

People sang to me is a foreign language:

and I was the embarrassed center of attention for a few minutes.

But that berfday ended in a "zero", and I felt the need to do something extraordinary.

This year's berfday ends in a "one", of course.

We'll spend the day doing errands, take a walk, go for a quiet dinner for two, and then have the family over on Sunday.

....and I'll enjoy it just as much.

This wasn't meant as a solicitation for Birthday wishes.  In fact, if you are moved to comment, then please tell me about a memorable birthday of yours.  Or what you would like to do to make a memorable birthday.

Or if you prefer a quiet day with no fuss at all.

Or if you still picture birthdays as childhood celebrations (like I do).

Honestly, shouldn't there be some balloons in that picture?

Mother Nature's Gift

To all those who are expecting a thoughtful post, saturated with meaning, brimming with wisdom and beauty:
You've come to the wrong blog.

This IS about nature's gift to me on my birthday (which was a few days ago), but it isn't particularly insightful, respectful nor anything other-ful. OK, maybe AWE-ful. Not full of awe, but just plain awful. The post, that is, not the gift, which was, er, splendid.

First, though, an apology for being absent for a month. I've been wrapped up in hand-wringing guilt, gut-wrenching worry, and basic survival. This is absolutely normal for me. Also, I've been going to work, sitting in Starbucks, gabbing with friends, and doing crafty things.

AND.... Annie has nominated be for a blog award, even though I have been very lax lately. (Annie, I will do the award acceptance-and-pass-it-on-thing just as soon as I get a chance. I thank you profusely as I hold my hand to your feverish brow and ask you if you've lost your mind.)

Annie is a beautiful person, living her dream life in a peaceful Cariboo valley. I want to be just like her when I grow up, which will probably never happen, considering the fact that I will never grow up, as evidenced by the following....

You can see from the photo that it's just about freezing in this neck of the woods. At night, it IS freezing, and this fact has great relevance to my story.

We have a few bird feeders scattered about the yard, as well as a round plastic birdbath attached to one of the feeder poles. I take great joy in watching the furred and feathered friends who decimate the suet and suck down the seeds at a budget-breaking rate. Nature in action right outside my kitchen window!

The night before my birthday, I cleaned and re-filled the birdbath and placed it back outside. It remained clean for about a nano-second before someone flew by and pooped in it, but it was a lot better than before. I went to bed knowing that nature's creatures would once again have access to clean, clear (and chlorinated) water.

The next day....

First let me tell you about water turning to ice. Generally, water will freeze first around a shallow perimeter, and then move gradually toward a deeper center. Think of the frozen edges of a lake. Water expands as it freezes. As my little lake of birdbath froze from it's edges toward the center, it expanded and "squeezed" (squoze?) the deeper water in the middle.

Suddenly, in the dead of night, we experienced a re-creation of the big bang. A perfect. crystalline moment that I wish I'd captured in video. In a birdbath, no less. The last bit of water in the birdbath finally froze, creating what was, for me, an amazing gift from mother nature.

That's right: an Ice-Weenie.

Aqua Erectus.

H2O Unplugged.

Look at it in all it's firm splendour.

A rock! A monolith!

Firm and unyielding, it proudly stands and points to the constellation of Orion (either that or the outlet stores across the line in Bellingham, I'm not sure which).

It's not every woman who gets a gift like this on her birthday.

I think it's a sign. A sign that although I am one wrinkly year older, I am not one whit more mature.

Kathryn : )