Day 65 (only 300 more to go)

Boy in a tree

Molly and I ran just under 2km today, on an EXQUISITE day which looked like Spring and felt warm, although there are no signs of buds opening yet, except inside, where my little fig tree is sprouting forth beautifully, its inner circadian rhythms still strong, even though it spends winter inside an artificially heated house.  And the prolific chipmunk Vincenza, who lives in a lovely chipmunk house under the rock next to our deck (or by now perhaps it is inhabited by one of her many offspring), came out of hibernation a couple of days ago and is busily stuffing her cheeks with new supplies. 

Why I should not be a cook
I decided to make crunchies (a type of South African oatmeal cookie) for our friends the Hollenbachs who came to celebrate our 9 years in America (they arrived from SA about a month before we did).  I didn't have enough sugar to start with, so made do with about half that which was required.  When putting the baking soda into the pot of butter and syrup, a whole pile fell in by mistake!  Then, when I was opening the oven to take them out, the entire oven handle plopped off on to the floor, Ping!  When I eventually got the oven open, as I was taking the baking trays out, the oven glove touched the element and caught fire!  I ran the tap over the glove but it smelt bad so I put it outside on the railing, while I finished off cutting the crunchies and generally tidying up the kitchen.  Looking idly over at the door I noticed smoke pouring out of something, and upon further investigation found the glove on fire!  Fanned by the wind, a tiny spark deep within the folds of the thick oven glove must have glowed hot until it burst into flame and nearly started eating up the fencepost too!

So my self-portrait today is what I really should be: a surfer!

Day 64

Downed tree with frosting.  36F, 2.6km.

Eat, drink and be merry!  And exercise, for example, run in a meadow.  Read a good book every day.  Have an obedient, intelligent dog or two.  Make art.  Find a good partner.  Have a child or two (or four).  Have a large comfortable kitchen table.  Have great conversations.  Have good arguments. Knit.  Laugh a lot. Cry whenever you need to.  Imbibe music. Talk to your family.  Listen to them too. Have a couple of elegant cats agree to live in your house. Travel. Swim in the ocean in summer.  Have a wood-stove for the winter.  Listen to the birds in the forest.  Sing!  Be open to change.  Teach children Art.  Teach some others English.  Do something good for those less fortunate than yourself.  Love your children, your spouse, your parents, your friends.  Learn another language. Be compassionate.  Be outraged!  Even though terrible things happen and your soul suffers with the combined sum of such things as the years accumulate, look forward to, and enjoy, something small (or big) every day. Do away with pettiness.  Do one (at least) kind thing every day. Live passionately.  You only have one life, and it's far too short.

Self-portrait as a child in the playground - I'm the one reading.  I had to do this drawing for the yearbook at my school. 

Day 63

Cruelty lies within all of us - a dark side balances the light.  Perhaps we are all born with equal shadow and light, and then as our lives progress, either the brilliance can counteract the gloomy darkness, so that gradually you become more illuminated than sunk in murky shade, or it can go the opposite way, so that you are drawn more to stygian blackness than radiance.

I remember ganging up with my friend and being very cruel to a girl called Glynis.  We made her drink our own nasty concoction of sand and leaves and water, poor thing.  But shortly thereafter I experienced cruelty and bullying directed towards me, and I remember suddenly empathising with Glynis, realising how she must have felt.  I was cruel again, of course, and probably still am sometimes, but I remember sticking up for the underdog more and more after that experience.  

I have recently heard of various terrible things in the news, the worst being the suicide bomber in Iraq, who, after two bomb blasts, travelled in an ambulance with the wounded, dressed as a policeman, and then detonated his vest once he was in the hospital, killing the injured and doctors and nurses!  What possesses a person to do such a thing?  It is incomprehensible how a human being, capable of reason, could bring himself to commit such a horrifying and cruel act.

Molly and I ran 3.2km today in the pelting snow, I think 3km may be my optimum distance, my sweet spot, which is quite pathetic, but the one and only time that I ran more than 4km, I felt exhausted and my legs hurt.  I probably just have to push myself more, because surely you should improve your distance with time.  

Self-portrait with light winning over darkness.

