Dust hangs in the air and silt blows through any cracks and crevices of the house to rest indoors on my furniture.
Our northern forests are ablaze.
In the news, no one reports on the arson which caused this fiery tragedy up north, on any charges laid or on the perpetrator(s) set free until their court date arrives. In the midst political campaigns, they’d rather call it global warming than tell the truth. It’s just more of the same political rhetoric.
Meanwhile, fire fighters are busy trying to fight fires and farmers are busy trying to seed their crops. Cattlemen and women are busy tending to their cow/calf operations. People are busy living their lives both in rural and urban areas. At this point, most Albertans have probably already decided on which candidate they will vote for and don’t care about two women fighting over who will reign as Premier in our province. But, the political force with their mudslinging and bluster has left a foul odor in the air.
Today, a barbarous cold wind blew in from the north. They call the wind, Tramontane.
With flying hooves, Tramontane carried smoke from the north, across central Alberta and delivered it south.
The smell of smoke and fire troll mingles with dust to smudge our province of negativity. Once the foul political odor is removed from the air, I’m sure it will rain.
Tramontane, the north wind, promises a change in weather.
Around here, all of the crops are in the ground. They would definitely benefit from some moisture as would the rest of our province.
Alberta needs rain.
And, when it does, I’m going to dance like nobody’s watching!
Hang on a second, let me correct that, why wait?
I’m going to go out in that smudgy, windy air and do a rain dance with Tramontane like no one is watching right now!
I hope you’ll join with me in the dance where ever you reside. The more the merrier! Let’s make it rain, just dance!
The North winds moral lesson is that kind and gentle persuasion always wins over force and bluster.
(May whomever aspires to reign over our province in the future consider the above lesson.)
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Tramontane (/trəˈmɒnteɪn/trə-MON-tayn)[a] is a classical name for a northern wind. The exact form of the name and precise direction varies from country to country. The word came to English from Italian tramontana, which developed from Latintrānsmontānus (trāns- + montānus), “beyond/across the mountains”,[1][2][3] referring to the Alps in the North of Italy. The word has other non-wind-related senses: it can refer to anything that comes from, or anyone who lives on, the other side of mountains, or even more generally, anything seen as foreign, strange, or even barbarous.
The journey of “tramontane” into English starts in Latin and begins with the coming together of the prefix trans-, meaning “across” or “beyond,” and montanus, meaning “of a mountain.”
Off the beaten path a rolling stone gathers no moss. The roll of its movement is like poetry in motion.
At a bridge too far, footsteps linger on a path.
A witness bearer is observing nature.
A rock falls, succumbs to the pressure and breaks in half. It will never be the same. Even pieced together, it will not ever be whole. There will always be light shining through its center.
Iridescent and beautiful, a shine traverses the in-between, always seeing both sides of an equation.
Never judging, never choosing which side is better, the lights only purpose; quiet acceptance.
It glistens and flows silently becoming the glue which clings to each half of a shattered foundation then with quiet support, it centers the mass – makes it stronger through the light bond of its touch and creates something new.
Like a bridge too far reaching across a cut-face, light connects both sides.
Some rock hard, stone like individuals previously stuck begin to cross over from the precipice of the cut-face. They courageously take small steps until gravity intervenes and they roll smoothly across. Having bridged the gap they celebrate their new found strength.
Fear paralyzes the forward motion of others. Their burden is heavy. They must remain unmoving and solid.
“Even rocks can crack,” they say sadly.
This a dark fact rarely mentioned – cracking is forbidden. It’s taboo to admit weakness or even create an awareness of its existence because one would then notice a concrete failure in their foundation.
Instead of rounded thoughts and wheels of motion to roll ahead, they form blocks. They see how easy blocks are to stack. They gauge progress by building barriers instead of bridges. They notice how they feel stuck in the mire and begin to sink as they fall into the pressure of its darkness and crack.
