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Alberta is dry.

A heat dome has settled over our province. 

The prairie has been an arid desert.

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 Latin trānsmontānus (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.”

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There are swaths of purple gracing the prairie pastures as crocus bloom.

I found these on a road less traveled.

As you can see, the blooming period of the crocus is coming to an end. I hope you enjoyed this little piece of the wild prairie!

Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse

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Nothing is as black and white as it seems,

If the world seems drab,

Color it,

A picture can paint a thousand words.

 

2023, Welcome to another colorful year!

 

Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse

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Snow

When all that glitters,

is not gold.

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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

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When clouds of dissension swirl about you, rise above like an eagle.

Don’t let someone else’s thunder rain on your parade.

Realize; there are cracks in everything, that’s how the light gets in.

Let the power of lightning inspire you towards a brighter future.

Remember; some of the best things that happen are the one’s you never thought could.

Be grateful, a storm can deliver many gifts.

Welcome them with open arms.

 

Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse

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Compassion is about forgiveness;                                                  Learn how to forgive;                          
Start with yourself...

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Trust in your instincts;

Follow your heart without delay;

This is how you become a leader.

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I am beyond the circle today, racing toward freedom.  “Oh, how I love to run.”

There is strength in my legs and courage in my heart.  My vision is keen.  I am galloping into uncharted territory but ancient wisdom within tells me I have traveled this path before.  I am not afraid.  With this knowledge, I strive forward gathering increased energy and speed.  The air on my face feels good.  It is cool and fresh.  My white mane and tail flow out behind me uninhibited.  I am breathing deeply, nostrils wide.  The inhalation of crisp translucent air has cleansed all senses.  My exhalations are mere puffs of white.  Purity has allowed my feet to float above the obstructions below so that I may glide along like wind.  All restrictions have been removed.  I have become a leader.  But, in my exuberance with the race toward freedom, I have forgotten my herd.  They have fallen behind. (more…)

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When you judge another; You are judging yourself; Let go of your illusions.

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