Day 62

My crazy epileptic beautiful nutty devoted black nearly 10 year old labrador Molly, alias Molls, Mollsie, Lollipop, Molly-ma-lolly, Snollie, Bad Dog, Blackdog, who loves, in order: any tennis ball, me, Jess, food, Tim, swimming, the boys, Emma, the beach, any ball at all, snow, rain, sunshine, lying in front of a fire, lying on our bed, lying on the boys' beds, going to the vet (yes, she really loves going to the vet!), visitors. 

When we first got her when she was three, she was awful, barking and insane, in a state of constant excitement for treats, which is how she had been raised.  After a few days I told Tim that we had made a terrible mistake and I didn't know what to do.  He advised me to concentrate on her good points, which I did, and I gave her a  lot of love and exercise, instead of treats, and we managed to train her out of so many of her bad habits, and I fell impossibly in love with her. 

She and I ran 2.5km today, without stopping and faster towards the end.  I discovered my Righteous sisters (the bees) all dead, all all just dead on the ground and on the bottom of the hive, for no apparent reason!  So sad.  So I ran with purpose, my eyes streaming from the cold and also a little for the loss of the bees.  Molly and I leapt over downed branches, forded small rivulets, avoided the occasional icy patch, although they are all but gone, and when we were finished I hauled wood for the snowstorm, collected kindling like a little old witch in the forest, and then took all the rubbish to the dump.  Which is a mission.  We tend to leave the rubbish until all three rubbish bins are full, and the garage is piled high with bags and bags of recycling, enough to fill my big van to the roof! 

Self-portrait with South African Heart.

When Matthew was 9 and newly in America, he wrote a poem for school that was included in an anthology called Anthology of Poetry by Young Americans, which was a bit weird, seeing as he wasn't a young American.  It's called THE JOURNEY.
As the plane flew through the air
With a gust of wind
It sounded like we were never going to get there
I felt like I was a guard above the clouds in the sky
I saw the mountaintops of my country
Hours later I saw the huge sand dunes
Of the Sahara Desert

Such a long way I have traveled
And the peaceful country I am in
Makes me feel mixed feelings
Like I am happy but I am sad
The shape of my country is in my heart

Day 61

Such a long day - Tuesdays! 

The sun came out today.  Which was blissful.

I was talking to some 8th grade girls who have been making their model of Tower Bridge in my artroom in the afternoons.  One had a birthday last Sunday and told me she was now 13!  They are on the brink, no longer little girls, but still, so young.  I said, "Oh, you are still babies!"  which didn't go down very well, as you think you have finally made it, at 13!  They protested, "But we're not!"  and I added, "Yes, I know, but when you look at 13 compared to my age you are."  One commented, "Well, you're not old!  When you're 105 you're old!"  which was sweet, although some days I feel 105.  Plus she had to find a really large number in case it was still close to my actual age!

The three girls flirt consciously and unconsciously with the older boys who are there in the afternoons for their classes,  it is funny to watch them, quite open and unaffected, learning their way in the world.

This was a self-portrait that I did as part of a collage for a Lifeline course that I attended in Grahamstown when I was about 32.  We had to produce one for our 'homework' to tell people about ourselves.  I loved this project, and mine ended up being about 3ft by 3ft, this huge collage of drawings and poems and pictures, it was my whole life on a page.   Everyone else had these regular A4 images, and most of the other students looked at me with a little suspicion, as did the facilitator.

Day 60

Quaint little girl in playground.
She was in a world of her own, reminded me of my own fey daughters at that age.

Before school, I walked up to the meadow with Molly in the rain today, looked in on the bees.  There were many dead lying outside the Righteous Sisters (the right-hand hive) which could be a good sign, (the undertaker bees are still doing their work, therefore the hive is strong) or a bad sign (the bees are just walking out and dying on the doorstep).  I will only know in Spring which one is true.  I press my ear to the side of the hive every few days and they still seem to be buzzing happily (or irritatedly - when is this bloody winter going to be finished?) away inside.  The other day when the temperature went up to about 46, they were all flying about, so that was a good sign too.

I am too tired to write more tonight, so here is the self-portrait that does not look like me, I just kind of doodled it, reminds me of a remark by someone in the 8th grade class today who asked me if I was part Native-American.  Which is a compliment, I believe. 

Day 59

Our family on George's Island, 16 June 2001

Today is 9 years since we arrived in America.  This was our first outing as a whole family on Jessica's 19th birthday, to the Boston Harbor Islands.  Emma had come to visit and Jess was about to leave for England for the last 6 months of her gap-year before beginning her studies at Rhodes University in 2002.  The boys would soon be 9 years old.  The photograph (the first of all 6 of us in America) was taken by another immigrant, a little old Chinese man with soft wrinkled cheeks and a shy smile.

