In the name of fair play, I did warn them. I said, “If you don’t leave this premises, you will die! This is not your home. You are not allowed to gather here!”
But, they cannot help themselves.
It seems they have invited swarms more. The house is a buzz of activity. I am not as hospitable as they have assumed. They have over-stayed their welcome and have gotten on my last nerve.
They are pests. Pests that like to do the backstroke in my morning coffee or drown in it. They bug me, these uninvited guests. They steal the very food from my plate – pests. Their flying buddies like to swan dive into my hair or fly up my nose. They don’t understand the word, ‘No!’ It amuses these pests to touch my body with their creepy little insect feelers. They won’t stop. It gives them a buzz then they get high! They just won’t stop irritating me, even going as far as landing on my hands as I type this!
Enough!
The mission is now murder!
Fly swatter in hand, I am in full stealth mode. My trusty cat is assisting me in stalking the many-eyed prey! It seems that they have pestered her beyond her limits as well. She alerts me to their presence with her surreptitious cat call.
The flies think they will out smart me by camouflaging themselves on dark furniture or hiding in plain sight. I suppose they assume they can out maneuver me since they have thousands of watchful eyes observing my every move.
“Wrong!”
The swat team and I have taken down a number of assailants. Their bodies are piling up! Some of the fly survivors areconducting forensics on the dead or perhaps they are cannibals foraging on their own kind.
They get the smack down. At times, it’s a smorgasbord; multiple bodies with one swat or a two for one deal – a regular kill pattern for this experienced swat team.
It’s war. We have no mercy, the pests were forewarned!
Finally, after an hour of stalking and murdering flies, it has gone deathly quiet. The pests that are left have gone underground or into cracks or crevices. They are difficult to find.
But, I am smarter than a fly. I will patiently outwit them.
I only need to wait until the time is right before I raid their fly encampments. For now though, the swat team has further business to take care of. Death is cumbersome and we must dispose of the multitude of fly corpses before their living relatives feel the sting of the upcoming raid. There will be more bodies. The remains will be disposed of. This is not a game. This is war; I must take time to plan the next siege on these pests before the next swarm appears. These pests have eyes everywhere. I dare not rest, the swat team and I need to plan and perhaps rally more troops.
In the meantime, if any of you have had the intention of visiting in the form of an insect or let’s say; a fly on the wall; beware – my buzz word this season is, ‘Fly,’ and I’m on a murder mission.
All other company is welcome! Please feel free to bring your own swatter! Be prepared to raid flying pests when necessity warrants.
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
The world can be confusing, chaotic and merciless.
Reality in the real world means that life doesn’t always supply us with positive experiences.
There are times in life when the world seems to have a destructive strangle hold on your psyche. The foulness around you contains a sour stench and negative energy saps at every fibre of your being until you are completely devoid of inspiration. Puzzled, you become subconsciously stuck in a mire of difficulties, bogged down at every turn. If you allow yourself to stay stuck in this destructive mire, eventually, that is all that you experience – negativity, and the difficulties which come with a depressed mindset. Essentially, this means you have become blocked.Continue Reading »
When it’s 32 degrees Celsius (86.9 F) but feels like 36 (96.8 F) and a sirocco is blowing across the prairie; you know that Mother Nature’s dehydrator has kicked in. During such heat waves, one must be sure to drink plenty of fluids and attempt to stay cool – hydration is the key unless you want to whither up like a piece of dried up old jerky!
Many people suffer immeasurably during summer months due to the onslaught of intense, desert like heat waves so they head to a body of water or a beach to help keep their body hydrated and their heads cool.
Hydrotherapy is the use of water to treat a disease or to maintain health.
The theory behind hydrotherapy is that water has many properties that give it the ability to heal. Water can store and carry heat and energy. Likewise, water can cool. It can also dissolve other substances, such as minerals and salts.
Hydrotherapy, formerly called hydropathy or water cure, is a branch of alternative medicine, occupational therapy, and physiotherapy, that involves the use of water for pain relief and treatment.
Drinking water also assists in maintaining mental clarity but, the sound of water can be calming and bring a sense of balance to one’s spirit when the day is just too hot to handle.
If my mental demeanor is at stake because life has become too fiery, I find the sound of water soothing. However, when Mother Nature’s dehydrator is full throttle, I enjoy going for a nice cool swim in order to refresh, calm and maintain my health.
Water heals.
The picture below is my idea of hydrotherapy on a day where it’s 32 degrees Celsius but feels like 34 with a dehydrating sirocco breeze on the prairie.
If a sirocco visits your area firing up your daily life until it’s too hot to handle, try hydrotherapy.
Ease your pain; take the first step; get wet; just plunge in; let water heal you.
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
A few weeks ago during the last few days of a long drought, we had an early morning visitor arrive for coffee.
When a moose appears on your doorstep, intent on sharing your morning cup of coffee, it is always a special and sacred gift. Moose are predominately solitary animals who are able to survive within any territory be it on lands such as forests, and prairies, or wet areas such as rivers, swamps or lakes.