But, they don’t notice the beauty, movement or force of the light connecting the pulsing broken shards of a stone and how it has formed others into glorious pieces of art. Or, the peace that washes over a shattered, broken work in progress when it transforms through an acceptance of nature and, moves on; forever fragmented but beautifully whole; perfect while they dance and bond with the light of the in-between at the cut-face near the bridge too far. Free.
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
Three weeks ago, a foggy mist of milk white hid the horizon. It was still cold. Spring was here but the tendrils of winter were loath to release their taunting grip on the prairie.
Many migrating birds were overhead. I knew this because I could hear them.
I always tend to marvel at the ability of migratory birds especially, their instinctual ability to navigate blindly through inclement weather and unseen territory while they fly toward their new destinations.
I heard familiar honking in the distance. The recognizable sound was that of the Canadian Geese as they arrived in droves while fog shrouded the land. Other flocks of migratory birds were also flying in. Their types were harder to discern with listening ears because the opaque wall inhibited any clear view of the arriving birds and muffled the sounds of their songs.
The misty cold weather was surreal. Unending fog can be depressing to some but I enjoy the damp, cool weather and find the wall of cloudy white strangely comforting, even safe. I like the idea of disappearing behind a veil of white. It’s private. I especially like walking in the fog, mainly because I am obliged to use my other senses and am forced to pay closer attention to what’s in my immediate circle during the hours before the fog relents to the rays of the mid-day sun.
But, that day, I was imagining what it would be like to spread open the white wall of fog with my hands as if it were curtains and step through it. I was wondering if it would it be a clear day or magical world on the other side of the curtains when a knock interrupted my whimsy.
Knock, knock.
Knock.
“What’s knocking at my front door, it’s not like a knocking that I’ve heard before,” I wondered. Continue Reading »
White rabbits, white rabbits; spring arrives; winter weather lifts; and there are white rabbits everywhere!
Rabbits are prolific creatures. There are so many of them here that it is near impossible to count their numbers.
The rabbit symbolizes fertility, luck, creativity, compassion and intuition. Rabbits are associated with springtime and new beginnings. They are happy reminders that life is full of possibilities. A rabbit’s foot is a lucky token and rabbits are considered symbols of fortune.
But with the appearance of all these rabbits, is it possible our home has undergone a takeover by Easter Bunny Central?
We have a profound conglomeration of long-eared, fluffy-white-tailed creatures hopping around our farmyard and nearby fields.
The majority of rabbits inhabiting the farm are jackrabbits but somewhere during the winter months a bush bunny family moved in as well.
Bush bunnies, otherwise known as mountain cottontail are the only true rabbit in Alberta. Despite its name, it is not actually found in our mountains. It is restricted to the prairie regions of the province, where it can be found in areas with sufficient brushy cover. I suspect our newly arrived cottontails fled from a nearby coulee to take up residence in our hedges mid winter.
I usually spot my little bush bunny or cottontail friends closer to the house not far from the hedges, whereas, their larger counterparts, the jackrabbits like kibitzing out in the open.
Jackrabbits, otherwise known as snowshoe hares, are larger than rabbits, have longer hind legs and longer ears. An interesting fact to note is that rabbits or baby bunnies are born hairless and blind whereas baby hares, (called leverets) are born with fur, can see, and are mobile within an hour of birth. As well, hares turn from brown in the summer to white in the winter; rabbits do not.
Our prairie jackrabbits are well camouflaged during seasonal changes. Right now, most of them are still wearing their white jackets and blend in with the white covered landscape. Some have begun to shed their white fur and have a brown patchy appearance and are hard to see against the barren spring earth. Jackrabbits will hide among and under rocks, outbuildings, hollow logs, and other covered spaces or even in plain sight. When faced with danger, rabbits tend to freeze and/or run for cover, while hares will usually try to run away and out maneuver their pursuer.