Everything was new and foreign then and many things still are.  Amazing how years just flap off into the distant past so swiftly, like geese vanishing into the dark horizon.

I do love my new home, but still miss the land of my heart, the country of my soul.

I wish my daughters could be part of our lives in America, that is the very hardest part of living here.  I miss my friends with the same societal history, the same understanding of our shared difficult past in apartheid South Africa.  I miss our beautiful old stone home of many-coloured rooms and a blue swimming pool and an avocado tree at 16 Cross Street in Grahamstown, where friends were always just a walk around the corner, and you didn't have to make an appointment.  I miss my family, although only my sister is left in Cape Town now, as both my parents have died.  I miss the beautiful warm Indian Ocean with its constant waves. I miss the sunny weather and the light.

Today our oldest American friends came for lunch, and afterwards we went for a walk through my 'territory', I made them bundu-bash (pushing through thorny branches and clambering over stone walls at times, stepping over (and through) running streams), and showed them all the wonderful sights to be seen every day, as the seasons change, as the sap runs or thickens, as the meadow bursts into exuberant life and again is shrouded in a snowy-white blanket.

Last year in August we had a party to celebrate Tim's 50 years.  It was a wonderful celebration, with all four children making funny, touching speeches about what a good dad he has been, and with lovely messages sent from friends in South Africa and England.  For some weird reason all the photographs taken on that day have vanished into the ether, and this is the only one which remains of the six of us, taken by someone with Emma's camera.  That was the last time we were all together.  Tim looks a bit shell-shocked from all the attention!  This is the most recent picture of the 6 of us in America.

Day 58

Sky Beach

Snow was falling softly when I woke up this morning but not enough to present a problem with the driveway, just enough to be pretty.  Big fat flakes falling languidly down from the sky.  Another form of water, the amazing element!

I went to the beach with Tim and Molly this morning and Tim took long-exposure pictures of the beautiful tumultuous waves while Molly and I ran to the end of the beach and back again.  I think it is about 1.5km.

The ancient philosopher Empedocles was right when he named water as the most important of the four elements into which he categorised everything on earth.  Even if it is technically speaking H2O.

Water is magical.  It is a major part of ritual in most religions on earth.  Water can do just about anything: carve, cleanse, rush, meander, bubble, babble, destroy, delight, purify, wash, be gentle rain, be cruel torrent, be hard or soft, be salty or fresh, hold life, give life, take away life.  We are all made mostly of water.  Would that we could all flow together in the same direction more often. 

Day 57

A large maple ripped out of the ground last night.

Rain Rain Rain! - Wind, Hurricane-force Wind!  Soft soggy ground!  Great trees falling down! 

Sitting watching the Olympics last night with Nick, the wind literally howling outside, rain beating at the windows, we heard the huge crack of a tree breaking and falling just outside!  Nick decided to sleep on Matthew's spare bed because his bed is located right underneath two trees which looks like friends leaning up against one another.  After everyone else had gone to bed, I heard another two in quick succession, leaping up in fear at each one.  This morning all the schools were cancelled because of extensive damage in both towns, and everywhere are fallen trees.  There were 3 huge pines and one maple which fell on our property, all close to one another, like a chain reaction, almost.  So sad to see beautiful old trees completely snapped off, or uprooted.

So today there was no internet, cable, or phone for the whole day.  Amazing how often I go to the internet to look up something, as I missed it today every time I wanted to do this.  I am going to try to curb this desire.

I ran almost 2km today with Molly, happy to see all the birds, the male cardinal singing his courting song, sounding just like my dad whistling!  And all the birds telling how they survived the night, the storm, relating the story over and over again in many-throated song, the little nuthatches with their repetitive soft beeps, swooping down on to the feeder, then lilting up into the tree to feast on the sunflower seed, then diving down so gracefully once more, alert, alive.