The moose is an animal of contradictions. It seems awkward and strange yet it is a majestic creature with tremendous grace despite its ungainliness. Moose have an undeniable sense of self and the simple fact that they are able to survive in any territory means that they have developed much wisdom. We found ourselves very fortunate to receive this visitor for coffee and take part in the medicine it offered.
Moose are associated with the north direction on the Medicine Wheel. The north direction represents wisdom. Self-esteem is the medicine of Moose because it represents and recognizes that balanced power has been used in a situation and that you should be congratulated.
The core of Moose medicine is in knowing the wisdom of silence, so that when it is proper to speak you can take pride in your words.
The Moose is a revered animal in the, “Great White North,” otherwise known as, “Canada.”
Canada just had its 155 year celebration on July 1st, 2022.
My exposure to Moose Milk has only been medicinal. It was a remedy used by my family to cure the common cold. It was a hot drink served in a coffee cup. The recipe consisted of whiskey, brown sugar, cream and boiled water. It has never failed to cure the most stubborn of head colds. The traditional Canadian cocktail differs from the one our family used as it can not only be served hot but cold.
We love cold drinks during our summer season in Canada and in the spirit of our Dominion Day celebration I have added a cold libation for you to try. It is a slightly different version of Moose Medicine, a bonus treat, to celebrate Canada’s 155th celebration. See the recipe below for ice cold Moose Milk. I hope you enjoy it throughout the hot summer months ahead.
Please use wisdom when consuming alcohol. Try to refrain from damaging your self-esteem or that of another by speaking when you could simply remain silent. Ask Moose to help you honor the gifts you can give and recognize your worthiness into the future. Remember to congratulate yourself for your successes in life. Enjoy!
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
Like Old Mother Hubbard, I had nothing in my cupboard. It was bare – and our barnyard was empty too.
I had a hankering for some fresh eggs and at the price of eggs today, well; it felt more frugal to get some chickens than drive to the store and buy a carton of eggs.
I missed having chickens. There are so many things a person can do with eggs. They were a staple in any kitchen. It was a pity I was out.
If only I could get my hands on three or four layer chickens and perhaps a rooster…
Hens lay eggs daily and if the rooster did his job perhaps one of the hens would go broody and hatch a few chicks. I smiled. It was a project worthy of dreaming about. Then again, why dream when one can make it a reality, it never costs anything to ask a question.
“Elk are powerful, adaptable animals that have played a significant role in cultural mythologies. Elk encounters are, for most people, rare,…
The elk represents dignity, power, inner strength, and passion. If you experience an elk sighting, it’s a message to stay steady on your current course. An elk sighting is also a reminder to be diligent and see things through. If you do, you will earn the respect of others for standing your ground. An elk sighting lets you know that because of hard work, you’re about to come into the life of plenty you’ve envisioned. This is a great reward for a job well done.” LJ Innes
Elk were introduced on a military base in Suffield, Alberta in 1997. Since 1997, the population of the original elk herd has grown and so has the territory they now occupy in Alberta such as the prairie. My home on the prairie is just a few hours away from the Suffield base. Elk can cross a lot of territory in a few minutes. They have immense stamina; this coupled with their long-legged stride enables them to out distance predators with ease.
Elk encounters are, for most people, rare – so I count myself as a very fortunate part of the few who have encountered prairie elk.
The first time I saw elk on our property was mid-October, about 3 years ago, just after returning from a safari in Africa. I have to admit, observing a herd of elk from the comfort of my own home was every bit as exciting as the safari!
The bull in charge of the herd was magnificent! He had the largest set of antlers I have ever seen! He was accompanied by about 30 cows and their calves. It was bow hunting season so no doubt this herd, was fleeing the bow and arrow hunters.
The elk herd was tired when they arrived at our yard. Some of the cows were limping and a few calves were exhausted. The bull let them rest and graze here for about half an hour before bugling then rounding them up and moving on. It only took a few minutes for the entire herd to disappear into the horizon beyond my line of sight. I imagine, they had successfully out distanced the bow hunter’s long before arriving here.
Normally, bulls and cows keep with their own sex. It is only during the rut that bulls and cows intermingle. We have had 5 or so nice looking bulls steadily visit us over the years but until last week we hadn’t seen the main herd again.
Until last week, that is.
It was at dusk and we counted about 30 cows. See the pictures below:
I was so excited the elk were visiting that it was hard to hold my cell phone still enough to get a few pictures to share.
Elk is wonderful species of wildlife that lives and breathes out here on the prairie. And, while they don’t visit often; I am always excited to see them. The next time they come through, though, I’m hoping to diligently count a few calves.
As a power animal, elk can remind us that we have enough stamina and strength to go the distance. We only need to pace ourselves and take time to rest along the way to achieve our goals.