The jackrabbits around here love to taunt my dogs. They have even been known to run right through our legs during a daily walk to induce a game of tag. Jackrabbits can run up to 55 km/h (34 mph) and can leap up to five meters (16 feet 5 inches)! They are agile athletes who elude predators from following their scent through a series of large bounds, sometimes even moving at right angles to their previous direction. My poor good natured dogs don’t stand a chance. They get out distanced and out maneuvered by the jackrabbits during every competition. Still, they love the chase and it seems to be great exercise for both the rabbits and the dogs.
To be honest, I find the bush bunnies to be much cuter than the jackrabbits but the jackrabbits have afforded me plenty of comic relief over the years due to their antics with my dogs and their Easter exercise regimes.
To be a successful Easter Bunny candidate, one must assume that a rabbit or hare needs to be white or well camouflaged, agile and fleet of foot to deliver all of those chocolaty candy eggs across the Alberta prairie.
The training sessions around here must have produced plenty of successful Easter Bunnies and gained popularity with the rabbit populous. Rabbits have great listening skills and word seems to have spread that our remote Easter Bunny Central location is top notch. It seems very fortuitous that more and more white rabbits keep appearing from out of nowhere.
With all of these white rabbits hopping around, I’m beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland.
Which makes me wonder; if I utter the words white rabbit three times will they all magically disappear like a puff of smoke to be hare today and gone tomorrow? Or have I myself fallen into a rabbit hole?
Happy Easter every bunny!
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
I’ve heard this comment several times in the recent past but it always surprises me!
Is our society falling short on integrity?
Integrity helps us to do the right thing.
Integrity
Choosing courage over comfort;
Choosing what is right over what is fun, or easy;
And choosing to practice our values rather than simply professing them.
Brene Brown
Integrity requires self-awareness, self-control and commitment to upholding one’s values and principles when in the face of temptation or pressure – even when no one is watching.
It is choosing your thoughts and actions based on your principled values rather than personal gain. People of integrity do not hide their reactions or opinions. They do not manipulate others through deception, peer pressure, guilt or shame, and they do not pretend.
Integrity is not about being popular. It may mean extreme unpopularity because, you did the ‘right thing,’ regardless of popular opinion – integrity does take courage. Doing the right thing regardless of popular opinion can cost you family, friends, your livelihood or worse case scenario, your life.
Having integrity does not mean that you will never make mistakes. It does however mean that you have learned valuable life lessons from your mistakes and taken honest measures to correct them. In other words, you have gained some wisdom from your mistakes and evolved into a better person.
Integrity happens when inner-wisdom matches the decisions we make and act upon.
“Sometimes, it’s hard to do the right thing.”
Is it? Or, have we just become too afraid to do the right thing? If so, what does this say about the society we live in? Corruption lacks integrity.
Using integrity is about being able to live with your own conscience.
When you are true to yourself, it’s easy to do the right thing.
Have courage.
Remember: Using integrity is a reward!
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
They gathered around the podium while he delivered insincere words with a vulpine smile.
The posh, stood behind their Leader in mute support. Their heads bobbed in feigned agreement while they fixated on his every uttered word – they being his well paid entourage.
A mob, enamored by the devilish Ruler but blind to his self-entitled ego, clamored about the podium hypnotized – enthralled – agog. Drawn to his magnetic darkness, the crowd of followers had become nothing more than envious slaves duped into thinking they were free. Instead, they were mere minions drawn into the black shroud of a false idol. Infected by the beast’s insidious nature, and honeyed words their fervor the cause of chaos. Entranced and unwittingly infected, the gathering populous now formed in collaboration with the elitist cult to spread unease throughout their communities.
Those who were observant had no need to listen. The Devil’s state and demeanor made it glaringly evident to those with keen vision that, ‘his’ only intent was on cursing the world and taking its power.Continue Reading »
A piercing scream cut through the quiet night, ricocheted off concrete walls and echoed onto the city street. A hollow thud then gasp of air followed. It was the woman’s last breath.
A dark figure loomed over the body.
Bobby-Joe McKintock had just frightened his nosey, old neighbor to death; quite by accident, when in jest, he’d jumped out of the shadows.