I saw an interesting movie today, a little British film called An Education, based on a memoir by Lynn Barber who, as a 17-year old in 1960, had an affair with a married conman.  Tim hated it but I thought it was brilliant.  The school scenes were so reminiscent of my schooldays in Cape Town. Our school, Rustenburg, was a clone of the British system, uniforms, silly rules and rigorous academics.  As a 17-year old I had to stand up when everyone else sat down in assembly, for an entire week, with my hat on, because the principal had caught me with it hanging down my back from the elastic around my throat.  Such a bizarre punishment for such a ridiculous transgression.

A braided frame of wood tonight - collage of photos.  I am so tired and have to get up early to take the boys to work!

Day 56

Misty Moisty Morning.
39F - Rain, Rain, Rain!  2.09km today, with Molly following, because her leg is so much better.  She ran with her little round yellow god in her mouth, but I refused to throw it for her.  Her girth has widened in the few days she has not been running, and her soul has struggled, poor thing.  It was strange to hear her panting along behind me, running in her little hopeful circles again.  She lay about and slept all day after that.

While I was folding all the clean laundry I was intrigued to hear a radio programme about sex addiction.  There were two guests on the show, a woman, a professor of sociology who has become somewhat of an "expert" in America on man/woman relationships, sexual mores, etc.  and a man, a psychologist who has been treating people with sex addiction for 20 years.  She does not really believe that it is an addiction, while of course he does (he's been treating "addicts" for years). 

It seems to me to be an excuse, very typical of American society, where someone, or something, must always be blamed, hence the abnormally high litigation in this country.  So, you (say, Tiger Woods)  have behaved very badly, done something (several things) that are socially unacceptable.  But oh, after all, it is not really your fault, it is a disease, and with a lot of money you can go into rehab and be cured. 

Why doesn't he just grow up, consider someone other than himself, and learn to zip up his pants? One commentator described Tiger Woods as "a man who lets his genitals drag him along the trail of life", which I rather enjoyed.

The wind picked up this afternoon and evening, so more arguing with umbrellas today!

Day 55

Day 55 of the year I will turn 55. 
Wind and sand at the beach.

I ran 3.25km today, on a rainy stormy day, temps (38 - 40F)  although the rain let up a bit while I was running, which was very kind of it.  Our family was very happy because even though it is still raining now, late at night, and has been all day, at least it is rain, not snow filling up our steep driveway, making so much hard manual labour for us all!  Further west, where our friends Karen and Dave live, they have had 6 inches or more of snow already today!

Rain all day means a lot of fiddling with umbrellas, trying to get them to open, a sudden gust of wind blowing them inside out - ping!  Gauging the direction of the wind so that you can push the umbrella into it,  hoping the umbrella will oblige and blow back the right way again - bing!  Trying to close the umbrella, which, even though it is a little one, has a hefty stubborn streak! And all this time, getting wetter than you probably would have done without an umbrella. 

Driving down the highway I always love to see the pigeons which live under each bridge. They often sit on the wires which run the length of the bridges, looking like like so many melodic notes on the staff of a musical notation. Today they were all sitting there quietly, even in the rain.  Perhaps pigeons get cabin fever too.  Or they were sick of their children and went to sit at the adults only area.

I met Angelina Hall this afternoon, the new little daughter of our friends.  (You can see Tim's beautiful pictures of her on his Flickr site http://www.flickr.com/photos/bowtoo).  Such a dear little person.  Babies are really tiny creatures,you forget how fragile and delicate human beings are when we embark on our journey of life.  I got to hold her for almost the whole visit, and fell instantly in love, as she gazed at me in that innocent, wise way babies sometimes have.  Earlier, I had immense difficulty choosing the things for her presents, I could have bought the whole baby section of the store!  I did buy her her very first tutu, a little pink swimsuit for a 9 month old, the cutest thing!  My big son Nick (who was once smaller than she is) also held Angelina with his long-fingered hands and long-boned arms, with great care and fascination.

This is my long henna-red hair that I love.  When I was little the doctors thought that long hair might hold dust which would increase asthma, so I always had to have short short (ugly) hair, whereas my best friend Trish had long dark wavy hair, which she could wear in a pony-tail or plaits or any different way, and of which I was very jealous.  So since I became a teenager I have had long hair, only a few times in my life have I cut it short short again, but I always regret it. 

Day 54

Tree and sky on the way to school this morning. 