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting –The Trefoil Muse
I have reached a plateau. It has been an uphill battle to get to this spot. The journey has been fraught with chaos and malicious energy. I am exhausted and need rest. I survey my surroundings and notice that this is not actually a resting spot. It is a cross road. I can choose from four directions. I can veer left or right, go back the direction I came from or continueuphill. Surely, the path upward looks to be more work. Both paths which veer left or right seem to be level. But neither of those paths interests me. I know from experience those paths are diversions. Personal success takes longer to achieve when you walk along the path of others. I am independent. I want to discover my own path. My path is always harder. I prefer to travel unknown, uncharted paths – those seldom traveled. So, I know that from the four directions my choice path is the one which continues uphill.
Energy swirls about me pulling to and fro. Malicious. Chaotic. Instinct tells me that this is the energy one faces when they are about to self-sabotage or are being set up to fail but strive forward in order succeed instead.
I sway first left, then right but the frantic, hostile energy that wants me falter and tumble backwards is vehement. The resistance from the heinous darkness pushes back and forth against me causing friction.
It is unwanted energy and it is rubbing me the wrong way.
Sparks are beginning to erupt. Patiently, I smother them but really, time is not on my side. I have limited resources; constraints prevent me from effectively battling the unwanted friction and the continual onslaught of unwelcomed energy is beginning to mess with my mind. This maliciousness is presenting as a head game. I want to explode. My sanity is waning. I can feel the heat within me building. The sparks are beginning to smoulder into a fire – the fire is rage.
I decide to stand quietly at the plateau of the crossroad and breathe.
Breath work is a subtle technique that can be used to bring abhorrent friction into a more malleable static energy. Static energy is still charged. It isn’t energy I like; but, static energy can be endured and will remain unchanged or even dissipate as long as no extra friction is introduced. Subtle techniques to quiet friction are not always successful.
I am being battered. This heinous, dark energy seems to be taking advantage of the subtle energy – it’s growing harsher – biting at my psyche. It is affecting my ability to think clearly.
No matter, I am a Master there are other methods I can employ to quiet the friction. But, my methods are all subtle and rather than quieting the chaotic energy, extra friction charges the atmosphere around and within me. The harassing energy has entered my very core – goading, irritating and threatening to infect me with its disease like qualities. An inner war has been declared and I struggle against this dark force which wants me to cause harm or even drive me to kill. Lesser adversaries have succumbed to these malicious energy sources. They’ve gone mad, driven to insanity by the barrage of negativity that infects their mind.
I summon my inner strength in preparation for the fight. I must maintain my clarity of thought.
The malevolent taunting, jeering energy pokes dirty fingers into my brain as it stirs and beats at my sanity twisting rational thoughts into mayhem. I am being attached from three different directions. My patience is spent. I am wearing down, becoming exhausted. My mental and emotional stability continues until completely fatigued, my resolution of peace dissolves.
Frustration and anxiety are wholly apparent. I am now realizing my inability to control that, which cannot be controlled – every action is begging for a reaction.
True, I am undergoing an inner battle. I have an acute awareness of this. However, inner-battles will grow until they burst outward.
It’s, fight or flight time. My nerves are raw. My jaws are clenched. Tension runs up my backbone. My hands are clenched into fists. I have settled into a battle stance and ready to move if one more irritant attacks.
I know what I want and, it’s not this!
I cannot take being rubbed the wrong way any longer; the friction attacking my inner boundary is unbearable. Fiery rage leaps upward as I burst into heated flames. I manage to control the fire. It was merely a short burst of intense heat meant to cremate noxious emotional energy. Nothing has been severely damaged although there is a blackened mark where I once stood at the crossroads. The outburst left but a small blister on the face of the earth, a scar which would heal by encouraging new growth. And, by undertaking the difficult task of expelling negative energy, I have now been propelled forward on my path uphill. The action was necessary for positive development to occur.
Still, I am shaky and exhausted. I did not want to erupt into fire. The war against malicious energy drained me mentally, physically and emotionally. But, I gained ground as a result andsuccessfully stepped onto my own path. This is a path of the unknown. It is uncharted territory, this path that proceeds at a steady, gentle, uphill grade and is one where if the traveler is mindful, they will meet success by taking positive strides forward.
I survey the path ahead with tired eyes. I can see the first marker to my success is only a few feet away. I move my feet forward slowly, one by one, it is a methodical shuffling movement – no need to hurray now. I give myself permission to move slowly and conserve my energy until I reach the marker. My reward is a well deserved rest. I need to unplug for a time before continuing on.
Change takes time.
Healing takes time.
I arrive at the marker and take a seat. This is the most comfortable spot I have discovered in a very long time. I feel protected here. As I sit relaxed, I notice how as the world rolls by, I am no longer affected by its friction. I am grateful for this time to rest; even the most masterful of Guru’s need a brain-break to recuperate from mental chaos.
Stress is exhausting.
Give yourself permission to take a rest.
Unplug.
Chaos and friction in life will always be present.
There will be times in life when you are rubbed the wrong way and will need to address friction. Remember, subtly does not always successfully diffuse friction. In those cases, be tactful; use control; take the higher road – you will save someone from heartache by doing so, even if that someone is you.
Take small steps forward.