A sinister laugh caromed through the night. Bobby-Joe glanced around then disappeared into the darkness before the backlash of what he’d done hit him.
Quiet fell upon the city street. The silence was deafening.
Sounds of sirens and gunshots ensued.
It was a ricochet that ended him.
As it turns out, the rebound effect is no joking matter!
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
It’s hard to create a work of art when you are feeling under the weather. Fever and delirium make sentences nonsensical. Your spirit seems to float away from your body – out of this world. You feel completely disconnected. The most talented of artists use the dark times in their lives to create beauty. It takes fortitude and resilience to recover from illness let alone create art.
I haven’t been feeling well – not at all.
I am not a good patient. I do not like being under the weather, I’d rather be in it, outside in nature.
The blues are pulling at me like a magnet. I can see them from my window. They taunt me as they dance and skip along the snow drifts daring me to catch them.
The day is early. The sun is only beginning to rise. I slog into my winter gear surprised that I am not collapsing under its weight and head out the door.
The air hangs softly in the distance a paler color of white than the snow lying on the ground. ‘Angel’s breath,’ I smile at the thought of it as some blue disappears with the sun’s first rays.
‘Most people chase rainbows in order to discover magic and I’m out chasing the blues. But, why limit one’s self,’ I think bemused.Continue Reading »
Many people like to romanticize the good old days – truth is times were hard back then. When my Mother was a little girl, her family lived on the CC Ranch southwest of Nanton, Alberta. The Ranch, situated on Willow Creek was silhouetted by the wild and beautiful Rocky Mountains. The land was filled with bush and farther in towards the mountain was thick timber. Visitors to the ranch were a rarity. Her writing tells of a time not so long ago when many people still relied on horsepower, grit and man’s best friend to survive. With that being said, I hope you enjoy the following story based in the wild and untamed Alberta Foothills that she loved:
Dawg
By: J.V. Andrus
Slowly across the top of a hazy hill came a weary rider pushing along a small, shaggy herd of long horns. A white dog followed on the heels of the rider. Occasionally from behind, the white dog eased up alongside the long horns to press curious calves back into the herd then he’d fall back into line with the dozing rider. The little group descended the hill down into a small valley lush with a carpet of thick green grass.
This was as good a place as any to spend a hot afternoon, the rider thought as he eased himself out of the saddle. He loosened the cinch, dropped the bridle reins and leaned back against the trunk of a huge tree whose branches draped low over the mouth of a stream that bubbled around a rock bank nearby.
Through half closed eyes he surveyed his herd.
After drinking from the stream the long horns began to graze from the thick green grass of the flat valley and began picking their way along the low lying hills.
A few feet away, the white dog lay panting; his long tongue lulled out from the side of his mouth and from the end of it dripped saliva. His huge soft brown eyes held the man’s gaze; ever so gently, his tail swayed back and forth.
Without uttering a word, the puncher butted a cigarette which had been hanging from the corner of his lips and eased down into the warm sunshine. With the heat of the sun now on him, he slept.Continue Reading »
It’s the end of November and it is -13 degrees Celsius (12.2 Fahrenheit). The wind has been blowing with gusts of 42 km (27 mph) and higher so it feels like -23C (-9.4 F). It’s so frigid that I am unable to think. Perhaps, I have frozen my brain…
How does a Canadian prevent brain freeze in the winter?
Word of the Day – Toque
/tōk/
Canadian definition:
A close-fitting knitted hat, often with a tassel or pom-pom on the crown.
People also ask
How do you use it in a sentence?
I will use it in a sentence so that you can both remember what it is and how to pronounce it.
“It’s so cold outside, that I toque a wool cap and put it on my head.”
And, that my friend’s is also how a Canadian prevents brain freeze in the winter!
Stay warm!
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
It has taken me some time to silence the thoughts of others and cipher through their parables and codes.
Social media is inundated with an extraordinary amount of negativity. Many comments are meant to debilitate the vitality of opponents who dare think outside of the box. It is easy to attack someone whom you cannot see.