I went out to lunch with my friend Mary in Davis Square in Cambridge, to Diva, a wonderful Indian restaurant.  We talked about sad and happy things, ate delicious food, drank iced water and hot tea, laughed and smiled and were serious.  She is my oldest American friend.  I met her the first summer we spent here, when we were lost lambs in a foreign land.  The map in my head has a road which goes straight to her house. She is very dear to my heart.
 The air was cold and nippy through our coats.  It felt as though snow was imminent all day, but there were only a few large drops of rain at about 11 this morning.  Looking out of the windows at Starbucks, where we went for coffee, I was bombarded by the number of people, people walking the street, standing in alleyways, crowds in the coffeeshop, in cars, people spilling out everywhere.  I felt so lucky to live in a less crowded town, where there are only 3000 people, where you can see the sky and trees wherever you look, where you are close to the sea with its deserted winter beaches, where you can smell the weather.

I am too tired to draw tonight, and Tim pointed out that I am not cheating when I use a photograph, as my resolution was to "produce" a self-portrait every day.  So (unapologetically) here I am with Jess, this time last year, the mist above her head is her warm breath in the cold air.  My darling daughters, both so far away.  At least technology allows us to communicate relatively easily.  In my grandpa's diary of 1917, he speaks of going down to the docks in Cape Town to meet the mail-ship from England, which probably arrived every three or four weeks, to see if there were any letters from my future grandmother, then his betrothed, so desperate was he for news of her.

Day 53

Morning shadows - the way through the woods.  Lovely day today, and we all had to go to school and work, how come Mondays are often so beautiful?

I did the Fundred Project http://www.fundred.org/ with my classes, some were completely into the social activism, performance art side of the story and did beautiful $100 bills, but my difficult 8th graders were noisy and uncooperative and I was quite pissed off with them today.  I actually gave up on their clamour and went to sit down at my computer with my back to them, read an entire Mail & Guardian op ed piece plus all the comments, while they sat in shocked silence waiting for me to come to my senses.  Eventually I heard the entire class say, in unison, "We're sorry, Madame Bouwer!", which brought a smile to my heart, although my lips did not outwardly show one.   Later I saw a piece of paper lying on one of the tables, on which the most responsible girl had written, 'All together, say "We're sorry, Mme Bouwer!"'

Self-portrait with alphabet heart - collage/drawing.   I suppose it says something about what these things mean to me: Art, Reading, Education and north america.

Day 52

Ice dolphin.   

Beautiful warmish day, 38F, although it was snowing when I woke up, or maybe it was a dream. 

The warmth brought out all the singing robins today!  So many birds! I saw chickadees, nuthatches, and several dear little downy woodpeckers, almost tripped over my own feet peering into the trees on the side of the meadow.   A large group of fat robins searched about for worms in the newly soft places on the track.  They ran along in front of me until I got too close and then took off into the trees.  Each time I came back into the meadow from the woods, they were back and repeated the performance, to my delight! 

It feels like spring, as there are patches of muddy mushy ground, where your heels sink in, but then still scary patches of ice to be avoided.  But I won't get my hopes up, because there is certain to be more snow.  It is only mid-February, after all.   I ran 3.78km today, it felt good.  Part of it is unconscious now, where thoughts just float about as my legs do their job, and my arms swing me along.  But when I get tired, I become aware that the running has become a struggle, and so I count my breathing, in 1 - 2, out 3 - 4 - 5, in 1 - 2, out 3 - 4 - 5 ....  (This year is full of fives for me!)  And the act of counting breathing seems to let me go on for a lot longer.

Today's portrait - handprints in the snow, looking like some large exotic bird's footprints.  My big hands, like my dad's, very capable, making good things. 

Day 51

45F today, although there was a very very freezing cold wind on the beach!  I ran a bit on the beach, but there were corrugations which proved difficult, and further up the shoreline the sand was soft and impossible.  But Tim and I walked a couple of miles, looking for horses galloping for him to photograph.  There were plenty of horses but none that galloped.  These ones reminded me of dancers in a chorus-line, perfectly synchronised.

But all my bees were out today, flying about like crazy happy buzzers!  I am glad to see them all healthy, hope they continue that way until spring!

We live in a beautiful part of Massachusetts, lots of farmland and woods, cows and horses and trees, and wild animals - coyotes, fishers, foxes, beavers.  Every day I see birds of prey, and I saw 9 turkey buzzards on Friday afternoon, riding the thermals together, imposing and magnificent.  Three deer walked through our back yard yesterday, you can see one on Tim's flickr stream http://www.flickr.com/photos/bowtoo.  He also has a wonderful picture of the dear little rust-coloured screech owl that we saw today sunning itself, well, just its head peeping out of its nest-hole, the sweetest thing! 