If all else fails, simply take a brain-break!
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
The camera lay around the photographer’s neck at the ready as he traversed the paved path through the cities park. His sharp eyes had spotted nothing of interest thus far. Once or twice he’d put the camera to his eye and snapped a picture just see if anything came to light once developed. But, today, the subject matter along this path fell short of what he deemed worthy to capture along his daily hike.
He gazed up at the sky and wondered if rain would fall from roils of brooding grey clouds above him. Dismal, that is what the day was. This park was dismal and empty as well – no subject matter or maybe; he was just bored of the same ol’, same ol’.
His mood was beginning to match the atmosphere – dark and foreboding, such a waste of his efforts thus far with his camera. This path, a tried and true one, was a bust. Perhaps if he were to deviate from this path and take the detour ahead toward the water’s edge, it would scare up something interesting to photograph.
He stepped on the narrow dirt trail and followed it as it wound downward toward the river’s edge ducking wayward branches and stepping over deadfall as hiked toward the water. Not far in the distance, he could see an opening in the trail that opened to the river. Not a great photo but he knelt and snapped a picture which depicted how opposites can sometimes enhance one another. It was a serene entrance guarded by what appeared to be atmospheric turbulence in the distance. It should have a sign posted that reads, “Enter at your own risk,” he thought crassly.
The disturbing and depressing inner revelation of his own mind surprised him. No matter, he shrugged. Darkness can be corrected. Lightness and color could be added via filters which would enhance beauty where nature lacked it.
He continued forward with renewed purpose, that is when he spotted a target worthy enough to freeze in time.
If only he could capture the moment!
Quietly, he slid into position. First kneeling and then adjusting himself into the prone position.
He reached for the camera and removed the lens cap while he stalked the target with his eyes.
She belied beauty as she sat unaware of his presence on a felled tree, mesmerized by the lapping, flowing water at the river’s edge.
The frailty of the target in a moment of serene strength had him awe struck. Her beauty glowed against the angry, brooding clouds in the back-ground and portrayed the mood which this picture would encapsulate. It was perfect. She was beautiful.
He’d call this potential award winner, “Moody Blue.” He could see this infamous picture framed in gold.
Slowly, deliberately, he moved the camera to his eye, first playing with the focus then readying his finger to snap the shot. He could feel the excitement build; his heart pounded and his breath quickened as he fought to steady it in this moment where perfection lingered at his finger-tip. It wouldn’t do to ruin this picture with a shaky hand. A photographer, like any good hunter, needs a steady hand to shoot its target – breath control is everything. His breath eased slowly from his lips as his index finger hovered ready for action.
“Steady,” he breathed as a clap of thunder erupted above him and a wisp of wind drove a raindrop into his eye. Jerking in surprise, he snapped the shot.
When he opened his eyes again, his target had vanished as had the perfect moment in time.
Years later, the photographer admits to pulling out the discarded, wayward snap shot. He says it still makes him feel moody and blue. Yet, he continues to wonder what would have happened if he’d had the courage to talk to the beauty on the river’s edge that day instead of trying to freeze her – unaware – in a moment of time.
His only award from that day is in a still memory. What might have been a picture perfect moment gilded in gold is now only something locked away in his personal memory bank for no other but him to admire.
And, ‘Moody Blue,’ that’s the depression he feels on days with roiling grey clouds devoid of a picturesque beauty. They remind him of the gloomy rain day when he missed a moment meant to be frozen in time only to re-live a harsh lesson from time to time – when you live your life through a lens, don’t blink or you’ll miss it.
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
Today, March the 8th, is an annual celebration and focal point in the movement for women’s rights where our social, economic, cultural and political achievements can be honored and a day where we can acknowledge the challenges we continue to face for equality.
For those of you out there who are battling against the ongoing attack of rights, privacy and opportunities of women, I salute you. Your determination to carry on, even in moments of perceived weaknesses, are the hallmarks of strong women in our society today.
As we grow in wisdom, strength and unity, let us continue to support and empower others with grace now and into the future. May our grace transform world chaos into beauty by shining the light of truth on wrong.
Today, I am a proud Canadian who is ashamed of their Government.
Too much power in the hands of one person is dangerous.
This person has shown to the full extent what type of Government corruption exists.
It is on full display for to the World to see as the Emergency Act was passed in parliament granting unprecedented power to this one individual and his entourage of enforcement bullies.
And, while the leaf seems to have fallen;
I have faith in the power of the people.
We are strong. We are resilient.
And, I believe we will win!
Truth, honor and justice will prevail in the hands of many!
In simple terms, it is an interest of a person, party or idea undone by indecisiveness and fear of commitment by the other person, party or idea.
The Push-Me-Pull-You effect perfectly explains why it is such a lengthy process to rid ourselves of the bloated, constipated, far-reaching mandates and restrictions we are subjected to in Canada.
Let’s see in simple terms how the Push-Me-Pull-You effect explains our current dilemma in politics today as it works in a Democracy such as Canada because, in my opinion it explains the tactics used by all elected parties.