It is also easier to control those whose faces are covered. It removes the aspects of humanism. Covering ones nose and mouth deprives the brain of oxygen and weakens soundness of mind.
I suspect the past few years has done irreparable damage to human kind.
(I can still feel the agony of those who withheld their screams of terror and disbelief until their eyes deadened and their hearts hardened.)
It’s easier to follow the masses than it is to stand alone.
Fear can be a strict task master. It drives groups together but it can also break them apart.
Many people gave up.
Others allowed themselves to become disabled through the pressure tactics forced upon them. Hypnotized, they consumed propaganda spoon fed to them by daily dose of dishonesty and negativity. They became the fanatical converts who threatened non-believers. Non-believers were ostracized and pushed into seclusion.
There are many fanatics today that seek continued control over the populous. They have a surplus of information ordained to frighten the weak into a continued life of subservience.
They want the masses to move through life like robots – zombies with dead eyes, stiff movements and no heart because when you stunt growth or imagination, there is no individuality – no freedom. This is called censorship.
What they do not know is that you cannot cripple the heart or mind of an artist!
The individual pain each person endures throughout life is precisely the gold that shines through an entrapped mindset to create an artist. Seclusion is all that is needed to break free of the trap. When one enters the silence, true beauty is created. This beauty is art.
Art means something different to everyone. It is a distinct experience distinguished by you alone. Art heals crippled minds, broken hearts and beckons to the individual in each of us, bringing hope.
You cannot censor hope!
Hope is a light engrained so deeply within the Universe that death cannot even snuff it out.
Artists know this secret.
They are able to read between the lines.
They are the truth seekers.
They are the free-thinkers fanatics want to silence.
You cannot cripple an artist, excluding them or forcing them into silence is a gift.
Silence is where an artist goes to create beauty.
We can always use more of them – so please, censor away – for in the end, it will be the artist’s who heal the world with their beautiful stories.
Remember:
“Those who speak in parables and code harbour great secrets.”
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
Today, I sat in my rocking chair on the porch with my two trusty dogs at my side, soaked up the rays of the autumn sun and listened to the crickets sing.
When nature brings you bliss, the world’s woes drift away…
Give yourself permission to relax.
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
There is a warm autumn breeze; I sit beneath the trees and watch as colored leaves fall earthward.
The trunk of the tree I am sitting under is strong; its roots are spread wide and deep. Yet, the tree is flexible and is able to bend when times get turbulent. That is why this tree has survived its many years on earth.
The tree’s large branches reach heavenward. Some of the branches are barren having lost their leaves. Still, other branches are alive with color. The leaves on those branches are preparing to make their descent but for the moment, they are full of life and enhance the world with their beauty.
I notice the leaves of this tree do not fight their ending – they have lived their life to the fullest – so, they simply let go and float gently earthward as if they are two stepping in time to a slow waltz. They dance, twirl and float earthward where they join other leaves, those that fell before them. The fallen leaves cushion the new arrivals. Their landing is soft, gentle. Each leaf is reunited happily with those that fell before them – these are their fallen family and friends.
Those leaves that remain high in the branches shiver with excitement and celebrate the life of the leaves that fell before them. They whisper to the fallen in the soft breeze, “We are in death, even as we live.”
Realization dawns on me, I am sitting beneath the family tree. The tree has been softening my sadness – my grief. It has not only been comforting me with beauty and dance but sharing ancestral wisdom as it welcomes another extremely important leaf home.
Celebrate life with every breath you take,
We both live and die in every moment,
Life is colorful,
Enjoy it,
Take comfort in the dance of the falling leaves,
Remember those who went before you,
They are never truly gone,
The circle of life is never-ending.
Gone but not forgotten…
“Falling Leaves,” is in memory of my Dad:
Franklin J. Andrus – May 28, 1938 – October 10, 2022
Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse
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
“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.
The Trefoil Muse 
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