So here is a photograph of trees painted with snow that I took the other day, and there is me in the corner, sitting on a large lump of snow, contemplating the cold beauty.  I love this landscape every day.  I am transplanted, and growing roots.

Day 50

Molly and the baby elephant. 

Molly is going quietly crazy not being able to run, poor thing, but her leg is healing nicely, just a few more days and she can run behind me again.  It was pretty again today, blue and white sky, 38F, but with a chilly breeze.  I ran 3.2km with an easy stride. 

You can go along in your daily life feeling passably good, running comfortably around a meadow behind your house, when suddenly, thoughts of the actual physical distance between you and your daughters singes your mind, such pain that your eyes sting and weep. 

I hope I am not much much older before they live around the corner and we can meet for tea and I can feel their soft cheeks against my own as we hug and laugh.

I have just read a brilliant and beautifully written book, How to Paint a Dead Man, about art and existence and the messiness of Life and Death. 

When Matthew and Nick were 11 we went to a little circus, well, Tim took them actually, because I gave up circuses when Jess and Emma were little girls after I took them and cried for the sad lions and tamed tigers and elephants made to do stupid tricks.  But I had the car, so I waited with Tim and the boys in the queue to see if they managed to buy tickets in case I had to take them home again. 

A little Indian elephant was taking people on rides around the grassy, tree-lined park and Matthew decided to spend his $5 which he had been given for refreshments, on an elephant ride instead.  He waited in line for a long time, letting several people go before him.  He told me later that he had calculated where to stand so that he would get to sit right up front at her head.  The elephant's name was Tina and she was 35 years old.  I watched him sit in rapt wonder atop her head, stroking her bumpy skull and talking quietly to her for the duration of the ride.  After his ride he was wide-eyed and happy, and, Tim and Nick still waiting in line for tickets, Matthew went back to stand at the rope which marked the looping shape where the little elephant walked dreamily, unconsciously carrying each new burden of people back and forth, back and forth.  As she came past Matthew, I saw her abruptly come awake, stop and look at him, then she carefully investigated him all over with her delicate prehensile trunk, letting it drape over his head for a few seconds, before moving on at her handler's behest.  He was elated! She knew him! She remembered him because he had taken the trouble to appreciate her and stroke her gently and talk softly to her.  My son had experienced that rare connection between human and (large, semi-wild) animal, fellow creatures communicating, a specific kind of empathy.

So this is an image I did of the Tree of Life, it is a kind of etching.

Day 49

I saw this Cloud Dragon flying above me in the meadow with the sun shining warmly.  41F (5C) today, so everything becoming slush, which means hard-going for a runner. 

It is amazing how symmetrically we are designed.  I tried running with my right arm in unison with my right leg, left arm with left leg, and it is almost impossible, you just about fall over, and your arms return naturally to the opposite side from your leg, which is the most economical way to run, I suppose, all limbs swinging away in a balanced fashion to keep you upright and going in a relatively straight line.

Well, I'm cheating again today, no drawing or painting, but I loved this photograph when I saw how it had turned out, so I am using it.  

I was sitting on a rock in the meadow thinking how awful some people are.  Earlier, looking at beautiful pictures of the Hebrides in a National Geographic, I turned the page to horrific images of animals being sold in a Jakarta market, owls, toucans, iguanas, monkeys and other illegally traded, often endangered animals.  I wish ill on these people, I want them to experience an excruciating death.  I feel such anguish just seeing a racoon dead on the side of the road.  It is incomprehensible to me how people can be like this, the cruelty of human beings.  The indescribably stupidity of mankind.  I wish I was so rich that I could travel there and buy up all the animals, and set them free in a safe perfect place.

Nick is reading Moby Dick, the famous classic, an American allegory about an idiotic man searching for a white whale and looking for revenge.  A much better book, in my opinion, is "Ahab's Wife" by Sena Naslund.  But that is beside the point, which is to do with man's inhumanity to animals, sentient beings like ourselves.  I was so happy to find out that whales actually did attack boats and kill people, one entire whaling ship, the Essex, was holed and sunk in the 1800's.   When people first encountered polar bears, when the first ship got to the Arctic Circle, the men on board just shot them, about 500 of them!  What is wrong with us?  We are capable of such heights but such terrible depths, and today was a murky day for my soul.