The Push-Me-Pull-You effect isn’t something new but it has greatly inhibited us especially in the past few years under a minority Government. Neither; is the Push-Me-Pull-You effect a tactic that just started recently. As far as I’m concerned, the Push-Me-Pull-You effect has been a never ending cycle in every political arena practiced by bureaucrats since its dawning day – the cycle being that of ‘deflecting blame,’ rather than that of ‘taking responsibility.’ The premise seems to be that the political party who is able to deflect blame more successfully onto the opposition gets to stay in power of the Ivory Throne. In Canada, the Ivory throne is on Parliament Hill.
However, the never ending Push-Me-Pull-You tactics involved in the political arena which has led to a bad habit of Members of Parliament quickly succumbing to a strategic game of, ‘Blame and Finger Point,’ played between the Federal, Provincial, and municipal governments has caused nothing more than constipated thinking from those same elected Members who then look down on the working class people from their parliamentary Ivory Towers. Their privileged lifestyle has put them out of touch with real people on the ground.
The real people on the ground are the working class. And, they are the type of people that not only walks their talk but take action. They don’t have to take a poll to know what to do or go to work. They know what needs to be done, and they do it. They know how to work.
Meanwhile, in the Ivory Tower on parliament hill, another backdoor meeting took place because regardless of speeches on transparency, our elected Liberal officials don’t know what to do without a plan. And, this elected Liberal party rallied against the plan, made by the opposition party, the Conservatives; whom, on February 14, 2022; actually planned on voting on a plan, to make a plan to end the over-reaching pandemic mandates of the elected Liberal party with the help of other Liberals and other opposition parties.
It’s actually quite sad that the opposition parties had to poll people before they could present a plan, to vote on a plan, to make a plan. If they vote to agree to make a plan; then they will vote on a date to debate on the plans, to make a plan. It takes a gross amount time, to talk of the talk, to just plan, to make a plan. It’s time consuming to plan, to make a plan. Neither party wants to offend the other party on the plan, to even talk about the plan or draft up the plan because they need each other’s votes to pass the plan on making the plans, plan. Then they need to canvass the popularity of the plan to make the plans on the plan. That’s before they can even take any action on the plan. But, that’s democracy – isn’t it! Democracy is a big old popularity contest on plans to make plans. And, the polls dictate which popular plans will be planned because the tax payers pay for the planning of the plans,plan so should be factored into to planning of the plan.
I’m wondering how many of those Ivory Tower occupants actually went and spoke face to face to any of the people who fund their pay checks before they made a plan to poll the people on the plan, to make a plan and then attempt to pass the plan.
The majority of Canadians know how to make a plan, execute it and then work to accomplish the fulfillment of the plan because, they know how to work together in order to succeed unlike their Ivory Tower observers – the Push-Me-Pull-You’s who love the popularity of the polls on their plans to make and planplans but never plan on actually executing the plans – that would take a time management plan which would probably take more than 2 to 4 years to plan!
So, you can see, what type of effect of the Push-Me-Pull-You has on parliament hill, and why there is a bunch of moaning, bloated, irritated tantrum throwing, red faced Members of Parliament – their burdened, constipated mindsets must make a plan before any movement can pass. And, when their planned plans to make plans can’t pass, movement is stagnated and more constipated planning ensues.
The majority of Canadians are very observant and open-minded like myself. We like our freedom and are choosing to no longer be impeded by the Push-Me-Pull-You’s.
Push-Me-Pull-You’s are slow-moving and have restricted or inhibited thought patterns. Their bloated, constipated mandates and restrictions need to be excreted into archives of history.
Enough with the planning already!
Can someone please deliver the Push-Me-Pull-You’s some diuretics so we can get some free flowing movement on Parliament Hill?
End the Constipation!
End the Emergency Act!
Canada is the true, north, strong and free!
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting– The Trefoil Muse
The past week or so have certainly been jam packed with current events in Canada as the Freedom Convoy rolled into an unprepared Ottawa taking politicians and residents by surprise.
When unprecedented numbers of the silent majority stand together for a common cause such as freedom and do it peacefully, it has a way of inspiring the world and bringing such things as corruption and political pandering to the forefront.
All one has to do is compare honest truth alongside that of corruption to see for yourself who the real peace keepers of Canada have been for the last fortnight. (No offense intended here but they have not been our politicians or Legacy News reporters.) The real peace keepers standing strong and united for our freedoms are truck drivers, farmers, small business owners and families from every corner of our vast country.
The information and stories evolving from the Freedom Movement come so quickly that it is nearly impossible to stay current on them. I quite literally have no words or perhaps there are too many of them bouncing around in my head to get down.
Some of the coverage has been absolutely hilarious. My kudos go to: Russell Brand #UnderTheSkin, Tucker Carlson *Tonight* on Fox News and the Lotuseaters.com Media/News Company for your great sense of humor and for the coverage each of you supplied for our freedom movement. I’d also like to give a little shout out to Western Standard – Cory Morgan’s rant on his morning show Triggered; the “new normal,” which I thoroughly enjoyed.