Day 48

29F when I went out this morning, took Molly for a little walk and then brought her home again because of her leg, which seems much better today!  Then left her staring at me through the glass door, very confused and indignant, and went back and ran 2.09km.  I had almost forgotten how arduous it is, running in thick snow, but it was also lovely, sunny, beautiful.  Spangled, snow-covered branches, blue blue sky.  I took many photographs and love this one in particular, although it was an effort to choose only one.  I call this one 'Tracery'.

While I was in the meadow, the mother of one of my ex-students called my cell-phone (which is there in case I fall and break something) to tell me about the Fundred project www.fundred.org, to make 300 000 000 hand-drawn hundred-dollar bills to take to Washington and request an exhange for real money, a grant which will be used to eliminate lead from polluted soil in US cities, starting with New Orleans.  Such an admirable and positive project.   I am going to do it with all my students.  It is a great example of compassion and creativity doing good in the world.

So my self-portrait is a watercolour in the snowy meadow today, with snow decorating my hair from running through the woods, where, every now and then, unexpectedly, a white cold dollop of snow slips off its branch above, and plops down on to your unsuspecting head, shoulders, or tender back of the neck.

Day 47

Well, I think today's snowstorm incorporated all the different Inuit words for snow - there was softly falling snow, little round bullets of snow, wet sleety snow, fat sticky flakes of snow, snow blasting down, floating down, drifting up again!  It was snowing so fast that when Nick, his friend and I cleared the driveway so that I could fetch Matthew for work and take them all to the Y, by the time we got to the bottom the top was snowed over again!  Like Albert's Bridge!  

I didn't run today because Molly's left front leg is still a bit stiff and sore from our run on the beach, I think, and I didn't want her making it worse.  I hauled wood and gathered pine-cones and kindling like a good pioneer woman, and then shovelled a great deal, so I had my exercise anyway.

When I went to fetch the boys 3 hours later, a trip which usually takes 20 minutes, took an hour, although I did take their friend back to his home in Manchester as well (today's kindness).  The roads were thickly coated with snow, snow flying at your windscreen so that you can imagine you're going at Star Trek's warpspeed even though you're moving at about 20 miles an hour. 

When we came to our driveway, into which one has to take a flying leap in first gear, over the snow-plough bank, then a twist of the steering wheel to get up the hill, I found myself instead skidding to the right side, then the left, narrowly missed hitting a tree, and in a kind of crab-like move, my car slid itself perfectly into the first parking spot! Our driveway always makes for an exciting adrenaline-rush arrival home in snowy winter!

So this is a self-portrait as a six-sided (which is how many sides every snowflake has) snowflake, in honour of the snowstorm today.  I learnt how to make these a few years ago, in order to teach my students how to make "winter vacation" cards, because it is not PC here to say Christmas cards, so I had to think of something not exactly to do with Christmas.

Day 46

I have decided to add something kind each day to my resolutions as well.  We are not compassionate enough in our lives, I think, and little kindnesses can change someone's day.  I believe that compassion should be taught in schools, as a subject, like mathematics, or french.  The world would be a better place with more empathy. 

I will only write about it occasionally, because that is blowing your own trumpet and kind of negates the generosity, but I am going to try to do at least one kind and gracious act every day.

I roamed 'my' territory (3 meadows and some woods) before I ran today.  Then ran perhaps a little further than yesterday although I  forgot my pedometer so don't know exactly how far, but probably 3.6 km.  I think I pulled something though, because for a couple of hours I had a stiff time getting up and limped along like my dad once I was up.  But, after helping Tim get sand to fill up the barrels all the way along our steep driveway for the anticipated snowstorm tomorrow, the pain suddenly slipped out of my body, everything worked properly again.

The portrait was not done today, but borrowed from a quilt I made for my parents' 55th anniversary, which was on 7th March 1997.  They were married for almost 64 years, as my mother died in January 2006.  They had 3 children, and under the applique portraits of my mum and dad, I embroidered a portrait of each family, a sort of upside-down family tree.  The boys were little then, Emma and Jess teenagers in the background, and Tim looking as though he is going bald!  The wall-hanging hung proudly in their little house in Cape Town until my dad died, when I brought it here to my house in Massachusetts.