One of the more interesting developments I’ve also noticed along with the arrival of the convoy is the amount of extremely talented artists coming across social media sites, all using their voices in some way shape or form. I managed to save some art by some very talented cartoonists before they got censored. See below:
The fight for our freedom in Canada is very real. I have used a few examples in this post of the types of free speech we can lose. We are already having our freedom of speech censored. Use your voices Canada! Let’s mandate freedom.
I am standing up for Freedom.
Honk if you do too!
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
I’m not sure if you’ve heard about the Eighteen Wheels of Freedom slow rolling across Canada from east to west, north to south destined to meet at our Nation’s capital in Ottawa.
Canada is a country with many cultures and belief systems. Canadians are amicable, hard working, intelligent people who enjoy life. We have a great sense of humor. We value laughter. But, above all, we value what freedoms we are afforded.
However, we are struggling to retain our freedoms during these ongoing episodes of pandemic paranoia. Never ending rules, regulations and changes in policies inflicted by federal and provincial leaders make the most law abiding citizen reel. They dangle our freedom before us like a carrot as they steadily move our reward beyond our grasp with even more mandates. For example, the 90% vaccine compliance in Alberta promised a “Best Summer Ever,” reward which if you remember correctly was quite short lived. Then they introduced the QR Code so we could supposedly get back to normal but, you have to have to present one before you can join any social activity.
If anyone has the audacity to voice their protest, our Prime Minister describes them as ‘tinfoil hats’ or ‘conspiracy theorists.’ He believes Canadians are meek and complacent people who will do exactly what he wants because, “we are in this together.”
Meanwhile, we’ve lost friends, we’ve lost family and we’ve lost businesses as one by one the Government targets industries and groups with its coercive vaccination measures, passports and nonsensical tax hikes.
The state of our country or, that of any other country in the world since the pandemic began is unbelievable. The Main Stream Media here is the same as elsewhere – it’s all politically motivated pandemic propaganda or twisted with distractions designed to hide politically motivated strategies. When exactly is enough, enough?
It takes a lot to get under a Canadians skin or ruffle our feathers. We are known as humble people in Canada but, I’ve always said when the silent majority has had enough of the rhetoric, the world will sit up and take notice.Continue Reading »
Obviously, the Sun’s dogs needed out for a good run, perhaps they’d been penned up for too long of a stretch or maybe they just needed to get out and howl at the full moon last week. Dogs can be very insistent when they want outside. Madam Sun probably coined the term, ‘hounded!’ In which case, I am totally able to relate to her or even sympathize!
Woebegone, hang-dog shame is what he felt. His shoulders slumped and his head drooped momentarily. He’d been caught then accused. Now, he’d been charged with a lifetime of deceit. He had a choice and could have answered honestly but he did it again anyway.
He was compulsive.
He looked the Judge in the eye – denied everything.
The one honest thing he had learned during his life was that no one believed a liar anyhow.
The horse and rider paused at the crest of the hill.
“Should we take the wagon trail home or cut through the coulee, Mari-bell?” Sarah asked unsure of her own mind. If they took the wagon trail, it would take her another 5 miles to reach the ranch, an easy ride in good weather like it had been that morning but potentially deadly in the inclement weather which had suddenly appeared. She wasn’t prepared for this.
It had been unusually mild weather for January, like a spring day – they called these warm winds Chinooks she’d been told. They were “snow eaters,” that lasted from hours to days. Water had been dripping from the barn roof forming streamlets and pockets of water on her path to the barn. She side-stepped numerous puddles on the way to retrieve her little golden mare with creamy mane and tail. Mari-bell had nickered her usual soft greeting when Sarah opened the barn door.
She had loved Mari-bell from the first moment she’d laid eyes on her. Her father had threatened to sell her at first. “Too small for any of the ranch hands,” he’d said but Sarah rallied for the little palomino. “The horse has a huge heart,” he’d admitted after seeing the girl and horse work cattle. “She won’t quit until the job’s done and did everything and more that you asked of her Sarah!” The girl and horse had an unnatural bond he figured after seeing how the two responded to one another. In the end, he relented and gave the mare to his daughter. It was a rarity not to see the horse and girl together now-a-days.
Mari-bell perked her ears forward and arched her neck over the edge of the stall as Sarah approached. “Too warm for this thick woolen sweater Mother knit for me at Christmas that’s for sure Mari-bell,” Sarah crooned to the horse as she shed her jacket then removed the heavy sweater and hung it on the peg by the stall. “A long sleeved shirt and jacket are all I’ll need today.” She grinned as she pat the horse on the side of the neck, led her to the door of the barn, mounted and trotted away from the ranch toward the school.
She was giving and kind. They worshipped her like a Saint. She was of the earth and moved about the land like a breath of fresh air.
They said he was the Devil. His was a craggy, worn exterior. People avoided him. He was hard they observed – probably cruel. He was fire and ice. He’d burn you if he could.
No one knew for certain how they’d come upon one another but they were concerned for she epitomized all that was good – but he was evil.
It was pure magnetism that pulled them together. Opposites attract or so it is said.
It so happened that she’d heard a sorrowful sound and followed it until she happened upon him. When she’d found him, he was like a pool of iced over water cracking, groaning and crying for help. He craved warmth, she could see it. The magic happened when she looked beyond his icy blue depths and into his soul.
To him, she was like a downy white quilt that wrapped his hardened exterior in warmth. When he looked into the darkness beyond her eyes – that is when he melted.
She held out her hand and he readily took it. Holding her tightly in his arms, he waltzed with her over the tapestry of the earth to music of the Universe.
With their spirits entwined, they balanced and danced, bringing the world alive with beauty.
And, the people worried over the change in him. It seemed unnatural.
Now, consensus is that she’s a Sorceress – wicked.
While he…, he is merely a man who has fallen under her spell.
‘But not all opinions are equal,’ she reasoned. And, she did not hold the opinions of others.
She had awareness; an awareness that the others did not; for she knew what had happened when the eyes of fire and ice met the eyes of earth and air – two souls collided and became one.
‘Eyes are the windows to the soul,’ she knew and she knew the power of ‘love.’
She held the opinion, ‘When souls unite in balance and beauty, love is neither wicked nor evil. Love is a gift found within the eyes for any who dare look into their depths.’
We have undergone seasonal changes on the prairie. Snow finally fell to coat the land. It was a welcomed sight. The fall season has been mild this year – dry and windy without much moisture. This has made life for the smaller prairie animals easier than in prior years as they are able to forage uninhibited by deep snow.
The jack rabbits have been extremely prolific. There are dozens of them careening across the landscape camouflaged in their new winter apparel of white. They move in large groups like snowballs with legs as they bound across the land imitating the whirling drifting swathes of snow.
Some of them like to race, zigging and zagging along the edge of the road at 35 mph. They are flexible, their agility saving them more often than not from an untimely demise under vehicle tires. If they zig when they should zag, they become fodder for hungry scavengers happy for an easy meal.
The jack rabbits blend into the winter environment easily now that their coats have turned white. It takes a keen set of eyes to spot them when they stand frozen and alert atop the snow covered horizon where they listen attentively for predators lying in wait for them. Jack rabbits need to be aware of the dangers lurking about them.
Not all danger abounds on land. Above, another creature has changed colors with the season. It perches above proudly displaying its white plumage as its wise eyes scan the prairie to find a rabbit to bring home for lunch.
And so, the circle of life continues as the seasons change on the prairie.
She drifted on an endless tide. Emotions lapped at her sides like waves. Some passed her by believing her to be redundant. Others saw her value and tried to bring her aboard. She was very desirable, a streamline, timeless vision. Her knotted, gnarly appearance only added to her mystic. Along with her intrigue, she held little bark. Truly, a quality piece, one that they could work with but her weight was camouflaged within her well hewn exterior and to their surprise, she was heavy.
They pulled, tugged, heaved and attempted to rope her in to no avail. Continue Reading »
The world seems momentarily peaceful – the autumn gales have been horrendous.
My body is grateful for this temporary respite – a gentle wind is such a welcome change from the cold icy blasts that have beseeched the prairie lately. I exhale calmly. The windy onslaughts seem to be unleashed on the world when the urban inhabitants are uneasy – their angry fearful outbursts unbalance natural order with dissention. It is not global warming that beseeches the land; it is heated rage or callous icy innuendos that extricate the gales.
I breathe in clean fresh air as I follow a curvy path that leads south. It is the same direction the snow geese are following. The sun hits their feathery bodies and they shine silver in the calm fall air above me. I can clearly hear their calls as they fly above me in a familiar “V” pattern. Each member of the flock has their view unimpeded. All can see what lies ahead on their path. There are some geese that are falling behind. It is communicated to the leader. The leader adjusts its pace so that the flock remains together but it is still moving too fast and the flock honks out their distain.
I confess; I believe the real problem with my childhood is that I lived in a fantasy world.
When I got older, I searched for enlightenment.
Along with enlightenment came an intense sense of disillusionment.
No one warned me that enlightenment would cause my fantasy world to dissolve into chaos.
Enlightenment is destructive. It makes you take a look at the world as it really is. I didn’t like what I was seeing. People whom I adored were not who I’d envisioned – they had faults – perfect faults – faults I’d over-looked, faults I’d blinded myself to. I became very angry, disillusioned and broken. Continue Reading »
“When the gruesome wind howls in the darkness and claws with destructive fingers at your barriers, you will be tempted to curl up into a ball and hide. You may feel more inclined to seek a dark place to hide away and to think deep thoughts or to nurse an emotional wound. It may seem like the natural thing to do. It may even seem like the safest thing to do,” the demonic entity taunted. “But in the end, these things will drive you to madness and I will win!”
“You have already won,” she conceded.
There was a certain acceptance and graciousness in the voice of the woman. Her surrender infuriated the entity. Continue Reading »
Many say her spirit still lives on the mountain, and some have seen her spirit when the pine trees are bending. She’s an ancient presence. Her breath to this day carries power in her songs. And her name was changed in the days when the sun became brighter, from First Woman….to Wind Walker. It’s true […]
This beautiful poem has been shared from Rivers Renewed where nicodemaplusthree shares beautifully inspired Native American stories. Please be sure to stop byand check out her wonderful site.
Stone Soup is a folktale about sharing during a time of hardship.
The age old tale begins with the arrival of a poor starving beggar at depression struck Village. The Villagers hardly have enough provisions for themselves so refuse to feed this stranger. The beggar then offers to share his meal with them. Obviously, the beggar has no food but he is an alchemist. The magic begins when he adds a stone to a boiling pot of water. Curious, the untrusting Villagers gathered around the beggar to watch as he prepared the special soup. Since none of the villagers had enough in there larder to share with others, they found the generosity of the poor beggar peculiar.
“What are you doing?” they asked.
He smiled politely at the unfriendly villagers while he wordlessly placed his pot of makeshift soup over a fire.
“I’m making stone soup. It’s delicious. I’ll be glad to share it with all of you when I’m finished.”
The villagers watched in awe as the beggar dipped his ladle into the mixture and tasted it. Continue Reading »
Little Britches eyed his father suspiciously, even at the ripe old age of two; he’d mastered the art of discernment.
Little Britches’ father was his hero. Still, he wasn’t totally convinced that petting that little bunting cow at the edge of the deck sniffing lilacs was in his best interest. Heck, the cows buddy, a young golden lab, knocked him over in exuberant body wriggling, tail wagging licking episodes – and, that farm dog wasn’t as big as the mini black cow with the white face they called Mable!
Little Britches shoved his hands deep into the pocket of his jeans and shifted his weight from one rubber boot to the other, his bright inquiring eyes peering up at his father from below his Blue Jays ball cap. He needed a tidbit more encouragement before attempting, “Mission: touch-the-cow!” Continue Reading »
It was summer now and all was calm. I was outside playing one evening when I spotted my run away pony, Judy. With her head down, she stood quietly in the corral by the barn, stamping her small hooves and flicking her thick white tail back and forth in an attempt to fight off the hoards of black flies that bit at her small golden body. Slowly, I walked towards the barn and nonchalantly swung the gate closed to trap Judy. I turned to find myself cornered.
I was frozen to the spot. Man Eater dove at me, white rimmed eyes full of hate and black ears flattened to the back of his head. Grabbing me with his teeth, he flung me into the air. The world exploded as I hit the ground and in half a daze, I crawled under the corral to safety.
Luckily for me, the jacket I had been wearing was my brother’s and being four sizes too big, I had slipped out the bottom. I sat and watched in mute silence as Man Eater tore the jacket to shreds, then turned heel and headed for the hills. I was soon to learn that this would only be the first of many attacks by the insane stallion. Continue Reading »
I was only a small girl but I’ll never forget the first time I saw that wild horse. He was crazy-mad and full of hate.
We stood still as Daddy and Frank brought him through the yard, fighting and screaming. His nostrils were flared wide and red and his white rimmed eyes were full of hate. His head and short mane were caked with blood and lather covered his huge black body.
The angry stallion fought the ropes that circled his neck and held him between the two other horses. He dived at Daddy’s horse only to be brought up tight by Frank’s rope. He turned and charged at Frank but was thrown backwards when Daddy’s rope pulled tight. He was a mass of flying feet and catching one of the ropes in his teeth bit down on it with such fury that the rope snapped but, Frank was too fast and another rope whistled through the air and landed over his head.
I was sick. I thought the poor horse would kill himself before he would stop fighting. It took the men an hour to corral the crazy, mad fighting horse. Continue Reading »
“When words are both true and kind, They can change the world.” Gautama Budda Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
“It is hard for me to understand a culture that not only hates and fights his brothers but even attacks Nature and abuses her. 
We love cold drinks during our summer season in Canada and in the spirit of our Dominion Day celebration I have added a cold libation for you to try. It is a slightly different version of Moose Medicine, a bonus treat, to celebrate Canada’s 155th celebration. See the recipe below for ice cold Moose Milk. I hope you enjoy it throughout the hot summer months ahead.
Hens lay eggs daily and if the rooster did his job perhaps one of the hens would go broody and hatch a few chicks. I smiled. It was a project worthy of dreaming about. Then again, why dream when one can make it a reality, it never costs anything to ask a question. 
municipal governments has caused nothing more than constipated thinking from those same elected Members who then look down on the working class people from their parliamentary Ivory Towers. Their privileged lifestyle has put them out of touch with real people on the ground.
back of his head. Grabbing me with his teeth, he flung me into the air. The world exploded as I hit the ground and in half a daze, I crawled under the corral to safety.
flared wide and red and his white rimmed eyes were full of hate. His head and short mane were caked with blood and lather covered his huge black body.
The Trefoil Muse 
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